by Nick Vellis
Pantheras watched Ceres wipe silent tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand. Poor little kid, he thought. It’s a tough way to grow up.
“So,” John said, turning to face his friend, “this Captain Solaris and some other Greek are working for the Germans and trying to eliminate the resistance groups?”
“So it would appear,” Christos, said returning to his field glasses.
“Do you know who the other officer is?” John asked. He wanted to know who he was up against.
Christos was about to answer when George appeared.
“We’re ready, L-T,” George Zabt said as he came up behind Pantheras.
“OK George. It looks clear but make it fast,” John said, “Fast but careful, George.”
“Will do L–T,” Zabt replied.
Three men made their way more than a mile down the hill toward the rail line to place their explosives under the tracks. Pantheras observed his men and did visual sweeps of the valley looking for any sign of a German patrol or observation plane.
Pantheras watched Zabt, Sanna, and Costos place the charges then run for cover. When the men were ready, Zabt touched off the explosives destroying about three hundred feet of track beginning at one end of a deep gulley.
That should slow down the train, Pantheras thought. He continued his over watch until the three men returned. Finally, Sergeant Zabt, who was bringing up the rear, wearily mounted the ridge, only to walk down the opposite side.
“Well L-T, what’s next?” Zabt said to Pantheras as the lieutenant sat down beside him.
Looking at Christos, then at Zabt, Pantheras sighed, and leaned back against the hill. From behind closed eyes, Pantheras said, “Next? We wait, George. We wait for our train to stop at the little station you provided down there. We wait for it to get dark.”
Lengthening shadows heralded the end of another day when Christos gently shook Pantheras awake. “John. The train comes,” Christos said.
Pantheras slowly got to his feet, taking his field glasses from Ceres as he walked by him. Brushing a layer of dust from his field jacket as he stood, the American clambered up the hill. He mounted the last few feet to the crest of the ridge in a crouch. He joined George who was already in the observation post.
Christos was already sprawled out next to him. The three men concentrated on the approaching train. Behind and below them the men began to stir.
The train was longer then he’d expected, maybe twenty cars, including two passenger coaches. It looked like any other train in occupied Greece, a tired black steam locomotive, belching thick clouds of black soot, lumbering along through the open rocky and nearly treeless terrain.
Atop each car sat groups of two or three armed men. On this train, there were German soldiers and, unexpectedly, Greeks in uniform as well. They were paramilitary, members of the collaborationist Greek Security Battalions. These were Greek soldiers, renegades, and criminals working for the Germans. Christos had been right. Captain Solaris was indeed a complicated man.
Through the gathering dusk, the men watched as the train approached the damaged section of rail and slowed to a halt. First, one German officer, then a second jumped down to survey the damage. With practiced efficiency, they evaluated the sabotaged section of track, and quickly gave orders for the guards on every other car to dismount. Within minutes, parties of men were making feverish repairs.
Pantheras looked at Zabt then at Christos, and said, “Looks like they’ve done this before. It won’t hold them up very long. We better get the men ready.”
“Right,” Zabt whispered.
Pantheras watched as the men below him efficiently stripped the rails and ties from behind their train, and used them to make repairs ahead. He counted about thirty men in the work parties, and perhaps twice that many standing guard on the ground or on top of various cars. The odds were not in their favor, ninety men to fifteen, but orders were orders, and besides he had an idea.
Full darkness had fallen when Sergeant Raptis, with his BAR, took point as the men spread out in a V and worked their way down the hill in the pitch dark.
The men were headed for a shallow gulley Christos had discovered when they planned the track demolition. A gulley that paralleled the track concealed them from all but the most careful guard, and the train had stopped adjacent to the hidden depression as John had planned. The combat team entered the depression, and the dry streambed allowed them to move quickly and silently.
After nearly twenty minutes, Pantheras went down on one knee and held up a fist, signaling the group to halt. Silently, he motioned for Zabt to come forward. When his lead NCO was at his side, he whispered, “I figure we’re about 30 meters from the locomotive. Let’s take up covering positions here.”
Zabt nodded in response and, with quick hand signals, assigned men to positions parallel to and facing the train. He alternated his own men with the Andartes fighters in their group so they were about ten meters apart. He then checked on each man, making sure he had interlocking fire with the man next to him and had his spare ammo nearby. When he had checked on each man’s position, he reported to Pantheras.
“Everyone ready?” Pantheras whispered.
Zabt nodded.
“You’re in charge here, George. If it goes bad pull, back to the hilltop and get out of here. Don’t wait for us,” Pantheras said.
“OK L-T. Good luck,” Zabt said.
“Let’s go,” Pantheras said as he headed towards the locomotive with Christos, a silenced Luger in his right hand.
The two men crept forward in the cool night air. The gulley narrowed as they approached their objective, and they came out into the open sooner than they had planned. Pantheras felt a moment of panic but fought it off. He glanced around. They hadn’t been spotted. The guards were all asleep or facing the opposite side of the train.
