“Who was it?”
Alex said the name.
“Christ,” said Vangelis. “He’s the scummy bastard who brings in Eastern European prostitutes and calls them exotic dancers. I’m ashamed he’s Mykonian.”
“I guessed that was why he had me put on the canopy. So he could move the girls on and off the island unseen.”
Panayis shook his head. “If he was driving that boat last night one of my guys would have recognized him. Everyone knows that asshole.”
Vangelis said, “The talk among Albanians who work on my construction jobs is that he’s the Mykonian front for the Albanian mob. Maybe one of his mob friends was using the boat?”
“Where’s he keep it?” said the harbormaster.
“Depends,” said Alex. “Right now in Ornos, away from the north wind.”
Andreas looked at the harbormaster, “Do you think you could ‘quietly’ find the boat?” Andreas emphasized the word with finger quotes.
“We’ll try. But we may have to use a helicopter.”
“As long as it looks routine and doesn’t raise suspicions.”
The harbormaster nodded and made a call.
“Gentlemen,” said Andreas. “If you were looking for a place on Mykonos to hide Tassos in order to do whatever you wanted to him, and get in and out unnoticed, where would you pick?”
The answers ran from the obvious-an off-the-beaten-track farmhouse, church, or old mine-to the not so obvious middle of the town. The latter suggestion took note that the boat would have arrived on Mykonos at the perfect hour for using the town’s chaotic nightlife as cover, and with the right connections it would have been simple to smuggle him into town in a vehicle authorized to be there at those hours.
In other words, they had everywhere to look and nowhere.
Andreas was mulling over the possibility of going after the boat owner when the harbormaster said, “We got lucky. Around sunrise two of my guys in a patrol boat were on the eastern side of Mykonos, and decided to make a loop around the outer islands of Dragonisi and Stapodia. In a cove on the southwest of Stapodia, just below a church, they saw the boat.”
“Are they certain?” said Andreas.
“We also know its owner’s reputation. His boat is no stranger to us.”
“Did they check it out?” said Andreas.
“No one seemed aboard and two men on the shore with spear guns and free-diving gear waved that everything was okay. Nothing looked suspicious.”
“Lucky thing your guys didn’t get curious,” said Kouros. “I hate to think what might have happened had they unknowingly started pressing Tassos’ kidnappers.”
Andreas was excited. “It’s the break we needed. What can any of you tell me about Stapodia?”
“There’s not much to tell,” said Vangelis. “It’s an uninhabited, arid, brown rock in the Mediterranean surrounded by cliffs and accessible to the top only by a path that runs by that tiny church.”
“It’s about six miles southeast of Mykonos. About a mile long and four hundred yards at its widest part. I always thought it looked sort of like one of those German sausage dogs,” said Alex.
“It’s called a dachshund,” said Vangelis.
“I used to go there with my father when I was a kid,” said Manolis. “The north and east sides of the island are sheer rock cliffs. The south is too, but there the cliffs tend to angle in toward the center of the island and aren’t as badly beaten by the winds as the north and east sides. The west is narrow and cliffy, too, but at least there’s that path by the church heading up from the west to the top. Once you’re at the top there’s still not much level land. It’s basically an island for hawks.”
“Hawks?” said Kouros.
“Yes. In late summer, after the chicks hatched, my dad and I used to rescue the ones abandoned by their mothers because they couldn’t fly. We’d bring them home and raise them until they were strong enough to fly. My father used to say it was the least we could do for all that nature did for us.”
“There’s a lighthouse at the top,” said Alex. “No one lives there now that it’s automated. But there’s still a concrete cistern next to it for water.”
“And that path is the only way up and down,” said Vangelis.
“Sounds perfect for holding off an invading army,” said Kouros.
“Unless you plan on coming in by helicopter,” said the harbormaster.
“Too risky,” said Andreas. “They’d hear us coming, might panic, and kill Tassos. Are you sure there’s no other way up?”
“If there is, I only know one person who might know,” said Manolis.
“Who’s that?” said Andreas.
“Temi. He was the last lighthouse keeper. His family is from Ano Mera and they built that church on Stapodia.”
“Where’s he now?” said Andreas.
“Probably in a taverna around the square in Ana Mera drinking his homemade wine,” said Alex.
Andreas looked at the harbormaster. “Can you bring him here?”
“I can try, but he definitely doesn’t fit your non-gossip profile. When Temi drinks he can’t stop talking.”
“We don’t have a choice. But, if we have to, we’ll find some place to keep him incommunicado.”
Alex smiled. “That won’t be difficult as long as you let him bring along his wine.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Temi had spent most of the afternoon at his old friend Frederiko’s farm next to the reservoir in Marathi. His friend had supplied the homegrown vegetables and freshly caught fish, and Temi the homemade wine. By the time Temi and his small, dust-covered pickup truck reached his favorite hangout in Ano Mera, he’d fully attained the state of philosophic ecstasy so sought after by the ancients through wine.
His jolting ride in the harbormaster’s SUV from Ano Mera’s town square to the house at the top of the mountain had done nothing to diminish Temi’s self-perceived clarity of thought on all things.
A small, thin man, with a craggy, walrus-mustached face and a black fisherman’s cap perpetually perched upon whatever silver hair remained beneath it, Temi embodied the tourist’s post card image of “old” Greece; and he relished that role.
Andreas offered Temi coffee. Temi refused and instead magically produced a small bottle of wine from a front pocket of his baggy pants.
“Later,” said Andreas holding out his hand for the bottle. “But first I need your help with something very important.”
Temi shrugged and handed Andreas the bottle. “Wine is also important. It captures the essence of sun, rain, earth, wind, all of God’s unique natural gifts in one exquisite form for us to enjoy while bringing us closer to the Almighty.”
This is going to be tough, thought Andreas. “Frankly, at the moment, I’m more concerned about keeping a really close friend away from the Almighty.”
Temi twisted his head like a perched hawk trying to make out what had caught its eye.
“Do you know Tassos Stamatos?”
“Yes, of course I do. I knew him and his wife. Tragic what happened to her and their baby. When was it now?”
“Around forty years ago. His wife and son died in childbirth,” said Andreas.
Temi nodded. “Yes, tragic.”
“He needs our help and we’re hoping you can answer some questions about Stapodia.”
“Ah, Stapodia. My personal Delphi. How I miss my visions there.”
“Is there another way to the top besides following the church path?”
Temi smiled. “Ah, I see you are also a philosopher,” and waved his hands in the air. “All about us are the results of men who listen to the charlatans of change telling them that the way to the top is easy. Just allow money to lead you.
“Our beaches, our land, our culture, our children, our very souls are all we need offer in exchange. A simple transaction. Why not? Who cares about those yet to come? Or those who came before and left us as shepherds of this island paradise.”
“I’m talking about a somewhat different path,” said Andreas.