The Lost Throne

surrounded by water. Bays and inlets were labeled with Greek words, as were various trails up the mountain. Payne stared at the words, trying to figure out what letter Jones had been referring to, but he had no idea. “Which letter is most important?”

Jones plopped his finger on the map about halfway up the mountain.

A single location had been labeled with the Greek letter chi.

A letter that looks exactly like a capital X.

“Chi marks the spot!”

After their initial burst of enthusiasm, they realized they had no idea where this mountain was located-or if it still existed. Just because it was labeled in Greek didn’t mean that it was in Greece. Schliemann had traveled all over the globe, so it could’ve been anywhere. And since they were floating in the middle of the Gulf of Finland, they weren’t able to access the Internet on Allison’s computer. Research would have to wait until they reached the mainland.

They debated a variety of things for the next ten minutes. Allison and Jones did most of the talking, since they were most familiar with Greek history. Payne was ready to make a point when he felt a large hand on his shoulder. It was Jarkko. He was curious about their argument.

“Sorry to disturb. But can you not fight while boat is moving?”

Payne nodded. “You’re absolutely right. We’re wasting valuable time.”

“What is that?” he asked as he pointed to the map in Allison’s hand. “You are going to Greece and not invite Jarkko?”

Jones glanced at him, surprised. “Wait. You know this place?”

“Of course! Remember, Jarkko keeps yacht in Greece. Jarkko knows entire Aegean.”

“Hold up. You actually know where this is?”

“What, you no understand Jarkko? Jarkko knows this place. Jarkko hates this place.”

Jones asked, “You hate it?”

“Of course Jarkko hates. No women. No drink. No fun. Just monks and guns.”

“What in the hell are you talking about?”

Jarkko looked at Payne. “Is Jarkko slurring? It is too early to slur. Maybe Jon should drive?”

Payne signaled Jones to shut up. Then he asked a question of his own. “What’s the name of the mountain?”

“That is Mount Athos. It is home to Orthodox monks. Holy land to Greeks.”

“Have you been there?”

“One day Jarkko run out of supplies. Jarkko tried to dock near mountain but guards with guns would not allow. Land is holy. Permission must be granted by fat monk in charge.”

Payne turned his attention to Allison. “Have you ever heard of this place?”

She nodded. “I’ve heard of it. But I don’t know much about it. It’s in northern Greece, far away from Athens. As far as I know, it’s filled with monasteries and nothing else.”

“How far from Constantinople?”

She gave it some thought. “Not far at all. Why?”

“Close enough to move a statue to?”

“It’s much closer than Olympia. So the answer is definitely yes.”

Payne looked at Jones. “What do you think?”

“What do I think? I think there has to be a reason that armed guards are protecting a bunch of monks in the middle of nowhere.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

Jarkko raised his hand. “May Jarkko ask question?”

“Go on,” Payne answered.

“Will you need guide to Mount Athos?”

Payne smiled. “Why? Are you offering?”

“Yes, if you are paying. Are you paying?”

He nodded. “Yes, I’d be paying.”

“Then Jarkko is offering! When you want to leave?”

“As soon as possible.”

Jarkko grinned. “We can leave soon. But first, we must drink!”

62

Before boarding Clive’s boat, Dial called Henri Toulon at Interpol for an update on the Spartan situation and also to let him know about his missed meeting with the governor.

“Nick,” Toulon said, “I was just about to call you. We have some news on George Pappas. His truck was found in Leonidi, approximately fifty kilometers away from Sparti.”

“His truck was found? Was he inside?”

“No. It was abandoned next to a wooden pier.”

Dial grimaced. “What’s a pier doing in the middle of the mountains?”

“No, no, no. Leonidi is not in the mountains. It is a small fishing village. His truck was found next to the sea.”

Dial pictured a map of Greece in his head. The Taygetos Mountains were west of Sparti, located in the middle of the Peloponnese. Meanwhile, the Aegean Sea was to the east, completely in the opposite direction. “Why in the world was he over there?”

Toulon answered. “We do not know that he was.”

“Wait. You think his truck was stolen?”

“Oui. It is a possibility.”

“If that’s the case, where are Pappas and his men?”

“We are not sure. Right now, the police in Leonidi are searching for witnesses. They found his truck, so they might be able to find someone who saw the driver.”

Dial nodded. “That’s a start. What else is being done to find him?”

“The Sparti Police went to the village that Pappas was planning to visit first. And they found something strange.”

“What do you mean by strange?”

“No adults. No kids. No clues of any kind. The entire village was empty.”

“Empty? How can the village be empty?”

“I do not know. But no one was there.”

“Shit,” Dial cursed. “The villagers cleared out because they didn’t want to be questioned. Something bad happened up there, and they knew the police would be stopping by.”

Toulon nodded. “Oui. That makes sense.”

“Does Sparti have access to hounds?”

“I do not know.”

“If they do, have them start there. Maybe they’ll pick up a scent. At the very least, maybe they’ll find the villagers hiding in the mountains. That might be just as helpful.”

Toulon made a note. “I will suggest it at once.”

“Before you do, I wanted to give you an update on my meeting with the governor.”

“That is right. How did that go?”

“It didn’t. Turns out Mount Athos is on Byzantine time.”

“You did not know that?”

“Of course I didn’t know that. How the hell was I supposed to know that?”

Toulon shrugged. “The same way I knew that. By being smart.”

Dial growled, no longer in the mood for humor. “Henri, I don’t get mad very often, but I’m pissed off. We have eight dead monks and three missing cops, and you’re being sarcastic with me? That shit needs to stop now!”