Tassos' tone turned serious. 'We don't have enough men. I don't want a cop sitting alone in the moonlight in the middle of the Mykonos hills waiting for a serial killer to show up. It's too dangerous, especially for the rookies — not to mention the kids still in the academy. We need at least two for every church.'
Andreas was serious too. 'Can't do it. We have to cover all the churches with what we've got or I'm calling Athens for help. Can't risk it. Not with all our suspects running around loose.'
He could hear Tassos' breathing quicken. 'What if we get teams to cover the out-of-town churches and uniforms walking beats between the ones in town? That'll give a show of force in town too — and coverup the fact that most of our cops are in the countryside.' Andreas knew Tassos was trying to sell him on keeping Athens in the dark, and he wondered if Tassos might be more worried about his pension than he'd let on.
'What time do we deploy?' Andreas' tone was neutral; he would think about the suggestion.
'To be safe, I figure two hours before sunset. They'll be up all night.'
'They're young Greek men on Mykonos — they should be used to that.' There was a mischievous lilt to Andreas' voice.
Tassos laughed. 'Yes, but it's harder to stay awake when you're not drinking and dancing.'
Andreas laughed too. 'Where are you now?'
'Syros. I had to wake up the archbishop to get his help. I've had a half-dozen men going through the archdiocese's records since three this morning mapping every Saint Kiriake church on Mykonos — everyone they have a record of, that is.'
That alarmed Andreas. 'How can there be churches they don't know about?'
'As the archbishop told me, we're talking centuries here, and it's possible not every church is in their records. The local priest would know, and certainly the family who takes care of the church would know; it's just that Syros may not have a record of it.'
Andreas knew it seemed too simple just to watch every Saint Kiriake church until the bastard showed up. 'That's just great. So, how do we make sure we have them all covered?' He knew if there was one person on Mykonos who knew them all, it was the killer.
'We're cross-checking against baptism, wedding, and death records to see if any other Kiriakes turn up.'
'How long's that going to take?' Andreas' frustration was building.
Tassos started sounding edgy. 'Don't know yet, but it's the best we can do. I'm planning to be in Mykonos by noon with my men. I'm bringing with me whatever information we find by then, and any more will be faxed to your office.'
Andreas let out a breath. Tassos had to be as frustrated as he was. 'Okay, just try not making too grand an entrance. Forty police arriving at the same time might look like an invasion.'
'We're coming in civilian clothes on the ferry so as not to scare the tourists. Where do you want us to meet you?'
'I'll have a bus pick you up at the pier.' He thought for a second. 'It'll take you to the taverna we went to last night in Ano Mera. We'll use it as headquarters.' He ran a hand through his hair. 'God, this is going to attract one hell of a lot of attention no matter how quiet we try to keep it.'
'I think Mihali's already managed to circulate our cover story to every local on the island. It's our police doing all it can to rescue a foreigner from possible harm. It will enhance the island's reputation for protecting tourists.' Tassos spoke with the mayor's pompous, public-speaking cadence.
Andreas smiled and hoped he wasn't about to hear another story about farmers, foxes, and chickens. 'Okay, I get the message. See you in five hours.'
After they hung up, Andreas decided not to confront the mayor as he'd planned. What's the use? he thought. Each of them, in his own way, was doing the same thing — trying to keep his mind off tomorrow's most likely ending: the deputy minister's niece is found murdered in a bizarre ritual killing and all the world learns that for decades a serial killer has been murdering Mykonos tourists at will.
He headed back to his office, snatched a cot from a cell, and tried to catch a few hours' sleep. After all, tonight he, too, would have neither booze nor dancing to keep him awake. He knew it would be difficult moving her to the church with police looking everywhere for him. He also knew the sensible thing was to toss her body into the sea and walk away, but he loved his plan too much to abandon it.
Besides, he must complete the ceremony. It was not out of pride that he thought that way, nor was he seeking glory for outwitting the police — certainly not any of a public sort. It was never his desire that the world know of him or his acts. He was not like those others who seemed to crave attention and left some souvenir sign or public message announcing each death. He found all the reward he needed in the many quiet moments he shared with his tributes within the solitude of these walls. No, he must complete the ceremony to honor those who protected him for so long in this foreign place and allowed him all those private moments. Moments like this.
He reached into the bag and pulled out what he needed. With a pencil he carefully drew dark brown eyebrows over the light ones he'd shaved away. Then he dressed her in a loose-fitting, light gray, cotton beach dress. Finally, he lifted her bald head and pulled on a long, dark brown wig. He noticed she was breathing lightly. Good, he thought: she'll make it to the church. He picked up his bag and left to find what he'd need to move her.
This time he locked the door behind him — just in case.
18
Andreas had slept longer than he intended. It was almost ten. There was a note on his desk from Kouros. Considerate of the kid not to have awakened him, he thought. He read the note: 'Panos never showed up at his restaurant last night. The artist Daly was there for a while but left before we got there. Neither man returned home.' Considerate my ass, Andreas realized, he didn't want to tell me in person.
He tossed the note onto his desk and called Pappas. He'd kept his word; the new men had been searching since eight but only enough had shown up to form groups of three. Guess the mayor is losing supporters, thought Andreas. They'd gone in through three entrances on hillsides overlooking the priest's beach and one by a cove just north of it. Pappas said the tunnels ran west through the base of the hills before turning south toward Ano Mera. He said he picked those tunnels because they connected with ones running toward the artist's and Panos' places. Andreas could see his grin through the phone. The shark was still hunting.
Andreas kept his cool. 'Let's pray you guessed right.'
'They're moving a lot faster now,' Pappas reported. 'The tunnels last night were some of the oldest and haven't been worked for forty years or so. The men had to be very careful. The ones they're in now were used until about twenty-five years ago. If she's in one, we should know in a few hours.'
'What's a few hours?' Andreas didn't want to get his hopes up.
'By this afternoon.'
'Early or late?'
'Late.'
Andreas thought, if she's in there and he doesn't move her before sunset, at least we have a chance. Once he moves her, all we can hope for is that he sticks to his routine. But he's too smart not to change it. By now every local knows we're searching the mines, so chances are he knows we're looking for him — and that we must know his tactics. But what will he change? What's he thinking — that 'sick bastard,' he said aloud.
'What did you say?' Pappas sounded angry.
Andreas had been so lost in his own thoughts he was surprised to hear Pappas' voice. 'Huh?' Then he laughed. 'No, no, not you. I was thinking of the bastard who has her.'
Pappas grumbled, 'Just don't forget how much you owe me for this.'
'Of course I won't.' Andreas was back to stroking him. 'Please let me know as soon as there's any news — and, again, thanks. We couldn't have done this without you.' He hung up, indulged himself with five seconds of dwelling on how much that guy grated on him — despite all his help — and went back to thinking how the killer would try to cross them up.