The Icon Hunter

by Tasoula Georgiou Hadjitofi

  How can I explain to the world the importance that this lost Saint Andreas artifact holds for my mother, for my family and to the Orthodox? It’s impossible for me to abandon my search for it, despite my promise to Michael. I must find it.

  Twenty-Six

  THE DEVIL IS IN THE DETAILS

  Attorney General Alecos Markides is rumored to be considering a run for the presidency, according to several Cyprus newspapers. If he is extraditing Aydin Dikmen to Cyprus to bring him to trial for the stolen artifacts, it makes for perfect conditions to win favor with voters. If Cyprus is granted extradition for Dikmen, it could expedite the artifacts’ return, as they will be considered evidence. The challenge is that chances for extradition are less than favorable. When current President Glafcos Clerides warns Markides that a run for the presidency while he’s attorney general will go against the constitution of Cyprus, I become concerned about the artifacts’ return.

  The attorney general’s office has not released my statement to the Bavarian police, who are calling for it consistently. I’m also spending hours fielding duplicate requests for the same information from different Cypriot government departments. Their disorganization is costing me hours of time and efficiency.1

  I’m constantly at odds with the Cypriot police who are aggressively pursuing Van Rijn to establish a relationship. Once he senses there is a division between me, the attorney general’s office, and the police, he will seize the moment to play one against the other.

  Hearing the archbishop’s normally calm demeanor upset, I fly to Cyprus on December 9 to meet with him. He leads me into his office to have a cup of coffee.

  “The attorney general doesn’t want the record to show that a girl from Famagusta recovered the artifacts on her own. I told them that is how it really happened, and they went on and on.”

  “They will not release my statement,” I say, trying not to sound frustrated. “Legally they have no authority to stop me from giving it to the Bavarian police because I am a Dutch citizen.”

  “If you release your accounting of Munich without their approval, they will place the blame on you for anything that goes wrong with the case.”

  “They don’t have evidence to extradite Dikmen, yet this is their plan.”

  “That’s not our only issue. Van Rijn is accusing you of withholding evidence about Dikmen.”

  “What! Ridiculous. Your Beatitude, the civil servants are walking directly into his trap! Kitchler told me they want Van Rijn’s statement. As it turns out, the fake Andreas is the only way the Cypriots can tie Dikmen to an illicit sale.”

  I shake my head in disgust. The attorney general’s office wasted all this time on trying to extradite Dikmen when the Bavarian police could have prosecuted Dikmen immediately and negotiated with him to release the artifacts to Cyprus in exchange for a lesser sentence.

  Continuing our discussion: “Now that the police have made Van Rijn aware of the fact that they need his testimony and cooperation in prosecuting Dikmen, it is my opinion that he will use it to try and manipulate the situation for more money,” I say.

  “You know Van Rijn well,” says the archbishop. “He wants to stay in Cyprus and is claiming he was shorted money due to a disagreement in exchange rates for his two-hundred-fifty-thousand-dollar fee.”

  “Every payment made to him was documented and witnessed and each transaction signed by him.”

  “How shall we proceed?” the archbishop asks.

  “Your Grace, in my opinion Van Rijn is trying to use the these Cypriot officials. I’ve told him the church will not pay another penny. He is going around me to the civil servants to get to you directly. Let me get to the bottom of all this.”

  The Hilton Hotel in Nicosia is just minutes from the old historic district where significant churches and mosques are surrounded by Venetian walls originally built in the Middle Ages and reconstructed during the sixteenth century. Van Rijn and I meet in the lounge area set among tropical plants and trees, designed to bring the outdoors in.

  “Now I understand what you love about this country,” he says.

  “We are not here today to discuss pleasantries,” I say, getting straight to the point.

  “I don’t believe the archbishop appreciates what I did for Cyprus.”

  “He arranged a private tea for you at the palace to thank you one-on-one. Come on, Van Rijn. Stop playing games. What do you want?”

