An Aegean Prophecy (15 page)

Andreas knew from the newspapers about the third one’s resignation. He was the abbot caught up in the scandal that haunted Vassilis. ‘Can you think of any reason why these twenty-one men are in this photograph?’ He pointed to the doctored photo.

‘I only recognize twenty faces. And I have no idea why they appear.’

Andreas asked for the names and monasteries linked to the superimposed faces, and took great care to write them down - so as not to make completely obvious that he was recording their conversation.

‘Which face don’t you recognize?’

He looked grim. ‘The face replacing mine.’ He pointed to a blurred image. ‘It looks familiar but I can’t quite make it out. Do you have a better copy?’

‘No, it’s exactly as it appeared on the drive.’

‘Knowing Vassilis, I’m surprised he’d have made such a significant mistake.’

‘Maybe it was meant to be that way?’

The Protos shrugged. ‘Perhaps.’

‘What do you make of the empty chairs and the carpet?’

The Protos picked up the glass and looked again at the photograph. ‘Not much, they seem the typical gold tone
and red velvet chairs so favored by our monks. It’s a style you see in almost every abbot’s office.’

‘And the carpet?’

He shrugged. ‘Again, a patterned oriental of a type I see everywhere.’

Andreas reached into the envelope. ‘There was something else on the drive.’ He handed him the note. ‘What do you think this means?’

The Protos read it quickly, then read it again much more slowly. He picked up the doctored photograph and magnifying glass. Andreas noticed the glass start to shake, then the photo. At first ever so slightly—

‘My God.’ The Protos crossed himself three times, apparently not realizing he was holding the glass in his hand as he did. He held up the photograph to Andreas. ‘The chairs, the twenty-four chairs. Saint John saw twenty-four elders in twenty-four chairs immediately after the beginning of his vision. Their meaning is a source of rich debate, but in this photograph I have no doubt what Vassilis is trying to tell me.’ He waved the photograph at Andreas.

‘This symbolizes the twenty-four survivors of Armageddon who will represent the church’s resurrected faithful when the Kingdom of Heaven has come. I’m not saying that is Vassilis’ view, but it’s the message he’s passing me through symbols from Revelation he knew I’d recognize.’ He paused. ‘And he sees them in the presence of great evil.’

‘Okay, now you’ve completely lost me.’ Andreas felt a bit like a kid caught unprepared for Sunday school.

The Protos’ expression did not change. ‘Every symbol, every word, and certainly every number in Revelation has
spawned endless interpretations, many with significant distinctions having little in common with each other. “The pearly gates,” “streets of gold,” “harps in heaven,” “seven seals,” and, of course, “666” are just some of them. But that is the way of apocalyptic writing. It is highly symbolic and can be made to serve many purposes, some good, others not.’

There was a subtle change to the Protos’ voice; he was sounding more and more like a teacher. ‘Perhaps it would be helpful, my son, to give you what many call “the bottom line.” Without the additional chairs, there are three rows of seven men in seven chairs. There are a lot of sevens in Revelation. Indeed, the very Book of Revelation is written as a message to seven churches. My guess is that Vassilis added three abbot-style chairs to a picture of twenty one to take attention off the distracting number seven, and put it on the number twenty four which, to someone familiar with Revelation,’ he smiled at Andreas, ‘could only mean the twenty-four elders.’

‘Okay, but—’

The Protos held up his hand. ‘I know, I’m still going too fast. For some, the twenty-four represent the leadership of the church that will emerge after the coming of our Lord.’

After all hell’s broken loose as I recall, thought Andreas.

‘That was not his thinking, but I’m sure Vassilis replaced the faces and added the chairs to make clear to me when I read “the time is in their hands” that the men in the photo are seeking to change the church.’

Andreas let out a breath. ‘Okay, let’s assume you’re right about what Vassilis was trying to tell you, and that he’s
right about the monks in the photo wanting to be the new leaders of the church, I still don’t see how any of that makes any of them “evil.” At most it sounds like they may be out of step with prevailing church politics.’

