'Ours.'
So much for prayer. He and Tassos were dead meat. He wondered if Tassos knew yet. He needed time to think and wanted to talk to Tassos before calling the deputy minister. He watched Panos empty the water bottle onto the ground and get into the van. You lucky bastard, he thought. 'Okay, I'll be right in.' Andreas had no choice but to go. He had bigger things to worry about at the moment. Like his career.
Andreas thought of telling Kouros to send someone here to keep everyone out of the mine until it was checked out — probably by a new chief from the way things looked — but he guessed Panos had other ways of getting into the mine and getting rid of whatever he was hiding. He smacked the steering wheel hard with the heels of his hands and cursed aloud as he watched Panos drive away. 'Why do motherfuckers like him have all the luck?' Andreas drove slowly back toward headquarters. No need to hurry to his own execution. Besides, Tassos was busy on another phone call and Andreas wasn't going to call the ministry until after they spoke. At the crest of a hill overlooking Ftelia Beach and the foot of Panormos Bay, Andreas pulled off the road and waited for Tassos to call back. Far below, windsurfers slid gracefully back and forth across the bay. Their work seemed effortless from this distance; not at all like the instant-to-instant reality of their up close battle to stay afloat in relentless winds and driving seas.
His cell phone rang. It was Tassos.
'Sorry, I was on the phone with my friend at New Scotland Yard. Have some news for you on your priest.' Tassos sounded excited. Obviously, he hadn't heard from the ministry. 'Father Paul won't be up for sainthood anytime soon.'
Andreas decided to hear him out before dropping the bomb. 'What do you mean?'
'His story was he'd been 'called' to the priesthood after his sister died in an accident. About ten years ago he left the priesthood — actually was forced out. It involved young girls in his parish.'
'I knew there was something dirty about him,' Andreas said in a detached way.
'Nothing was proven. His family had a lot of money, and — with the church's help — they paid off the kids' families and kept everything out of the papers. He quietly resigned and moved to a different part of England — probably to prey on someone else's kids.' There was anger in Tassos' voice.
'Damn,' Andreas said without emotion.
Tassos paused. 'That's not the end of it. A few years later the parish church he'd been forced to leave burned to the ground. Arson, but couldn't tie it to anyone.'
'Just what we need. Another prime suspect with serial-killer characteristics.' Andreas was trying to sound interested. 'Anything else?'
Tassos didn't answer right away. 'We've identified two more of the victims, both Dutch. Still no Greeks. I think our killer's careful to stick to tourists.'
Silence.
'Andreas, is something bothering you? You don't seem right.'
Andreas shook his head and let out a breath. 'Do you have that letter from the mayor?'
'What are you getting at?'
'I have a message from the office of the deputy minister for Public Order for me to call him ASAP.'
Pause. 'Shit,' said Tassos.
'That's one of the words that went through my mind. I take it you didn't get a call.'
'Me? What do I have to do with this? It's all a Mykonos problem.' Tassos forced a laugh.
'I admire your sense of humor.'
Tassos sighed. 'I don't like crying so close to the end of my career.'
'I wonder how he found out.'
'I think we've been kidding ourselves thinking we could keep this quiet. Who knows, that asshole mayor might have burned us for some bullshit political reason. And, yes, I have the letter.' Tassos was sounding more defiant, and it was helping to pick up Andreas' spirits.
'Maybe it's about something else?' Andreas sounded hopeful.
'When's the last time you got a call from a ministry-level member of government?' Tassos didn't wait for an answer. 'Let's just figure out what we're going to tell him and… and…'
'I think the word is duck.' Andreas paused. 'But even if he's calling about something else, it's time to tell him. There's too much for us to run down on our own. We need help before someone else gets killed.' He waited for Tassos to say something. After all, informing Athens would end more than just Andreas' career as a cop.
Tassos spoke softly. 'I'm not going to try to talk you out of it. If you think it's time, fine. The hell with our deal with the mayor — he's probably the one who told the deputy minister anyway.'
Andreas let out a deep breath. 'How do you think I should I handle it?'
They talked for a while and agreed he'd tell the deputy minister everything in the most politic way possible — then duck. Annika was cold. That was the first thing she noticed. Her head was aching, but she didn't notice until she tried sitting up. She was on a floor on what felt like a chaise longue mattress. The room was completely dark — at least she thought it was a room. She pushed out with her hands to feel in front of her face. She touched nothing. Then she felt out around her as far as her arms could reach. Again nothing. She realized why she was cold: she was naked.
Her chest was pounding and her breathing was running away from her; she knew that meant panic. 'No!!' she yelled to herself. I'm still alive, no matter what this is. I'm still alive, she kept thinking over and over again. She thought of her mother and her father. They'd find her. She just knew they would. She fell back down on the mattress, curled up into a ball, and started crying quietly. He stood still as a granite wall, sharing nakedness with her in the dark. But only he could see. The night-vision goggles added a green cast to her body but did nothing to conceal her beauty from him.
This was his favorite moment: the instant of a tribute's first tears, when she realized she was no longer free. The drug had worked again; it always did, bringing on panic at no memory of how she'd fallen from paradise to here. He carefully moved his right hand to where he could touch himself and quietly began pulling — gently at first, until her crying ended and she finally slept — then fiercely, to the point of pain and beyond, until finally he came.
At last he felt the chill of the room again. It was always this way with a new one; just the thought of her fear drove him to fever. For now, this moment of relief was enough. Later, he'd need much more.
He stared at her for a bit longer. Reluctantly he turned to leave. There were other things to do. 'Good morning, Deputy Minister Renatis' office.'
'Uh, good morning, this is Andreas Kaldis, chief of police on Mykonos. I'm returning the minister's call.'
'Oh, yes, Chief, the minister asked that I give you a message. He had to leave for a cabinet meeting.'
I guess I'm not even worth firing personally, Andreas thought. He's going to have his secretary do it.
'He's spoken with the mayor…'
So, he is the one, that miserable two-faced bastard, thought Andreas.
'… and understands you're in the middle of a murder investigation.'
Andreas felt he should jump in before she reached the punch line. 'Yes, but I think if the minister understood the circumstances-'
She cut him off curtly. 'Chief, I'm reading the minister's message. Please let me finish, and then I will take down whatever it is you want me to tell him.' Obviously, she was experienced at keeping the condemned at bay. He was about to be drawn and quartered without getting a chance to speak. 'As I was saying, he understands you're in the middle of a murder investigation, but this matter really can't wait.'
Andreas held his breath.
'His sister is worried about her daughter, the minister's niece. She's on Mykonos and he'd like you to find her to tell her to call home.'
At first Andreas thought she was talking to someone else on her end of the line.
'It's only been a couple of days since she's been heard from, but the minister's sister is anxious. We know where she's staying, so it shouldn't be too much of an inconvenience for you to find her right away.' Her words were courteous but her tone made clear he had no choice but to act immediately.
She was the sort of condescending bureaucrat who angered Andreas — but not this time. 'Sure, no problem. Glad to help out. Can you give me the details?' He reached for a pen and wrote the deputy minister's name across the pad of paper on his desk.