  “I plan to make a life here. There is a piece of land near the supermarket Charalambides, and I want you to ask the old man to sell it to me at a reduced price. Of course he can always give it to me in gratitude for my services.”

  I feel the corners of my mouth tighten. Now I know exactly what he is up to.

  “How do you know about this plot of land?” I ask.

  “I know more about what is happening in Cyprus than you do.”

  “I see your fear of the police has subsided.”

  “Tassos and Stella are in charge now, and they tell me the attorney general is a powerful man who can help me. Maybe I’ll finally get the credit I deserve,” he says, trying, without success, to get a rise out of me.

  “If you want to make your life in Cyprus, do it. I will not ask the archbishop to sell or give you land. The best I can do is recommend a real estate agent to you.”

  “Tazulaah . . . After everything I’ve done for Cyprus, it is humiliating to have to beg for what is owed to me,” he says.

  “We fulfilled our commitment to you, Van Rijn. Asking the archbishop for land is not part of our deal, nor is staying in Cyprus.”

  “Why don’t you want me to stay in Cyprus?” he asks.

  This is Van Rijn doing what he does best, changing his game plan; just when he gets you to believe he’s being straight, he detours. He is maneuvering himself into position to secure money from this situation. To make him think twice about where he is taking this conversation I remind him, “And what about the unfulfilled delivery of the Andreas? The mosaic was part of the minimum guarantee. Or did you forget about that part of our agreement?” I ask.

  “You don’t tell the real story. You speak about me like I am a criminal,” he says.

  “There are heroes and paid informers, Van Rijn. You have been paid for your services. Heroes are not paid. To traffic illicit goods and make money informing others about their whereabouts are not the qualities of a hero,” I say. Van Rijn has an unquenchable thirst for recognition that in this moment I sort of identify with. His has to do with his unfulfilled relationship with his father. Mine has to do with having a desperate need to see these sacred artifacts returned to Cyprus. This is my only chance to put the broken pieces of a shattered childhood back together. This is his opportunity to cross the line into legitimacy. Despite my willingness to understand what lies beneath, I still feel he cannot be trusted.

  He continues, “Seeing you behave like this worries me. What has happened to you? When did you begin withholding information from the police?”

  Van Rijn is masterful in the way he twists the facts to suit his aims. He is feeding Tassos’s ego to make Tasso believe he will surrender the fake Andreas to him. Tassos will begin to trust him and, as soon as he does, Van Rijn will flip the facts on him just as he is attempting to do to me now. I have observed this man for eleven years, and I know him better than the Cypriot police do. The Cypriots are seeing what they want to see to move their agenda forward.

  “I wish you well, Van Rijn. As far as your dispute about the exchange rate . . .” I pause, wanting to control any sarcasm. “We both know the exchange rate discrepancy is a fabrication. The nondelivery of the Andreas is not.” His anger emerges.2

  “I’ve been providing you with information to recover stolen artifacts since 1987. John the Baptist, Archangel Michael, The Royal Doors . . . I gave you Dergarzarian, for crying out loud!”

  I put my hands together and clap enthusiastically.

  “Great performance!” I say. “In case you didn’t notice, we’re not on Broadway.”


  “I gave up my two homes because you promised the archbishop would get me a casino license and free land to put it on.3 When the representative of the Church and the government of Cyprus makes a promise, they must uphold it,” he says with hostility.

  A wave of nausea rises in my throat. I’m enraged about his lies and stunned by his betrayal. I told my government not to prosecute him so that he would continue to help us go after other illicit dealers.

  “Don’t you dare make false allegations against me,” I say.4

  “The Church paid you a two-hundred-fifty-thousand-dollar fee. We put you and your family up for a month in Cyprus. We are finished now except that you owe the Church the fake Andreas.”5

  “I handed Munich to you, and you treat me with no respect or decency.”

  “You’re up to your old tricks, Van Rijn. You are not the changed man you parade yourself to be, you are the same as you ever were.”