First Christos, Sten gun in hand, followed by Pantheras, gently mounted the steps to the coach located directly behind the tender. They paused while their eyes adjusted to the bright light from inside. Pantheras nodded to Christos, who eased the door open with his left hand, Sten in his right. Pantheras took his first tentative steps inside.
There were three men, all German officers, inside. I can handle three, John thought. One of them, a Captain at the far end of the car, chose that moment to turn. The surprised look on his face never made it to his lips as Pantheras put two rounds from the silenced Luger in his chest. The silencer’s staccato pops caused the remaining German officers to turn toward the sound, but Pantheras efficiently dropped them where they sat.
“Quick, move these bodies,” Pantheras said.
They dragged the dead officers to the far end of the car, dumped them behind a table just as they felt the coach move, and heard someone on the steps. “Someone’s coming,” Christos whispered.
The two men ducked for cover behind the substantial furniture in the command coach.
A man strode confidently into the car and was immediately on guard. He looked around furtively and on seeing an overturned chair at the far end of the car turned to leave. However, his swaggering entrance had carried him too far into car. Christos stood, Sten gun pointed at his enemy, hatred marking his weathered face. The American joined him.
“Captain Solaris, please do as I say. My Greek friend would really like to kill you,” Pantheras said.
“Ah, you know who I am. Your intelligence is very good,” the captain said.
Christos had said Solaris was former Greek Army, but Pantheras was not prepared for he saw. The six-foot tall man was wiry with a distinguished patrician look about him in his Provincial Army uniform. Even with guns trained on him, he looked cool. His confidence was unnerving. His dark features, set off by a thick mustache, a broad nose and large shining eyes gave him a sinister quality, as he tried to stare Pantheras down. The men were sizing each other up, and the first to blink would win, maybe.
“Remember, no names,” Christos said to John.
“No need. I know who you are,” S
olaris said.
“Sit and be quiet if you want to live,” Pantheras replied.
“Certainly. I have more than a hundred men outside, but you have the advantage, for now,” Solaris said.
“Maybe, but if you give the alarm most of them will be dead before you hit the floor. So shut up and listen,” Pantheras said.
“You know you can’t hope to escape. My men and our German escort will surely overpower you,” Solaris said.
“We’ve started working on your German escort,” he said, motioning toward the three dead officers at the rear of the car. “I think we can take care of the rest. Besides, who said we want to escape? You know, I hear you’re pretty smart. I thought you might have expected us, maybe be ready to make a deal. So, this is the train with the money, right?”
“A deal?” the captain said, lighting a dark Turkish cigarette.
“That’s a most interesting thought, but I don’t think it would benefit me to provide you too much information yet. But tell me lieutenant what have you in mind?” the renegade captain said.
Pantheras felt Christos’ icy stare on the back of his neck and wondered where the Sten was pointing.
CHAPTER 7
AJ stopped in front of the Café Athena on Alhambra, handed the valet the keys, and watched intently as his black BMW 528i drove away.
“This is the best Greek place in Miami,” AJ said, still looking over his shoulder to watch the valet. “Miami is all about food, all kinds of food. I figured you might enjoy it.”
“Thank you. I’m certain I will,” Ceres replied. “Boston has several good Greek restaurants, but I rarely eat out.” Ceres had been very quiet, almost withdrawn, since AJ returned from the bank. He wondered if he could trust Andreas’ son. Ceres had been shocked by Andreas’ murder but was there a connection? Everything was connected, he reminded himself. Everything was connected and the threads led back to the past, but to whom?
Dinner conversation was light. Their sparse words were about AJ’s mother, the Army, law school. AJ grew tense when the conversation turned to AJ’s father, Andreas.
“Your father spoke of you often,” Ceres said.
“Really,” AJ replied with a raised eyebrow. “That’s surprising. We didn’t agree on most things.”
“He loved you a great deal, you know. He respected your abilities, but worried about you,” Ceres said.
“You knew a different man than I did then,” AJ said, trying only a little to hide his bitterness. “While my mother was alive, my father was, at best aloof and often downright cold to me. Why she stayed with him, I’ll never understand. When she died, my father and I had nothing in common,” AJ said.
“He loved you. He told me so, and I could hear it in the things he said about you,” Ceres replied. “He knew he didn’t express his feelings for you well. He never knew his own father.”
“I respected him for his success, but he objected to everything I did to make my own way,” AJ said.
Ceres nodded trying to gauge the young man. “Your father was a distant man, to be sure,” Ceres said, thinking back on his meetings with Andreas. “It took several months for me trust him. I understand your dilemma.”
Ceres had been surprised when Andreas had expressed his disdain for his son, the shortcuts he risked, and his growing avarice. The elder Pantheras thought his son too enamored with material things, but what had he given his son, certainly not love. Ceres saw the source of his friend’s concern. Ajax’s expensive home, the BMW, the expensive suits, and the attitude of entitlement pointed to a young man overly impressed with himself and his bank account. If Ceres was to learn what happened to John Pantheras, he needed to be careful dealing with his grandson.
