Resurrection (The Corruption Series Book 4)

by Charles Brett

  The outpouring from Evdokia would shake anyone. That a trainee priest might ignore his morals and assault a fellow teenager was bad. That it had happened to her sister was worse. That her sister had maintained her silence for so many years shocked her to the core. What was the price paid?

  It was, however, the depiction of the two meetings with Constantinou which upset her more. There was sufficient detail from Evdokia to incite a riot if these were ever repeated in public. The first embodied mockery blended with righteous disbelief that a would-be priest could contemplate, never mind effect, rape. There had been no compassion; instead there had been holy contempt.

  The second was atrocious. In Evdokia's telling, Constantinou had dehumanised her. Accusatory derision and the way in which he had diminished her pregnant state was beyond credibility. There had been no decency, no mercy, before he'd ejected her with an unclean clerical boot.

  Alexa, comfortable under her bedclothes, quivered at her sister's miseries. How Evdokia must have suffered. None of the family knew.

  That was the trouble. In those days, shame passed to the women. The invariable presumption was that the woman was the sinner in these cases. Thank goodness times changed, if far too slowly. Equality leaked, not gushed, into Cyprus.

  She threw back the covers before showering. Dressed in relaxed jeans and a t-shirt, she descended to the kitchen. Coffee was a must, despite it being early.

  She found coffee almost ready, the work of an equally restless Evdokia. To Alexa's eyes, Evdokia looked exhausted, shattered.

  "Didn't you sleep?"

  "For a couple of hours. Then the nightmares returned, replaying that second confrontation. The more I replayed it, the more I realise I've failed myself. I should have spoken out, made sufficient fuss to prevent his elevation."

  "You're being unjust on yourself. Perhaps, if you'd complained before you rid yourself of your undesired child, he might have been disciplined. In those days, I doubt it. I don't think there was anything you could have done which would avoid the church's wrath and retribution."

  "That was what I thought..."

  "But why didn't you say anything to us, the family? We would have helped."

  "Remember our parents? God-fearing parishioners who could believe no ill of a churchman and the Church."

  "True. But there was me?"

  "You'd just qualified to be a teenager, and a horrible one you were too. What could you have done for a desperate older sister in trouble?"

  It was an observation Alexa couldn't refute. A thirteen-year-old was powerless. Her older sister was her beacon in the bid to escape the harsh strictures of their devout parents. It explained why both she and Evdokia rebelled and took up support of social justice.

  "What shall we do?"

  "We?"

  "I'm not leaving you to make a solitary second attempt on the dome. Besides, if we share the mercury, we can spread more in half the time."

  "If that access remains."

  "True. Be optimistic. Thanos has a good torch we will borrow. Let's retry when the site shuts down for the day. My guess, if they are like most builders, is this will be mid-afternoon. The more natural light, the better."

  "The danger is we would be more obvious."

  "No matter. We'll have a decent brunch here. After a snooze, which we both need, we'll take my car. If today doesn't work, we can retry tomorrow."

  Alexa opened the fridge and removed a host of goodies. She changed subject, though she anticipated a revolt!

  "Will you contact Georghios?"

  Evdokia shook her head vigorously in denial. There was no more to say.

  Late afternoon, after both had slept, they parked outside the Old Town walls. This was anonymous. Nobody would notice them.

  They neared Nea Hagia Sophia to find there were still workmen on site. Their remedy: to stop in a nearby coffee shop. The lady owner was loquacious. It only needed the one simple question, of 'do they always work so late on the Basilica?' to unleash a torrent of abuse. It wasn't aimed at Evdokia and Alexa, or the builders. The owner's venom concentrated on the Archbishop and his next-door atrocity.

  They did not need to ask more. Words tumbled forth, about how each day her business lost because of the noise and filth and trucks, how she feared the bells would shake every building around, and so on. As a diatribe, it impressed. It was eloquent and seeded with a sarcasm all three relished.

  When Evdokia referred to the Archbishop as 'His Abominable Beatitude', the owner stepped back before she grinned. They must be like-minds, she observed. Though it took at least fifteen minutes of fulmination, an answer finally appeared.

