An Aegean Prophecy ak-3

by Jeffrey Siger

  Zacharias had been through more than a decade of these ceremonies. He watched the abbot move along the row of bare feet. Amazing how much he’d aged. He was very lucky I came along when I did. He needed me. Someone had to organize this place and speak enough different languages to communicate with the world beyond these walls. Still, the abbot never would have taken me in if I’d not sworn to reject all my worldly possessions — and turn them over to his monastery. To Zacharias that just proved anyone could find a place in the world, assuming of course you had the price of admission, which in his case was a very expensive ticket.

  The abbot was about to wash Zacharias’ feet. How fitting he’s doing this, Zacharias thought. After all I’ve done for him without taking a bit of credit… or a euro or a dollar or a ruble. But then again, that’s our arrangement, the same as I have with all I’ve helped rise to power in our monasteries. I get them what they want without seeking anything for myself, except of course, their friendship and access to them whenever I want. What more do I need of money? I have all I’ll ever require in life safely away in Swiss bank accounts. The vast wealth of the Ecumenical Patriarch shall serve another purpose, for with it will come the earthly power to bring much needed order to the world, once he is on our Holy Mountain… and under my guidance.

  Zacharias smiled.

  The abbot noticed the smile and smiled back, as if reflecting on their past together.

  Oh, yes, Your Holiness, I remember our first ceremony together, thought Zacharias. I was the youngest, and that meant I played a special role. I was your Judas.

  Lila didn’t act upset when Andreas said he had to go to the office ‘just for an hour or so.’ She said she’d call her mother and they’d spend the afternoon doing ‘baby things.’ Still, somehow he felt he’d screwed up. Big time.

  Dimitri had dropped off the computer and disks as promised, together with a handwritten note:

  I have no idea what’s on this and don’t want to know. Promise. D.

  A likely story, thought Andreas. Maggie had left Dimitri’s note on his desk together with a typed one of her own:

  OUT FOR A BIT. THE COMPUTER GURU IS LOOKING AT EVERYTHING. WHEN

  YOU WANT HIM, CALL HIM. YIANNI CALLED TO CHECK IN. I TOLD HIM ABOUT

  THE COMPUTER AND THAT YOU SAID, ‘STAY ON HOLIDAY, THAT’S AN ORDER.‘

  There was a tiny word at the very end of the note he couldn’t make out.

  Andreas shook his head and talked to himself as he rummaged through his middle desk drawer looking for a magnifying glass. ‘I didn’t tell her that, but yes, that’s what I would have said. Still, she can’t go around doing that sort of thing without checking with me first. I’ll have to speak to her. I run this office, not Maggie. Great, now I’ll have the other woman in my life pissed at me.’ He found the glass and stared at Maggie’s note. The word was ‘Over.’ He read the other side of the note.

  HE DIDN’T BELIEVE ME. SAID YOU’D NEVER BE THAT CONSIDERATE AND YOU

  SHOULD CALL HIM IF YOU WANT HIM TO COME BACK.

  Andreas laughed. He picked up the phone, called the computer guru, and told him to come up and show him what he’d found so far. Then he hung up and laughed some more.

  He looked again at Dimitri’s note. A phrase caught his eye: ‘and don’t want to know.’ He ran the thought through his mind. Maybe he really meant that. Curiosity can be a curse, and there’s a certain comfort in ignorance of facts you do not need to know in order to live out your life in peace. Especially those facts almost impossible for you to change, like the number of people in the world who die each year in freak accidents. Or whatever can of worms might be on Vassilis’ computer.

  The intercom buzzed. ‘Hi, I’m back. Ilias is here.’

  ‘Who’s Ilias?’

  Maggie whispered, ‘The computer guru.’

  He paused for an instant. ‘Send him in.’ I’m too damn curious for my own good.

  Ilias said there was a lot of information on Vassilis’ computer, even more on the disks stolen from the monk’s room, but without knowing exactly what Andreas was interested in, it was ‘needle in a haystack time.’ Still, he’d narrowed things down, or at least hoped he had by focusing on what Vassilis was working on in the thirty days before his death. ‘I’m not sure if what I’ve come up with helps, since I don’t know what you’re looking for.’

