“Is this the only path to Holy Trinity?”
“The only path, yes. The only way, no.”
Dial glanced around. He saw nothing but cliffs. “How else can you get there?”
“The monks have a cable-car system, meant to handle supplies. It is strong enough to carry a man. However, it is controlled from inside the monastery.”
“So it would require an accomplice.”
Andropoulos nodded. “That is why we are on this path. This is how the killers came.”
With that, he started walking again, weaving around boulders and bushes until he arrived at the bottom of the gorge, where he was greeted by a large blue sign. At the top in white letters in both Greek and English, it said: HOLY MONASTERY OF AGIA TRIAS. In gold letters underneath, it warned in four different languages that shorts and short-sleeved shirts were not permitted; neither were women in sleeveless dresses or pantaloons.
Dial read the warning and smiled. He hadn’t seen the word pantaloons in years.
Andropoulos asked, “Are you ready for the tough part? The footing gets worse from here.”
“Are you serious? How could it get worse?”
He turned on a flashlight and shined it forward. “You shall see.”
A steep trail rose before them. It meandered up the hillside past a small grove of Oriental plane trees, the most common tree in the valley, until it stopped at the bottom of a rocky crag, where a series of steps had been carved into the stone. Although he wasn’t afraid of heights, Dial dreaded the next part of their journey-especially at night. One misstep meant a nasty fall.
“Let me borrow your flashlight,” Dial said.
Andropoulos nodded, willing to do just about anything to impress his boss.
The Greek had been an officer for less than two years but hoped to move on to bigger and better things. Perhaps something in Athens. Or maybe Interpol Headquarters in France. The truth is he would kill for a job in the Homicide Division, which is why he was wearing his father’s suit instead of his everyday uniform. He wanted to make a good first impression.
“Do you see something?” Andropoulos wondered.
Dial shined the light against the surface of the cliff, surprised by what he saw. From a distance he figured the stone fingers were made of volcanic rock-cooled underground, then exposed to sunlight after millions of years of soil erosion-but on closer inspection he realized that wasn’t the case. The natural pillars were hardened sandstone, filled with tiny pebbles of many shapes and colors. The result was a geological mosaic that seemed to breathe and flow with the constant movement of the earth. A living sculpture that stretched toward the sky.
“Let me guess,” Dial said. “This region was once underwater.”
Andropoulos nodded. “Scientists say that Thessaly was a giant lake that emptied into the Aegean Sea when an earthquake split the mountains. However, according to Greek mythology, the flood was caused by Zeus, who hoped to bring fertile farmland to the region.”
Dial smiled at the myth and gazed across the valley one last time, trying to enjoy the landscape for a few more seconds before it was permanently disfigured in his mind. From this point on, he knew his memory of Metéora would forever be tarnished by the things he was about to see.
“Okay,” he said. “I’m ready.”
Andropoulos turned and started the steep climb to the monastery. Dial stayed close behind, using the flashlight to find the footholds that had been carved into the rock several decades before. He also searched for any evidence that might have been missed by the local police.
“There are one hundred forty steps. You can count them if you like.”
“One hundred forty? Is that number significant?”
“Yes,” said the Greek. “That is how many they needed to reach the top.”
“I meant-” Dial shook his head. There was no need to explain. “Go! Keep walking.”
Andropoulos obliged, not saying another word until they reached the entrance, which was cut into the side of the cliff like a natural fissure. The door was ten feet high and made out of solid wood. It had not been damaged during the assault. Neither had the ancient lock, which still worked despite centuries of use. “This is the only way in.”
Dial examined the hinges and frame. No scratches or holes. “Is it locked at night?”
“Always.”
“Whose job is it?”
Andropoulos shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“Do me a favor and find out.”
“Of course.”
“One more thing,” Dial said. “Once we’re inside, I want to be left alone for a while. I always try to view the evidence and the crime scene with fresh eyes. It allows me to form my own conclusions before I hear anyone else’s. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
Dial stared at him, sizing him up. “You should try it sometime. It’s the best way to separate a good investigator from a bad one.”
Andropoulos nodded. “I was the first one here. So my opinions are my own.”
Dial smiled. He liked the Greek’s confidence. “Glad to hear it, kid. Let’s talk again in twenty minutes. I’ll find out then if you have any brains or I need to get a new tour guide.”
7
If they’d had more time, Payne and Jones would have driven to MacDill AFB to do their dirty work, using one of the computers on the high-speed military network. The encryption level was so high and the speeds were so blazing fast that Jones could have floated around the Internet like a ghost, grabbing whatever data he needed without worrying about being caught. But as things stood, they had to make do with Jones’s laptop and the hotel’s wireless network.
That and the help of a well-connected friend.
As a computer researcher at the Pentagon, Randy Raskin was privy to many of the government’s biggest secrets, a mountain of classified data that was there for the taking if someone knew how to access it. His job was to make sure the latest information got into the right hands at the right time. And he was great at it. Over the years, Payne and Jones had used his services on many occasions, and this had eventually led to a friendship.
Payne offered to give him a call while Jones turned on his computer.
“Leave me alone,” Raskin snapped from his desk in the Pentagon. “I’m busy.”
“Well, hello to you, too.”
“Seriously, Jon. You shouldn’t be calling me. Today is the Sabbath. A day of rest.”
Payne smiled. “First of all, you’re Jewish, so don’t pull that crap with me.”
“What are you saying? Jews don’t deserve a day off ?”
“Secondly, I called you at the office. Therefore you’re not actually resting.”