  The site ceased work at six in the afternoon, and only because the local businesses demanded its cessation. 'His Abominable Beatitude' had sought approval to continue late into the evening. He was in a hurry. Nobody knew why the authorities had refused authorisation.

  Alexa looked at her phone. Another forty-five minutes.

  "Would you like more coffee? On me, after your wonderful epithet for that self-conceited, irreligious prick."

  Evdokia agreed. Alexa preferred a Coca-Cola. They insisted they pay. As the only customers in the coffee shop, not to contribute would be a crime. Meanwhile, they listened and learned.

  It took almost until six before their host ran down. They left payment at their table and, rather than go directly to the hole in the perimeter, they walked back as if to the car park. Round three corners and hidden from the cafe, they circled to reach the gap.

  It was still there. The site was silent. They checked around. Nobody. They slipped through and headed for an entrance inside the Basilica. There was no serious obstacle. Out of sight from anyone outside, they relaxed as they reached the first pier door. As before, it was locked. Evdokia wanted to weep.

  Alexa quietened her. She withdrew two spanners and pliers from her handbag. To Evdokia's astonishment, she put the two ends in the hasp on opposite sides. She then used the pliers to compress the two open ends together. The feeble padlock's hasp snapped. They were in.

  After pulling on the rubber gloves, they crept up the stairway as quietly as mice, no mean feat on the metallic steps. The top was far higher than either had imagined. At last they reached an inspection walkway encircling the drum and ribs which was hidden from passers-by below.

  There was still enough light this high to avoid using the torch. Evdokia pointed out the ribs and the drum. Alexa moved round three ribs. They scratched the metal and painted the mercury on. In less than fifteen minutes, they'd finished. Alexa spoke first.

  "How about some deception?"

  "What d'you mean."

  "Let's leave one mercury pot by a rib on the other side. That would prompt anybody who notices to start looking there."

  Evdokia smirked. She headed round. Alexa stopped her.

  "Better still, let's leave the second pot at the foot of another pier."

  "That would mean one of us climbing down and back up again."

  "Not if you head for that pier opposite and I descend here to walk round to break the padlock to let you out. I might as well break the other padlocks as well."

  "No. Two is enough. The longer nobody suspects, the longer the mercury has to work."

  "Good point. Okay. Let's get on with it."

  Nicosia (Cyprus)

  Iphi worried about her imminent meeting with Aris. She'd done what he'd insisted. It would not be enough for him. As Iphi had expected, Kjersti was in no mood to back down. Then Kjersti had disclosed the rumour about SinCards.

  For Iphi, this was the worst possible scenario. A story about Cyprus and its Church with nothing involving gambling corruption or Russians. Her editor would be furious. Aris would claim the same about his.

  She waited in the Starbucks on the corner of Griva Digeni and Themistokli Dervi. Aris loved the place. While it was true that the seats were many and comfortable and its position convenient, its coffee was, in her opinion, disgusting. Was this the way Americans drank it? For Aris, it was the he
ight of cool.

  He was late. She became impatient. Then he materialised bearing two frappucini. She thanked him and went quiet. They sucked away on their straws.

  "What did Kjersti say?"

  "She wasn't happy. She resisted. I told you she would."

  "That's not the point. You know our instructions. Avoid Cyprus corruption and the Church. We haven't found a story, or not enough, to write anything credible. Time to give up."

  "She told me something else, heard on her grapevine."

  "I'm not interested."

  "SinCards to be sold by the Church."

  "Why can't you listen? That involves the Church. It's not on."

  Iphi swallowed his objection. She repeated to the best of her recollection what Kjersti had explained, that the Church was to introduce the sale of SinCards for confession to raise money. Possibly to pay off the cost of Nea Hagia Sophia.

  Aris yawned with a deliberation intended to annoy Iphi. He would not let slip to Iphi that he'd heard something similar. The concept baited his interest, especially the mechanics. Priests using smartphones and debit cards with sin money deposited into some unknown bank account. It all intrigued him

  Iphi's phone bleeped. She answered. Kjersti. As usual, Kjersti meddled.

