1998
Refusing to be used like a Monopoly game piece by Van Rijn, I cut off communication with him. My instinct is that he will not be able to stay away for long, and right now cutting him off is my only defense.
After reading my Munich statement, the attorney general requests that I come to London to discuss it. “I wasn’t aware of how much you did,” he says in our telephone conversation, which gives me hope that I might be able to improve the relationship with his office.
Meanwhile, I put my energy into locating the real Andreas mosaic, which remains a mystery. Peter Kitschler has the key to the safe that Van Rijn gave me, but that’s all we have. Over the years, Van Rijn has told me different stories about who is in possession of the Andreas mosaic, from giving it to his Montenegrin bodyguards in exchange for payment to it being ostensibly owned by a German doctor who lived somewhere outside of Munich. I search through my earlier notes to see if there is anything that I might have missed and there, in a file for dealer Robert Roozemond, I find a card for a doctor in Munich named Schmidt. His name was given to Mr. Kyprianou and me when we first met with Roozemond at his gallery back in 1988. Roozemond had described Schmidt as a man who collects Byzantine art. Could Schmidt be in possession of Andreas?
After making further inquiries with a Dutch journalist, he provides me with a recent photograph of the Andreas mosaic in Van Rijn’s possession. I forward a copy to Papageorgiou, who confirms it to be a fake Andreas, and send it on to Peter Kitschler, the Cypriot government, and the police. The fake Andreas I believe is in Van Rijn’s hands. It may or may not lead to the real Andreas mosaic, but once Peter Kitschler has the name of the doctor he begins a search, as we will need the fake Andreas to prosecute Dikmen for selling a “forgery.”1, 2 The Bavarian police continue to ask for my statement.3, 4
It’s a cold, gray January day as I make my way to meet the attorney general who is visiting the Cyprus High Commission office on Princess Street, near the Oxford Circus tube station in London.5 Stella leads me into a conference. Attorney General Markides joins us moments later. After a cordial greeting, he gets down to business.
“David Hole, and Polak, can find no reason why my statement should be withheld. As a Dutch citizen I am free to release it, and the Germans are pressuring me to send it. I’m feeling a bit pulled in all directions.”6 I say respectfully.
“The archbishop and I took a major risk in executing the Munich sting,” he says.
“Sir, with all due respect, the archbishop is the one who put everything on the line by placing his trust in me.”
The attorney general looks at me, and then his watch. “Stella, would you finish with Mrs. Hadjitofi, please.” Barely looking at me, he says, “Good day,” and exits.
Stella and I are now left to battle over the wording of my statement.
“Here,” she says circling a sentence. “Change this to say, ‘Under the instruction of the police.’” she says. There are circles throughout the statement, so I read it again carefully.
Not believing my own eyes, I ask for clarification. “Stella, you have circled every place where I say that I report to the Church and the archbishop.”
“Yes, that’s exactly right. You are an agent of the police.”
They want me to change the wording of my statement to accommodate their need to expand their role in the operation.
While I’m in London I learn that the attorney general’s office has requested that Peter Kitschler postpone raiding Dr. Schmidt’s residence in Munich for a few weeks. The delay is now timed so that the raid will take place coincidentally between the first and second round of presidential elections in Cyprus.
“They are trying to skew my statement to read that I was an instrument of the police and not the other way around,” I say to the archbishop, whom I call before boarding a plane back to Holland. The archbishop responds in turn by sending the government and police copies of my power of attorney to remind them that, like it or not, I speak for the Church and they will have to work with me.7
The Munich case comes to a standstill. The attorney general’s office still has not released my statement. The Cypriots are intimating that if I do release my statement to the Germans and anything goes wrong with the criminal case, it will be my responsibility. Mr. Papageorgiou’s list of which stolen artifacts belong to Cyprus also remains on hold in his office. The more time that passes, the less likely it will be that Aydin Dikmen will want to strike a deal with the German police, which means that the return of the artifacts could be exposed to counterclaims. When Attorney General Markides places a gag order on me with the press I find it confusing. The Bavarian police told me exposure in the news is what will keep me safe.
The opposing direction causes great distress.
I revise my statement based on suggestions from our lawyer in Germany and call the attorney general’s office for his comments. Stella responds with a fax that has a slightly threatening tone: “Do not send your statement to the Germans without our approval; if you do the case will be your responsibility.”8 I write to Stella saying please tell me what detail you want so I can sign it and send it off. No response.9
March is upon us when Peter Kitschler phones me from Munich in a state of panic.
“I don’t understand what they are waiting for, but I’m going to contact my counterpart of the art crime unit of the Netherlands Interpol to inquire if I can get your statement as a Dutch citizen. Do you have a Dutch passport?” he asks.
“Peter, I would be considered a traitor if I release my statement to the Dutch without Cyprus’s approval. I will forward the information on to the Cypriots and ask them to contact him.”10 The irony of this situation is cutting. If I give my statement to the Bavarian police, it will feel as if I committed an act of betrayal against the Cypriot government, and yet if I don’t cooperate with the Bavarian police, they will fail to prosecute Dikmen, and the return of the artifacts will become caught up in a civil trial.
