Athora, page 27
Carlo had already returned to Athens on a police helicopter and would be meeting me there. The prosecutor, coroner, and a team of detectives and foreign police officers had arrived on the island to investigate every detail of the murder. I had grown tired of repeating the same story to different people. Stelios and his colleagues were busier than ever before.
They fetched Gabriel’s things from Pera Mera along with his laptop, which kept all the mysteries that remained. His body, the body of Father George and all other evidence were sent to Athens for further examination.
The early works to repair the damaged infrastructure were underway. The army had set up the temporary dock, reconnecting the island to the outside world, and allowing machinery and equipment to arrive and start dealing with the chaos the storm had left behind.
Greek and foreign news crews were transmitting images of the destruction and volunteers from all over the world had arrived to help mend the island’s wounds. It was heartwarming to see so many people stand by the locals in every possible way.
The sea had finally regained its usual shades of blue and I could not get enough of it. The azure sky joined the water in a seamless stretch, not a cloud disrupting their union.
The police had arrested Azim the previous day trying to stow away on one of the boats. Stelios had told me Azim had requested political asylum. He was wanted by the Turkish authorities for his alleged involvement in the coup and would remain in prison until his case was processed. I hoped they would not extradite him because that would mean a bleak future for him.
I visited him briefly but we barely had enough time to talk about what had happened. I will never forget his expression when I told him who the murderer was. Despite his own troubles and the difficulties that lay ahead of him, he showed me great compassion. I promised to help him as best I could. He confided that he had been an Economics lecturer at the University of Damascus, which explained the educated man I had been able to discern.
Sophie had disappeared, as if she had flown out of the tunnel’s exit that night. Rumors raged about what had happened to her; some even went so far as to say she had managed to swim away. The air of mystery that had cloaked her presence on the island now cloaked her absence. The police searched everywhere for her, but not a trace could be found.
All the evidence pointed to Gabriel having secured the ropes to the tunnel’s exit, so he could climb inside, kill Sophie and escape unseen. At the very last moment, for a reason he took with him to his grave, he changed his mind. Sophie’s voice begging him to kill her still rang in my ears. Carlo, not realizing that Gabriel had changed his mind, had shot him to save Sophie.
I found it hard to believe that Sophie was also a criminal who had spent all those years hiding.
“Please be careful,” my father said as we reached the ferry that was about to sail to Piraeus.
I said goodbye mechanically and boarded the ship. As if in a trance, I found myself on the deck, waving goodbye to my parents. Athora would have been unrecognizable after all it had been through, were it not for the chapel of the Virgin Mary on one of its peaks and the large stone Sophie had carved on the other. Her guard had withstood the storm and now stood alone, without her, gazing out over the vast expanse of blue.
Athora gradually became a dot on the horizon as the ferry pulled away. I stood looking at it until it disappeared, lost in my own thoughts and everything that had changed my life in the space of a few days.
Chapter 16
* * *
The island, August 14, one year later
We had almost reached the chapel of the Virgin Mary, when the priest at the head of the procession asked us to stop, turning to look to the east.
Carlo, who had been walking behind me, ran into me as I abruptly stopped. He did not pull away until he felt the priest’s disapproving eye on him.
It was a scorching summer day and the cicadas were hammering out their incessant tune. I looked at the calm sea and chased away the memory of what had happened at the chapel exactly one year ago.
It was the eve of the feast day of the Dormition of the Mother of God. Observing the old custom, we were walking to the chapel, where we would spend the evening and hold Mass the following day. As a sign of respect and mourning for those who had lost their lives and the painful events of the previous year, the festivities had been canceled.
The young priest motioned for us to continue, firmly holding the icon I had rescued from the rubble on the town square.
There must have been twenty of us trekking to chapel. Carlo seemed to be enjoying it the most.
We had met in Athens just before my departure for California after the events of ten months ago, and he had filled me in on what Gabriel’s laptop had revealed.
A skilled hacker, Gabriel had managed to break into Interpol’s map and locate his first two victims in Istanbul and Como. Suspecting that the tattoo was more than a symbol, he had removed a microchip from the heel of his second victim. It contained information on other criminals hiding from justice in various parts of the world, including Athora.
Gabriel was a computer genius and could hack any service he wanted, bypassing all safety measures. He had hacked into my computer and could follow my movements, initially using me as an alibi.
He had never been an anthropologist, but was so intelligent and well-read he managed to fool everyone, including me.
I would have expected someone like that to take steps to make access to his computer difficult, but it could all be unlocked with one simple word: “Anna.” It was the name of his twin sister.
Carlo’s care to keep me informed, to help me gain some understanding, had moved me. I saw real caring behind his actions and a sensitive human being. He wanted me to start my new life without any baggage, without any lingering questions that would keep me tied to those terrible events.
