Resurrection (The Corruption Series Book 4)

by Charles Brett

  When they reached the site, they found progress slow. A large crowd had formed, restrained by policemen looking scared. One recognised them and waved them through the cordon. Round the Basilica they walked, to find firemen staring at a long sooty streak stretching up the northeast side of the Kampanarió where they had yet to mount the remaining sandstone panels.

  Two of the eleven faces smouldered. To Eleni's delight and relief, the CLT had proved its value. It had not caught fire. Vindicated. The fire chief approached. He was hesitant, then spoke.

  "There's no more fire. But there is a smell of gas."

  "Was it an explosion? We heard three 'crumps' before the flame?"

  "The crumps were, we think, incidental. Old mines in the Green Line triggered by some external event. Perhaps it was somebody attempting to cross the Green Line who found out it was still dangerous."

  "What can you do now?"

  "Not a lot until morning. We will keep two teams here. At first light, we will return to investigate. I suggest you go home and rest. If we need you in the night, we know where to find you."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Nicosia/Larnaca (Cyprus)

  Davide searched the hotel's breakfast room. He couldn't see Inma until he looked outside. There she was, at peace in the sun with her bags beside her.

  "Am I interrupting?"

  "Not at all. I've spoken with Lili."

  "All well?"

  "Better than that. I'll tell you later. By the way, I've cancelled the taxi and rented a car."

  "Why?"

  "I want to go and see that pair of churches Kjersti described last night. She emailed me the name and map reference. It should only be a few minutes diversion though I have allowed a couple of hours. Do you mind?"

  Davide reflected. He had no choice, nor did he object. He suspected this would be his last visit to Cyprus and, if Kjersti was to be believed, a positive experience would end a strange assignment. He said as much and waved towards a table.

  At the table, they ordered coffee. Then they helped themselves to the buffet. Both were sparing in their choices. Once re-seated, Inma opened up.

  "What did you think of yesterday evening?"

  "Kjersti or Nea Hagia Sophia?"

  "Both."

  "I watched the replays about Nea Hagia Sophia. Whoever caught the pictures of the gout of flame was in a magnificent position. Talk about dramatic."

  "I thought the same. Curious that the flames just died away."

  "From what I could tell, there was no permanent damage. The explosions in the Green Zone just blew up crumbling buildings, and a few window panes. The damage was minimal, if the reports were correct."

  "I'm not sure whether I'm pleased or not. I resent the SinCards the more I think of them."

  "Then it is me who should apologise for hauling you here."

  Inma smiled at Davide. He should not blame himself. The weeks here had stimulated her. She looked forward to home. Davide accepted her words. He still blamed himself. He switched.

  "Kjersti?"

  "What a story she has, if she can slot home the last connections. I never know what to decide about her. One moment I resent her. The next the consequences of her energy fascinate me. She draws you in whether you like it or not."

  "I guess that happened in Anadalucía, with the olive oil?"

  "I detested her there. She nearly broke my business, all in her determination to publish. There was no consideration for anybody or anything else."

  "Yet?"

  "When we drove to Madrid for your uncle's memorial, she was good company and simpatica. There was a thoughtfulness which I did not expect. I should have. Ana always insisted it was so. Speaking of which, what are you going to do about her?"

  "Leave her alone. Nicosia has provided an unexpected perspective. Perhaps, when I arrived at her finca, matters might have turned out different. It was not to be. Tio Toño, through no fault of his own and unknowing, dealt the final card."

  "Regrets?"

  "Yes and no. I am not one to fuss over spilt milk... Lili?"

  "Very neat. Doing your usual, as Ana would say."

  "Well?"

  "The same applies to me."

  "I don't understand."

  "The flame, if that is what it was, for Lili has burned out. Like with Nea Hagia Sophia, though it took longer. Time away from Lili yet speaking with her has achieved my objective. Was it lust or love? Who knows? It no longer matters. Working with her is going to be much easier."

  "Congratulations."