The Protos shook his head. ‘This is not a question of politics. And I’m not saying the men in that photograph are “evil,” nor did Vassilis. What I said is, “He sees them in the
presence
of great evil.”’

‘I’m sorry, Your Holiness, I need another “bottom line” moment here.’

The Protos pointed to the carpet in front of the image that replaced his own. ‘If you look closely at the carpet you can make out a pattern. It took me a moment to recognize it, but once I did I immediately realized that the face replacing mine wasn’t from a photograph, it’s from a famous painting.’ He let out a breath and put down the glass. ‘The carpet pattern is of a dragon, and both the dragon and the blurred image represent the same thing.’ He crossed himself. ‘Satan.’ He crossed himself again.

Andreas just stared at the photograph. This was turning into one of those days he wished he’d become anything but a cop. How do you tell this man, respectfully, to come back to the real world so we can solve a real world crime?

‘Okay, I hear you, Your Holiness, but what flesh and blood proof is there for any of this?’

The Protos looked up and stared into Andreas’ eyes. ‘My son, Vassilis is dead.’

‘I haven’t felt that stupid in a long time.’ And on that note, Andreas finished describing his meeting to Kouros.

‘Yeah, I guess, “Vassilis is dead,” was sort of the obvious answer to your question.’

‘Sort of? I felt as if I were back in elementary school getting taken apart by a teacher.’

Kouros kept his eyes on the road. ‘Just trying to make you feel better.’

Andreas smiled. ‘Thanks, but it’s not working.’

‘So, where do we go from here?’

‘The Protos has gone back to Mount Athos, promising if anything else comes to mind he’ll let me know. As for where we go, it’s back to the office and the sexy side of police work.’

‘Sitting in a car for hours eating
spanikopita
?’

‘Better. Reading everything we can find on every monastery and every monk in Mount Athos. Which reminds me, what did you dig up on the Protos’ buddy, Sergey?’

‘Nothing bad. Yeah, he was one mean motherfucker in his army years, but no war crimes stuff. Seems to fit the profile for many who lose themselves in monasteries. They’ve seen it all, done it all, and now want to forget it all.’

Andreas nodded. ‘And what about that computer backup the abbot promised to send us?’

‘Maggie said it arrived this morning, but nothing on it as far as she can tell except for esoteric comments by Vassilis on church doctrine and liturgy. She actually likes that stuff.’

‘Well, I’m about to make her even happier by getting her started on pulling things off the Internet.’ He picked up his phone and dialed Maggie’s number.

‘Should I get them here or wait until after the helicopter lands in Athens?’ asked Kouros.

Andreas was holding the phone to his ear, waiting for Maggie to pick up. ‘Get what?’

‘The spinach pies. I think five dozen should be enough. After all, twenty major monasteries, no telling how many related places, and a couple of thousands monks. How long can that possibly take?’

‘Like I said, thanks for trying to make me feel better, and the next time you - Hello, Maggie …’

They’d gone through almost two dozen
spanikopita
and three pots of coffee. Andreas was glassy-eyed and Kouros claimed to be numb ‘for a lifetime’ to anything clerical. Maggie, on the other hand, seemed in virtual heaven. She said she couldn’t believe she’d been asked to immerse herself in the study of her church as part of her job, and get paid overtime for doing it. A lot of overtime.

‘I can’t read another word. I just can’t.’ Kouros pushed himself up from Andreas’ couch, stretched, and jumped up and down.

Andreas lifted his eyes from the pile of documents on his desk. ‘Stop that, you’re wrecking my concentration. I’ll forget where I am.’

‘That’s what I want to do,’ said Kouros, jumping three more times before stopping. ‘So much of this is all the same sh -‘ he glanced at Maggie, ‘stuff, just written differently enough that I have to read it again and again and again. I see nothing.’

Andreas stretched. ‘I thought the first thousand or so articles were pretty interesting, myself.’

