We wanted to know who was so interested.’ Artur turned to face Yakov.
‘We do not know who the buyers are. There have been no face-to-face communications, but we do know two things. One,’ he raised his right hand and popped out his index finger. ‘The language used by the buyers was Serbian, and two,’ out came the middle finger. ‘Delivery is to take place in Greece. In Ouranoupolis.’
Yakov’s pulse was racing but his voice was flat. ‘The gateway to Mount Athos. This changes everything.’ He drummed his forehead with the fingers of his left hand. ‘Forget about looking for signs of the devil. This intrigue is a sign of the Butcher. Calculating, ruthless, deadly. Any idea of the target?’
Artur shook his head. ‘None.’
‘If Zacharias is the Butcher, whatever is planned will strike directly at our heart. We cannot permit that. When is delivery to take place?’
‘There’s no exact time, a messenger with the package is to wait by a taverna in the port for contact to be made.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Between twelve and eighteen hours from now.’
Yakov picked up the phone and dialed his wife. He and a lot of other people would be missing church tonight.
It was almost midnight. Saint Dionysios on Skoufa Street in Kolinaki was packed. Andreas hadn’t been to this church before, or for that matter, to any church, in a very long time. He’d gone with Lila to a wedding in a small church on Stisichorou Street behind her apartment, and managed to miss a couple of baptisms there, but this was the first time he’d been to her parents’ church. They had insisted the ‘entire family’ be together tonight, and that included Andreas’ mother and his sister’s family.
Andreas wondered if they could tell if his sin showed. He was lucky they weren’t the kind to talk in church. He feared he might confess despite Maggie’s warning. He was holding Lila’s hand and looking at his mother sitting next to him on his left. She was beaming. He knew what she was thinking: my family, all together in church, and my son happy at last with the right woman, his… his friend. Yes, that was what she insisted on calling Lila. Andreas had told his mother she could call Lila his wife, that Lila wouldn’t mind. ‘But I would,’ was his mother’s response. Not until they were married in church would she call Lila her son’s wife, no matter how much she wished it were so.
Andreas felt Lila squeeze his hand and he turned to face her.
She was smiling at him and patting her belly. ‘Baby’s happy, too.’
If he confessed, he’d destroy the lives of the two people he loved most in the world. He could never do that. He’d have to live with what he’d done, accept it, and try to become better for it. He felt no guilt at his decision. Quite the contrary: for the first time in a very long time Andreas was at peace.
The chanting and prayer had hit its peak, bells were ringing, rejoice, Christos Anesti.
But Zacharias saw no joy about him, only mindless, rote prayer without purpose. He needed to escape this. Next year would be different. He would move on. It was not unheard of to switch monasteries. He needed a more civilized base for his plans, somewhere he could flourish and never be incommunicado again. There was too much at stake, too many in need of his guidance. His flock was prey to wolves without its shepherd. No, this year he would move on. There were many monasteries here that would accept him with joy. All he needed was the consent of his abbot. No problem, if the old tyrant were fool enough to refuse, it would be he who moved on.
Yes, the time to emerge from these depths was at hand. He was certain of it.
Now was the fun part of Easter in Greece, at least for those skipping out of church at midnight, carrying candles lit by fire from the Holy Flame of Christ’s nativity cave in Jerusalem into their homes or favorite restaurants. Andreas and the family chose the latter, a fairytale place in the National Gardens next to the breathtaking nineteenth century Zappeion Megaron, the first building constructed specifically for the purpose of reviving the Modern Olympic Games.
They had challenged each other with the customary smacking of dyed-red eggs for good luck to the winner, devoured the traditional mayiritsa soup to break the fast, left very little of the salads, and very little of the wine, leaving Lila the only fully sober one at the table, and not by choice.
‘The baby’s on the wagon,’ was Lila’s excuse to every wellwisher passing by their table and offering a toast.
It was two thirty in the morning and Lila was text messaging furiously. Reading, writing, reading, writing.
‘What’s going on?’ Andreas asked.
‘It’s Barbara. You can’t believe what she’s telling me.’
His heart stopped. Deny, deny, deny. No, not this time. He thought to beat her to the punch. ‘Lila-’
She burst out laughing. ‘I don’t believe her. She’s one of a kind.’ Lila turned to Andreas, all smiles. ‘First of all, she said to send you her love and that you gave a “tremendous performance.”’
I wonder if Maggie has talked to her yet, Andreas thought.
‘I had invited her to join us for dinner, she should have been here hours ago.’
Maggie better have, but if she had she’d have told me.
‘But she can’t make it.’
Thank God.
‘Because she’s in Moscow.’
You’ve got to be kidding me!
‘She was at the airport waiting to catch the last plane back to Athens, and guess who she ran into?’
Good thing she didn’t know more than that I needed an escort.
‘Your Russian from last night. He convinced her it would be a lot more fun to celebrate Easter in Moscow than Athens. She said to tell you she decided to go. “So it wouldn’t be a total loss.” What does that mean?’
‘Got me. She’s a bit wacky.’
‘I’ll say.’ Lila laughed again. ‘Barbara, Barbara, you never fail to amaze me.’
I’ll say.
‘Thanks for inviting me. You were right, Easter dinner alone on Mykonos would have been a downer.’
Tassos patted Kouros on the arm. ‘Hey, you’re family. Besides, I didn’t have to cook. He did.’ Kouros pointed to a man hurrying toward them with plates stacked along his left arm from fingertips to elbow. He was the vision of a Greek leprechaun with a round, rosy-cheeked face, twinkling eyes, and a Greek fisherman’s moustache.
‘Steline,’ the leprechaun shouted, ‘hurry with the rest of the plates before this old bastard from Syros arrests me.’
‘I see he knows you.’
Tassos smiled and nodded. ‘Yeah, we’ve spent many a night together here behind city hall, closing up his place and exchanging lies. It started out as a locals’ place, now it’s the most famous taverna on the island. Everybody comes here.’
Kouros looked over Tassos’ shoulder at someone aimed straight for their table. ‘Oh, boy. Were you ever right.’
‘What are you talking-’
‘You miserable fucking piece of shit!’ And thus began a thirty-second string of expletives delivered at disco club volume. Tourist heads jerked around to see who was about to be murdered. Locals just shrugged and continued on with Easter dinner; it was only Katerina doing her warpath thing.
Tassos braced himself, then came a smack to the back of his head.
Kouros smiled. ‘I see you’ve been through this before.’
Tassos stayed braced. ‘She’s not done yet.’
Smack. She did it again, then another.
Tassos relaxed. ‘I think she’s done.’
‘I heard that, asshole,’ and gave him another slap.
Tassos turned to face her. ‘Christos Anesti, Katerina mou. Please, join us.’
She was shaking her fist in his face and stopped only long enough to say, ‘ Alithos Anesti,’ before starting in on him again. ‘How could you have done that to me? Set me up so badly.’ Tassos pulled out a chair as she raged on. Katerina sat down without missing a beat in her diatribe. ‘I have never been so embarrassed in all my life.’
‘I assume you know all of my cousins.’ Tassos pointed to the people around the table. ‘And, of course, Yianni Kouros.’
Katerina nodded and smiled to all the cousins, then looked at Kouros. ‘You’re as bad as this one,’ pointing to
