The Lost Throne

53

As the black helicopter touched down in an open field on the outskirts of Kalampáka, dirt and dust swirled into the air like a cyclone. Andropoulos, who had never ridden in a chopper before, watched with childlike wonder from inside his car. His vehicle rattled from the whooshing of the powerful blades until the pilot flipped a switch and stopped the turbines.

“This is going to be awesome!” Andropoulos gushed. “Thanks for bringing me along.”

Dial rolled his eyes at the enthusiasm. For him, air travel had lost its luster a long time ago. “You aren’t onboard yet. Keep it up, and I’ll hire the pilot to be my translator.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“Don’t apologize. Make yourself useful. Grab our bags from the trunk.”

Andropoulos scurried off to complete his task while Dial cracked a smile. No matter how helpful the young Greek was — and so far he had exceeded Dial’s expectations — Dial planned on busting the kid’s balls every chance he got. He was a veteran member of the law enforcement community, and it was his God-given right and duty to toughen the youngster up.

Plus, it was a hell of a lot of fun.

Dial was about to step out of the car when his phone started to vibrate. He glanced at the screen. It was Henri Toulon from Interpol. “Hola, Henri.”

“Spanish?” he growled. “I tell you not to speak French, so you speak Spanish?”

“What can I say? I’m an equal-opportunity linguist.”

“Oui. You mangle all languages the same amount.”

Dial smirked. “From the insolent tone of your voice, I’m assuming you have good news about my permits to Mount Athos. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be so rude.”

“I have good news. I also have bad news. Which would you like first?”

“Not this shit again,” he muttered, remembering that Toulon had played the same game when telling him about the Spartans. “Just tell me all the news, Henri.”

“Now who is rude? People say we French are rude, but no one ever talks about Americans. And you know why we do not mention you? Because your country has the most bombs. If that was not so, people would say Americans are rude rather than the French!”

Toulon was obviously frustrated about something, so Dial responded in a calm voice.

“What’s wrong, Henri? What’s the bad news?”

“I have let you down.”

“How so?”

“I try and I try but you cannot visit Mount Athos today.”

Dial groaned. They were ready to take off. “Why not?”

“Because the monks are very strict. And you are arriving late.”

He glanced at his watch. It was mid-afternoon in Greece. “Late? I’ll be there by dinner.”

“Which is too late for them. The monks live regimented lives. They work together. They pray together. They eat together. Your arrival will interrupt that schedule. After a certain time each day, the guards will not allow anyone to enter Mount Athos — even those with permits. As I say, they are very strict.”

“Fine. What’s the good news?”

“I have arranged two meetings for you. One is with the governor of Mount Athos. He was appointed by the Hellenic Ministry of Foreign Affairs and is in charge of the civil administration of the Holy Mountain. For requests like yours, he is the man who must sign off on your visit. He has the authority to grant you emergency admission, if he feels it is warranted. So when you speak to him, you must be convincing.”

“Don’t worry, I will be.” Dial jotted a few notes. “Where will I meet him?”

“In Ouranoúpoli, a small village just across the border from Mount Athos.”

“Great. What about the second meeting?”

“There are twenty monasteries on the mountain. Each of them has a guest-master, a monk who is in charge of guided tours, showing relics, and more. He is the main contact person at each site. Visitors must check in with him before they enter his monastery.”

“But I don’t know which monasteries I need to visit.”

“This is why you will meet with the supervisor of all guest-masters — if the governor grants you access to their community. The supervisor has an office at Karyes. It is the largest settlement on Mount Athos. It is where all administrative matters are handled.”

Toulon gave him further details, including times and directions.

“Thanks, Henri. I appreciate it.”

“So you are not mad at me?”

Dial shook his head. “Why should I be mad?”

“Because you asked me to get you access today, and I have failed.”

“Hey, it was a tough task — especially considering their rigid schedules.”

Toulon paused. “Does this mean you will give me a long weekend off like you promised?”

Dial laughed. “I don’t know about that. The big prize was incentive for a miracle. And you didn’t produce a miracle. You produced a couple of meetings.”

“Oui. This is true. I have been to your meetings. They are not miraculous.”

“Speaking of miracles, what’s the latest on that officer from Spárti?”

“George Pappas.”

“Right. Did he have any luck on his search for Spartans?”

Toulon fiddled with his ponytail. “I do not know. I have spent all my time talking to the officials at Mount Athos. I have not had time to talk to George.”

“Well, now that you’re done with the monks, I’d appreciate it if you could give him a call. The more information I have before I meet with the governor, the better.”

“I will call him now. Would you like him to call you directly?”

“Only if he has something major to report. Otherwise, just call me back and leave a voice mail. I doubt I’ll hear my phone in the chopper.”

“You are leaving now?”

Dial nodded. “I don’t have much of a choice. I commandeered the chopper from the Greek police, and they need it back as soon as possible. I’ll just have the pilot drop us off at Ouranoúpoli. That way I’ll be ready for my morning meeting. The last thing I want to do is be late for the governor.”

“Oui, that would be bad.”

“Besides, this will give me a chance to see the Holy Mountain today. I’ll have the pilot do a few flyovers, just so I can get a feel for the place.”