“And what am I supposed to do with this vile weapon?”
“Keep it as a symbol,” von Berg said, escorting him to the door. “To remind you that there is still valor for those who lose.”
He was referring to Aphrodite, Andros realized, and doing so with outrageous presumption. Seething inside, Andros forced a smile as he slipped the sheathed dagger into his breast pocket. He patted the bulge. “An excellent idea,” he told the Baron. “Perhaps this would look nice on the fireplace mantel. His sword is there, you know. That’s where these things belong, on wall displays, not in men’s hands. I feel nervous simply having it on my person.”
“So it seems.” Von Berg frowned. “Perhaps I had you figured differently, Herr Andros.”
“How is that?”
“I thought you were your father’s son.”
62
A phrodite slipped away from the Red Cross food distribution center that afternoon, as instructed by the note Archbishop Damaskinos had passed to her. It took her half an hour to make her way from the Plaka district up the winding paths to Likavitos Hill, the highest point in Athens. At the summit was the white chapel of Agios Yioryios and a sweeping view of the city and the Saronic Gulf.
She stood there on the terrace, gazing out across the city, blinking in the setting sun. As children, she and Chris would meet here secretly, telling their parents they were going to Agios Yioryios to say their prayers. But times were different now. They were no longer children, and it was the Nazis they were eluding this time.
“You had no trouble getting here?” asked a voice.
She turned. It was Chris standing next to her, dressed in the same dark suit he’d worn that morning at the memorial service. He looked even better in the late-afternoon sun than the night before. It was their first time alone in four years.
“Eleni Lemnos covered for me at the distribution center,” she said. “I put on one of the donated dresses as a disguise and slipped out the back. I have only a few minutes before I’m missed.”
“One of von Berg’s men is watching you?”
“Helmut long ago tired of watching me distribute food and comfort grieving widows,” she replied. “The only things he watches in the afternoons are movies at the cinema down the block from the center. Still, there may be other eyes at the center that I’m not aware of.”
There was an awkward silence. Finally, Chris said, “I’m glad you came.”
“You’re surprised?”
“I had my doubts,” he said, rubbing his cheek. “That was some act last night. The slap across the face in particular-was it for real or just your flair for the dramatic? It was an act, wasn’t it?”
“That depends on what you say next.”
Chris paused to pick his words with care. “I know this insane war isn’t your fault,” he told her. “But seeing you with the Baron made me a little crazy. I’m sorry. I just want to know what happened.”
He had said all she could reasonably expect him to say. “I’ll tell you, Christos.”
She told him how she’d met the Baron in the hospital, how the Gestapo had come for her brother, Kostas, and how the Baron had moved into her family’s estate. The only thing she didn’t tell him about was the Baron’s retreat on Corfu. She remembered Ludwig’s dire warnings of doom should she ever reveal its location. Although it was Berlin that Ludwig seemed to fear more than Washington, she wasn’t about to put her family or Chris in any further danger over something as insignificant as the Baron’s personal taste for peace and quiet.
When she was finished, all Chris could say was “I’m sorry it was you and not me who stayed behind.”
She watched the sun melt over the blue gulf, turning the ruins of the Acropolis black against the Aegean sky. So symbolic of their relationship, she thought, for from this high ground, they once again enjoyed perspective not only of the city but of the tattered fragments of life.
“Why did you come back, Christos?”
“I told you last night,” he said. “I came for you.”
She recalled her father’s talk about some sort of turncoat deal with the Germans to save Andros Shipping. “Is that what you told Ludwig this afternoon at my house?”
“Among other things,” he said. “Actually, we discussed the release of your brother.”
“My brother?”
He smiled at her. “Tomorrow an Andros ship with Red Cross supplies will arrive in Piraeus,” he explained. “When it leaves on Monday, your brother and several other political prisoners will be on board. Von Berg already has agreed to it.”
“And you believe him?” she asked. “Where is the ship going?”
“Istanbul,” Chris said. “Your brother will be sent on to Syria, Lebanon, and ultimately Egypt. There he’ll undoubtedly volunteer to join the Greek army in exile. Maybe he’ll salvage your family’s tarnished image as collaborators before it’s too late.”
“And you, Christos? What will happen to you? What will happen to us?”
His smile vanished. “A lot depends on you. Von Berg is going to throw a reception for the Red Cross delegation tomorrow night. During the party, I’m going to break into your father’s safe. Inside are papers vital to the defense of Greece.”
“But I told you last night,” she insisted, “only Ludwig knows the combination.”
“Not if my friends are listening.”
She didn’t understand what he was saying and suddenly felt light-headed. “Too fast, Christos. Things are moving too fast. I can’t keep up with you.”
“That’s okay, as long as von Berg can’t, either,” he replied. “The hallway to the library is too well lit and guarded. If I’m going to have any chance at all of getting in, it will have to be from the garden outside, through the French doors. I noticed last night that von Berg had a man posted on the patio.”
“Yes,” she said. “Hans and Peter share guard duties during parties.”
“Hans and Peter?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were on such intimate terms with your captors.”
“They’re not as bad as you make them out to be,” she found herself saying. “They didn’t ask to be in the Baron’s employment, and Hans happens to be a wonderful dancer.”
“Is that so?” he said, looking somewhat annoyed. “When do they rotate shifts?”
“There are three shifts of guards. Hans usually relieves Peter at nine.”
“When it’s Hans’s turn to relieve Peter, make sure you two are dancing together like everybody else,” said Chris. “Meanwhile, I’ll go upstairs to your room and change into the SS uniform you will have placed in the bottom drawer of your dresser.”
“An SS uniform? How am I supposed to-”
“Your maids do the washing for von Berg’s staff, don’t they? Give me one that’s waiting to be washed. I don’t need anything immaculate. It will be dark enough when I climb down from your bedroom balcony to the garden. You know the drill-we practiced it often enough as teenagers.”
“But Peter will still be on the patio outside the library, waiting for Hans to relieve him.”
“Perhaps, if he hasn’t gone to fetch him. Otherwise, I’ll relieve him.”