‘I think we should be able to avoid that. But we have much work to do. Keep me informed on what they have acquired. We will make sure they only end up with the fake goods. Have you seen the icon?’
‘No, not yet.’
‘Do you know where it’s held?’
‘No, but I’ll try and find out. Mother, you know we cannot underestimate the Madame Marcquesa de Parmalanski. She’s very smart. I’m the one closest to their centre of control and the one most at risk of blowing my cover and endangering our plans. I’ll be careful.’
‘Try and find out the whereabouts of the icon. We’ll have a fake one for you ready to make the switch when you do.’
At that moment a beggar was passing by and he offered Elli a flower out of a bouquet he held in his hand. Another flower he deliberately dropped on the ground. Elli recognised the face even under all those ravishing wrinkles mixed with dirt. His disguise would make a girl in the Sultan’s harem or, more likely, the make-up artist who makes dead bodies look their lovely freshest best, very proud. The beauty counter had sold out, Elli thought. Under all that pile upon pile of make-up with the compliments of the gutter was her brother, Iraklios.
She smiled, what looked to the world a polite and indifferent smile. But to Iraklios it was the glint in her eye that spoke to him and they understood each other. She gave him some change and he was on his way. She smelled the flower and placed it next to her on the table.
A few seconds later she deliberately pushed it, so that it fell to the ground and landed next to the other flower and her handbag that was relaxing by her feet. She bent down and pulled a quick switch. She discreetly put the flower that was offered to her in her bag and the other back onto the table. While the flower sat on the table the second ingredient required for its secret to be activated had already been added.
The heat emitted by the coffee cup combined with the heat of Elli’s breath had a strange invigorating effect on the flower, that otherwise seemed to have been on its last legs, or, to put it correctly, last petals. Now inside Elli’s bag, it was emitting an intoxicating fragrance that apparently only she and her companion could smell. Inside the confines of the bag it transformed into a parchment, a transformation visible only to Elli and Vasilis. To anyone else opening the bag it would still look like a flower.
The Ruinands who had caught up with Elli and had seen the transformation into the Ducesa were on their way to abduct her and her son. Iraklios was watching the Ruinands himself. He intervened with the flower when he saw the noose tightening around Elli and Vasilis’ neck. He gave them a way out.
While nothing seemed to have changed at that table, Elli, the Ducesa disguise having melted away, and Vasilis had already been transported to the airfield and Elli’s waiting plane that took them back to Cyprus.
CHAPTER 43
Limassol, Cyprus
Present day
Elli and Giorgos were sitting in Elli’s living room reviewing their progress so far and discussing their next steps in this quest for the truth.
‘Giorgos, I’m leaving for Mount Athos tomorrow.’
‘Have you found a lead or are you working on a hunch?’
‘I read those seven pages that were missing from the Book of the Pallanians that you and Aristo got from Alexandria. It mentions a book of documents and invoices with no lists, but the sum of payment for the construction of what, from the considerable amount spent, seems to have been a huge building or project. But it does not mention the location or the year. Such an expensive construction must have been made for someone very important.
‘I wonder whether it could lead us to the tomb of, perhaps I would dare say, the last Emperor. I know it may be wishful thinking on my part, but there’s no harm in checking it out. There’s another reason for me wanting to go to Mount Athos. The matter of the possible impostor Emperor is bothering me and I want it resolved. I want to ask the abbot or Aggelos whether they know of the existence of any relic that contains parts of that impostor.
‘After Constantinople fell to the Ottomans, the Sultan had the body of the last Emperor quartered and hung on the city walls to crush any remaining morale or flame of rebellion that the inhabitants of the city may have harboured. Someone, at least, some faithful soul must have stolen a part. And it probably ended in a monastery on Mount Athos, as other relics and treasures did after the fall of the City. Alternatively, there may be a body part in the Topkapi.
‘The Sultan must have kept something and it would have been probably transferred there as part of its collection when the Topkapi was first built. If such a body part exists, and assuming we can be sure of its authenticity, we can carry out a DNA test to confirm once and for all whether there was, indeed, an impostor on the throne at that critical time.’
‘I will do some digging on the matter of that construction. I will let you know if I find anything. In the meantime, have a good trip.’
‘Thank you. I don’t think I’ll be more than a couple of days. I will see you when I get back.’
‘It’s a date.’
CHAPTER 44
Monastery of Pantokrator
Mount Athos, Northern Greece
Present day
Elli arrived at the Monastery of Pantokrator on Mount Athos at dusk. She was led to Spyros the abbot. He was expecting her.
‘Elli. Another pleasure. We should arrange for you to have strange adventures more often.’
‘It’s good to see you, old friend. As you may have gathered I need something. And before you say it, I know that it looks like I only see you when I need something, but it’s you that chose this monastic life in the most isolated and remote of places. If I came more often people might get suspicious that there was something going on between us and I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble for you.’
‘You will never be trouble. I don’t care what they think.’
‘Spyros, you know what stories people make up in this place with little excitement but prayer after prayer…’
Elli paused when she saw Spyros’ mock expression of shock and hurt. She smiled and shook her head, amused, and looking at the floor, hanging her head in mock shame and knowing Spyros’ expression had turned to one of a parent ready to deal with a naughty child, waited for the reprimand that never came.
She knew Spyros did not see it that way, but did not get offended by such a comment either. They would often have a friendly argument over this that could go on forever with no clear winner emerging. She was in no mood and did not have the time to go into a discussion at that time. She opened her arms in a gesture of surrender. ‘… alright, and plenty of administration and other tasks which I do not want to demean in my estimation. Please don’t misunderstand me, but you know as well as I do that I’m telling the truth.’ Spyros nodded in agreement. ‘Spyros, we’ve never discussed this before, but it relates to the matters we discussed on my two last visits here. It’s about the possibility that an impostor was placed on the throne of Constantinople shortly before the siege and fall of 1453.
‘And of course that would mean that we don’t know of the fate of the real Emperor. What happened to him? Was he abducted and imprisoned by the Ottomans? Was he killed? How did he die and when? If such a daring scheme was put into effect, it must have been done on the orders of someone high up in the Ottoman hierarchy, possibly the Sultan.
‘Nobody else had anything to gain from that. It could have been carried out with inside help of course in exchange for mercy and preferential treatment after the city fell. We need to conclusively resolve this issue once and for all, if we can.
‘Now, tell me, do you know of the existence of a relic containing a part from the body of the man who was killed and presented as the last Emperor, here in this monastery, another monastery on Mount Athos or somewhere else?’