One Last Thing

by Kim Baldwin

  Chapter Six

  Off Neos Marmaras, Halkidiki

  Next morning

  Switch surfaced with an octopus, its tentacles wrapped around her arm. Although she stayed clear of meat, she would eat anything that came out of the sea. After chucking her mask on the transom, she climbed the short ladder and sat. She’d started to peel the cephalopod mollusk off her arm when her phone rang.

  She hurried up to the cockpit and grabbed her cell. “Whatcha got?”

  “A headache,” Reno said. “How about you?”

  “An octopus wrapped around my arm.”

  “Gross. Yours is worse,” Reno replied. “Why would you do that?”

  “I just caught it.”

  “Oh, I see. You have me slaving away for you, while you go fishing.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “In beautiful, warm Greece.”

  “Yup.”

  “In those Photoshopped waters.”

  “Yeah, that about sums it up.” She chuckled.

  “’Kay. Just checking.” Reno sighed. “So, anyway, while you’ve been lounging on your luxurious yet understated Moody 54DS—”

  “Is there nothing sacred about our personal lives?” She feigned surprise.

  “Plato was suspicious of rhetorical questions, because, ethically speaking, they could be used for both good and bad. I personally like ’em ’cause they save me the trouble.”

  “So, what’s new, smart-ass?”

  “’Kay. Here’s the deal.” He paused to slurp something. Loudly. “I checked the list of names you sent me against the passports they used to get visitors’ visas, and, big surprise, our guy’s face doesn’t match his name.”

  “Fake ID.” Not unexpected. “At least you have a mug shot to go on.”

  “Sure do,” he replied. “The face belongs to Gregoris Hatzis, a hired muscle convicted and sentenced for twelve months for his involvement in a national money-laundering and extortion ring. He got out seven months ago. He lives in Thessaloniki.”

  Not a lot to go on, but if she could talk to him, press him, maybe she could get the name of whoever hired him. “It’s not much, but maybe—”

  “I’ve got more.”

  “Okay.”

  “I wanted to see if he’d visited the mountain more than once, so I hacked into the database of the Mount Athos visa agency in Thessaloniki and got the visitors’ list for the last twelve months.” Reno stopped to slurp and gulp again.

  “Really?” She wanted to reach through the phone and destroy whatever he was sucking on. “Did you just swallow a poodle?”

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind, Anaconda. And?”

  “Although his name or face didn’t show up, someone else’s did. Matter of fact, this person visited four times in the past six months.”

  “Lykourgos?” she asked.

  “Aw, crap.” Reno sounded sincerely disappointed. “How did you guess?”

  “Because he’s my suspect, and it’s the only other name in the sea of Greek names you’ve been swimming in that would draw your attention.” She gazed across the expanse of blue toward Porto Carras, less than two miles away, where the Pegasus was anchored. Reno’s GPS fix from the cell phones had pinpointed the ship, but it couldn’t be seen from her position because of the rocky peninsula between them.

  “Blah blah blah. I bet you feel all cool and smart right about now.”

  “I kinda do.” Switch snickered. “Did you check if he’d visited prior to the past six months, like annually or something?”

  “Of course I checked. And no, I went as far back as the electronic records would allow—which is twenty years—and no mention of him.”

  “Why the hell would Lykourgos want to visit the Holy Mountain all of a sudden and that often?”

  “Scope out the area, find the right monk?”

  “Yeah, maybe. Although he could have had someone do that for him. Why risk being seen repeatedly and go on the record, if you intend to steal?”

  “And that’s why you do what you do,” Reno replied, “And I do what I do.”

  “I need to call Father Giorgos. Later, and thanks.” Switch hung up and untangled the tentacles from her arm before she dialed the archbishop. It took a long while before she was finally put through.

  “Father Giorgos, I have some questions regarding a returning guest.”

  “Of course.”

  “What can you tell me about Konstantinos Lykourgos?”

