Athora, page 10
Gabriel stood up, trying to keep his balance. “I’ m going to my cabin to lie down,” he announced.
I was surprised that he had booked a cabin for such a brief journey, but I did not comment on it.
“I would invite you to come if you wanted to rest—”
“No thank you, I’m fine here,” I interrupted him before he could finish his sentence. It was a knee-jerk reaction; I did not want him to think I wanted to be with him.
He picked up his bag and smiled, although I thought I could detect a worried look in his eyes. Swaying back and forth, he made his way to the corridor that led to the cabins. I followed his progress down the corridor until he reached a door at the end and turned to smile at me before going inside.
In the meantime, the waves had gotten stronger and the boat was now rocking wildly. I leaned my head against the back of the couch and tried to fight off my mounting nausea. Despite being an islander, I suffered in choppy seas. I wanted to sleep until we arrived, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw myself knocking on his door, going in, and in my fantasy, he responded with ardor. I wasn’t about to censor my own imagination.
Chapter 8
* * *
The police had cordoned off the area surrounding the church with a yellow ribbon, but the crowd remained on the square talking loudly. The coffee shop’s doors were closed, an unusual sight so early in the afternoon. Inside, Athora’s chief of police had summoned the old woman and the man who had gone inside the priest’s home, as well as Efthymis and Carlo, who were present when the body was found. He had asked all four to make a statement and each one of them had described what they had seen and done that morning.
The door suddenly swung open and one of the police officers entered brandishing his cell phone. “I’ve taken a lot of photos, sir, from all angles.”
The chief of police looked at the photos and swallowed hard, disgusted. “Send them to Headquarters while we wait for the criminal investigators to land. They’re taking a helicopter.”
He pulled the police officer aside and spoke softly, so as not to be overheard. “This is very serious and we must handle it carefully. I have never seen anything like it. People high up on the chain of command were very interested in this, it’s caused a stir. No one is to approach the scene of the crime without my permission. Okay, now go do as I said, Athens has been pestering me for those photos.”
The police officer busied himself dispatching the photos while his superior approached Carlo and addressed him in English. “So you were at the square by accident and you decided to go inside the church just to see what was happening?”
“That’s right. I didn’t get the chance to see much, we were told to step outside. I only found out what was there later,” he replied calmly.
“Where were you last night?”
“I was in the lobby until late at night. Then I went up to my room and came down for breakfast around eight. The staff can verify my movements.”
“They already have,” the chief stated drily, in a tone that implied he knew what he was doing and needed no instructions. He pursued the interrogation nonetheless, impassively observing Carlo’s demeanor. “And how long do you intend to stay on our island?”
“As I already told you, I have a few meetings lined up concerning an investment in wind farms that the company I represent is considering. Here, on the island. A few more days, I can’t exactly say. It will depend on how my meetings go. Now, if you don’t have any more questions, I’d like to go.”
The chief squinted at him, as if evaluating his request. Then, looking at the others standing by, he said, “You may return to your hotel for now. When the Athens team arrives, I’ll call you back in. As you understand, I would not want you to leave, so I will ask you to hand over your passport until things become clearer. Also, to leave your phone number with the officer so we can contact you.”
“I will do it, although I am not legally obliged to. My passport is in my car. I can go fetch it—”
“No need. My colleague will escort you to your car and you can hand it over to him.”
It was plain he did not trust him, but Carlo pretended not to notice. “I hope you find the man you are looking for. I am at your disposal for anything you may need,” he said with an eager smile.
The chief asked the remaining civilians to be patient for a little longer and walked to the police officer who had just finished sending the photos. He bent down and whispered in his ear, “There’s something I don’t like about that man. Watch his movements and I’ll let you know to bring him in when the others arrive. Talk to the hotel, see if he goes there. I hope the port authority doesn’t let anyone leave the port.”
“No, sir. An Australian tourist traveling by sailboat made a fuss over the weather ban on departures, but when they threatened to lock him up, he calmed down. The ferry from Ikaria will be arriving shortly. Other than that, nothing comes in, nothing goes out.”
“I was also told that they saw that crazy woman, Sophie, on the rocks just after the murder. We must find a way to talk to her.”
“No objections, sir. But it will take me ages to get to her house and we are all needed here right now.”
“Fine, leave it for now. I’ll ask one of the locals to go get her. We need to question the refugees, too, but that can wait.”
The police officer seemed perplexed by the idea that the refugees might have anything to do with the murder, but he did not have a chance to comment. His chief ordered him to escort the foreigner to his car.
Their appearance on the square caused a momentary hush. They moved through the silent, expectant crowd and down the narrow street that led to the car park. Like the chorus in a Classical Greek drama, the crowd followed their every move, vainly trying to detect some meaning in their words or gestures.
The sun was a pale haze of yellow, obscured by a bank of heavy dark clouds. The wind hissed and groaned as it fought its way through the winding streets, carrying the first drops of rain with it.