Ceres wasn’t going to solve or even understand the problems between AJ and his father. If Andreas had lived, perhaps he could have helped. What he desperately needed to know was if he could trust this young man. He had searched long and hard, and this was certainly his last chance to find answers. If he was to find out what happened to the man who had loved a little boy in the middle of a war, it would have to be now.
AJ was also trying to size up the man opposite him and wasn’t sure where to begin. His dinner companion, like his father, was always probing, asking uncomfortable questions, and judging him. His father was a self-made man who’d refused to help AJ at every turn, saying he needed to learn to stand on his own two feet. He had stood on his own, but his father didn’t like his clients. Now the potential for a huge payday was in front of him. He’d never touch dear old dad’s money. His father was dead, but making his own fortune could put the last nail is the old man’s coffin, and be the final insult to his selfish father. AJ couldn’t let a prize like that slip through his fingers.
After a less than relaxed dinner, they drove back to AJ’s place in Gables by the Sea, still in uncomfortable silence. Both men were lost in their thoughts and agendas. As they approached the ostentatious home, Ceres rolled his eyes. Ajax was a fool with his money. Andreas was right to worry about the boy, Ceres thought. Once they settled comfortably in the living room, AJ offered Ceres coffee, but he waved it away.
“Ajax, I have much to say, but I must be careful how I say it,” he began. “I worry that I am involving you in something for which you are not prepared.”
Was Ajax his father’s son or was he just another greedy American? Ceres and Andreas had each been to Greece twice looking for answers. Each was looking for a man who’d disappeared without a trace. Now the only one who could help him seemed no more than a spoiled boy.
“I’ll admit I am at a loss to understand some things," AJ said.
"I’ve never heard about my grandfather, but seeing the documents my father collected, I imagine he was shocked by what he found. I’m only guessing.”
AJ was wary of expressing too many opinions. He wanted to get as much information as possible. If he was to find the missing treasure, he would need the old man on his side.
“There is so much to tell,” Ceres said, “but you should know something of the context. The war took a terrible toll on Greece. Some estimates put the loss of life at 30 percent of the population. I have researched this, you see. The whole of the Greek people suffered. I was a little boy, but it affected me too. Everyone in my village, including my family, was killed, but I am not alone. Did you know nearly a million people died from disease and starvation in Athens alone? The Brits blockaded the country.”
“No, I didn’t know,” AJ said softly. Oh, geeze, he thought, he’s going to give me a damn history lesson.
“Atrocities against the Greek population began with the Italian and Bulgarian invasion in October 1940, but the Greek army beat them, drove them back into Albania. The Germans joined the attack in April 1941 and the Greek army and their British allies were swept aside. The Germans conquered the mainland in three weeks. Crete took a little longer.”
“I’ve seen stuff about Crete on the History Channel,” AJ said.
Typical, Ceres thought, to learn about his homeland’s history from television. “The Bulgarians, Germans, and Italians divided the country,” Ceres continued. “The Italians were not bad as occupiers, but the Bulgarians and the Germans were very brutal. Hitler ordered any home suspected of harboring the resistance torched. Field Marshal Keitel ordered that for every German killed, 100 hostages would die. The German Army was very good at carrying out orders. There were many atrocities, Kalavryta, Drama, Kontomari, Galatas and many more on Crete. Thousands died, all civilians including women and children.
“Why have I never heard about this?” How much more, AJ thought. When do we get to the gold? AJ tried not to stare at the mesmerizing rectangle on the table in front of him.
“It is studied in Greek schools, but not here, I am sure. America was the victor, after all. I have spent my adult life researching this. I know much too much.” Ceres suddenly realized he wasn’t ready to trust the boy. He saw the greedy gleam in AJ’s eyes. It worried him. He would give the boy the background for now.
/> “Yes, of course. There is just so much horror in war,” AJ said quickly. Be patient, he thought, it’s just like baiting a witness on the stand. Be patient.
“After the Italians surrendered in September 1943,” Ceres continued, “the German Army took control of the entire country. Germans determined they would deport all of the Greek Jews. There were more than 200,000 Jews in the country, about half in the area of Thessaloniki. This is where history and mystery begin to blur and there are many variations in the story. There was an SS officer named Dorn in charge of Northern Greece, where Thessaloniki is the biggest city.
Here it comes, AJ thought.
“Dorn ordered all the male Jews to the labor camps. They worked in the tin mines, repaired the railroad, anything that needed slave labor. The Jewish community in Thessaloniki struck a deal with Dorn. They would pay a ransom for the release of the men in the labor camps and all the others. The ransom consisted of gold, silver, jewelry, and other valuables and its value ran in the billions of drachmas. The ransom was paid, but Dorn rounded up the Jews and sent them to what we know as the concentration camps.
The Germans were very efficient. Fewer than 5,000 Jews survived the war. Some, a pitiful few, had been smuggled out of the country by concerned Christians or the Americans and the British. Only Poland had a more complete liquidation of its Jews.”
AJ’s mind was on fire. What about the gold? Would the old fool ever get to the important part?