  “The shipping magnate.” He cleared his throat. “You must understand that what any guest confides in me, or any of us, stays confidential.”

  “With all due respect, Father, if you want us to find the Theotokos you’re going to have to make exceptions.”

  “Mr. Lykourgos is a respected man and has been very generous to the Holy Mountain.”

  “That’s great, and I’m sure he’s a wonderful human being, but I find it strange he should visit the Holy Mountain four times in a period of six months. I thought there was a waiting list.”

  “There is. But exceptions can be made.”

  “Did you personally make the exception?”

  “I did.”

  “Father, Lykourgos’s yacht was spotted anchored outside the monastery just days before the theft.”

  “I don’t see the connection.”

  “He never sails in Halkidiki.”

  “Maybe he changed his mind.”

  “Maybe.” Trying to be politically correct and polite was testing her patience. “Didn’t you find it strange that Mr. Lykourgos sought your company and the Holy Mountain so often, for the first time in his life?”

  “People change.”

  “But not without a reason.”

  The archbishop sighed. “If it helps any, and it’s about all I can say…Mr. Lykourgos spent a lot of time praying and crying.”

  “In your company?”

  “And alone. We would talk for hours, and then I’d leave him in the same chapel, in the same position, where he would stay for hours on his knees and pray.”

  “Which chapel?”

  “He prayed to the miraculous icon of Panagia Tricherousa at the Holy Monastery of Hilandariou.”

  “Why there?” she asked.

  “Do you know the story of Saint John Damascene?”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t.”

  “Saint John was a great supporter of the worship of icons and, with his many writings, was one of the many monks who advocated the use of holy icons. In an effort to silence Saint John, Emperor Leo sent word to Caliph Walid of Syria that Saint John was conspiring to overthrow his rule in Syria.”

  “Okay.”

  “The caliph had John arrested and ordered that his right hand be cut off in view of the public. Saint John prayed to Panagia Tricherousa all night and awoke with his hand reattached.”

  Oh, boy. “Wow. A miracle, indeed.”

  “Yes.”

  Switch could picture the father crossing himself at the mere recitation of the story. “So, the icon Lykourgos visited was a healing one, very much like the Theotokos.”

  “Yes.” The father still sounded moved by the story. “But the Theotokos is not open to view by pilgrims and is practically unknown.”

  “Did you know that Lykourgos has one of the world’s largest private antiquity collections?”

  The archbishop was silent for a long while. “I do not busy myself with modern media and such.”

  “Well, he does. And he’s probably one of the very few people who’ve heard of the Theotokos.” The monk went quiet again, this time for so long Switch thought he’d hung up. “You there, Father?”

  He cleared his throat. “He is a good man. Troubled, but a good man.”

  “I’m sure.” Switch rolled her eyes. How could someone so enlightened be so blind? “Father, one more question.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Lykourgos—all those hours of praying and crying—did he tell you what he was so worried or upset about?”

  “Yes.”
/>   “Can you tell me?”

  “No. But I can tell you that he did well to come here. Only a miracle will save him.”

  “Is he sick, Father?”

  “That’s all I can say.”

  Switch couldn’t understand the monk’s misplaced loyalty. For someone desperate to have the Theotokos recovered, he seemed overly defensive of their number-one suspect. “Why are you protecting him?”

  “I protect anyone who comes to me for help and forgiveness.”

  “Even if that means never recovering the Theotokos?”

  “I am, above all, a man of God. It is my duty to protect His flock.”

  Switch’s eyes rolled so far back she feared they’d never recover. “Thank you for your time, Father. I’ll contact you if I have any more questions.”

  “Good day, Mr. Ramos.”

  Switch settled back in the lush lounge chair on the deck. If Reno hadn’t mentioned any medical records, then that meant there was nothing worth mentioning. But even if Lykourgos was sick, was it remotely plausible to have had the Theotokos stolen in hopes of hope? She dialed Reno.

