Jones wrote down the address. “Anything else?”
“From what I can tell, the dude is pretty old. He’s eighty-eight.”
“Eighty-eight? That can’t be right. Does he have a son of something?”
“Hold on. Different database.” The sound of typing filled the line until Raskin spoke again. “Nope. No kids listed. His wife is deceased. His brother is deceased. His sisters are deceased. Surprisingly, his parents are still alive.”
“What!”
“Just kidding. Wanted to make sure you were listening.”
Jones smiled. “What about employment history?”
“I’m going to go out on a limb and say he’s retired.”
“From where?”
“Hold on. . . .”
“I know. Different database.”
“Okay,” Raskin said. “Last known employer was the State Hermitage Museum. I can get you the address if you need it.”
“No, thanks. I’m familiar with the place. Do you know what position he held?”
“I sure do. Until eight years ago, Ivan Borodin was the director of the museum.”
50
While Dial made the arrangements for their trip to Mount Athos, Andropoulos drove him to his hotel in Kalampáka. It took nearly thirty minutes from Great Metéoron.
“We have some time to kill before the helicopter arrives,” Dial said when they reached the hotel parking lot. “I’d like to show you something.”
“Of course, sir. Whatever you want.”
Dial led the way to his hotel room. A “do not disturb” sign hung from the knob. He unlocked the door and walked inside. A large bulletin board was sitting on a table, leaning against the far wall. The board was covered with handwritten notes on index cards and several photographs from the crime scene.
Andropoulos stared at it with a mixture of confusion and wonder. “Sir, what is all of this?”
“It’s my way of organizing a case.” Dial had assembled it the night before while trying to digest his authentic Greek dinner. His project was finished long before his indigestion had disappeared. “Some people prefer computers. But not me. I’m old-school when it comes to investigations. I like seeing everything in front of me all at once. I like having the freedom to shift things around as the pieces fall into place. It helps me see the big picture.”
Andropoulos pointed at the board. “Is this what you wanted me to see?”
Dial nodded. “If you’re going to be my translator at Mount Athos, I need to make sure we’re on the same page.”
“In that case, you’d better walk me through everything.”
Dial started with the index card at the top of the board. On it he had written the numbers one through seven, followed by the names of the monks who had been identified by the police. “So far we know about four monks, not including the one who kept his head. Each of them is from a different country, right?”
“That is correct. Russia, Turkey, Bulgaria, and Greece.”
“Seems kind of strange, doesn’t it? That monks from four different countries were having a secret meeting in the middle of the night in a place as isolated as Metéora.”
“Very strange.”
“I have a feeling it’s going to get even stranger. In fact, I’d be willing to bet you that the remaining three monks are from different countries as well.”
“Countries with ties to the Orthodox Church.”
Dial smiled. “Exactly.”
“Yet you don’t think this meeting was about religion.”
“My gut tells me no. And after talking to my colleague at Interpol, I’m even more confident than before.”
“Why is that, sir?”
Dial pointed to a small map that was thumbtacked to the bottom of his board. It showed the geography of Greece and several surrounding countries. “Originally, I had assumed that the seat of the Greek Orthodox Church would be in Greece. Nope, stupid me. It turns out the Ecumenical Patriarchate is located in Istanbul.”
“The Patriarchate is in Turkey? I thought it was in Athens.”
“That’s what I assumed, too. But it’s not.”
Andropoulos stared at the map. “And why is that important?”
“If this diverse group of monks was having an official meeting about church doctrine, where would it be held?”
“In Istanbul.”
“And if they were having an unofficial meeting, where would they go?”
“Probably Athens.”
Dial nodded. “Makes sense to me. Major airport. Centrally located. A very solid choice.”
“But they chose here instead.”
“Exactly. Which makes no sense at all. Why arrange a meeting in the middle of the night on top of a mountain unless you had a specific reason to do it?”
“Such as?”
Dial tapped Andropoulos on his chest. “See, that’s a question right there that needs to be answered. Once we figure that out, all of this other stuff will start to fall into place.”
Andropoulos nodded as he returned his attention to the bulletin board. Underneath the index card with the names of the dead monks, Dial had tacked two additional cards. One said Nicolas; the other said Spartans. “What do those mean?”
“Tell me, Marcus, what does Nicolas have in common with the Spartans?”