She knew he was talking about Delos. Everybody on Mykonos talked about Delos — as if being less than a mile from so sacred and important an archeological site justified Mykonos' relentless party life.
'The ancient Mykonians honored their pagan gods in a far simpler way. They danced and feasted on sacrifices of goat and lamb. The same as today's Mykonians do at a panegyri.' He paused. 'Today the Greeks worship new gods, different ones. Today they call them saints.'
He paused again. 'It is important to honor the saints, to honor them for what they have done for you in the past, for what you may pray to them to do for you in the future. No saint should ever be neglected, not a single one.'
His voice grew louder. 'But what of ancient, long neglected gods? The gods who answered my prayers, allowed me to live among them and flourish. Are they any less worthy of honor than the saints?' Another, longer pause.
'Could the moment be more perfect? We're about to honor Saint Kiriake as we sit by the heart and soul of ancient pagan Greece.'
He said nothing for several minutes, the silence more threatening to Annika than his voice.
'Time to join the panegyri.'
The motor roared to life and the boat moved again.
Annika thought, wherever we're heading there'll be people. Like he said, panegyris go on all night. That's when I'll run — when he's close to shore. I'll jump and scream in Greek to everyone I see. That'll be his one mistake, and when he makes it, I'll be ready.
The last surprise will be mine.
23
Annika felt the boat slowing down. She thought an hour had passed since they started moving again, but it could have been ten minutes. She'd lost track of time. Suddenly, the engine cut off and she felt a change of weight at the stern. He was moving forward! This was it. Either make her move now or give up.
'Never!' she shouted, and forced herself to her knees — but he already was up to her. He grabbed her neck from behind. 'No!' she screamed in Greek and drove the heel of her good hand hard into his crotch. Whether he was startled by the word or the pain, he let go.
She crawled toward the side of the boat but too slowly to get there before he recovered. He lunged at her, but on this side of Delos even a calm sea had waves generated by distant, passing ships, and at the instant of his lunge, a wave hit the gunnels behind them, knocking her to the floor and him over the side into the sea. She heard the splash and looked up. They were thirty yards from land. She could see a church on a rise about fifty yards up from shore. There's the panegyri, she thought. She crawled onto the bow locker and shouted in Greek, 'Help! Help! I've been kidnapped. He's trying to kill me! Help me, please help me!'
The boat abruptly jerked to one side. His hands were on the gunnel. He was pulling himself into the boat. She shouted louder. No one seemed to hear her. I'm too far away, she thought. He was back in and charging forward. She did the only thing left for her to do — she rolled off into the sea.
It was deeper than she expected — and colder — but calmer than above. She floated more than swam beneath the surface toward what she thought was the shore, her dress billowing about her as gracefully as a medusa drifting above its tentacles. Suddenly, something moved across her forehead covering her eyes. She panicked and tried to stand. Her body burst through the surface and she ripped the creature off her face.
Her eyes long ago had adjusted to the night, and she looked at the mass in her hand. It was hair. She touched her head and for the first time realized she was bald. She spun around looking for shore still holding the wig. The water was waist high and the boat twenty yards away. She heard the engine start. He must have seen her and was coming for her. She dropped the wig and tried to run toward shore. Her legs wouldn't move. She heard the engine slowly, deliberately closing in on her.
She thrust and kicked and willed her legs to carry her to shore. 'I will survive,' she kept repeating to herself. 'I will survive.'
Andreas told the port police lieutenant to head straight for the church. No time for the protocol of landing only at Delos' port. He was damn sure the killer wasn't observing it.
Tassos called the guard station on Delos but no one answered. 'The port cop was right,' he shouted to Andreas over the noise of the engines. 'They're all probably passed out dead drunk by now.'
Andreas kept trying to reach the deputy minister and the mayor. Neither took his calls. 'Assholes,' he said aloud. He phoned Kouros.
'Yianni, it's the chief.' Andreas wondered if he knew how shaky that title was.
'Yes, sir,' Kouros answered, respectful as always.
'Do you know where Minister Renatis is?'
'Yes, sir, he's here at the station with Captain Leros and the mayor. They're waiting for Manny to get here.'
'Did they find any of the others?'
'No, sir.' He added with a hint of satisfaction, 'And they only found Manny because the mayor told the taxi dispatcher to get him here.'
Bastard, thought Andreas. 'I need you to get a message to the deputy minister.'
'Yes, sir.' He sounded like a player anxious to hear his coach's winning play call.
'Tell him the killer has his niece on Delos, probably at the church to Saint Kiriake. And tell him to get as many men as he can there ASAP.' His voice sounded urgent.
'Yes, sir.' There was a tentative tone to Kouros' voice.
'What is it, Kouros?'
Even more tentatively, he said, 'I'm not sure the deputy minister will listen, sir.'
'Why?' Andreas was abrupt.
'Uh, I got a call from Manny's lawyer. Said she's on her way here and to tell whoever's interrogating Manny what she'll do if anything happens to him. When I gave the message to the deputy minister, he started cursing you.'
Andreas was quiet for a moment. Katerina had returned Tassos' call as they were leaving the harbor. 'Good point, Yianni. Is the girl's mother there?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Give her the message.'
'Will do, sir.'
Andreas hung up, his expression stern. He muttered to himself, 'Screw 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'; I'll bet on a mother protecting her young any day.' Annika didn't feel the pain at first. Her focus was on reaching shore ahead of him. She'd succeeded, but her bare feet were bruised and bleeding from her stumble through the rocks in the shallows. Now she was struggling to climb the grade toward the church and her wrist was killing her. She kept tripping on the front of her wet dress, and her feet kept finding the rocks and sharpest thistles on the hillside, but she didn't stop. She looked back and saw the boat at shore. Thank God it wasn't a completely dark night, she thought. The moon gave her enough light to make out shapes and movement. She tried moving faster; the pain didn't matter anymore. She looked back again. He was out of the boat and undoing the rope on the bow.
She was halfway to the church and shouting again for help. Still no one answered, and no one was in sight.
'Annika.' He was close enough to her that he didn't shout.
She was frantic to reach the top and kept yelling for help.
'Annika…' The voice was soft, emotionless, and getting closer.
She yelled louder, 'Help, help me, please! Please, someone help me!'
All she heard was his droning on in Greek. 'You did surprise me, Annika. I never thought you were Greek. I