  “You again,” he said.

  “Hey, listen. Did you find any medical records on Lykourgos?”

  “Nothing special. Just the usual age-related stuff. High blood pressure, and let me see…” He clicked away on his keyboard. “Allergic to penicillin, high cholesterol, and…that’s weird. His last checkup was three years ago, though he’d been consistent with annual visits since 1994.”

  “Broke a habit of nearly twenty years.”

  “It would appear so.” Reno clicked away. “I can’t find anything else.”

  “Try Europe and overseas.”

  “Good idea. Give me a few.” More clicking.

  Switch looked at the octopus at her feet, its tentacles still undulating as it sought an escape. A lot of preparation and treatment were involved in cooking it, and the way her day was turning out, she doubted she’d have the time. Switch picked up the creature and threw it back in the sea. “Another time.”

  “I found him, or it. Whatever,” Reno said.

  “Shoot.”

  “All his files, doctors, and such are at the University of Texas, MD Anderson Cancer Center.”

  “What was he diagnosed with?”

  “Lung cancer, stage three. He received chemo and radiation, but with no positive result. They gave him a year, and this was last December.”

  “Desperate people do desperate things.”

  “Would an educated, respectable man believe that an icon and prayer could cure him?” Reno asked.

  “Hope dies last.” Switch ran her hand through her hair. “I still don’t have enough to build a case against Lykourgos. Pierce has given me a week to find evidence the Greek is involved, and without something more substantial, I’ll have to let Lykourgos walk.”

  “Yeah, but…do you really care? I mean, sure he could possibly be behind the theft, but so what?” Reno asked. “Why waste your time on an iffy case and not take a well-deserved time-out?”

  “I know you’re right, but I like what I do.”

  “More than you like the gallery, sailing, or, I dunno…just chillin’?”

  “I can’t enjoy any of that if I can’t look forward to it,” she replied. “Besides, it gives me satisfaction to know that things are where they belong.”

  “Paintings in museums, icons in churches—”

  “Etcetera, etcetera. Yeah.” Switch waved at a passing fishing boat. “I love the hunt and need the challenge, even if I don’t always succeed.”

  “You just described my sex life,” Reno grumbled.

  Switch laughed. “Might have something to do with your larynx.”

  Reno laughed loudly, too. “Could be.”

  “Hey, whatever happened to the video footage I sent you?”

  “Should get it back from the lab any minute. There was no way to clear up the image enough to make out faces with my software. The monks’ equipment isn’t great, and the yacht was too far to zoom in and preserve any kind of quality.”

  “Let me know as soon as you get it.”

  “What are you going to do now?” Reno asked.

  “Pfff, not much.” She moaned. “I’ve reached a dead end.”

  “Go swimming or whatever it is you lucky bastards in Greece do.”

  “Later.” Switch hung up and looked around the boat. Everything was in place and scrubbed. Maybe she should go find that octopus she’d thrown back.

  She adjusted the mask on her face and had one swim fin on when her phone rang again. She hopped across the deck to where she’d left it, careful not to break her neck in the process.

  She checked the ID and flopped on the lounge chair. “Seriously, dude. You need to make more friends.”

  “You won’t believe this, dude.” Reno’s voice was a mixture of excitement and shock. “Unfucking believable.”

  “Tell me already.”

  “So, just got the footage back.”

  Switch felt her heartbeat accelerate in anticipation. This had to be good if Reno was blown away by it. “And?”

  “Guess who’s standing next to Lykourgos, pointing at the Holy Mountain?”

  “Since you’re out of breath and about to make a hell of a revelation, it can’t be anyone less than Jimmy Hoffa.”

  “Theodora Quinevere Rothschild.”

  Switch shot straight up. “TQ.”

  “The one and only.”

  “The crazy bitch is in Greece with Lykourgos.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You sure it’s her?”