We kept in touch and, day by day, our relationship deepened as we became closer.
* * *
A few months ago, detectives had concluded that father George was, indeed, one of the men who had assumed a new identity to escape the consequences of a crime he had committed.
New evidence was uncovered, shedding light on a secret organization called Terra Incognita which had spread its tentacles all over the globe. Many well-respected citizens were unmasked as its members.
For a significant sum of money, criminals could start a new life, free from the charges brought against them—charges of murder, rape, and a whole host of other horrific acts.
That had been the case of Father George, who had raped and killed a little girl somewhere in northern Greece. Rather than let him rot in jail, his wealthy family had paid for him to disappear. He was supposed to have committed suicide after the charges were brought against him. They even held his funeral, although I did not know whether they had buried someone else or an empty coffin.
That was the organization’s usual practice. Plastic surgery to make the criminals unrecognizable and a new life for them, on the condition that they would never try to contact anyone from their old life.
The tragic irony was that Father George had managed to enter the church as a priest and obtain a post as a missionary in Africa, preaching to young children. They were still investigating a series of crimes where he had been stationed before coming to Athora.
Such were the crimes they had committed, which is why Gabriel had killed them in such a horrifying way seeking revenge. One of the men protected by the organization had murdered his parents and his twin sister. He had witnessed their murder and somehow managed to escape.
Although the police had arrested the murderer, they later said he had escaped and he was never seen again. Gabriel’s files showed that tracking down the monster that had deprived him of his loved ones had become his sole purpose in life.
The photo Gabriel had handed me before he took his last breath was of him and his sister. That was how investigators had managed to link up the clues.
Gabriel had managed to track his family’s killer down, but by the time he reached him, the man was dead. He then discovered Terra Incognita. Instead of going to the police with the information, he decided to become an avenger and kill those sheltered by it. That was how he ended up on Athora, where three of them lived, unaware of their common identity.
Everyone had been surprised at how effectively the organization was run. Had it not been for Gabriel, it might have been impossible to track them down. There was a clear hierarchy and no one knew anyone else. Everything happened in absolute secrecy so that even if someone blew the whistle, the damage would be limited. Prospective clients could contact them through companies set up in countries where the rules were lax. High-ranking officials, doctors, and other people of prominence were now facing charges in an unprecedented case, on a global scale. Arrests had already been made.
The only one Gabriel did not have enough information on was Sophie, and that was why he kept such a close eye on me when he realized my father still held the sole paper records that might confirm her identity—information that could not be hacked.
Sophie was a medical researcher. She had run a medical trial which had caused the death of many and left scores handicapped. Facing public disgrace, she discovered she could disappear through Terra Incognita. She came to Athora and sought salvation through helping others with her herbs, keeping a safe distance from everyone.
That was the reason Gabriel had broken into our cellar that night. To make sure Sophie was the third person he was looking for.
There had been no sign of her since the day Gabriel had tried to kill her. We had walked over every inch of the island in the two days we had been here, visited every spot where I thought she might be hiding, with no result.
* * *
The landslides had swept away a large section of the old path, so we circled around and rejoined it farther up the hill.
When we arrived at the chapel, everyone stood silently waiting for us. Lukas stood among them, fully recovered from his fall except for a slight limp. He smiled when he saw me. My parents were smiling too, happy to see me make the journey once again. Stelios came toward me, holding the burning incense. A soft breeze stirred it, spreading the scent everywhere.
I noticed the father and daughter who had narrowly escaped death the day the bridge collapsed. She was perched on his shoulder, enjoying the spectacle and giggling happily.
We followed the priest, who chanted as he placed the icon under the church porch. Though the festivities had been canceled, we would still be lighting the bonfire after sunset.
We spent the evening looking at the fiery tongues almost touch the sky, sharing stories of everything that had happened during the storm and carefully sidestepping any mention of the murders.
We stuck to the old custom of the men sleeping apart from the women, at opposite ends of the churchyard. We all spreadsheets and reed mats on the floor and stretched out.
I watched Carlo trying to communicate with the locals and could not help smiling. He seemed to be enjoying the experience and never once complained.
I lay down and tried to think of something else, but Gabriel and Sophie’s faces kept appearing before me. I had not known them for long, but both of them had left their mark.
* * *
The priest’s melodious chanting woke us up early the following morning. We got up and attended Mass, leaving our belongings as they were. As soon as church was over, we lunched off the trestle tables laid with white sheets and prepared to depart.
I asked Carlo if he wanted to return on foot. He nodded without any hesitation. Everyone else was driving back. We said our goodbyes and started to walk back down the mountain without giving any explanations.
