Her mind was on a brutal, bloody intramural soccer match during her freshman year at Yale. Two older assholes tried knocking her out after her first score. They were relentless but missed their chance; one lost two teeth and the other gained a broken leg while Annika scored two more goals and a 'don't-mess-with-me' reputation. But that was against adversaries she could see, could challenge with her strength. Now there was none to face but time, and the only victory was not to succumb to sleep.
And so she began: over and over she replayed every move, every feint, every pain, every score; she was determined to win again or die trying. He was running out of time.
About thirty feet down the tunnel from her cell was a heap of construction odds and ends. He rummaged through the mess until he found a length of beat-up garden hose and an almost finished roll of duct tape. He carried them back to a World War II-era gasoline generator used for powering light and ventilation. It vented to the outside through an old air shaft. He turned on a flashlight and turned off the generator.
He disconnected the vent pipe from the generator's exhaust and used the duct tape to secure the garden hose in its place. The exhaust connection was about twice the diameter of the hose but the duct tape gave it an airtight fit. Picking up the other end of the hose, he walked back to the cell wall, pulled on his night-vision goggles, and looked through one of the slots. Inside the cell, each slot was faced in the same smooth, painted stone that covered the rest of the inside walls. He'd built them to swing up and into the cell — like mail slots — so fingers pressing from inside would not find them.
She was jumping about naked in a determined little routine. He watched her silently. She kept repeating to herself, 'I can beat you, I can beat you.' He turned away, slid the garden hose into the end of a wider hose used for drawing fresh air into the cell, walked back to the generator and turned it on. The mayor was waiting for them when Tassos and Andreas returned to the police station. He was sitting in Andreas' office and jumped up the moment they walked in. 'Have you heard about the deputy minister's niece?' he blurted, nearly apoplectic.
Andreas shot a worried glance at Tassos and looked back at the mayor. 'What do you mean?'
'She's missing. The deputy minister called and told me he'd asked you to look for her.'
Andreas held up his hand and said, 'Calm down. I know, and we're looking for her.'
'You know what this means?' Mihali didn't sound any calmer.
Andreas sat down in his chair before answering. 'Yes, I'm afraid I do.'
Tassos pointed the mayor to the chair in front of the desk. 'Sit down, Mihali, we have a lot to talk about.'
Uncharacteristically docile, the mayor now did as he was told. Tassos closed the door and went to sit in the other chair.
Andreas ran his fingers through his hair, then rubbed his eyes. 'I figure we have twenty-four to thirty-six hours before she's dead. No more.'
The mayor looked like a deer in the headlights. 'Why? Why do you say that?'
Andreas spoke as if in a trance. 'All of his victims were killed during the tourist season. All the bodies were found in churches with saints having name days in the tourist season. The coroner set Vandrew's time of death to within twenty-four hours of Saint Calliope's name day — and we found her in Saint Calliope.'
'Perhaps you'll recall that the Scandinavian girl supposedly killed by the Irishman' — Tassos paused long enough for the mayor to wince — 'was murdered on the name day for Saint Marina.'
'Another tourist-season saint,' said the mayor.
'And another of Father Paul's churches,' said Andreas.
'Do you think he's the killer?' asked the mayor.
Andreas shrugged. 'All I'm sure of is she'll be dead in a matter of hours if we don't find her.' He leaned forward and picked up a pencil from his desk. 'It could be any of several suspects… or all of them… or none of them… and I don't have a fucking clue where any of them are.' He threw the pencil against a wall.
'But we know where it'll happen,' said Tassos calmly.
Andreas stared at him. 'Do you really think with all this heat — and he has to know we're looking for him — he'll still take her to Saint Kiriake? He'd have to be stupid, or suicidal.'
Tassos nodded no. 'I don't think he'll bring her to Father Paul's Saint Kiriake, but for twenty years something's been driving him to kill in a church on its name day. I think he's going to try again. It's part of his ritual.'
Andreas rubbed his eyes again, then ran his hands down his face until his thumbs were under his chin and his fingers clasped about his nose as if he were praying. He paused for a few seconds, looked at Tassos, and dropped his hands to his desk. 'I think you're right.'
'So, what do we do, guard all the churches named for Saint Kiriake?' asked the mayor.
Andreas said, 'We have to be careful not to scare him off. If we do, it'll be too easy for him just to kill her and drop her in the sea.'
'Or bury her by the side of the road,' said Tassos.
Andreas gave him a 'cool it with the Scandinavian already' look.
Tassos switched to his professional tone. 'Our best chance of catching him with her is at one of the churches.'
'We should check out the mines too,' said Andreas.
Tassos paused. 'I don't think we should be taking men away from the churches.'
Andreas looked at Tassos in surprise and gave him a 'what gives' hand gesture. 'What are you talking about? We've got at least two suspects running around inside the mines. It's our hottest lead; we have to follow it up. Besides, it won't be cops searching mines. We need men who know them.'
Tassos paused again, then nodded. 'I guess that makes sense.'
Andreas looked at the mayor. 'Do you know men we can get to search?'
'At night?' asked Mihali.
'It's always night inside a mine, and we've no time to lose,' said Andreas in a tone sharper than intended.
'Sure, I'll have them within an hour,' the mayor said.
Andreas looked at Tassos. 'Any idea how many men we'll need to put a twenty-four-hour watch on the churches — starting tomorrow at sunset?'
Tassos nodded no. 'Not until I find out how many churches are named for Saint Kiriake. I'll speak to the archbishop. Thank God she's not a popular saint or we'd have to mobilize the army.'
'We still might have to,' said Andreas.
The mayor blanched. 'You're kidding.'
Andreas let out a deep breath. 'Let's see how many churches we're talking about before we cross that bridge. All I can tell you for sure is Mykonos is about to go through twenty-four hours of partying without much police protection.'
'Syros too,' said Tassos, nodding. 'I'll have forty men here by tomorrow afternoon.'
'Thanks,' Andreas said.
'No need to thank me. We're all hanging together on this one.' Tassos turned and stared at the mayor. 'Right, Your Honor?'
The mayor stared blankly back at them. 'Yes.' He nodded. 'We'll all hang together on this one.' Ambassador Vanden Haag arrived home a little before eleven. Catia wasn't downstairs as usual. He found her upstairs sitting on the edge of their bed holding a picture of their daughter.
Her eyes were red. 'Spiros said he'd spoken to the mayor and the chief of police and they promised to find her, but they haven't.'
He sat next to her on the bed. 'Do they have any idea where she is?'
She shook her head. 'Spiros just keeps saying he's certain she's okay. That she's probably off with some boy.' She leaned against him. 'I have to go to Mykonos. I have to find her.'
He put his arm around her. 'I understand. When will you go?'
'Tomorrow morning, I've booked a flight. I should be in Mykonos by the afternoon.'
'I'll go with you.'
She shook her head. 'No, you have that conference tomorrow with the prime minister. Spiros will meet me. Besides, you don't speak Greek well enough to be of much help.' She forced a smile and snuggled closer.