As soon as they turned down the path, the silence lifted. Timidly at first, the crowd resumed its speculations.
* * *
In a state of shock, I listened to the latest news from Athora. We were near the port, and the signal was better. The sea was calmer now, but I still felt dizzy and disorientated. My father told me the police had let him go home, but they would probably call him back once the detectives arrived from Athens.
I was so absorbed in what he was saying that I only became aware of Gabriel’s presence once he was standing very close to me. He could tell from the look on my face that something was wrong. He turned to walk away but I motioned for him to sit down and wrapped up the call, not wanting to appear rude. In any case, I would shortly be able to talk to my parents in person. I hung up and gave Gabriel, who could not have understood a word of that call, a troubled look.
“Is everything okay?” he asked with genuine concern.
“I have bad news from Athora. Last night the priest was murdered at his house in the Chora and the island is gripped with unrest.”
“Murdered? By whom?”
“They don’t know yet. My father just happened to be there when they discovered the body and he told me it was a horrifying sight.”
“Why would anyone want to kill the priest?”
“I have no idea. I’ll find out more once we’re on the island.”
“Did you know him?”
“Not very well. He seemed to be a peaceful man and he helped all those in need. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to kill him—inside the church, on the altar! He came to the island a few months ago, when the old priest died… of natural causes.”
Gabriel stared at me in wide-eyed shock. “Inside the church?” he gasped. “That can’t be random; there is symbolism in such an act. Do people of other religious persuasions live on Athora? In some cases the motives are religious.”
“Many foreigners have moved to the island in recent years and yesterday a boatload of refugees arrived. But why point a finger at them?”
“It’s just one of many possibilities. Now that I think about it, maybe I shouldn’t disembark on Athora.”
“What do you mean?” I cried out in alarm before I had a chance to control my reaction.
“It’s not a good idea to have a vacation on an island where a tragedy has just happened. I’ll move on to Lesbos, meet my wife a few days earlier.”
As if magically wanting to grant my wish for Gabriel to stay, the captain’s voice rang out from the speakers, announcing that due to the sudden change in weather the ship would spend the night at the port of Athora. A ban on departures had been issued across the Aegean.
“Man plans and God laughs,” Gabriel said with a smile. “I guess now is an apt time to say that.”
I felt a big grin struggle to escape my lips and it took all my self-control to stifle it. I raised my shoulders in what I hoped was a show of nonchalance, implying that nature had made that call.
“The way things have turned out, I would appreciate any recommendations about what I should do during my stay,” he continued.
“Don’t worry; I won’t let you get bored. Where are you staying, Chora or Pera Mera?”
“I don’t really know. The hotel is called “Vendaval,” like the gusty southwest wind,” he explained and I felt a wave of relief wash over me that he wasn’t staying at Petros’. “Is it any good or should I move elsewhere?”
“It’s one of the nicest hotels, especially if you get to stay in one of the secluded little villas.”
“I think that’s what I’ve booked. I noticed most hotels have wind names.”
“Yes, they tend to avoid the usual names on Athora. Winds seem to prefer our island, so we thought we’d return the honor. They have wind names from all over the world, just like the island has residents from every corner of the earth.” I suddenly remembered what he had said earlier, about the murder motives and a shadow flickered across my eyes.
“I’d better leave you. I can see you need a moment,” he observed. “You could do without me making your head spin with all my que—”
“No, no, it’s no trouble,” I interrupted him. “The waves are doing a far better job of that,” I joked and touched my forehead. The boat was still rocking back and forth, although the sea was calmer now that we were entering the port. “Please stay; you are helping me forget it.”
I don’t know whether it was my imagination, but I could detect something different in the way he looked at me. I broke the momentary lull by changing the subject. “Tell me about your work. I saw that you collaborate with a large research center.”
“I do, in Sweden. Mostly, though, I work independently. My base is in Washington. Like you, I spend most of my time traveling and lecturing on my subject. I admire you paleontologists. Although our fields are connected, I always had an interest in that area.”
“It’s never too late. I love anthropology.” Just then, I noticed a man who was staring at us. I raised my hand and waved; he was an acquaintance of my father. Ignoring the indiscreet looks he was giving us, I turned back to Gabriel.
“When do you start teaching at Berkeley?” he asked, showing that he had gone to the trouble of finding out some things about me.
“I should be at my post in two weeks, so I can prepare for my classes and coordinate future research.”
“You were quite the talking point in our circles: the first woman to teach paleontology at Berkeley. The discovery of Homo Naledi by your team is a great find, but for me, the highlight was the discovery in Patagonia, when you guys found Dreadnought.”
It was clear that his research had extended beyond reading my resume in the conference brochure. That discovery was truly important, bringing to light the largest dinosaur that had ever lived. I hastily pointed out that I was simply one of the scientists on the team, not the excavation leader.
He smiled at my modesty and said, “I would have loved to have been there when you made the discovery.”
