Andreas said, ‘Amen.’
Lila nodded and said, ‘Thank you.’
‘This is yours by the way.’ The Protos handed Andreas the cross.
Andreas took it. ‘It’s not mine.’
‘Yes, it is. It’s the one Vassilis wore all his life. It came from his father’s father. I know he would want you to have it, for you to pass on to the child of a new generation.’
Andreas stared at it. ‘Thank you, Your Holiness. I will treasure it always.’
‘I know you will.’ The Protos patted Andreas on the shoulder. ‘By the way, in case you wonder how I came to have it, I asked a mutual friend on Patmos to pick it up for me from Abbot Christodoulos. Our friend said to say “thank you” for convincing the abbot to let his building permit go through.’
Andreas was puzzled. ‘I don’t understand. I assume you’re talking about Dimitri, but I never spoke to the abbot about his permit.’
The Protos smiled. ‘I know, but we both know how much Dimitri likes to talk, and I’d rather have him publicly thanking you for that bit of meddling in another monastery’s internal affairs than me. I’m sure you agree Dimitri was entitled to that modest reward for all his assistance?’
Andreas nodded. Guess that answers who Dimitri worked for.
The Protos’ tone turned serious. ‘And that the abbot needed to be reminded that trusting the wrong sort, even innocently, has its consequences.’
I like this guy’s style, Andreas thought.
‘Now, if you would please excuse me, I have a few things to explain to the Archbishop of Greece, who so kindly loaned me his driver and car for the day. And I think you have a few to explain as well.’ He was smiling again.
On second thought…
Lila said, ‘What is he talking about?’
‘I’ll tell you when I get back. I have to walk him out.’
He looked at the Protos. ‘Thanks for that,’ then mouthed to him with a sarcastic look Lila could not see, ‘and I don’t mean for the cross.’
The Protos laughed. Probably for what must have been the first time in a very long time.
24
‘The operation was aborted.’
‘What do you mean, “aborted”?’ Vladimir’s temper flared.
‘Things changed.’
Vladimir yelled into the phone. ‘Anatoly, I told you the cop must be eliminated. It was not a situation subject to change. How dare you make such a decision without consulting me?’
There was a long pause. ‘My old friend, I will permit you to speak to me that way this once, because I understand the pressure you are under. But do not forget what you asked me to do.’
Vladimir swallowed. He’d asked him to kill a man. Something Anatoly had arranged many times before — and could do again, should Vladimir push him too far. ‘Yes, I am under pressure.’ It was as much of an apology as Vladimir was capable of giving.
‘Good. Now let me tell you why the operation was terminated. Our man met Zacharias at Ouranoupolis.’
Anatoly is calling him ‘our’ man, thought Vladimir. Once KGB, always KGB.
‘At first our man thought him not worthy of further attention and planned to let him walk away. He seemed to have lost his old edge, even allowed our man to bully him into paying a ridiculous bribe. Then, just as our man was about to turn over the package, the true Butcher showed himself. He threatened to wipe our man’s seed off the earth and pulled a gun. But our man was prepared for the worst. The canister carrying the dioxin was equipped to flood a sixteen-square-foot area with an instantly debilitating gas at the press of a button. It took down both Zacharias and our man.’
Vladimir wasn’t interested in any of this. He wanted to know why the cop was still alive. But he dared not interrupt. He sensed Anatoly was dragging this out just to let him know that now he was in charge.
‘Thankfully, comrades were hidden and watching from a nearby building. They carried both men to a waiting boat, administered the antidote to our man, and made rendezvous with a helicopter at sea. Zacharias awoke in Moscow.’
‘Did he say anything?’
‘Not at first.’
Vladimir didn’t have to ask what that meant.
‘Ultimately, he told us everything.’
Vladimir couldn’t control himself. ‘Anatoly, stop with this. What did he say? Is there a problem?’
‘Not for you, my friend.’
‘Anatoly.’ Vladimir’s frustration was patent.
‘I just learned what happened myself. It took days to break him down. But, as I said, he broke.’
Vladimir realized that the more anxiety he showed the more likely Anatoly was to drag this out. It was a torture technique. Old ways never changed. He decided to say nothing and let Vladimir ramble on until his point was made. He’d make it, no doubt he would. It was a trait common to all apparatchiks, an irresistible urge to reinforce their personal illusions of power by revealing information they alone possessed.
‘He has made you a hero, my friend.’
Vladimir held his tongue. ‘The Butcher had followed the traditional route of many fleeing the world’s attention. He found a perfect place to hide until memories faded enough for him to acquire a different, less isolated exile elsewhere. But the Butcher could not resist his basic nature. He came to believe that God had chosen him to change the world. Whether his thinking was the product of mad, messianic delusions or a fundamentally evil soul, I do not know, nor do I care. What I do know is that he planned on killing the abbot of our Russian monastery on Mount Athos. Our leader’s favorite cleric.’
‘My God.’ Vladimir didn’t even realize he’d spoken.
‘Well put. Our leader thinks of him as God’s emissary on earth today. He personally called to congratulate me for obtaining the information that saved his friend’s life. Of course, I told him it was you who actually was responsible for saving the abbot’s life.’
Yeah, I bet, Vladimir thought. I wonder if you even mentioned my name.
‘Under the circumstances I thought it would be unwise to kill the policeman who passed on the information that saved the abbot’s life. Although Zacharias no longer is of concern to this world — the exact words of the order were, “Send that bastard back to his maker in Hell” — passions still are running high on how close he came to killing our abbot. We wouldn’t want someone thinking you were working with Zacharias as an accomplice and sought to murder the policeman and his family as revenge for exposing your friend and ally, the Balkan Butcher.’
Vladimir’s heart skipped three beats. Only two people on earth could validate that it was Vladimir who passed on the information. One was Anatoly, the other the Greek cop. He’d carefully kept all mention of his own name out of the original e-mail to Moscow. And his call to Anatoly ordering the immediate elimination of the cop — and the opening words of this conversation — were undoubtedly recorded by this snake, to be edited into who knows what form. Yes, Anatoly was telling him what could happen to him, and what would happen… unless ‘So, my dear friend, Vladimir, don’t you think all of this wonderful news is deserving of a reward? And certainly one far greater than you offered me to eliminate the one who saved the life of our leader’s spiritual guide?’
‘How much?’
‘How much is one of your many private jets or boats worth? Surely you do not need them all?’
Vladimir swallowed hard. ‘I will expect you personally to inform our leader in my presence that I am the one responsible for saving the abbot’s life.’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Goodbye.’
‘Goodbye, my friend.’ There was a tinge of harshness to the words.
Vladimir hung up, drew in and let out a deep breath. He’d been blackmailed before and no doubt would be again. That was the price of success in Russia. He looked at his watch. He thought to call Barbara in Athens. No, she said she would be at the hospital with her friend, the cop’s wife. The woman had just had a baby.