  "Thank you. I may hate the SinCards but having the time here has helped me..."

  An hour later, she and Davide comprehended Kjersti's enthusiasm. Panagia Stasouza delighted. Better still, there was no-one around. Renting a car to visit here on the way to the airport felt good.

  An ethereal peace hung over the tiny valley. The one sound was the wind whistling in the bushes and trees. The only movement besides these were crops swaying in the surrounding fields.

  Inma left Davide to admire the main church. She set out for the back of the enclosure for the second church, the one Kjersti had described as hidden in trees below. She found a signpost pointing to Ekklesia Timios Prodromos.

  Through a gate, she descended steps to find a simple stone building with a porch at the west end. Detracting from its simplicity was the collection of plastic mops and buckets hanging from a pillar.

  She went inside to be transported to Yuste. This simplicity reminded of her own chapel. Ekklesia Timios Prodromos was larger, yet communicated the same intimacy. She selected a place and allowed her reflections to roam.

  Was her description to Davide about Lili correct?

  It was.

  Relief washed over her.

  She was free.

  A noise behind alerted her that someone else was within. Davide? The noise faded. She heard no more.

  Her faith billowed in this tiny, cool church. It reassured her and brought both comfort and confidence.

  She pictured Kjersti the previous evening. Inma knew she'd acted on impulse when she'd spoken. Now, a whole twelve hours later, Inma was sure she hadn't done wrong, despite Davide's obvious reluctance to say anything.

  Her conscience provided her with vindication. No regrets there. SinCards were fine in principle and would be evil in the practice the Church of Cyprus intended.

  What might Kjersti do? She laughed to herself. Trust Kjersti? What a concept!

  Nicosia (Cyprus)

  Aris drew up outside Iphi's apartment. Today was decision day. Their objective was to decide which stories to write, who should write them and how to take them to market. In particular, he was intent on ensuring Iphi obtained the TV break which she craved. If Kjersti could assist with this, then he would be happy.

  Iphi opened the door carrying a mug of coffee. He slurped it with pleasure yet apprehensive about what Iphi and Kjersti might have cooked up in his absence. He decided to be oblique.

  "What do you think of the explosion?"

  "You mean at the Basilica? It puzzles Kjersti and me. We're not sure whether to try to include it or not."

  In the salon Kjersti paced. Her frown indicated extreme concentration. Iphi interrupted.

  "Aris is here. We must decide."

  "I agree. The question, to me, is: do we have one story or three or five?"

  "Which are?"

  Kjersti laid out her analysis. There was the Russian sports betting with money laundering, the motor yacht, high living and all. There were the SinCards. Possibly separate was the SinCard franchise and the Church connection. Finally, there was the Archbishop's past behaviour, as revealed by Evdokia to Iphi.

  When they'd heard about this, Aris renounced his fear of offending the Church. His outrage blazed. Someone had to shame the Church back into rectitude. He raised another missing story.

  "You've forgotten the biggest story, the one which permeates all if in different ways."

  "You mean Nea Hagia Sophia?"

  "Exactly. It float
s in and out of three of the above, and there might be Russian involvement."

  "I agree, Aris, I agree."

  Iphi interrupted with her own take. To her, the selection of Nea Hagia Sophia was topical and enabled them to connect the others as sub-stories.

  Kjersti accepted this logic, but counter-argued. Excessive complexity risked diluting sub-stories which could stand in their own right. Nea Hagia Sophia would be better as a book, once researched. It was like an extra ace in the sleeve.

  The morning passed as they noodled different combinations. Frustration levels rose in all three. To their mutual surprise, Iphi took charge.

  "I accept Kjersti's point about a book. She can write that. When is up to her. We will support her. Won't we, Aris?"

  Aris acceded to her ferocity. He unearthed a new Iphi every day.

  "Aris, you are most concerned about the Church dimension. I understand. With your family, it is inevitable. I suggest, therefore, you write the story of the sports betting and money laundering. Quote Stephane as much as he will permit. Try and paint him as the victim. He's been decent to us."