  "Where are you?"

  "In Starbucks. With Aris. Giving him the bad news."

  "How do I get there? I've new information which you, and maybe he, will want to hear."

  Iphi muttered the address. She was about to spell it out when she thought better.

  "Tell any taxi driver 'Starbucks in the centre of Nicosia, not the one in Ledra Street' and they will bring you here."

  "Okay. Will do. I should be there within ten minutes, if I'm lucky... I am. Here's a taxi and it's empty."

  "That was Kjersti. She's on her way here."

  "I gathered. I'm not enthusiastic."

  "What's your problem?"

  "She's always in the way. You are subservient to her wishes. You don't look out for us. You think she will be our magic ticket. I don't see it like that."

  "You're full of shit today, Aris, and yesterday. What's gotten into you?"

  "Nothing. It's you. You behave like a sheep, or a lamb on its way to a grim finale."

  Their conversation degenerated as they exchanged ever more bitter words. Iphi didn't want this, but she couldn't stop herself. She was becoming shrill, confronted by Aris's narrow-mindedness.

  Aris, though he would never admit it, suffered equally. He heard how he cavilled. His voice whined, which his frustration prevented him from mastering. Was this how his ambitions for Iphi ended? A sinking sensation weighed on his diminished stomach. Iphi's apologetic demeanour confirmed she knew he was right. She just would not admit it.

  Before either could hurl more ill-considered accusations, Kjersti appeared. Inadvertently, she inhibited their on-coming train wreck – or deferred it.

  "What's up with you two? Arguing? What about?"

  Neither Iphi nor Aris responded. They were beyond doing so, while also relieved neither had spoken final words.

  Kjersti waited. Would she hear more? Silence was Iphi and Aris's choice. Kjersti restarted.

  "What would you think if I told you the Church was selling a franchise for the SinCards?"

  Neither Iphi nor Aris reacted.

  "If I told you the explicit purpose of the SinCards is to pay off loans to build Nea Hagia Sophia?"

  No change.

  "Or that the buyers of the franchise included foreigners?"

  Iphi and Aris behaved as one, like statues.

  "I suppose I could share the last morsels."

  Nothing. Not a flicker nor a flutter.

  "The group buying the franchise includes a bank."

  The silence extended.

  "A Russian bank."

  Kjersti wasn't sure. Had Aris blinked?

  "Specifically, this bank is the one managed by a certain Tassos Christodoulou."

  This obtained a reaction.

  Aris looked at Iphi, and she at him.

  With a finger flick, Iphi indicated it was up to him.

  "What did you say?"

  "Only that our mutual friend Christodoulou, last pictured by you, Aris, with the Archbishop, has assembled a consortium of selected Russians and himself to buy into and operate a franchise agreement with Christodoulou's bank as an intermediary. This consortium will sell the SinCards and process the payments."

  Kjersti halted. Might this dislodge them from their stubborn perches?

  "Where did you hear this?"

  "That would be telling. Are you in or out?"

  Kjersti wanted to burst out laughing. Their mental contortions were transparent, more with Aris than Iphi. Was he a fool?

  "Where?"

  "A little bird in Limassol. Our disgruntled Brit."

  "Why did he tell you?"

  "From what I gathered, he wants no trouble with the Church, like you. Unlike you, he's not a local. He fears he might find himself kicked out. As he phrased it to me, he has 'no desire to return to a grey, soggy England, where the price of sun is unquantifiable because of its rarity plus the housing and booze are unaffordable'. A pithy summary."

  "He wants you, us, to do his dirty work?"

  "That's one way of describing it. Another is, and the one I honour: somebody needs to expose this sorry tale of corruption. If he can't, then I, or we, are his next best option. It's up to you. Our story or mine?"

  Iphi applied extreme self-control. Aris was out of his depth when Kjersti was in full flow. Iphi wanted to jump for joy. She was 'in'. If Aris declined, he would lose. She acknowledged she would also. She didn't think they could overcome a rift as serious as this must provoke, which would only worsen if a story appeared with her name on it and not his.

