l l l l l
Now Aryan had three to dispose of. Possibly four, depending on how he later felt about the forensic supervisor. Lucky for the supervisor, they’d never met. Aryan only knew of him from some who’d used his services, otherwise there’d be no question of his fate. But for now he lived, because today was all about creating an illusion, one that sold a story to the media that would allow Aryan to retreat into Turkey, free of further Greek police interference.
He’d come around to seeing the media circus created by switching the press conference to the monastery as a stroke of good fortune for his plan, for it drew the national press attention he needed to make it work. But in Ali and the police commander’s daughter traveling together without police protection, he saw a twist that would make his murder-suicide story line irresistible to the international press. That development he saw akin to miraculous intervention.
Aryan sensed from his conversation with the forensic supervisor that this was a police trap, but he saw that as giving him the element of surprise, for they did not know that he knew. More important, if the press went with his story line, it spared the Greek police worldwide embarrassment and ended their investigation in a neatly tied-up bow. Yes, the police commander wouldn’t like it––his daughter being dead, and all that––but the Greek police powers-that-be surely would want the case closed and story over.
An American NGO executive killed by her jealous refugee employee still stood as his central story line, but the introduction of the police commander’s daughter offered a potentially irresistible subplot to both the mainstream conservative press and edgy scandal rags.
All he needed to do was tinker with the suicide note he’d created for Ali by adding Aleka to the list of suitors for McLaughlin’s affections. Again, jealousy would serve as Ali’s motive for killing Aleka––the same as it had for killing Volandes––though her death would likely require a bit of sexual perversion, as Ali would undoubtedly be embittered by Dana having chosen passion for a woman over him.
It was all working out remarkably well. The forensic supervisor’s secretary would attest to Dana and Aleka enjoying tryst time in Aleka’s office examination room, elaborating, no doubt, on the sounds she heard emanating from their time together. He could count on the good supervisor to arrange for that, even to corroborate with other details and, of course, eliminate any evidence that might point back to Aryan. After all, how enthusiastically he cooperated would directly affect his lifespan.
He imagined headline writers across the planet going wild over a murder-suicide involving lesbian lovers on Lesvos, a wealthy old Greek shipowner, and a young male Arab refugee raging with jealous passion as the perpetrator. He smacked his hands together. It might even make late night American television.
All he had to do now was wait for the two of them to show up in the sun-bleached red Fiat Panda described by Aleka’s boss. They’d both fit quite nicely into his revised plan.
Chapter Twenty-two
The commander told Andreas it should take a little more than an hour to cover the fifty kilometers between Mytilini and Mantamados. He suggested they take the route closest to the sea.
Once past the outskirts of Mytilini, the two-lane road bounced back and forth between seascapes in hues of brown, beige, and blue, and country hillsides of grays into greens; always seeming to land by a centuries-old olive grove or stone wall. The towns the road passed through lay largely by the sea, some quaint, some not, but all painted in the island’s pastel palette. Even the occasional hotel, Quonset hut structure, or bit of graffiti along the way, couldn’t dampen the sense of bygone times evoked by the drive.
They passed a group of horses grazing in a sunny hillside pasture. “I bet Tassaki would love all the horses here,” said Yianni.
“For sure.” Andreas reached for his mobile. “And soon Sofia will too.”
“They grow up so fast. I can’t believe Tassaki’s already five.”
“Tell me about it.” Andreas hit a speed-dial button.
The phone rang twice before he heard, “Yes, my darling, I know you’re calling to tell me you miss me terribly.”
“Amazing. I’m married to a mind reader.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
Andreas smiled. “Yianni and I were just talking about how much the kids would like Lesvos, so I decided to call and check in.”
“All’s fine here. How about with you?”
Andreas paused. “We have to make sure to instill in the kids the importance of keeping an open mind, and enough confidence that, no matter what might happen in life, they know they’re loved.”
Lila cleared her throat. “May I ask what brought on this epiphany?”
“I just had a headache of a conversation with a young woman who’s sorely lacking in trust. So much so, that it’s put her life at risk.”
Lila’s voice dropped. “Are you safe?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I didn’t mean to alarm you.”
“Well, you’re doing a good job of it anyway.”
“I’m just thinking of the kids and how lucky we are that they’re as well-adjusted as they are.”
“Uh, yes, I’d say they’re as well-adjusted as any five-year-old and three-month-old could be expected to be.”
Andreas chuckled. “I guess I’m sounding a bit foolish.”
“No, you’re sounding affectionate toward your family. Which is the perfect thing for a new mother to hear. Especially one who’s recently told her husband she feels the need to get back to work in the adult world.”
“I was wondering when you’d raise that again. Any ideas on what you might like to do?”
“I’m working on it.”
“Whatever you decide, I’m behind you a hundred percent.”
“I know.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too,” said Lila, with a kiss. “Now, get back to concentrating on your work. I’ll tell Tassaki you called, and give them both hugs and kisses from you. Bye.”
“Bye.” Andreas turned off the phone.
“Chief. May I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Do you love me too?”