  "You will take both SinCards and Archbishop? That's greedy!"

  "Shut up, Aris! I can't do the SinCard one. You knew more sooner, though you did not have the courtesy to tell us. This, however, has to be Kjersti's. She dragged the information out of Inma. Neither of us was there."

  Kjersti nodded. She liked this affirmative Iphi. Perhaps she might call her Iphigenia. It possessed more gravitas.

  "I will do the Archbishop. In a similar vein to Kjersti with Inma, I was on the receiving end of Evdokia's betrayal."

  Aris saw the sense. He pulled out his laptop in preparation. Before he wrote, he asked.

  "What about Nea Hagia Sophia? Is it not the centrepiece? Can we exclude it?"

  "It is, and will be in Kjersti's book. For now I propose we damn Nea Hagia Sophia by indirection. It can be the unsung foundation at the pit of each story. As each hits the public its discredit will rise."

  "And Evdokia and Alexa's wishes may yet come true?"

  "Possibly. Anyhow, it is time to write. If we can, I would like to have all three stories ready at the same time. Aris, you and I will offer ours to our own editors. Kjersti: Aris and I will each explore yours with our editors and see what happens. Then you are free to make all three available via your non-Cyprus connections."

  Kjersti's estimation of Iphi's business sense climbed. This plan was positive.

  Nicosia (Cyprus)

  At first light, Eleni could not bear to stay in bed. Showered and dressed, she found her father in the kitchen. Neither spoke. There was no need.

  Coffee consumed, she took her motorbike directly to Nea Hagia Sophia. Her father drove his car to the office. They agreed he should arrive later, after her initial reconnoitre.

  Beneath the Kampanarió, she stared up. The two scorched sides were more damaged than she'd noticed the previous evening. The CLT would probably require replacement. That was expensive. In an idle moment, she wondered if the Church had insured the Basilica and Kampanarió. It was not her problem.

  Inside the Kampanarió, there was no power. The fire crews must have turned it off, which meant the bells would not ring. That was a relief. Somebody else had taken the decision. She might face excoriation from her uncle. At least the lack of chimes wouldn't be her fault.

  She started up the internal steel ladder as it wound around the inside steel structure. This offered her a clean viewpoint. With her torch, she examined the framework at each joint. There was no evidence of distortion of metal nor of burning from inside. The CLT had performed to specification, a fact she would emphasise to her father. The steel looked as fresh and solid as two days or a fortnight earlier.

  It was with a profound sense of relief she descended to ground level. Poking around, there was no evidence of the fire entering. The CLT was close fitted. However seared on the outside, nothing had made it inside.

  A creak caught her attention. It was insignificant, but unusual. She cupped an ear but did not hear it again. Probably nothing. Maybe the wind stressing the Kampanarió. Except she'd noticed it was windless outside.

  She hastened to the nearest wall of the Basilica. It was unmarked. The flames hadn't reached this far. The conclusion was obvious. Whatever the cause of the flames, it had to do with the Kampanarió.

  "Kalimera."

  Eleni didn't respond. She was too busy eyeing the black hole from which the flame must have appeared. When distracted by a moving shadow, she raised her head to find the fire chief. Bizarrely, he carried a gas mask on his hip and a tank on his back.

  "Why the gas equipment?"

  "The garage. Our warning equipment prevents us from access. We have opened all external doors and ventilation. Maybe it is a coincidence. Maybe not. We're not taking chances."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Last night, my deputy sent a team to check out the area beneath the Basilica and the Kampanarió. Their sensors warned them of the presence of gas. The odd aspect is that it is not normal consumer gas. He had the good sense to send it off for analysis. We await the results."

  "You mean pre-1974 gas? I heard on the news that the three explosions were landmines going off along the Green Line."

  "Yes, we have confirmed those were mines. What the connection, if any, is we must establish. The UN is on its way, along with their ordnance specialists. The gas? I guess it's possible it's from that period."