  ‘Any luck on finding sources for the images used to doctor the photograph we took off the USB drive?’

  ‘All but one.’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘The carpet. The faces were lifted from group photographs stored on the computer’s hard drive, the painting was a recent download from a museum site on the Internet, so was the photo used for the empty chairs, but the carpet…’ He shook his head. ‘I found the image of the carpet on the hard drive, but no idea of its source. It could be buried on one of the disks or lifted from something online. Can you give me some help?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Keywords. I can use them to search the files.’

  ‘Revelation.’

  Ilias keyed it in. ‘Looks like a zillion hits.’

  Of course, thought Andreas. He’s a scholar monk living on Patmos. ‘Can you limit it just to file names?’

  ‘Sure,’ and with a few keystrokes Ilias brought up a hundred entries.

  Andreas read the list. Nothing recent, and nothing interesting. ‘Try Russia, but only recent entries.’

  That brought up a lot of newspaper articles, but nothing earth-shattering. He told him to try Mount Athos. That got him what he expected, more newspaper articles but nothing more than what everyone already knew.

  Andreas kept suggesting keywords, but none led to anything helpful. ‘Okay, I’ve about had it.’ He paused. ‘Try Zacharias.’

  Ilias typed in the word. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Nothing? How can there be nothing? Try searching for more than just file names.’

  ‘I did, there’s no “Zacharias” anywhere in the computer.’

  Ilias paused. ‘But it’s a biblical name. Someone would have had to intentionally purge every mention of it.’

  Like some do 666, thought Andreas. ‘Let’s check out the disks.’

  There were about fifty. Not a hit anywhere.

  ‘It’s almost like someone’s trying to call attention to the name by its absence,’ said Ilias.

  Andreas had been leaning over Ilias’ back reading off the screen. He patted him on the shoulder. ‘Sure does.’ He walked over to the window and stared up at the sky. Neither man said a word for about a minute. ‘Try “time is at hand” as a file name.’ Andreas spoke without taking his eyes off the sky.

  A few seconds later Ilias said, ‘Nothing.’

  Andreas shook his head. ‘Damn, I was sure there’d be something.’ He turned away from the window. ‘I have another idea, but for luck I’ll type it in myself.’ He walked over to the laptop, typed four words, and hit ENTER.

  The computer came up with a single hit, a file titled, ‘Thief in the night.’

  ‘ Bingo,’ Andreas shouted and slapped Ilias on the back so hard the whiz kid almost fell off his chair. ‘Sorry, I’m used to slapping my partner.’

  ‘Lucky him,’ said Ilias, rubbing away at his back.

  ‘So, what do we have?’

  Ilias opened the file. It was a folder containing a dozen different documents, including three lists. One was a list of monks at Zacharias’ monastery, but Zacharias’ name wasn’t on it. Another was a list of newspaper articles, arranged by journalist, accusing the Russians of a hand in the scandal at Mount Athos, and the third listed TV journalists known for sharing those same views on the Mount Athos scandal. Of the remaining documents, all but one were newspaper articles published more than a decade ago, and not in Greek. The last document was a photograph of a monk in his cell, probably from a magazine.

  ‘ Maggie, come in here.’

  The door swung open. ‘I wondered when you’d invite me.’

  Andreas pointed to th
e two lists of journalists on the screen. ‘What do these names mean to you?’ She read the lists and smiled. ‘Officially or unofficially?’

  ‘Maggie!’

  ‘Okay, they’re the best money can buy. If you want a story and are willing to pay for it, you get it. Facts are secondary to these guys.’

  Andreas let out a long breath. Just like the ones who brought down my father, he thought. He pointed to the newspaper articles. ‘Any idea what these are about?’

  Maggie looked and gestured no. ‘They’re foreign, not my area of expertise.’

  ‘Uh, Chief.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Ilias pointed to one. ‘This one’s in German, the others I believe are in Serbian.’

  ‘Can you read them?’

  ‘Not the Serbian, but I think I can make out the German.’ He studied the article for a couple of minutes. ‘It’s German, but from a Swiss paper. It’s about an escaped war criminal who burned to death in a car crash in Switzerland.’

  ‘How was the body identified?’

  ‘From documents on the scene.’

