The Lost Throne(120)
Toulon nodded. “Oui. That makes sense.”
“Does Spárti have access to hounds?”
“I do not know.”
“If they do, have them start there. Maybe they’ll pick up a scent. At the very least, maybe they’ll find the villagers hiding in the mountains. That might be just as helpful.”
Toulon made a note. “I will suggest it at once.”
“Before you do, I wanted to give you an update on my meeting with the governor.”
“That is right. How did that go?”
“It didn’t. Turns out Mount Athos is on Byzantine time.”
“You did not know that?”
“Of course I didn’t know that. How the hell was I supposed to know that?”
Toulon shrugged. “The same way I knew that. By being smart.”
Dial growled, no longer in the mood for humor. “Henri, I don’t get mad very often, but I’m pissed off. We have eight dead monks and three missing cops, and you’re being sarcastic with me? That shit needs to stop now!”
Toulon said nothing in his defense.
“Because of your negligence,” Dial seethed, “I missed my best opportunity to get inside Mount Athos and find an important witness. Do you understand that?”
“Oui. I understand.”
“Good! Now I want you to fix it.”
“How?”
“I am taking a private boat to Mount Athos. Once I’m there, I’m going to try to talk my way past the guards. It would help if they knew that I was coming.”
Toulon asked, “What would you like me to say?”
“I want you to call the governor’s office and explain that you screwed up the time of my meeting. Tell them that I take full responsibility for the error, and I will be stopping by the main dock in a few hours to apologize in person.”
“No problem, Nick. Consider it done.”
Dial didn’t know much about boats, since he had lived most of his life far away from the water. But it didn’t take an expert to realize that Clive’s boat was built for speed. It was forty feet long, painted white with red racing stripes, and looked sleeker than a missile. When Andropoulos saw it for the first time, the grin on his face was remarkably similar to the one he had before his helicopter ride from Kalampáka.
And it got even wider when they hit the open sea.
Every once in a while, Clive would crank the throttle just to prove what he was packing, and when he did, Dial and Andropoulos were thrown back in their waterproof seats. But most of the time, Clive kept his speed steady, rarely venturing more than one hundred feet from shore so he could talk about all the monasteries that they passed on their way to the main dock on Athos.
“This whole region is part of the Halkidiki Peninsula,” Clive explained. “What’s strange about it is that the peninsula has three peninsulas of its own. They’re called Kassandra, Sithonia, and Athos. They stick out into the Aegean like Poseidon’s trident.”
He pointed toward his left as their boat headed south. “Athos is the easternmost peninsula of the three. It’s six miles wide and thirty-five miles long. Ouranoúpoli sits on the northern end of it, serving as a boundary to the rest of civilization. Just past the village, you officially enter the republic of the Holy Mountain.”
“Is there an actual wall?” Dial wondered.
“No, there isn’t. But according to Byzantine law, roads that can be traveled on by wheels are not permitted between Mount Athos and the outside world. And the few footpaths that exist between the two are frequently patrolled by armed guards.”
Dial listened with fascination. Prior to a few days ago, he had never heard of Mount Athos. And the reason for that was quite simple: he’d never had any reason to investigate the place. Yet in his mind, that wasn’t a valid excuse for his ignorance. Mount Athos was a part of Greece, so he should have known about the Holy Mountain and all its quirks.
If he had been more knowledgeable, things would have gone a lot smoother.
“So, Nick, tell me a little more about you. What’s your job at Interpol?”
“I’m the director of the Homicide Division.”
Clive whistled, impressed. “That’s a fancy title. Does that mean you’re the big cheese?”
Dial nodded. “That’s what it means.”
“What are you doing way out here? Shouldn’t you be at Interpol Headquarters, bossing people around?”
“You would think so. I mean, that’s what the heads of the other divisions are forced to do. But I’m kind of fortunate in that regard. The Homicide Division is only a few years old, and I was the person brought in to set up its internal structure. Since my experience is in fieldwork, I made damn sure that I was allowed to leave my office or I wouldn’t have taken the job. I don’t get to float around as much as I’d like. Paperwork and meetings guarantee that. But anytime an interesting case comes along, I hit the road and see where it takes me.”