  Aris came round. It was grudging. He conceded. Inside, Iphi bounced with delight. Kjersti took charge.

  "Aris, before you change your mind, I want you to find out what you can about Dmitriy, whose last name is Avakian. That is an Armenian name, but he is a Russian to boot. Dig up what you can. If you can ascertain the Kristina's next movements, that would be good."

  "Why?"

  "Because he appears to be the Russian link."

  "What about me?"

  Now Iphi felt left out. Kjersti smiled in a knowing way. She was determined to help these two would-be lovers. But obliquely.

  "You'll come with me. I need you to charm someone."

  As Kjersti expected, Aris reacted. She hoped it was in the right direction.

  Nea Hagia Sophia (Nicosia)

  For Nikos, today was an unexpected treat. His Beatitude was with his doctors, for the umpteenth time in the past month. He'd delegated Nikos to attend the bell-raising on his behalf, commanding him to take his censer and bless each of Alpha, Beta, Gamma and Omega before they disappeared into the sky and again after their mounting. Best of all, for Nikos, Eleni would supervise.

  "How are you?"

  Nikos jumped. Lost in reverie, he hadn't spotted Eleni.

  "Feeling a trifle stupid standing here with a censer. His Beatitude instructed me to bless each bell, much as what happens to icons."

  "Trust His Beatitude. He's not coming?"

  "No. More doctors."

  "My father told me. Any idea what the problem is?"

  "He claims old age."

  "Like my father..."

  "I used to agree. I'm not convinced. What isn't clear is whether the medical people hide something or do not know."

  They grimaced in unison. Both would lose with the deaths of Nikolaos and Vasilios. Yet both would gain: Nikos his freedom from a tyrant and Eleni control of her father's architectural business. They neared the bells.

  "You had better do your censing."

  "Thank you."

  With a solemnity he didn't feel, Nikos lit the incense. Then he marched around each bell, chanting a standard blessing. His voice was not good. He massacred more than one rendition.

  He stepped back. The crane-m
en, who had looked on with respect, approached Alpha. Within minutes, because the preparation for each bell had occurred over almost a week, Alpha sailed upwards towards its new home. With some nifty pulling of ropes and much yelling, including by Eleni who'd disappeared inside the Kampanarió, Alpha disappeared.

  Next was Beta, then Gamma. Their progress was smoother, judging from the diminished quantity and volume of cries. They were smaller and easier to handle. Eleni reappeared.

  "Time for Omega. This could challenge us."

  "I didn't appreciate how big it is until I walked round. It's enormous. I hope the sound will be clean."

  "So do I. My uncle will have my guts for clerical gaiters if it's not. The bell foundry swore the tone will impress. They sent a recording. But that wasn't for real."

  "Only when flying high in the Kampanarió, you mean?"

  "Exactly. Ah, here they come."

  Omega required three cranes working in unison. In one way, it would be simpler because they would lower it into its final resting place. Then the builders would close the top of the Kampanarió. Coordinating the three cranes with such an unwieldy item was difficult.

  At one point, a stray gust of wind whistled through. Omega swayed. If it hit the Kampanarió, the damage could be substantial, to the steel inside, to the carefully mounted CLT on the outside and to the bell itself. Just a chip or heavy scratch might change the acoustics.

  Nikos breathed with relief as the Kampanarió swallowed Omega. He felt superfluous. He could do nothing to help. He wandered around until Eleni emerged from the Kampanarió door.

  "They're all in place. Want to do your second blessing and censing?"

  Nikos picked up the censer. He touched his pocket to check he had the lighter. He crossed to the Kampanarió door and followed Eleni up the steel staircase attached to the inside of the structure.

  Up and up they climbed. The censer was heavy. He hated heights. Though they were inside the CLT-clad walls, there were minimal floors. He could see too much. His imagination played images of falling a long way. A concrete impact weighed on him.

  Nikos tried to resist these nightmares. It was hard, until he focused on Eleni. She wore well-fitted jeans and a shirt. The sight of those trim legs reaching up to her tight ass was sufficient diversion. He concentrated on appreciating these treats. His fears melted.