  How convenient they didn’t burn, Andreas thought. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘You’ll need a professional translation for details. My German isn’t that good, and my Serbian is practically nonexistent. But,’ Ilias pointed to the articles in Serbian, ‘one thing I can make out is that all the newspapers mention the guy who died in Switzerland.’

  Andreas nodded. ‘What about the photograph of the monk in his cell?’

  ‘I have an idea.’ Ilias tore through the disks until he found a particular one and popped it into the laptop. It was from a CD collection giving a virtual tour of Mount Athos monasteries. ‘Here.’ He pointed to a photograph. It was the one of the monk in his cell. ‘I thought I saw it before. It’s from that monastery you’re interested in.’

  ‘Damn, you’re good.’

  Ilias jerked forward as if anticipating another congratulatory whack.

  Andreas laughed and high-fived him as they bent to the screen.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ said Andreas. ‘What’s that over there?’ He pointed to a photograph next to the one of the monk’s cell.

  ‘It’s of the library in the same monastery,’ said Ilias.

  ‘Can you make this part bigger?’ Andreas pointed to an area of the floor, and watched the photograph grow.

  ‘My God,’ said Ilias. ‘It’s the carpet.’

  Andreas gave no back slaps, no high-fives, no shouts; he just stared at the screen in silence. When he spoke, he first cleared his throat. ‘Thanks, Ilias, good job. Please print out copies of everything. I sincerely appreciate your help.’

  Ilias nodded and left with the computer. Maggie was right behind him. ‘Maggie, please stay.’

  ‘I was afraid you’d say that.’

  Andreas didn’t speak immediately. ‘Are you sure we can trust him?’

  ‘Trust who?’

  ‘Ilias.’

  Maggie smiled. ‘I’m sure. His mother used to work here and always complained to me about her “ungrateful son” who knew “all these secret things” but never gave her any gossip.’

  Andreas nodded. ‘So, we have a list of corruptible journalists accusing the Russians of nastiness around Mount Athos, old newspaper stories about a war criminal apparently incinerated in Switzerland — where Zacharias’ passport was issued — a photograph of a monk in a cell in Zacharias’ monastery, and the mysterious Satan-bearing carpet from the doctored photograph on Vassilis’ flash drive turning up in the same monastery. What do you think Vassilis was trying to tell us?’

  She shrugged.

  ‘Like, “Hello, if you want to know where to find Satan, take a look at this.”’

  ‘That’s somewhat flippant, don’t you think?’

  ‘Frankly, I think the proper way to describe it is “goddamn frightening.”’

  She sighed. ‘Should I call Yianni?’

  ‘No reason to, at least not yet. Let me speak to the Protos first. I want to hear what he has to say about all this.’

  ‘He may be hard to reach. After all, it’s Holy Thursday.’

  ‘Even to learn the whereabouts of Satan?’

  Maggie’s face was serious. ‘Especially so.’ She picked up and waved Dimitri’s note. ‘Sometimes, not knowing is better.’

  15

  For a little less than three more days Zacharias must remain a faceless monk, locked away among more of the same, droning on in endless prayer within the walls of an undistinguished monastery. It would seem the perfect place to lurk unnoticed by the world. But this wasn’t Zacharias’ style. He hated being one of a flock. His preferred form of anonymity involved standing in the shadows of power, silently appreciated by everyone who mattered for his behind-the-scenes contributions to their successes.

  How far things had come. Some would say it was luck, but he knew better. It was ordained. Nothing else could explain his escape from that prison camp, safe passage to Switzerland, and good fortune at finding a new identity easily matched by modest plastic surgery. It was ordained, even if his new features did require the death of the original bearer. But the man got to die in a splash of publicity, albeit anonymously: ‘Escaped war criminal dies in fiery crash.’

  Now, all of that was old news, lost as a footnote to history and of no interest to anyone. No one knew of his true past, not even the three collaborators he’d dispatched to Patmos who shared a similar history. His mind wandered from the three men to thoughts of what might have happened on that Holy Island.

