‘Here, please sit, I’ve been saving your table.’ He waited until they sat, then hurried back inside.
Kouros whispered, ‘Can’t be too careful around that guy. I wonder if he’s a spook.’
‘Wouldn’t bet against it. Greece is full of spies. It’s part of our history. The question is, a spy for whom?’
‘The church?’
‘If he is a spy, that would be my guess. That’s who’s most likely to want to know what’s going on inside.’ Andreas gestured toward the monastery with his head. ‘And this guy has the best location on the island. He sees everyone going in and out, and between the restaurant and his personality, has the perfect cover for starting conversations with all of them.’
‘Who in the church do you think he’s working for?’
‘I don’t even have an idea of which church. Is it the church in Greece, the church in Constantinople, the church somewhere else?’
‘Like Rome?’
‘Anything’s possible, especially with all the power, money, and influence involved with this place. Then again, it could be just some political rival from another island or monastery. Who knows?’
‘Here you are, something to start.’ Dimitri plunked down a bottle of ouzo, a small pitcher of water, a bowl of ice, and a plate overflowing with olives, sardines, cheese, sausage, cucumber, and tomato. ‘A bit of meze.’ Then he put down three glasses.
Andreas looked at Kouros, smiled, and thought, looks like this time we won’t have to invite him to join us.
Dimitri pulled up a chair and sat down facing Andreas. ‘So, how did your visit go with His Holiness?’
‘Your permit is on its way.’
‘Really?’ He sounded legitimately excited.
Andreas shook his head. ‘No, sorry, the subject never came up. But if it does, I promise to push it.’
Dimitri let out a breath. ‘The bastards.’ He poured himself some ouzo, added ice and water, and took a gulp. ‘I’ll never get it.’
Andreas thought, if Dimitri really is a spy he’s terrific at maintaining his cover. ‘So, Dimitri, tell me what you know about any strangers hanging around the monastery recently.’
Dimitri put down his glass. ‘You want to know about strangers on Patmos around Easter Week? You must be kidding me. It’s one of our busiest times of the year. We are surrounded by strangers.’
‘Come on, you know what I mean. You watch everybody.’
‘If you’re asking me if I’ve seen a great pair of tits I can answer the question, but other than a celebrity or two, there’s no one I would call out of the ordinary. Besides, if you’re looking for someone who came here for the purpose of eliminating Vassilis, don’t you think he — or they — would be careful to blend in? They’d be pros, wouldn’t they?’
Andreas stared at him. ‘Whom do you work for?’
Dimitri laughed. ‘ Touche. As I think you asked me when we first met, “Am I that obvious?”’
Andreas did not smile. ‘Yes.’
Dimitri laughed again. ‘Well, I don’t anymore, but I did a long time ago.’
‘For whom?’
‘If it really matters I’m sure you can find out. I wasn’t any sort of James Bond type, with deeply classified records. I just did the low level sort of analyst work, even got a pension. And a lot of people here know my background. I don’t try to hide it. But I don’t talk about it either.’ Dimitri’s last words were said in a serious tone and without a smile.
Andreas nodded. ‘Okay. But just so we both understand each other, if I find out you had anything to do with what happened to the monk, or are holding anything back,’ he leaned forward, ‘the abbot will seem like your best friend compared to the grief I’ll rain down on you.’
Dimitri stared back. ‘Fair enough. But I’m not, so I’m not worried. Here, have an ouzo.’ He poured them each a drink. ‘ Yamas.’
‘ Yamas.’ The three touched glasses.
‘So, who did you work for?’ asked Andreas. No reason not to try again, especially with Dimitri drinking.
‘Like I said, not telling.’
‘If everyone knows and I can find out, why keep it a secret?’
‘It’s one thing for you to know, another for me to tell you.’
‘You’re one confusing son of a bitch.’
‘Thank you. My wife says the same thing.’ Dimitri laughed.
Andreas shook his head. ‘Okay, then give me your best guess on what happened?’
‘My best is a wild-ass one.’
‘Go for it, you’re local, it’s probably better than ours.’
‘The Russians.’
Andreas didn’t respond. He sensed Dimitri was waiting for a reaction to see where to go next. He’d wait him out.
Dimitri picked up his glass and took another drink. ‘Some say the whole Mount Athos scandal was cooked up by the Russians to embarrass the Greek Church. Yeah, I know all about the Ecumenical Patriarch needing a new home thing. How could I not, living in the midst of all this?’ He took another drink. ‘I also know how upset Vassilis was over that mess. We’d talk sometimes.’
Andreas bet they did.
‘He never said precisely what was bothering him but I could tell he thought things weren’t as they seemed. And, from what I know of the Russians, when “things aren’t as they seem,” they’re my best guess for why.’ Dimitri accentuated the point with his fingers.
‘I think your logic has some Siberia-size gaps,’ said Andreas.
‘Well, let me fill them in. In the 1990s, Cyprus emerged as the number-one destination for Russians and other Eastern Europeans looking for a place to launder suitcases full of cash. Banks thrived on that business, and unimaginable fortunes were made. A lot of ruthless Russian and Eastern European mobsters also set up shop there, driving local hoods back into legitimate businesses or into early graves.’ Dimitri reached for a piece of cucumber.
‘During that same period the monastery involved in the big scandal rose to prominence, playing host to England’s Prince Charles, the first U.S. President Bush, Russia’s Putin, and many other big time movers and shakers in a style equal to any worldclass, five-star luxury hotel. Mount Athos has always been a place where the world’s powerful met in private without having to worry about “special permission to visit” red tape. And like any other visitor to Mount Athos, they were free to visit any monastery they chose, but that’s the one they picked — perhaps because its accommodations were better than the others.’
Dimitri took another drink. ‘Some say it’s just a coincidence that during its rise, the abbot of that monastery was from Cyprus. I’m not suggesting he did anything wrong. He was quite gifted at convincing the very rich from around the world — not just those who’d found their way to Cyprus — that charity toward his monastery smoothed the path toward salvation.
‘Some also say it was a tragic coincidence when the patriarch of Africa, purportedly sent by the Ecumenical Patriarch to check that monastery’s books, perished in a helicopter crash on the way to Mount Athos. Others say some of the monastery’s Eastern European contributors were anxious to remain anonymous.’
Andreas shook his head. ‘You sound like an old Greek sitting around a taverna spinning bits of old news, idle gossip, and off-the-wall speculation into international conspiracy theories. There’s no proof whatsoever for what you’re implying.’
Dimitri picked up his glass and winked. ‘That you know of.’
Andreas looked at Kouros, then back at Dimitri.
‘How’s all that tie into Vassilis’ murder?’
‘Don’t know. But the Russians could have used their big money to burrow so deeply and secretly into that monastery’s infrastructure that even its abbot wouldn’t know what was going on. That would have made it relatively simple to embarrass the whole of Mount Athos by involving one of its oldest and most respected monasteries in a financial scandal and greatly increase the chances of relocating the head of the Eastern Orthodox Church to Russia. With all that’s at stake, I wouldn’t bet against the Russians doing whatever it took to pull it off,