Maggie looked up from the chair she’d been glued to
for hours. ‘Stop that, you two. This is very interesting. It’s the history of our church and of those special souls who dedicate their lives to honoring our past and our traditions in order to keep our church alive in the present.’

Andreas looked at Kouros, then at Maggie. ‘Cut us some slack, will you? We’re trying to find a clue to a murder, not impugn the church, and it’s …’ he looked at his watch, ‘… four o’clock in the morning.’

‘Like I said, Chief, I’ve had it,’ yawned Kouros.

Andreas threw his pencil on his desk. ‘Okay.’ He ran his hands through his hair. ‘Before we call it a night, do either of you have anything to tell me that might be helpful? Anything?’

Kouros shrugged.

Maggie scowled. ‘Okay, wiseasses.’

Andreas smiled. At four in the morning Maggie finally was letting them know who really ran their office.

She handed Andreas a single sheet of paper. ‘Read this.’

He looked at it. ‘I’ve read this or something like it a hundred times already. It goes monastery by monastery according to hierarchical rank, describing each one’s history, location, size—’

‘Well, read it again, and this time more carefully.’

Just what he needed, another teaching moment; but he did as she told him. It described a monastery ranking near the bottom of the twenty, but it had more monks than virtually any of the others. It also was one of the strictest and most severe. He read it twice, then looked up. ‘Okay, what am I missing?’

Maggie took the paper from his hand and began reading
out loud. ‘“The monastery withdrew its representative from the Holy Community decades ago and does not take part in its assemblies.”’

Andreas gave her a blank stare. She turned to Kouros. He shrugged and then yawned.

‘If one of the twenty monasteries refuses to participate in assemblies of the Holy Community of Mount Athos, why then are there twenty abbots in the photograph with the Protos at his installation - instead of nineteen?’ She said the last three words very slowly.

Kouros shrugged. ‘No idea. And I’m too tired to make a joke.’

Andreas stared at Maggie. ‘Twice in one day.’

‘What “twice in one day”?’ said Maggie.

‘That I’ve missed the obvious.’

Kouros reached for another
spanikopita
. ‘Don’t forget about the cross.’

Andreas nodded. ‘Fine, okay, three times.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Too late or early to call the Protos?’

‘Both,’ said Maggie. ‘He’s probably in the middle of morning prayers.’

‘I’ll take that as a sign to get some sleep.’ Andreas stood up. ‘At least now we have a question to ask.’

‘Do you think he’ll talk to you over the phone?’ asked Kouros.

Andreas shrugged. ‘Won’t know until I try. He gave me his landline numbers when we were in Ouranoupolis. They’re probably more secure than the prime minister’s, but if it’s something he doesn’t want to talk about I’m sure he’ll let me know.’

Andreas looked at Maggie. ‘Any idea of what his potential answer might be?’

‘Probably something obvious, like everyone came out of respect for the office of
protos
.’

‘Sort of like warring families getting together at a church social?’ Kouros was smiling.

Maggie shook her head. ‘You can’t help yourself.’

‘Would you prefer something more earthshaking? How about, “The devil made me do it”?’

Guessing at answers was a big part of every cop’s life. In Andreas’ experience some were better guessers than others, but even the best of them rarely were right on the mark, just close enough to point the way. Great, he thought, the devil made somebody show respect for the Protos.

Ever so quietly he crept into the room. Like a thief in the night. But a naked one, on tip-toe. Andreas had dropped his clothes on the floor outside the bedroom. Muscle memory brought him around the bed, extreme care lightly onto it. No covers tonight, he thought, the movement might wake her. Ahh, made it.

PLOP
. An arm dropped across his bare chest. ‘Anything interesting happen today, my love?’

‘I can never sneak in on you, can I?’

‘Nope, and don’t you ever forget it.’ She patted his chest.

He rolled over and kissed her. ‘Missed you.’

‘I bet. After all that time alone with monks even Mother Theresa would look good.’

He laughed and touched her belly. ‘How are you guys doing?’