The only shot they had was if the killer stuck to suffocating his victims in a church on its name day. But maybe he'd bury her — or already has buried her — with enough air to survive until after midnight. He shook his head. Time for coffee.
He got a cup of coffee and brought it back to his office, then sat behind his desk staring out the window and thinking. It was at times like this he wished he had a view of the sea, but land with that kind of view was too valuable for housing cops. No money, no respect, no views. No wonder cops go bad. He thought of his dad. No, he never went bad; maybe that's why he died young — he was too good. He shook his head. 'Stop this foolish, stupid thinking.' He'd said the words aloud.
Andreas turned his thoughts back to Annika Vanden Haag. If we don't find her in the mines, all we're left with is the churches. And if he's already buried her in one of them… he let out a deep breath. We have no choice; as soon as Tassos gets to Ano Mera we'll have to send men out to search the churches. My God, I can't believe we're going to be opening every burial crypt in every Saint Kiriake on Mykonos in the middle of preparations for tonight's panegyris.
He dropped his forehead into his hands. Andreas could just hear the screaming priests and families. This was going to be one giant public-relations nightmare. Time to get His Honor the mayor back in the fun. Andreas enjoyed watching the slight twitching at the outside corner of the mayor's right eye expand across his eyebrow as Andreas explained what he intended to do. 'With any luck we'll find her before dark,' he said trying to sound enthusiastic.
The mayor spoke in a measured tone. 'Don't you think your plan is a bit too aggressive? Watching churches is one thing, but opening tombs is…' He searched for the words. 'Quite a different matter.'
Andreas took the formality of the phrase to mean 'insane.' 'We don't have a choice. We can't take the chance he's already buried her alive in one of them.'
'But how do we know? She could be anywhere.' His voice cracked.
'Could be, but the churches are our best guess, and if she's in one and we don't check…' He paused. 'I don't have to tell you what that means.'
The mayor stared at him. 'No, you don't have to remind me.' He got up from behind his desk, walked to the window, and stared out.
He has a view of the sea, Andreas thought.
Still staring out the window, the mayor said, 'There's no way he could bury her in a busy church during preparations for a panegyri. There are too many people around.' He turned to face Andreas. 'Why not do a thorough examination of the busy ones for anything unusual and save your digging for the less public ones? After all, isn't that where he's likely to take her?'
The mayor was doing his political thing — looking for compromise — and his approach would attract a lot less attention and aggravation, but Andreas nodded no. 'I understand where you're coming from — I had the same thought — but we can't risk it. This killer's smart enough to have figured some way of getting her into any church he wants, no matter how many people are around. We can't forget that he's probably been studying our churches for years with just this sort of thing in mind.'
'That's my churches, Chief.' His fangs were showing. 'I'm the one who has to live here after you've desecrated who knows how many final resting places of our citizens' ancestors.'
Andreas let him vent. He knew the mayor had no choice but to go along with him. This was nothing more than Andreas giving him the chance to put his best political spin on the search.
The mayor let out a breath and walked back to his desk. 'Let me speak to the archbishop. I think I can get him to cooperate as long as it's clear there's only going to be a quick look under floor slabs and no one's planning on knocking down any walls looking for her in a wall crypt.'
'Unless there's a sign of fresh cement on a wall, I can go along with that,' said Andreas. It was a minor compromise, one to let Mihali save face.
'Fine, just don't start digging before I speak to him. Give me an hour.'
Andreas looked at his watch. It was almost noon. Time to meet Tassos. 'Okay, one hour.'
That seemed to satisfy the mayor's deal-making nature. 'By the way, I got a call from a friend of Ilias' who wondered if I knew where he was. He said Ilias borrowed his boat a couple days ago and hasn't returned it. I guess that means he could be anywhere.'
Yeah, him and everyone else, thought Andreas. It was a small yellow motorbike. One of thousands that seemed to sprout everywhere during the tourist season and contributed greatly to the orthopedic practices of the island's doctors. Tourists who rented them seemed to share hallucinogenic visions of invulnerability to injury and drove more wildly than they would ever think of doing at home. He'd found this one about a quarter of a mile from the mine entrance, not far from where his own motorbike was hidden in the brush. The key was still in it. He listened for sounds but heard none. He scanned the hills above and below the road for movement. Again, there was none. Whoever left it wasn't nearby — or was being very quiet. He listened longer. Still no sound.
He turned the key to unlock the front wheel and slowly pushed the bike forward along the road without starting the engine. He pushed faster and faster until he was running beside it. When he stopped he was breathing heavily but not as much as you'd expect for a man of his age.
He turned the front wheel and carefully pushed the bike toward the downhill side of the road. Slowly, he eased it over the edge. The bike started to get away from him but he used his strength to hold it back. It was a tough fifty yards down the hill to the mine entrance. You couldn't see it from the road. He was halfway there when the weight of the bike and the angle of the hillside combined with the sandy, dry dirt to overcome his strength. His feet slid out from under him. He struggled to keep his balance but couldn't. He was sliding out of control toward the boulders below, still holding the bike. He wrenched it onto its side and fell behind it, trying desperately to stop their slide. Both stopped about thirty yards on when the bike hung up on a huge wild rosemary bush — and he slid knee first into the motor housing. He cursed.
He was fifteen yards below and to the side of the mine entrance. He steadied and lifted the bike, angled it toward the entrance and dragged it. Limping because of his hurt knee, he cursed again.
By the time he reached the entrance, almost forty-five minutes had passed since he'd left her. He stood catching his breath and looked down at his pants. They were torn by the rocks when he fell and there was an ugly gash along the side of his thigh. His knee was throbbing. He looked like a tourist who'd been in a bike accident. Perhaps this wasn't such a brilliant plan after all. Dumping her at sea was beginning to look better all the time. Catia's plane to Athens arrived right on time, leaving her a bit more than an hour to catch her connection to Mykonos. Plenty of time for a call to her brother and a coffee. He wasn't in his office. She left word that she was at the Athens airport and would call him when she got to Mykonos. She bought a coffee, walked to the gate, and sat in one of the plastic and metal chairs anchored in rows to the floor. Looking at her watch, she saw that it was after one. She'd be there by two-thirty — the time Annika most liked being on the beach.
She covered her eyes with her right hand and tried to keep from crying. As usual, things didn't go as planned. It was almost one-thirty before Tassos and his men arrived in Ano Mera; but the delay did give the mayor enough time to obtain a letter from the archbishop 'blessing' a search of the churches. Though built and cared for by local families, churches were holy properties under the control of the archbishop. The letter was all the legal authority Andreas needed. He didn't want to think about what the mayor must have promised to get that letter; he was just happy at the result. The last thing he needed at this moment was a battle with the Church; he'd worry later over what part the mayor undoubtedly had him playing in their deal.