  His voice becomes monotone, his demeanor chilling.

  “You are not in charge anymore,” he says as he exits the lobby, smiling.6, 7

  I struggle to make sense of his betrayal. I believe it comes down to dollars and cents. The further he drives a wedge between the police and me, the more he positions himself to manipulate the situation. I stand in the way of his receiving a bigger payday. I must warn Stella and Tassos that the only way to stop him now is for us to present a united front.

  Halfway between Limassol and Larnaca lies a small village on the south coast of Cyprus called Zygi where Tassos and Stella and I agree to meet at a local café.

  “Van Rijn is pitting us against each other,” I say. “He wants the archbishop to give him land, access to a casino license, cash, and he’s making false accusations against me,” I say. “He is a danger to us.”

  Tassos speaks first. “To us or to you? Why are you so aggressive with him? He’s helping us. He’s our prime witness!”

  “How do you see this situation playing out?” I ask.

  “He’s not the man you say he is. I don’t share your view of him,” says Tassos.

  “He is trying to exploit us to get more money, and he will withhold his testimony and the fake Andreas until he gets it. He wants to settle in Cyprus!” I say.

  “So why is it your concern? You don’t live here,” Tassos says. Stella injects her opinion.

  “What makes you think you’re the only person capable of managing Van Rijn? We know how to deal with him quite well. He’s not coming after us!”

  “No offense,” I say, “but I’ve dealt with this man and his games for eleven years. You can heed my warning or not. This is to protect the case as much as you two.”

  Stony, expressionless faces stare back at me.

  “I suggest we take a photograph together and send it into the Cyprus weekly, which he reads. It will send the message that his games will not be tolerated.”

  Stella responds unenthusiastically, “Interesting. We will think about it.”

  Later that day, I return to the archbishop’s private headquarters at the palace, the only place of refuge for me these days.

  “I’m sorry about this nonsense after all you’ve done.”

  “Stella and Tassos have created the perfect setting to enable Van Rijn to exploit the case,” I tell the archbishop.

  “The government has to go through me first, so don’t worry about it.”

  “Your Beatitude, I feel that the artifacts would have already been returned to Cyprus if we were leading the case.” When the archbishop listens, you can feel him concentrating.

  “I want you to do something for me.”

  “Anything,” I say.

  “Bring the initial purchase of artifacts home to Cyprus for Christmas,” he says.

  “I will check with Michael, but I think we can arrange for the family to spend Christmas in Cyprus, yes,” I reply.

  “I want you to arrive before sunset, and let it be only you and Michael that escort the artifacts off the plane. This is the last thing the government will let you do alone. Glory has many fathers, my child.”

  Despite me turning Van Rijn over to the police and providing them with the bank statements and receipts of the Church account I set up in the Netherlands for the sting, Tassos requests an accounting of the money again. Van Rijn is now quarreling over the exchange rate that we agreed upon.

  The police are desperate for Van Rijn’s cooperation, so they dispute the exchange rate in his defense to try to secure additional funds from the Church. The police do not want to risk losing Van Rijn as a witness. I submit all necessary information to the police in order for them to secure the fake Andreas, I notify the attorney general’s office, and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, that the professional relationship between the Church and Van Rijn ceases here and I turn over all pertinent documents and responsibility for Van Rijn over to the police.8

  The police however, continue to pressure the Archbishop,“They want me to finance a longer stay for Van Rijn. He has more information. What is your opinion, Tasoula?”

  “It’s one thing for us to pay him a fee to expose the dealers. If he receives a penny for telling us to whom he and Dikmen sold our looted artifacts, I not only will have a moral issue with that scenario, it will jeopardize the outcome of our other pending civil cases. How can the Church sue possessors of our stolen property and pay Van Rijn, who is the one who sold these looted treasures to them in the first place? This is the sole reason we changed our strategy to go after the dealers and not the possessors,”9 I say.

