German.”
“Take me to Giorgios.”
Most of the men, twenty-five or so, were among the boulders near the summit, the rangy former infantry sergeant pacing fiercely among them. Giorgios was slightly ridiculous in his scraggly beard and soiled Italian colonel’s uniform-booty from the Albanian campaign-but he was the best leader of men that Elias had.
“Mother of God, it’s good you’re here,” said Giorgios when he saw the captain. “We needed you before. The damn Snake wouldn’t let us attack.”
So they were still blind to the subterfuge, thought Elias, with a strange sadness.
“Slowly.”
“We found the villa where the weapons were stored, right where you said it would be.”
“Yes.”
“Just a few Germans guarding it, one light machine gun. We could have taken it, but when the shooting started at the church, the Snake sent word that we were not to try.”
“Sent word? He wasn’t with you?”
“The Snake? At first, but not then. He said he needed to watch the Germans in the village. He left me in charge. I should have ignored him, we wasted an opportunity.”
“No, Giorgios, you did right. The men are more important than the weapons. Listen to me now, I need your help. Tell me how to find Gregori’s chapel.”
“Gregori’s chapel? Why?”
“Kosta has betrayed me.” He could not bring himself to say
“us.” “He has gone to this chapel to hide. I must seek him there.”
It was still quite dark, but the sky was just beginning to pale in the east. Elias could not read Giorgios’ reaction, except in his silence.
“The devil take him,” Giorgios finally whispered. “Is the icon destroyed?”
“I do not know. Old Mavroudas meant to steal it. The Snake is dealing with him. I must find Kosta now.”
“And Father Mikalis?”
The grief swelled again. When all this was over he would sleep for days, or perhaps forever, depending on how things fell out.
“Giorgios, the chapel. Help me.”
“Down the other side of this hill, the path to the high meadow. Follow it to the end.”
“That’s Mary’s chapel.”
“Past that a kilometer, and up a rocky slope. You will be almost to Vrateni. It is a very desolate place. The chapel commands the ground. Be careful. Better still, take some men.”
“No, I go alone. You must take charge here. Spiro and Leftheris are at the old monastery, the rest at the cave. Move to a safer place, if you can, and await word from me. Follow the Snake’s commands if they seem wise to you, but protect the men. And Giorgios, do not tell him, or anyone, where I have gone.”
The sky was just light enough now to read the confusion and unease on the andarte’s face. No one loved the Snake, but Giorgios was experienced enough to know that it was never a good thing to have commanders at odds with each other. Elias, with no words of comfort in his heart, turned away from the young soldier and the brightening eastern sky, and pushed north once more.
13
SPRING 2000
He had stood right there by the window, face in shadow, as befit his clouded intentions, perhaps. Ana couldn’t say for sure. Outside it rained, and she had not turned on a lamp, so the room was dim-the long, cold dining room that they had not been in together before. Neutral ground. Matthew did not want to venture further into the house.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” he’d said. “I couldn’t speak to you until the police did.”
“Did they tell you that?”
“No.”
“You didn’t want them to think you would influence my statement.”
“I didn’t want you to think that.”
“OK.”
“There are things you should know.”
“I’m listening.” But he couldn’t seem to shape his thoughts, at least not swiftly enough to suit Ana, and like an idiot she had blundered on in a clipped, angry burst. “I didn’t say anything that should implicate you, if that’s what you came to find out. I told them that I knew your godfather was the buyer, that you had told me. I don’t know why I did that. I don’t even know if it will help you.”
He shook his head, face twisted in frustration or disgust, and she thought she read him in that instant, thought that maybe he was not so far from being the man she felt she knew, despite the things he had kept from her.
“I didn’t want you to do that,” he had finally said. “I don’t care what you tell the police. I came to tell you what I know.”
It had all poured out of him then, his godfather’s subtle guidance, Matthew’s fixation on the work, his willful ignorance of the plot taking shape around him; and the more he spoke the more depressed and disengaged she had become. Questions banged at the door of her mind but could gain no entry. She was stuck on the one fact: he had come into her life to manipulate her. How then could she ever trust him? How could she know if anything that had passed between them was real? She could not, though she might yet try if he would even address the issue. But he would not, and she understood, with a keen sense of self- loathing, that without that question answered, the others-involving the full extent to which she had been played for a fool-were meaningless to her. She would not show it. Let her self-disgust seem like anger. He deserved her anger.
She had made him sit in one of the old, uncomfortable wing chairs, and eventually she began to analyze what he said, letting her thinking turn cold and clinical. Matthew had no doubt that the icon had been the reason for the theft, despite the other paintings taken. She decided to play along, to assume his innocence in anything beyond the initial manipulation.
“Has your godfather been questioned?”
“No. He’s in Greece. He became suddenly ill right after he got there.”
“You sound skeptical.”
“He has been ill with something, but he’s a trickster, that guy.”
“You think he’s behind the theft?”
“I don’t want to, but it’s a possibility.”
“He put down almost a million dollars to steal it from himself?”
“From the church, to which he owed it by the conditions of the sale.