  Zacharias kept reassuring himself that even if something went wrong, he was covered. Everyone who counted owed him, and not just those living on this Holy Mountain, because all men seeking higher position in the church at one time or another passed through Mount Athos. Powerful men, like that fast-rising abbot on Patmos who called him ‘my true friend.’ Still, that wasn’t what kept him safe. Owed favors only went so far. Indeed, today was the day for remembering the ultimate betrayal.

  No, he had a far greater hold on all those he’d helped. They’d bought into him, vouched for him, called him brother and meant it. And they knew enough about his past that if the full truth ever came to light they’d never convince a soul they hadn’t known it all from the beginning. It would bring every one of them down with him, and a crippling scandal to Mount Athos and the church. Yes, they would protect him. They will protect him, because they must protect themselves.

  Andreas left two messages for the Protos. The first was, ‘Please call me as soon as you can.’ Thirty minutes later he placed a second call saying, ‘It’s urgent.’ He was about to call again when Maggie came into his office.

  ‘I think you’re going to be interested in this.’

  Andreas looked up.

  ‘I did the follow-up you suggested on that war criminal. Swiss authorities took no dental or DNA records, and what was left of the body was cremated at the request of family.’

  ‘How convenient. So much for a simple way of proving someone else fried in that car. By the way, what’s the part that’s going to interest me?’

  ‘We’re not the only one asking questions.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘A few weeks ago, someone else wanted to know if there was some way to identify the body “for certain.”’

  ‘You’re putting me on.’

  ‘The caller said it was an inquiry “in connection with a church matter.”’

  ‘Did they tell him?’

  ‘They saw no reason not to, but called him back just to make sure he was on the level.’

  ‘Please tell me they kept the number.’

  Maggie smiled. ‘Their file note read, “Monastery of Saint John the Divine, ask for Kalogeros Vassilis.”’ She emphasized his name with her fingers.

  ‘Yes!’ Andreas pumped his fist in the air. ‘I just love Swiss efficiency.’

  ‘Yeah, but it takes a Greek to improvise.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘If you can’t find
a dead body, find a live one.’

  ‘And do what with it?’

  Maggie stuck out her tongue. ‘Wiseass, if Zacharias is the war criminal, then whose identity did he assume in conning the abbot into admitting him into the monastery? I found the full name and details Zacharias used when obtaining his Greek citizenship papers and ran that past the Swiss. Their records have a man with that name leaving Switzerland for parts unknown.’

  ‘Let me guess, right after the war criminal died.’

  Maggie nodded.

  ‘Any family?’

  ‘No record of any.’

  ‘Damn, another dead end.’

  ‘But, guess what, once more we’re the second one making the same inquiry.’

  ‘Vassilis?’

  ‘Yes, and less than a week before he died.’

  ‘Sounds like he’d connected the dots.’

  ‘But how could he prove anything? All roads lead to dead ends.’

  Andreas leaned his elbows on his desk and held his head in his hands. ‘Did the war criminal leave family?’

  ‘Yes, according to the translations I had done — we Greeks also can be efficient — he had several brothers and sisters.’

  ‘Then there’s a superhighway leading to an answer. If we can get a sample of Zacharias’ DNA and match it against his blood relatives…’ Andreas spread his arms wide. ‘We’ve got the bastard,’ and slammed his hands together in a loud clap.

  ‘But how can we get him to cooperate? Mount Athos is an independent state.’

  Andreas nodded. ‘Probably the same way Vassilis intended to do it, by telling the Protos what he knew and getting him to force Zacharias to cooperate. I’d bet my badge that was the real reason Vassilis insisted on the Protos coming to Patmos. To confront his old friend with the evidence and urge him to expose Zacharias for who he really is.’

  ‘But why wasn’t that proof on the USB drive in the cross Vassilis was bringing to his meeting with the Protos?’

  ‘My guess is… caution. Sort of the same reason for keeping the component parts of an explosive chemical reaction far away from each other, to avoid a bomb going off — in this case at the heart of the church. The flash drive only held clues to a silent coup d’etat underway on Mount Athos. Without the information on Vassilis’ computer, there was no way to determine who was behind it. The photographs on the USB were no more than a list of names. The catalyst that would make everything go boom was what Vassilis had come up with on Zacharias, and there was no reason to put that on the drive. Once Vassilis told the Protos his suspicions, everything could be verified from newspaper articles and public records.’