  "I would like to go into the garage."

  "Without training, I can't permit it. You're not familiar with these?"

  He tapped the gas mask and the tank. Eleni agreed. She wasn't.

  "I am hopeful that natural ventilating will work by this afternoon. If all is clear, then you can go in, and we'll accompany you. For now, wait."

  A buzz on his handset interrupted. He responded.

  "I must go. I'm wanted at the command centre. If there's anything you need to know, I'll send one of my people."

  He trudged off. Eleni was powerless. She could not resist further inspection of the blackened hole from which the flame sprang. What could have caused this? She attempted to picture the structural surroundings. Her anxiety precluded a clear visualisation. For that she needed her computers, and Stephane.

  Before she recovered her motorbike, she called him. He sounded reluctant. She ordered him to the office, on pain of no invoice payment.

  It was an idle threat. He was not to know her father had authorised payment yesterday. It would be tomorrow or after before his bank received the money. She smirked at the ignorance which would enable her to play him like a fish. She would not let him off, not after that evening with the Imma lady.

  At the office, he waited. She explained about her need to visualise the Kampanarió, its surroundings and foundations. Between them they soon identified the files with the relevant wireframes. His reorganisation of the computing systems saved her much time. She was almost grateful. She said nothing. He looked detached.

  She bade him go, as she didn't need him. He surprised her. He had booked a flight. He must return to France to visit his father.

  To Eleni, he sounded false, cold, almost indifferent. Something had changed. She didn't have the time to explore. Identifying the cause of the flame was paramount.

  "What about the 100 Tonne Challenge? Giving up?"

  "I did it a couple of days ago. Five and a half hours. It's why I'm knackered."

  "Without me? Before our dinner?"

  Words failed Eleni. She wanted so badly to show him she was best, both in the Challenge and then in bed. Her fury built, preparing to cascade over him. When she looked up, he was there no longer.

  About to chase him, her desk phone prevented action.

  "What is it? If Stephane tries to leave the building, ask him to stay."

  "The fire chief's office left a message: would you return now to Nea Hagia Sophia? Mr Stephane is already away. I can see him in the street about to get in a taxi."

  Relief fl
owed through her. The garage must be clear. She could now inspect for herself. She reviewed the wireframe. If her calculations were accurate, the flame-exit was just beyond the outer wall of the garage, which excluded it from being a site responsibility.

  What a shame she couldn't share the news with Stephane. She'd catch up with him before he left for France.

  He might think he'd escaped. No man eluded her. It was a personal point of principle. She should have tried harder sooner. Too bad. She knew how to seduce men. He wouldn't be able to resist.

  Stasousa (Pyrga)

  After she'd climbed back to the main level, Inma spied a bench shaded by an enormous fig tree. She made herself comfortable to wait for Davide to finish. They had time before they must leave for the airport.

  Out of sight behind Panagia Stasousa, Davide explored the out-buildings. Some were restored monks' cells. Others were storage rooms. It was a complete enclosed community. Before long, he wandered over to join Inma.

  "It's enchanting. Thank you for this. I wouldn't have missed it for half-a-million Vatican-sourced dollars."

  He grinned at her. She got the allusion and smiled back.

  She summoned her courage.

  "I received a message from Ana last night. One of the books from her library sold for over a hundred thousand Euros, one about eighteenth-century ways to execute people. She's over the moon. She'd expected between five and ten."

  "Good for her."

  "That sounds suspiciously like sour grapes?"

  "I suppose so. No... I'm pleased for her. I guess that will anchor her new situation."

  "I'd think so. It does mean she can bring all olive oil production in-house."

  "Was there a problem?"

  "You weren't there long enough to learn she was missing the centrifuge, the most expensive single part in the production process. She was looking for a second-hand one. Now she's buying new. Anyhow, that's irrelevant."

  Inma wavered. Should she go further or let sleeping dogs lie? More uncertainty beset her. She took the plunge, as much to find out for Ana's sake as anything else.