The Lost Throne

“Wow,” Jones said, trying to lighten the mood. “You are fucked up.”

“For the record, I said messed up. But thanks for making me feel better about myself.”

“Hey! That’s what friends are for.”

Payne smiled, hoping to change the subject. “Anyway, enough about that crap. Let’s talk about the mission.”

“I thought that’s what we were doing.”

“No, we were talking about my demons.”

Jones shook his head. “No, we were talking about your motivation. That’s far more important than anything else.”

“How so?”

“Tell me, why are we going to Russia? Is it to rescue the girl, or is it to rake leaves?”

Payne grimaced. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb, Jon. You know damn well what I’m talking about. Is saving Allison enough for you, or do you need more from this trip?”

“Like?”

“Finding out why Byrd was killed and completing his mission. If that’s the case, I’m completely cool with it. I really am. I’m willing to do whatever I can to help you sleep at night. But you have to come clean and tell me now so I can adjust our itinerary.”

“And you won’t be mad?”

“Mad? Not at all. In fact, I’m kind of curious.”

“About?”

“His death, the Archives, his search, and so on. It’s all very compelling.”

“Compelling, huh?” Payne thought about things for several seconds before he smiled. “Fine! If you feel that strongly about it, I’ll tag along with you. I mean, that’s what friends are for.”

26

While Andropoulos searched for Theodore, Dial stood outside the monk’s room, guarding the hidden door and the tunnel. Making sure it stayed his secret for as long as possible. To Dial, this was one of those times when the element of surprise was far more important than the collection of evidence. He couldn’t wait to spring his discovery on Theodore and witness the monk’s reaction. Would he stammer? Would he sweat? Would his pupils constrict? In the long run, that information would be far more helpful to Dial’s investigation than ten extra minutes of forensics.

It would help him decide if the monk could be trusted.

While Dial waited, his thoughts drifted back to the previous night, when he had met Nicolas at that very spot. It was a conversation that Dial wished he could do over.

In the past, Dial had always considered himself a great judge of character-whether it was interviewing suspects or making new friends. Yet for some reason his instincts had failed him with Nicolas. Dial wasn’t sure why, but he figured he must have let his guard down because Nicolas looked like a holy man, someone who could be trusted. If that was the case, Dial knew he had to alter his mind-set. Most of the people he’d be questioning in the coming days were monks, and if he didn’t view them as fallible human beings-men who were fully capable of murder and deceit and all the other bad stuff that went on in the outside world-there was a damn good chance that he wouldn’t get the information he needed to solve the homicides.

And that was completely unacceptable.

The first monk to be interviewed was Theodore. Dial wanted to look him in the eye and see if he was telling the truth. If not, Dial was determined to make an example out of him-if for no other reason than to get full cooperation from every other monk at Meteora.

He had to seize control of the case, and he had to do it now.

When Theodore finally came into view, Dial didn’t smile, or nod, or acknowledge the monk’s approach in any other way. He simply stared at him with unblinking eyes. Occasionally he clenched his jaw, causing his temples to pulse and his massive chin to jut forward.

His intensity was impossible to miss.

Theodore sensed the change in Dial from afar. This wasn’t the same man who had joked with him about stealing furniture less than an hour before. “You asked to see me?”

Andropoulos hovered behind the monk, hoping to unnerve him. It was a subtle technique that was usually quite effective.

Dial paused for a moment before answering. “I did.”

“Is there a problem?”

He nodded slowly. “There is.”

Now it was Theodore’s turn to wait, and he did so for several seconds. He stood in his black cassock and cap, with his brown thicket of a beard, staring right back at Dial. Not the least bit intimidated by his badge or his glare. Not even tempted to speak.

If monks were good at one thing, it was silence.

A wry smile crossed Dial’s lips. He wasn’t backing down, either.

Finally, Andropoulos spoke. “We found something we’d like you to explain.”

“Of course,” said Theodore, still staring at Dial. “Do you have the item with you?”

“No,” Dial answered. “I can’t bring it out here. It’s way too big for me to carry. We’ll have to go inside to check it out.”

The monk extended his right arm. “After you, Nick.”

Dial grinned, surprised the monk had remembered his name. “Thanks, Ted.”

With that, Dial opened the door and walked inside. Everything was exactly as he had left it. The tapestry dangled from a single hook. The hidden door was open. The tunnel was fully exposed. Dial quickly turned around to watch Theodore’s reaction as he entered the room.

A moment later, Dial was certain of one thing: the young monk knew nothing about the tunnel. That was obvious from his wide-eyed expression and the gasp that sprang from his lips.

“Go ahead,” Dial said. “Start explaining.”

Theodore staggered toward the passageway. “I can’t explain this.”

“Why? Are you sworn to secrecy or something?”

“Because I know nothing about it.” Confusion filled the monk’s face as he glanced back at Dial and Andropoulos. “How did you find this?”

Dial shrugged, keeping the details to himself.

Theodore turned back toward the tunnel. “Where does it go?”

“To the morgue,” Dial said bluntly. “We found your brethren in the basement. I’d let you see it yourself, but I don’t want you throwing up on your beard.”

The young monk blinked a few times as he absorbed the news. Then he mumbled a short prayer in Greek and made the sign of the cross, using only three digits-his thumb, index and middle fingers-instead of the five digits used by Western Christians.

Dial said, “Refresh my memory. How long have you been at Meteora?”

“Almost ten years.”

“And you’ve never heard rumors about a tunnel?”

Theodore shook his head. “Never.”

“What about monuments of war?”

“War? I don’t understand.”

Dial walked toward the hidden door, trailed closely by the monk. “Look at the carvings. Tell me what you see.”

“Greek soldiers.”

“Downstairs it’s the same thing. Soldiers and war, everywhere you look. That seems kind of strange for a monastery, don’t you think?”

Theodore nodded.