‘The passenger lounge I would guess,’ Stratton said as he dumped his bag on the floor.
Gabriel wearily took a seat as Stratton went back into the hallway and found a door that led out on to the deck.
The crew were preparing to cast the lines although no one appeared to be in any kind of a rush. Half an hour later, a tug arrived to pull the ship into the middle of the harbour after which it slowly made its own way out to sea.
Stratton remained on deck until Rhodes disappeared behind a dark-grey sky which descended like a curtain around the ship. The storm that had threatened to hit all day had finally arrived, and the rain began to fall in heavy sheets.
Stratton moved inside before he got soaked and went back into the lounge, which was empty except for Gabriel who was asleep in his chair. Stratton took off his wet jacket, sat a few seats away, dug his Knights Templar book out of his bag and settled in.
The journey took longer than expected, no doubt due to the storm. They were served a pot of coffee and a pair of suspicious-looking pies a couple of hours after leaving, which Gabriel avoided and Stratton ate after inspecting carefully. At around nine o’clock there was a distinct change in the engine revs. Stratton had been dozing easily with his book on his lap and opened his eyes. Either the ship was breaking down or they were slowing to approach a port.
He grabbed his jacket and went out on deck to find the sea on the starboard side replaced by a mass of land. Mountains loomed high in the background, cupping the town as if in the palms of a pair of hands. There were lights inside the houses near the water; the rest, creeping up the hillside, although in darkness were just about discernible. The harbour was as horseshoe-shaped as it could be and at one of its points were several official- looking buildings, a minaret and a medieval castle, not huge but large enough to hold a company of men, positioned to defend the entrance to the harbour.
The ferry began a slow, graceful turn to position its aft end facing the quay. The engines accelerated in reverse stopping all headway and the boat began to move slowly backwards, reducing speed to an absolute crawl until the back end bumped gently against the quay.
Gabriel came out to join Stratton and look at the island. Stratton waited for any sign that might suggest Gabriel thought this was the place, but he was to be disappointed.
‘It’s very pretty,’ Gabriel said.
‘Yeah,’ Stratton agreed, suddenly wondering what the hell they were doing coming all the way here.
A loud metallic squeal came from the back of the boat as the ramp was lowered, followed by a thump as it hit the concrete quay.
A minute later they were walking down the ramp along with a handful of islanders who had been shopping in Rhodes for essentials, then stepped on to the gravel-covered quay.
Both men walked to the water’s edge to look out over the harbour where lights twinkled in many of the houses that were packed tightly shoulder-to-shoulder all around it. The night was chilly but with barely a cloud in the sky, all sign of the storm had gone and the water rippled gently, lapping the stone quay several feet below the lip.
‘I suggest we look for somewhere to get a bite to eat, which might also be a good place to ask about a hotel,’ Stratton said.
Gabriel was staring out across the water and did not appear to hear him.
‘Gabriel?’
Gabriel slipped out of his reverie and looked at Stratton tiredly. ‘I could eat something, I s’pose,’ he said.
Stratton wondered if Gabriel might ‘recognise’ this was the place come daylight and then sighed to himself. He was acting as if he had no doubts about Gabriel when in all honesty he did. His hope was only a response to the game of it all. He felt that even if Gabriel did announce that this was the island he had seen in his viewing, it would be like winning a stage of a board game: it meant nothing. The incident in Thetford Forest was already beginning to seem to him like little more than a strange coincidence.
Moments later they were alone on the quay; the people who had come off the ferry had disappeared into the town, and the crew had gone inside the boat where they were no doubt settling down for the night before their departure in the morning.
The two men set off along the quay, Stratton looking for any sign of a restaurant and Gabriel walking alongside him like a pet with little interest in anything.
Up ahead, where the quay began to bend away to the right, there was what appeared to be a restaurant. A candlelit table was set out in the open, taking up practically the entire width of the narrow quay, and several people sat around it. Two barbecues were on the go with fish and chunks of lamb sizzling on the grills, and the table was adorned with various dishes as well as bottles of wine. Several men and a woman were drinking while conversing but as Stratton and Gabriel approached, they all stopped to look at them.
As Stratton and Gabriel tried to identify the appropriate person to ask about dinner, one of the men, a portly, gypsy-like character with every year of his long life etched into his craggy face, said something to them in Greek.
‘Anyone speak English?’ Stratton asked.
‘English,’ the same man said, appearing surprised but oozing confidence. ‘You just come off the ferry?’
‘Yes,’ Stratton said.‘We were wondering if we could get a meal here.’
The man looked at one of the others across the table as if to refer the question to him, then looked back at Stratton and produced a smile. ‘There are no restaurants open tonight, but you can join us if you like.’
‘That’s very kind,’ Stratton said. ‘But we wouldn’t want to intrude.’
‘No intrusion,’ the man said, looking around at the other men for their opinions, neither of whom appeared to have any. ‘You will be our guests. I am the Mayor of Kastellorizo,’ he continued, not getting up or offering a hand. He then said something to one of the staff tending the barbecue who immediately went into the building and returned with two chairs.
‘This is my wife,’ the mayor said, introducing the short, ample woman at his side. ‘She does not speak English, although she understands it.’
As Stratton and Gabriel nodded hello, the next person was introduced as the island’s lawyer who lived most of the time in Athens and happened to be on one of his frequent business trips to the island. Beside him was a Greek Orthodox priest who did not speak English and looked quite trashed unless he had some kind of debilitating illness that caused slow blinking and a lack of co-ordination when bringing his glass to his mouth. The man across the table, who the mayor had first sought approval from for inviting the surprise visitors, introduced himself as the restaurant owner, which was becoming obvious since he was directing the staff in a familiar and harsh manner.
The remaining two men were in uniform, one the island’s immigrations and customs officer who did not speak very much English, the other a Greek army captain who commanded the island’s small garrison, which turned out to be no more than a dozen men. He appeared feminine in his deportment whereas the others were brusque and rural, except the lawyer who had a modicum of refinement. His uniform was immaculate as was his hair and moustache and he sat cross-legged most of the time, smoking a cigarette from a silver cigarette holder.
Gabriel was seated beside the mayor’s wife with the customs officer on his other side who was stuck in conversation with the drunken priest. Stratton’s chair was placed between the army captain and the lawyer and, when asked, introduced himself as Gabriel’s assistant who in turn explained briefly that he was a geology lecturer from Stanford University. None of the others appeared to be interested in geology, certainly not enough to question them further although the lawyer said something in Greek that Stratton had the feeling was about him.
The early small talk covered the weather, fishing and the poor tourist trade, with the locals taking the opportunity to vent their disappointment at the drop in visitors the past few years, some of the blame being heaped on the Turks’ apparent ambitions for the island. As the barbecued fish was served, Stratton asked why the island had so many homes and so few people, a question he expected would have a simple explanation. He was not prepared for the can of worms he opened.
‘We are the cowards,’ the mayor announced as if it were their group title. ‘All of us.’
No one verbally disagreed with him although there were some looks that suggested there was more to the comment.