In a week, I would be returning to California. From there, my students and I would be traveling to Patagonia for a dig, due to last for over a month. Carlo had just accepted a post at Interpol’s Washington office, so we would now have the chance to meet more often. My life had found its rhythm and I felt complete, possibly for the first time.
I walked ahead and, as I looked at the bright horizon, an imperceptible motion on the hill at the edge of the island caught my attention. Shielding my eyes and squinting heavily, I made out the figure of a woman walking. She turned to look in our direction. I desperately wanted to believe it was Sophie, but, without binoculars, I could not be sure.
Carlo approached me and turned to see what I was looking at. Like a vision, the figure disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared.
“What are you looking at?” he asked me.
In the distance, a few white clouds looked like angels resting on the sea foam.
“Tell me what you saw,” he persisted, putting an arm around my shoulders.
I remembered Sophie’s words in the shelter and I replied, “The Harpies resting on the horizon.”
Carlo took my face in his palms and our lips met. His hands slid down my back, pulling me tightly against him. It would not take much for me to surrender. I put up my hand between our mouths and looked deep into his eyes. “Shall we carry on?”
____________________________________________________________________
Before you embark
on a journey of revenge,
dig two graves.
Confucius
____________________________________________________________________
Acknowledgements
* * *
Behind every one of my books are people who have helped me in some way. I would like to give special thanks to meteorologist Manolis Anadranistakis and Police Lieutenant Maria Zaharopoulou for their valuable advice.
Andreas Manolikakis is the person who first hears every new idea of mine before I even start writing. Talking with him opens up paths I would not have thought possible. I thank him for inspiring me these past twenty-five years.
Special thanks to Glykeria Dimitrakopoulou, Maria Christou, and Marina Georgiou—it is a joy to work with such talented people.
I would also like to thank Maria Pavlidou, Ellie Papastergiou, George Goumas, Arzu Muminoglu, Yiota Riga, Penelope Papathanasiou, Roula Skoutari, and Gogo Thoma for their help and support.
A large part of this book was written while listening to the songs of Leonard Cohen. “Nevermind,” in particular, was a source of boundless inspiration.
Another source of inspiration was “Conversations about the End of Time,” which records the conversations of Jean-Claude Carriere, Umberto Eco, Stephen Jay Gould, and Jean Delumeau.
About the author
* * *
When Kostas Krommydas decided to write his first novel, he took the publishing world of his native Greece by storm. A few years later, he is an award winning author of five bestselling novels, acclaimed actor, teacher and passionate storyteller. His novels have been among the top 10 at the prestigious Public Book Awards (Greece) and his novel “Ouranoessa” has won first place (2017). He has also received the coveted WISH writer’s award in 2013 as an emerging author. When not working on his next novel at the family beach house in Athens, you will find him acting on theatre, film, and TV; teaching public speaking; interacting with his numerous fans; and writing guest articles for popular Greek newspapers, magazines, and websites. If you want to find out more about Costas, visit his website, http://kostaskrommydas.gr/ or check out his books on Amazon: Author.to/KostasKrommydas
More Books
* * *
Cave of Silence
A Love So Strong, It Ripples Through The Ages.
Dimitri, a young actor, is enjoying the lucky break of his life—a part in an international production shot on an idyllic Greek island and a romance with Anita, his beautiful co-star. When his uncle dies, he has one last wish: that Dimitri scatters his ashes on the island of his birthplace. At first, Dimitri welcomes this opportunity to shed some light on his family’s history—a history clouded in secrecy. But why does his mother beg him to hide his identity once there?
Dimitri discovers that the past casts long shadows onto the present when his visit sparks a chain of events that gradually reveal the island’s dark secrets; secrets kept hidden for far too long. Based on true events, the Cave Of Silence moves seamlessly between past and present to spin a tale of love, passion, betrayal, and cruelty. Dimitris and Anita may be done with the past. But is the past done with them?
More Books
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Dominion of the Moon
Award Winner, Public Readers’ Choice Awards 2017
In the final stages of WWII, archaeologist Andreas Stais follows the signs that could lead him to unearth the face of the goddess who has been haunting his dreams for years, all the while searching for the woman who, over a brief encounter, has come to dominate his waking hours. In present day Greece, another Andreas, an Interpol officer, leaves New York and returns to his grandparents’ island to bid farewell to his beloved grandmother.
Once there, he will come face to face with long-buried family secrets and the enigmatic Iro. When gods and demons pull the threads, no one can escape their fate. Pagan rituals under the glare of the full moon and vows of silence tied to a sacred ring, join men and gods in a common path.
Very soon more novels from Kostas Krommydas will be available on Kindle. Sign up to receive our newsletter or follow Kostas on facebook, and we will let you know as soon as they are uploaded!
* * *
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