  “I understand,” says the archbishop.

  “Our agreement with Van Rijn is finished. We are not obligated to adopt him!”

  “Then I shall back your decision,” the archbishop replies.

  Back in The Hague, Michael unlocks the vault in our basement wall. It’s late when I remove the frescoes and prepare them for their return to Cyprus. I use the moment to say good-bye to my fellow refugees. Each fresco has a unique beauty and character to it. One can feel the artist’s connection to a higher source during the creation process as faith and devotion register in every detail. They seem out of place away from the walls of the church from where they originated. They are homeless artifacts, unable to return to their original environment in northern Cyprus because of the occupation. The artifacts will remain in the Byzantine Museum next to the archbishop’s palace and wait like the rest of us refugees for the day we can return home.

  For the last eleven years I have sacrificed much to experience this moment. Once I return these sacred refugees to Cyprus, I wonder if I will finally have the peace of mind I’ve been searching for.10

  Twenty-Seven

  RETURN OF THE REFUGEES

  As the wheels of the 747 touch the tarmac in Cyprus, Alecos Markides officially declares that he will not be running for the presidency, but I imagine, being a party man, that his office will do what they can to help win the election.

  I get butterflies in my stomach as I gather my belongings. The weight of it all hits me as the stewardess opens the door for us to deplane. The archbishop’s instruction to “be alone when you deplane” echoes in my thoughts. Michael stands a few feet behind me, while a friend sees to the children. All will be escorted by a bishop to a waiting area inside the terminal.

  Descending the stairs, my senses are overwhelmed with the mixture of sea air and the perfume of scented flowers, a fragrance unique to Cyprus and evocative of my childhood. Even the warm rays of the sun cannot calm my nerves. At the bottom of the steps I see the friendly face of Bishop Vasilios leading a contingent of clergy to meet me. Underneath my tough exterior there is still a young refugee traumatized by war, who has visualized this moment for the last twenty-four years of her life.

  Each bishop picks up a carton of artifacts until all are in hand, then Bishop Vasilios signals me to start walking toward the van that will transport the artifacts to the archbishop’s palace. The bishops follow me in procession. There are photographers and videographers present from local and international media
outlets filming our every move as we march together like an army of spiritual warriors bringing our wounded artifacts home to heal.

  The archbishop, in his direction to have me deplane alone, sends a powerful visual message to the government, the media, and to the people of Cyprus that in truth it is the act of a laywoman, with his support, who made the repatriation of these sacred artifacts possible.

  I thought that bringing the artifacts home would heal my own inability to return home to Famagusta, but as I make the transfer of the artifacts to the archbishop, my wounds remain. The war ruined my ability to trust, and the archbishop restored it. I feel that nothing can break the bond we share, but something unexpected is lurking just under the surface. Something I could have never anticipated.

  Wearing a black Valentino suit with my hair pulled back in a simple bun, I arrive at the archbishop’s palace feeling uneasy. The archbishop is dressed in his cassock, looking very much like the refined spiritual leader he is. Van Rijn enters with Tassos.

  “Relax, this is a special moment for you.” he says reassuringly.

  One glance at Tassos and Stella and I wonder whether Van Rijn has them both seduced. Van Rijn disarms you with his “good guy” persona. All the while, he is studying your mind, your personality traits, your flaws, and your weaknesses. If your integrity can be bought, he will sense the hole in the fabric of your morality and tear at it.

  Van Rijn is an opportunist. He has been on the run for many years with police authorities on his heels ready to take him down for his past transgressions. A clever businessman, he saw an opportunity to switch sides and become an informer before his past caught up with him.

  When Van Rijn could not compromise me, I became another sort of sacred object that he wanted to collect. I believe he considered me his equal so far as intellect and strategy, but my gifts were used for a different purpose. I wanted to believe he was serious about redemption, and I wanted to save him from himself. When his father died before I could share what his son had done to help Cyprus, it changed the dynamic between us.