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Authors: Jeffrey Siger
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much; he just wished there were a head he could bust or an arm he could twist to get a lead, some place to start. He let out a breath. It would come to him, it always did. God willing.
‘Surprise, I’m back. See, I kept my promise.’
Lila chuckled into the phone. ‘I know. Tassos called. He said he’d made sure to ship you home.’
‘He’s such a bastard.’ Andreas laughed.
‘So, when do I get to see you?’
Andreas looked at his watch. ‘We’re on the way to the office—’
‘So, sometime before midnight?’
‘No, honest, I should be home this afternoon.’ He looked at his watch. It wasn’t even noon.
Lila laughed. ‘Yes, I’m sure. Don’t worry, do what you have to do. Just knowing you’re nearby is all the comfort I need. Kisses.’
Andreas hung up and stared out the window, wondering what he’d done to deserve her. And how much longer could she stand a life with him. He didn’t want to think about that.
Fifteen minutes later he was back at GADA. Athens was a place more than five million called home, and where few ever seemed to be asleep at the same time. Some never seemed to sleep at all. GADA was in the heart of the action, across the street from the stadium of one of Greece’s two most popular soccer teams, down the block from Greece’s Supreme Court, and next to a major hospital.
No sooner did Andreas sit behind his desk than Maggie came bouncing through his office door. She dropped an envelope on the desk. ‘So, what did he have to say?’
‘What did who have to say?’
‘Tassos.’
‘Of course, how could I have thought this was about police business?’
‘It is about police business, I don’t need to ask you what he has to say about other things.’ Maggie smiled. ‘I wantto know if he can help you find the guy you’re looking for.’
Andreas stared at her. ‘Is there anything you don’t know?’
‘When he called to find out where you were, I knew it had to be serious if he wouldn’t talk to you over the phone, and since we both know what he’s good at,’ she seemed to swoon at a different thought, ‘I figured you were looking for someone.’
Andreas shook his head. ‘You’d have made a terrific cop.’
‘Too limiting.’ She turned and left.
He watched her bounce out the door; five-feet, three-inches of red-topped, endless energy.
Andreas opened the envelope. It contained the photographs he’d given Kouros of the crime scene. He took them out and spread them on his desk. There were dozens. What a tragedy. Time to focus: on each photograph, on each section of each photograph, on everything in context with all else. Looking, studying, hoping to find a clue, anything that might help. But all he kept seeing was the same thing: a sad-looking, silver-haired monk, lying dead on a street, clutching a cross. What a terrible end for such a wonderful life, for any life.
He stood up and walked over to the window. What was going through that monk’s mind when faced with the end of his life? To accept his death … to fight … to pass along a message? There were no signs of a fight or a message, and he was clutching his cross. His choice seemed clear. Acceptance.
Andreas had reached a dead end. Now it was up to Tassos.
6
Andreas was in the middle of a dozen things on a half dozen different cases when Maggie buzzed him. ‘It’s
him
.’
He didn’t have to ask whom she meant; he just picked up the phone. ‘Are you about to make me as happy as you’re making my secretary?’
‘I hope so - but differently.’
‘Where are you?’ Andreas looked at his watch. It wasn’t even two. ‘You can’t be back on Syros.’
‘No, we stopped for lunch on Ikaria.’
‘Ikaria?’ It was a northern Aegean island, a little less than halfway between Patmos and Syros. ‘Why Ikaria?’
‘I have a lot of friends here from the old days.’
Andreas knew that for Tassos the ‘old days’ meant Greece’s military dictatorship years, between 1967 and 1974, and his
‘Surprise, I’m back. See, I kept my promise.’
Lila chuckled into the phone. ‘I know. Tassos called. He said he’d made sure to ship you home.’
‘He’s such a bastard.’ Andreas laughed.
‘So, when do I get to see you?’
Andreas looked at his watch. ‘We’re on the way to the office—’
‘So, sometime before midnight?’
‘No, honest, I should be home this afternoon.’ He looked at his watch. It wasn’t even noon.
Lila laughed. ‘Yes, I’m sure. Don’t worry, do what you have to do. Just knowing you’re nearby is all the comfort I need. Kisses.’
Andreas hung up and stared out the window, wondering what he’d done to deserve her. And how much longer could she stand a life with him. He didn’t want to think about that.
Fifteen minutes later he was back at GADA. Athens was a place more than five million called home, and where few ever seemed to be asleep at the same time. Some never seemed to sleep at all. GADA was in the heart of the action, across the street from the stadium of one of Greece’s two most popular soccer teams, down the block from Greece’s Supreme Court, and next to a major hospital.
No sooner did Andreas sit behind his desk than Maggie came bouncing through his office door. She dropped an envelope on the desk. ‘So, what did he have to say?’
‘What did who have to say?’
‘Tassos.’
‘Of course, how could I have thought this was about police business?’
‘It is about police business, I don’t need to ask you what he has to say about other things.’ Maggie smiled. ‘I wantto know if he can help you find the guy you’re looking for.’
Andreas stared at her. ‘Is there anything you don’t know?’
‘When he called to find out where you were, I knew it had to be serious if he wouldn’t talk to you over the phone, and since we both know what he’s good at,’ she seemed to swoon at a different thought, ‘I figured you were looking for someone.’
Andreas shook his head. ‘You’d have made a terrific cop.’
‘Too limiting.’ She turned and left.
He watched her bounce out the door; five-feet, three-inches of red-topped, endless energy.
Andreas opened the envelope. It contained the photographs he’d given Kouros of the crime scene. He took them out and spread them on his desk. There were dozens. What a tragedy. Time to focus: on each photograph, on each section of each photograph, on everything in context with all else. Looking, studying, hoping to find a clue, anything that might help. But all he kept seeing was the same thing: a sad-looking, silver-haired monk, lying dead on a street, clutching a cross. What a terrible end for such a wonderful life, for any life.
He stood up and walked over to the window. What was going through that monk’s mind when faced with the end of his life? To accept his death … to fight … to pass along a message? There were no signs of a fight or a message, and he was clutching his cross. His choice seemed clear. Acceptance.
Andreas had reached a dead end. Now it was up to Tassos.
6
Andreas was in the middle of a dozen things on a half dozen different cases when Maggie buzzed him. ‘It’s
him
.’
He didn’t have to ask whom she meant; he just picked up the phone. ‘Are you about to make me as happy as you’re making my secretary?’
‘I hope so - but differently.’
‘Where are you?’ Andreas looked at his watch. It wasn’t even two. ‘You can’t be back on Syros.’
‘No, we stopped for lunch on Ikaria.’
‘Ikaria?’ It was a northern Aegean island, a little less than halfway between Patmos and Syros. ‘Why Ikaria?’
‘I have a lot of friends here from the old days.’
Andreas knew that for Tassos the ‘old days’ meant Greece’s military dictatorship years, between 1967 and 1974, and his
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