The Lost Throne

26

While Andropoulos searched for Theodore, Dial stood outside the monk’s room, guarding the hidden door and the tunnel. Making sure it stayed his secret for as long as possible. To Dial, this was one of those times when the element of surprise was far more important than the collection of evidence. He couldn’t wait to spring his discovery on Theodore and witness the monk’s reaction. Would he stammer? Would he sweat? Would his pupils constrict? In the long run, that information would be far more helpful to Dial’s investigation than ten extra minutes of forensics.

It would help him decide if the monk could be trusted.

While Dial waited, his thoughts drifted back to the previous night, when he had met Nicolas at that very spot. It was a conversation that Dial wished he could do over.

In the past, Dial had always considered himself a great judge of character — whether it was interviewing suspects or making new friends. Yet for some reason his instincts had failed him with Nicolas. Dial wasn’t sure why, but he figured he must have let his guard down because Nicolas looked like a holy man, someone who could be trusted. If that was the case, Dial knew he had to alter his mind-set. Most of the people he’d be questioning in the coming days were monks, and if he didn’t view them as fallible human beings — men who were fully capable of murder and deceit and all the other bad stuff that went on in the outside world — there was a damn good chance that he wouldn’t get the information he needed to solve the homicides.

And that was completely unacceptable.

The first monk to be interviewed was Theodore. Dial wanted to look him in the eye and see if he was telling the truth. If not, Dial was determined to make an example out of him — if for no other reason than to get full cooperation from every other monk at Metéora.

He had to seize control of the case, and he had to do it now.

When Theodore finally came into view, Dial didn’t smile, or nod, or acknowledge the monk’s approach in any other way. He simply stared at him with unblinking eyes. Occasionally he clenched his jaw, causing his temples to pulse and his massive chin to jut forward.

His intensity was impossible to miss.

Theodore sensed the change in Dial from afar. This wasn’t the same man who had joked with him about stealing furniture less than an hour before. “You asked to see me?”

Andropoulos hovered behind the monk, hoping to unnerve him. It was a subtle technique that was usually quite effective.

Dial paused for a moment before answering. “I did.”

“Is there a problem?”

He nodded slowly. “There is.”

Now it was Theodore’s turn to wait, and he did so for several seconds. He stood in his black cassock and cap, with his brown thicket of a beard, staring right back at Dial. Not the least bit intimidated by his badge or his glare. Not even tempted to speak.

If monks were good at one thing, it was silence.

A wry smile crossed Dial’s lips. He wasn’t backing down, either.

Finally, Andropoulos spoke. “We found something we’d like you to explain.”

“Of course,” said Theodore, still staring at Dial. “Do you have the item with you?”

“No,” Dial answered. “I can’t bring it out here. It’s way too big for me to carry. We’ll have to go inside to check it out.”

The monk extended his right arm. “After you, Nick.”

Dial grinned, surprised the monk had remembered his name. “Thanks, Ted.”

With that, Dial opened the door and walked inside. Everything was exactly as he had left it. The tapestry dangled from a single hook. The hidden door was open. The tunnel was fully exposed. Dial quickly turned around to watch Theodore’s reaction as he entered the room.

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.”