A moment later, Dial was certain of one thing: the young monk knew nothing about the tunnel. That was obvious from his wide-eyed expression and the gasp that sprang from his lips.
“Go ahead,” Dial said. “Start explaining.”
Theodore staggered toward the passageway. “I can’t explain this.”
“Why? Are you sworn to secrecy or something?”
“Because I know nothing about it.” Confusion filled the monk’s face as he glanced back at Dial and Andropoulos. “How did you find this?”
Dial shrugged, keeping the details to himself.
Theodore turned back toward the tunnel. “Where does it go?”
“To the morgue,” Dial said bluntly. “We found your brethren in the basement. I’d let you see it yourself, but I don’t want you throwing up on your beard.”
The young monk blinked a few times as he absorbed the news. Then he mumbled a short prayer in Greek and made the sign of the cross, using only three digits—his thumb, index and middle fingers—instead of the five digits used by Western Christians.
Dial said, “Refresh my memory. How long have you been at Metéora?”
“Almost ten years.”
“And you’ve never heard rumors about a tunnel?”
Theodore shook his head. “Never.”
“What about monuments of war?”
“War? I don’t understand.”
Dial walked toward the hidden door, trailed closely by the monk. “Look at the carvings. Tell me what you see.”
“Greek soldiers.”
“Downstairs it’s the same thing. Soldiers and war, everywhere you look. That seems kind of strange for a monastery, don’t you think?”
Theodore nodded.
“And you know nothing about this?”
“Nothing. This is a shock to me.”
Dial pressed the issue. “Fine. Who would know about it?”
“The abbot might have known, but the abbot’s dead.”
“Who else?”
Theodore paused, thinking it over. “I don’t know. I truly don’t know.”
“See, I find that hard to believe. I mean, I know about the tunnel. And Marcus knows about the tunnel. Even the killers know about the tunnel. Yet you’re telling me no one at Metéora knows about it? Pardon me for being so blunt, but I think that’s bullshit.”
Theodore nodded in agreement, which surprised the hell out of Dial.
“Wait! What are you saying? Someone does know about the tunnel?”
But this time, Theodore was the one who didn’t answer. Instead he stared down the stone corridor, trying to figure out where it went and why it had been built. Unfortunately, he couldn’t see much in the darkness. Not the stairs or the empty shelves.
Noticing the monk’s curiosity, Dial was struck by a simple idea. He could use the tunnel as a bargaining chip, one that would encourage Theodore to provide some inside information.
“Sorry,” Dial said as he pulled the door shut, nearly catching Theodore’s beard in the process. “That’s a crime scene in there. I can’t let you see it at this time.”
Disappointment filled the monk’s eyes. Palpable disappointment.
“Earlier,” Dial said, “when we were talking about the ceiling, didn’t you say something about a library at Great Metéoron?”
“I did.”
“And it has a complete history of Metéora?”
“It does. It is filled with hundreds of manuscripts that document all the monasteries, including those that have been destroyed.”
“And you have access to this, right?”
The monk nodded in understanding. He knew where this was going long before Dial asked the question. “You would like me to research Holy Trinity and all of its artwork.”
“Indeed I would. It would be a huge help to our investigation.”
“And if I agree to your request?”
Dial smiled in victory. “I’d be happy to bend the rules and allow you inside the tunnel.”
27
Kauppatori Market Helsinki, Finland
Helsinki sits on the northern shore of the Gulf of Finland, the eastern arm of the Baltic Sea. Approximately 297 miles from Saint Petersburg, the capital city of Finland is flanked by thousands of small islands that protect its natural harbor. Sprawling for blocks along the scenic waterfront, the Kauppatori Market comes alive with tourists during the warmer months, attracting a wide variety of vendors who sell everything from fresh seafood to expensive jewelry.
Because of the chaos of the market and its proximity to the sea, it was the perfect spot for Payne and Jones to meet the boat captain who would be taking them to Russia. Details about him had been kept to a minimum—his name was Jarkko and he’d be waiting for them at a specific stall when the market closed. Other than that, they were told nothing. For his safety and theirs.