  “Ran it through the FBI facial-recognition software and she’s a complete match.”

  Switch didn’t know what to think or feel. Like everyone else in the EOO, she too was all too aware of what had almost happened last year when the crazy bitch tried to kill Jack Harding and the operation it took by the EOO’s Governing Trio to recover her. Contrary to many other ops, Switch had no issues with Harding. Live and let live was her motto, and if faking your death to get out of a sick situation was what it took, then so be it. “If you were Lykourgos and looking to steal a priceless artifact, who would you call?”

  “I wanna say Ghostbusters, but the demon bitch trumps even them,” he replied.

  “Does Pierce know?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Good. I just found my ticket to this case.” Switch wanted to be the first to tell him and reap the benefits. “Thanks, guy. Talk later.” She hung up and immediately dialed Pierce.

  “I assume whatever you have to say couldn’t wait till morning,” he said when he answered.

  “TQ.”

  She heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end. Pierce didn’t reply for several seconds. “What about Rothschild?” he finally asked, his voice like ice.

  “I had the image from the security cam enhanced, and she’s right there on deck with Lykourgos, the two of them side by side, staring up at the Holy Mountain.”

  “What the hell is she doing in Greece with him?”

  “Getting paid to steal a virtually unknown and invaluable artifact?”

  “She’d know about the Theotokos,” he replied, his voice rising in excitement, “and she has the manpower and means.”

  “What she didn’t have was the location. Lykourgos gave it to her. He’s turned the Holy Mountain into a second home the past six months.”

  “Very transparent of him.”

  “Not really. I don’t think his initial visits there had to do with the Theotokos. As it turns out, he spent all his time crying and praying for a miracle.”

  “A mira—”

  “He’s dying. Lung cancer, and he thinks the healing icon can save him.”

  “Preposterous,” Pierce said. “And irrelevant to why you’re going to do this job.”

  “I thought so. I want the icon back in its place and you—”

  “I want TQ behind bars in a country where jail is still intended as punishment and not rehab.”

 
“The Greeks have very strict and scary laws when it comes to illicit trading or theft of artifacts,” she said. “They take it more seriously than drug trafficking and terrorism.”

  “I’m aware, and that’s why you’re going to help me put her there.”

  “So, I find the icon and bargain with Lykourgos—you know, ask him who he hired to get it and say we’ll forget about the whole thing. Either that, or he faces years—or, in his case, months—in jail.”

  “That’s right.” Pierce sounded almost giddy.

  “He gives you TQ, I get the icon for the monastery, and everyone’s happy.”

  “Exactly. And as far as I know, she doesn’t have contacts there to help her out.”

  “Let’s not count on her not being able to cut a deal,” Switch said. “We’re talking Greek politicians. They’ve been bought for a lot less than what she can offer.”

  “You have a point.”

  “But I’m sure he’ll spill, unless he wants to spend the remainder of his short life in prison and publically humiliated. No one wants to step out like that.”

  “Yes,” he replied, with a rare, almost boyish excitement. “Yes, you need to get the icon before he dies, or we’ll have nothing on her.”

  “I need to locate it, first.” The challenge amped Switch. She removed the swim fin and got up to pace in order to control her enthusiasm.

  “Start at his house,” Pierce said.

  “I don’t think that’s necessary. Although Reno couldn’t GPS him, he did find his son and daughter in the Aegean, on board the family monster yacht.”

  “And?”

  “If the guy has a few months to live, I think he’s going to want to spend that time with his family.”

  “You think the icon is on the yacht?”

  “I think it’s wherever Lykourgos is. He needs to see the icon in order to pray to the Virgin. That’s the whole point.”

  “So, we need to get you on his boat.”

  “If I’m to find the relic, then I need to watch him closely, see where he goes. It’s only a matter of time before he runs off to be alone with his…cure.” Switch heard Pierce mumble something, and a familiar voice chimed in in the background. “Is that Reno?”