Andreas smiled. “Just shut up and drive.”
l l l l l
They arrived at the upper edge of Mantamados right on time. The monastery lay on the other side of town. Looking down from above, the town appeared a gem of gray stone buildings, none taller than two levels and all tiled in terra-cotta hip roofs. As they descended, the gem showed a bit ragged in places, but still sparkled.
“The commander said to stay to the right at the market and follow the signs to the monastery,” said Andreas.
“I have GPS, Chief. Besides, we’ve been following the commander’s daughter’s Fiat all the way from Mytilini.”
“Just passing along what he told me. He said it’s the second right past a barbed wire-protected installation, and that from the road we’ll be able to see a real F5A fighter jet mounted at the entrance to the monastery. It’s a gift from the Greek Air Force in honor of its protector, Saint Michael.”
“That’s a lot more detail than I get from my GPS friend.”
“He also suggested we park in the lower parking lot next to the steps, and find our way inside from there.”
Andreas looked out the side window. He hadn’t told Ali or Dana of his plan, in part because he wasn’t sure it would work. After all, he’d never been to the monastery and the little time they’d have to learn its layout gave Aryan a decided advantage. An assassin only needed to find one hiding place and develop one exit strategy, while Andreas had to find and counter all possibilities.
But Andreas had another reason for not sharing his plan. He’d told Dana not to arrive at the monastery until the very last moment, but wanted Ali there ASAP. As Andreas saw it, Dana was Aryan’s primary target, and he w
ouldn’t jeopardize that target by taking out Ali first. Nor would it likely spook Aryan to see cops keeping an eye on Ali. After all, free or not, he remained their only suspect in a still open murder case.
All of which made Ali the perfect distraction, or to use a less politically correct word, bait. Andreas wanted Ali wandering around the monastery to give Andreas the opportunity of seeing what sort of attention he attracted.
Andreas hadn’t actually told Ali he’d be bait, but from their conversation back at the NGO office, and Ali’s street instincts, he must have figured that out. More significantly, Andreas knew if he told Dana of his plan for Ali, she would never go along with it, even though Andreas saw it as the best way of improving the chances at catching Aryan, and saving both their lives in the process.
Andreas had to admire Dana’s loyalty to her friend, but then again, by Ali tacitly offering himself up as bait, he’d shown reciprocal loyalty to her. Andreas saw no reason to inject himself into dueling acts of loyalty among friends.
He smiled as he shook his head at his own logic. God bless rationalization.
“What’s so funny, Chief?” Yianni glanced at Andreas from the driver seat.
“How our minds work to justify potential morally unjustifiable acts as serving a higher purpose.”
“That’s a bit heavy for this time of day. Maybe you’d like to talk about football?”
“As a matter of fact, I would,” said Andreas, “but since the monastery is just up ahead, let’s go over again what we’re going to do when we get there.”
Then he saw it. Classic Byzantine, two-story, gray stone perimeter walls, complete with a four-story matching bell tower, all topped in terra-cotta roof tiles and set off against a sylvan background of greens and browns. Beyond the monastery’s archway entrance at its southwest corner, a gray square-cut stone courtyard encircled a rose-and-beige stone church of arched doorways and windows soaring up to meet a gabled terra-cotta roof. Trees stretched from within and without the monastery walls toward a cloudless, bright blue sky.
“That’s a pretty sight,” said Yianni. “I’d much rather be checking out the grounds than burrowing around inside the buildings like you have me doing.”
“Just make sure you get the Bishop’s assistant to show you every centimeter of the monastery. That means every hiding place, abandoned or not. A monastery that old, besieged, and attacked as much as it’s been, must have a lot of them.”
“And what will you be doing while I’m battling bats, bugs, and snakes?”
Andreas shrugged. “Damned if I know. I’m going to start out by keeping an eye on Ali. See what he attracts.”
“Do you really think he’ll draw out Aryan?”
“One can hope. I’m counting on Aryan’s arrogance to bring him down. He wants to pull this off, even with cops here. A sane man would walk away. But if he’s here, he’s going to try to put on a big show. I’m sure of that. I just hope Ali’s not the first act.”
“Sounds like the curtain’s about to go up on a performance by the Lesvian Thespian Centurions.”
Andreas stared at the side of Yianni’s face. “Please, spare me the comedy efforts and just keep following that red Panda.”
Yianni grinned. “I can bear it if you can.”
Andreas shut his eyes at the bad pun. Yes, we’re both anxious. How could any sane person not be? Another disadvantage to battling a madman.
l l l l l
Deema crawled from her marriage bed along the floor, blood from her broken nose caked across her face, blood from other parts of her body more brutally and relentlessly assaulted by her husband streaked down her legs.
He’d attacked her far more savagely than ever before. She knew she’d be dead by now if he hadn’t passed out from the raki. Her time had come. She’d prayed to God for deliverance but her prayers had not been answered.
Or perhaps they had been, for she still breathed. But only until Malik awakened. The anger would be back, and once sober he would kill her, for sure. She crawled toward the place she’d seen Aryan go when he thought she was asleep in the bed. There, she might find what she needed to end her misery.