I could barely hold back from saying that yes, I would have loved that too. Instead, I switched gear and became the remote, matter-of-fact, scientist. “The excavation took a very long time, as did all the research. It really is an amazing feeling, to stand before the fossil of the greatest living thing to have walked the earth. An adult weighed as much as a herd of elephants. Its tail alone was thirty feet long. It is called Dreadnought because obviously, it had nothing to fear. What other dinosaur would dare mess with it?”
Gabriel nodded and gestured at the ferry. “I guess it must have been as big as this…only steadier.” He paused and looked at me intently once again, lowering his voice. “Thank goodness these creatures became extinct; otherwise we wouldn’t be here now…right?”
There it was again, that ambiguous look; as if the more time he spent in my company the more he liked me. The way he spoke that last sentence made him sound like an actor in a soap opera, but it did not bother me in the least. I was enthralled by the possibilities that seemed to open up before me. “That’s right. Besides, our very existence is the result of a series of random events,” I replied flirtatiously, feeling emboldened.
Before I had a chance to say more, the announcement that we were arriving at the port clipped my wings, as did the text alert coming from my cell phone. It was Petros, letting me know he was coming to pick me up. Talking to Gabriel, I had forgotten what was waiting for me on the island.
Gabriel produced a business card from his pocket and handed it to me. “I’m going to get my things,” he announced. “If you have any free time during the next few days, I would love to see you again. If not, it was very… adventurous knowing you. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
He did not linger to hear my reply but made a sharp turn and walked back to his cabin. His sudden rush to say goodbye puzzled me, but I imagined that he was in an awkward position too. It was a nice wish anyway, even if it did not sound plausible to me. I was afraid I would grow old without even having a chance to look.
I still had about ten minutes to wait, so I switched on my laptop to check my e-mail. I had saved the article on the Harpies and I thought now would be a good time to read it and see if I could make any sense of what Sophie had said that day at the cliff.
In Greek mythology, the Harpies were the half-human half-bird personification of storm winds. Also known as the hounds of Zeus, their twilight dance was likened to the end of the world. They snatched the spirits of the dead and led them to Hades or delivered those who had committed atrocious crimes to the Eumenides, the infernal goddesses of vengeance, for punishment. The article contained a host of interesting information, none of which shed any light on Sophie’s words. What did any of this have to do with Lukas’ accident?
I sat looking at the screen perplexed when a mail notification popped up in the corner. It was from Jose Marcus. The connection was slow. Waiting for the e-mail to appear, I gazed at the heavy clouds that seemed to have completely obscured the afternoon sun. When I looked at my screen again, I thought only part of the message had arrived. A single stark sentence stared at me from my screen.
It has begun.
* * *
As soon as I set foot on land, I was greeted by a blustery, wintry landscape. Dense dark clouds hung low over the hilltops and a squally wind drenched my face with sparse heave droplets. It was as if the seasons had changed in the space of a few hours.
I saw Petros walk toward me hunched in a windbreaker and I unzipped my suitcase and fumbled around for a light linen jacket, shivering in the cold.
“Welcome,” he said, and picked up my suitcase.
I kissed him on the cheek and turned to see whether Gabriel was coming down the gangway, but I could not see him in the small group that was making its way out of the ferry.
“Are you waiting for someone?” Petros impatiently asked.
“One of the speakers at the conference was traveling on the same ferry, but…”
“Who? Do I know him? We can wait for him if you like.”
“No, there’s no need. I might see him later since the boat is not leaving.”
“Unbelievable, right?” Petros gently put his hand on my back and guided me in the direction of the car. “There is a ban on sailing and the weather is supposed to get worse. Everyone is having a go at the weather people for failing to predict it would turn.”
I thought back to Professor Marcus’ e-mail and wondered exactly what he meant. How did this message tie-in with what he had told me at Berkeley? I decided to write and ask as soon as I got home. “Tell me what happened to Father George,” I said, anxious for more detail.
“What your father told you on the phone. Someone cut him up like an Easter lamb.”
The man’s raw bluntness never ceased to amaze me. Unperturbed, he continued, adding more and more hair-raising detail as he drove me home. “They found him naked on the altar with his balls chopped off.”
The tires screeched as he suddenly stepped on the brakes. A dog had wandered into the middle of the road and stood there, growling and barking at the sky as if trying to warn it off. Peter honked, and as soon as the animal moved aside, he set off once again. “They’ve caught a couple of immigrants and they’re interrogating them.”
A feeling of outrage started to burn through me at the thought that the first people to be accused were the weakest, as if cruelty had a nationality. “Aren’t they jumping to conclusions?” I asked, looking out at the trees bowing to the force of the wind in a strange balletic game of cat and mouse.
“I don’t know. A group of detectives is flying here by helicopter, all the way from Athens. There’s a rumor there have been other murders like this one.”
“Where? On Athora?” I cried out, startled.
