‘I don’t know, the place is spiritual, the words just came to me.’ Andreas grinned. ‘At least I didn’t ask if the name of his mysterious best friend was “Zacharias.”’
‘I admire your discipline.’
‘Yeah, the moment of satisfaction wasn’t worth it. I can guarantee you that bringing up Zacharias’ name to the abbot would get back to him. And with all the powerful friends he seems to have, the last thing we need is Zacharias thinking we’re interested in him. We know he’s covering up a past and probably has a lot of favors he can call in to help keep it that way.’
‘On Sunday.’
‘In these days of text messages and cell phones, who knows? Better to play dumb and see what we can learn elsewhere.’
‘Where do you suggest we start looking?’
‘Hungry?’
Kouros smiled. ‘Thought you’d never ask.’
They started walking. ‘So, what did you find out about our new favorite taverna owner?’
Kouros answered, ‘He’s what he said. A former spook everyone knows about.’
‘For whom?’
‘Not for us. He didn’t work here, he worked in Eastern Europe, speaks four of their languages. The story is that he worked for the highest bidder.’
‘Figures.’
‘But like he said, not field stuff, just analysis.’
‘In other words, he was one of those guys who decided whether it was worth the risk of someone else getting his nuts shot off,’ said Andreas.
‘You could put it that way.’
A minute later they were in Dimitri’s.
‘My friend, how are you?’ Andreas spoke with his arms spread wide.
Dimitri seemed surprised to see them. ‘Hmm, things must be heating up. You’re here every day now.’
‘So you heard about my visit yesterday?’
He shrugged. ‘Force of habit. I like to keep informed.’
‘Great. Is there a place we can talk?’
‘Sure, you’re regulars now. Let me show you to your table.’ He told a passing waiter to bring coffee and sweets, and dropped into a chair next to the table. ‘So, what can I do for you?’
‘We’re looking for somebody,’ Andreas said.
Dimitri nodded.
‘But this has to be hush-hush. We’re not even sure the guy’s on the island, but if he is and learns we’re looking for him, poof, he’ll disappear.’
‘Okay, I get it.’
‘If you can help us we’d appreciate it, really appreciate it. But, if after we talk word gets out that we’re looking for someone…’ Andreas shook his head in a way that made voicing a threat unnecessary. ‘So, if you offer to help, great. If not, no hard feelings.’
‘You really know how to make a guy feel welcome.’ Dimitri laughed. ‘No problem, I get the picture. As long as he’s not a relative… unless I don’t like the bastard. But no matter who he is, I promise not to tip him off.’
Andreas looked at Kouros. Kouros nodded.
‘Okay,’ said Andreas. ‘Your word’s good enough for us. Well, it’s really three guys.’
‘Eastern European, big?’
‘How the fuck…’ Kouros caught himself.
‘One guy would be tough, but three guys hanging out together in a place they don’t belong get noticed, and people start to talk.’
Andreas shook his head. ‘Go on, please.’
‘Yesterday, was it yesterday — yeah, yesterday — I went over to this farm on the far north end of the island. It has the best fruits and vegetables on Patmos, but this time of the year I go for the eggs. Anyway, I get there and the farmer had three big guys working on repairing a shed. They were strangers; and I asked where they were from. He said he didn’t ask for passports; they just wanted to stay for a few days and were willing to work for food and a place to sleep.’
‘Ever see them around the monastery?’
He shook his head. ‘Not that I recall, but like I told you before, there are a lot of people visiting the monastery now. Big ones, small ones, you name it.’
‘When did they get to the farm?’
‘He said “yesterday,” which would mean Monday. Monday morning.’
Andreas nodded. ‘Can you tell us how to get there?’
‘Sure. But are you sure you want to go?’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t want to get your macho juices running, but these guys are three muscled motherfuckers. I saw them working with their shirts off.’
Andreas shook his head and said, ‘No problem,’ then turned to Kouros. ‘I guess that means I get to wait in the car while you ask the questions, detective.’
Zacharias was a student of human behavior. He prided himself on reading a mind from a glance. But there was nothing new to learn from this confinement. He’d grasped the essence of these men long ago. They were non- evolved examples of what writers had observed in antiquity: Greeks only buried their differences to unite against an external threat. Every man for himself until called upon to unite for the glory of Greece. They were like men in many parts of the world, and perfect for his purposes.
As for those who despaired because they believed corruption and self-interest made success in Greece a matter of random chance, he agreed with them — but only for those unwilling to manipulate the odds. He had no such reluctance and so for him that made success a matter of certainty, not chance.
If only he could be as certain of what was happening on Patmos.
12
The road north took them back to Kambos, but instead of going straight at the crossroads they went left. Dimitri’s directions were precise, in a Greek sort of way: keep going until you see really spectacular country, then take a right at the first big road heading downhill; it’s the farm off in the distance, next to the sea, with no tractors, only donkeys. Dimitri was willing to wager his pension that the family running the farm had no idea who the three men were. He said the family rented the land from the church and raised everything by the labor of their own hands. Such hardworking people were rare these days. And they never overcharged, which made them even rarer.
The farm was right where Dimitri promised it would be and just as he’d described: a cluster of white buildings surrounded by tall cedars and pines, above fields of sprouting green running down to a long stone wall that set the farm off from a sandy beach and the cove beyond. On the far right side of the cove, a short jetty cut into the sea, running parallel and close to the beach; a dozen small, brightly-painted Greek fishing boats were tied bow-to- jetty, stern-to-shore, and tiny sheds for fishing nets and other needs of the trade filled the seaward side of the jetty.
There was no way to approach the house unnoticed. It no doubt was built with that in mind generations ago by wary folk wanting warning of the welcome and not-so-welcome entering their isolated paradise. Besides, the dogs would announce their presence long before they reached the house. To make it tougher, the only practical way to get there was by foot or aboard some four-footed creature.
‘Yianni, stop here.’ They were on a dirt road running down toward the sea, above and as close to the house as you could get from the road. From here they had an unobstructed view of the house, and vice-versa. The shed