Please, my Lord, grant me that prayer.
l l l l l
Aleka parked at the far northeast end of the monastery’s upper parking lot, as far away from the television crews gathered around the main entrance as she could find. It must have been a slow newsday for so many to be on site for a press conference not scheduled to begin for two hours. Though they did have a wide array of pilgrims to choose among for interviews out of the crowd already milling around for the promised afternoon event.
She thought of waiting in the car with Ali until Dana got there, concerned that if just one of the reporters recognized Ali as the one-time suspect-in-chief in the Volandes case, they’d descend on him like a murder of crows. But her father had told them to walk around the monastery grounds as if they were tourists. He’d also told them to stay within sight of the police at all times. She didn’t know how to accomplish both, what with the monastery as filled with twists and turns as it was, and only six cops patrolling the grounds, all anxiously searching for the face of a killer.
No way they could be expected to keep an undistracted eye on her, even if she was the boss’ daughter. Then there were the two cops who’d followed her from Mytilini. The younger one had hurried off inside the monastery the moment they’d parked. The other one still sat in the unmarked police car. Perhaps he was to be their chaperone.
“Okay, Ali, time to get out and explore. Have you ever been here before?”
“No.”
They got out of the car and walked toward the monastery.
“Well, you’re in for an experience. I’m not going to bore you with a lot of history, but this place really is special. Though we call it a monastery, it’s no longer used as one, but as a monument to the architecture of fortress-like Byzantine monasteries. There’s a church inside the walls that’s still very active and holds a lot of important relics besides its famous icon. A small church built in the seventeenth century was replaced by a larger one in the eighteenth century, followed in 1879 with the current one. Some consider it a cathedral, because of its size and architectural layout as a three-aisled basilica.”
Aleka paused. “I think your eyes are glazing over. Am I losing you?”
Ali smiled. “Not at all. I just can’t believe a few hours ago I was in jail for murder, and now here I am amid a place of miracles. That in and of itself is a miracle to me.”
“There’s a big festival here in a couple of weeks, on the third Sunday after Easter. Maybe you could come back for it. It takes up the whole weekend, beginning with a parade starring a bull draped in gold, precious objects, and flowers. The bull’s led to the slaughter, then it’s cooked all night and served the next day in a traditional stew called kistek.”
“To be perfectly honest,” said Ali, “at the moment, I’m not sure I want to be hearing about things being led to the slaughter. Especially around here.”
Aleka nodded with an unsure grin. “Touché. Any place in particular you’d like to see?”
“No.” Ali looked back over his shoulder at Andreas strolling a dozen paces behind them. “Let’s just make sure not to lose him.”
She nodded again. “Understood.”
They walked along a gray stone path leading up to the monastery’s main gate as flute music drifted toward them from up ahead. Close by the monastery wall, a ragged, gray-haired old man in a long dark coat sat cross-legged playing a nearly meter-long wooden flute. Aleka stopped to listen. The flute looked to be Native American, with a traditional-looking carved bird mounted near the mouthpiece.
Ali looked back at Andreas, who gestured with his head for them to move along.
“Let’s go,” said Ali.
“He’s good.” Aleka reached into her bag and pulled out a euro. She
dropped the coin in a cup by the old man’s feet, and he nodded at her without missing a note. They moved on to the monastery’s entrance.
Andreas stopped and stared at the old man. He, too, left a euro and moved on.
l l l l l
Andreas stood by the side entrance to the church, pulled out his phone, and hit a speed-dial button.
“What’s up, Chief?” answered Yianni.
“Nothing, but I’m getting quite a tour following these two around everywhere.”
“Bet it can’t match mine. We’re in an underground maze. You were lucky to catch me by a basement window. Otherwise, I’d never get a signal.”
“Have you checked out above-ground areas?” Andreas looked up at the stone bell tower.
“We’re headed there next. The Bishop’s aide is very cooperative, but he knows about as much about the intricacies of this part of the monastery as I do. He said no one ever comes here, so we’re working off copies of old maps he found in the monastery’s library.”
“Terrific. Sounds like the plot to one of those American movies starring that actor who’s married to a Greek.”
“I think you’re talking about Tom Hanks and The Da Vinci Code.”
“That’s it.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but no strange characters, bodies, or cryptic signs have turned up down here. At least not yet. Just a lot of empty old spaces and dead end tunnels. What about you?”
“The strangest character I’ve seen up here so far is a flute player, but he’s not our guy.”
“When’s McLaughlin getting here?”
“In less than an hour.”
“That’s not much time. I better get moving,” said Yianni.
“Check back with me in twenty minutes.”
“Will do.”
Andreas slid the phone back into his pocket, watching as Ali and Aleka stood mesmerized by the holy icon. Perhaps they were praying. In a place like this it wasn’t hard to be overcome with the sense of a higher order of things, a spiritual power capable of overcoming the worst that our secular world had to offer.
An Aegean April Page 26