The Munich case is headed for disastrous results. Something has got to give, so I let go.
I write to Bishop Vasilios, telling him that I am withdrawing my participation in the Munich case. I’m not willing to falsify my statement for anyone. Minor edits are fine, but I will not compromise my truth. If the government wants me to testify, I will. If they choose not to use me as a witness, my involvement with the case will now cease.11 At this point, unless a higher power intercedes, the future of the Munich case lies in the path of failure.
An urgent call to my home from the archbishop signals trouble.
“Tasoula, every day the police and attorney general’s office come with a new complaint. They say that you are interfering in the case and you are withholding evidence. They are going to incriminate and discredit you. I want you to come to Cyprus with David Hole. And please, no meetings with these people unless Bishop Vasilios is present with you.” I go to Cyprus with David Hole three days later.
At the palace with David Hole, the archbishop, and Bishop Vasilios, we receive confirmation that the Cypriot government does not have sufficient evidence for an extradition. The Cypriots could not link Dikmen to the actual stealing of the artifacts and now the Germans are failing to prosecute Dikmen in Germany because the Cypriots refuse to release our statements.
“Don’t worry, I will stand by you,” says the archbishop, which brings me to tears. He calls his secretary Demetrakis into his office and says, “When Tasoula is in Cyprus, I want you to stand by her as you would me. Be the first person she sees when she arrives at the airport and the last one before she boards her return flight.”
Demetrakis is experienced around these types of situations. He was the man that former President Makarios III depended on while he was in exile. Demetrakis, a man of few words but sturdy character, bows his head in agreement. The archbishop turns to Bishop Vasilios. “Van Rijn fears Tasoula. If we place Polak in charge of handling her statement and the dispute with Van Rijn, it will give Tasoula a layer of protection from those who target her.”
“Your Beatitude,” I say, “I feel terrible about what is happening here.”
“Take a step back. Allow me to sort this out. It will be all right,” he tells me. “The humble soul is blessed. Go in grace, my child.”
A perfect sun sets over the Saint Raphael Marina in Limassol, where I am sitting with my parents having dinner at the Sailor’s Restaurant in Cyprus. I hope the serenity of the sea and the nurturing warmth of my parents help to create a perfect ending to an otherwise horrific day.
“You don’t look well, Tasoula. Is everything okay? You are much too thin,” my mother says as she passes me a basket of bread. Since Munich I have lost at least twenty pounds, and stress is preventing me from gaining any of it back.
“I’m fine, Mom. It’s the dress that makes me look skinny. I’m going to buy five more of them,” I say, laughing, trying to take her keen eyes off of me. “How are Miriam, Yiola, and Andreas doing?” I ask, placing the focus on my siblings.
Dishes of freshly grilled tuna, salmon, and shrimp are placed before us, as we dine in a nirvana-like setting. Watching the yachts sailing into the harbor to moor for the night, I’m able to forget my troubles for a few hours as we enjoy each other’s company.
We leave the restaurant and walk to the nearby St. Raphael Hotel, a five-star resort, where we have a nightcap before calling it an evening. Dad pulls me aside. “I don’t want to see you in this state when you come next. Get hold of yourself and whatever it is that is causing you to lose weight like this.” This moment reminds me of when I left Cyprus at seventeen years of age to make a new future for myself. I was scared out of my wits, and he knew fear would cloud my judgment. His no-nonsense approach laid the law down. “Don’t shame the family. I’m counting on you,” he said.
I leave Cyprus on February 10, unwilling to let this situation impact my health any longer. Instead, I quiet my fears with the thought that I am in the hands of the best possible people. My bond with the archbishop is unbreakable, and I trust him.
By the end of February all of my files detailing my repatriation work have been copied. One set of copies has been placed in Polak’s office vault and another is in my safe at home.
Polak informs the Cypriot police that they can review my files in his office at their convenience. Neither the police nor anyone from the attorney general’s office ever review the files. Nonetheless, the attorney general declares in a letter to the archbishop that I am responsible for their key witness—Van Rijn—leaving Cyprus.12, 13
Circumstances continue to go from bad to worse when Stella Joannides receives a letter from the law firm Schilling & Lom, acting attorneys for Van Rijn, threatening legal action. He claims he was promised a casino license, free land on which to build it, between one and two million euros, 10 percent of the value of what was recovered in Munich, and thousands of dollars in expenses. He is also asking for additional monies due to an incorrect exchange rate, and he threatens to place a claim on the Munich artifacts if he is not paid.14 Van Rijn is also claiming that he was instructed by the Cypriot police to lie under oath about purchasing the fake Andreas and that the government jeopardized his safety when the police took information he gave them in confidence and raided dealer Dritsoulas’s gallery in Germany without his consultation. Van Rijn claims he has evidence to compromise the police and attorney general’s office and that he will release the taped recordings of telephone conversations to the press.15
In a February raid on Dritsoulas’s gallery in Munich, the Bavarian police recovered another pair of Royal Doors; these are from the church of Ayia Paraskevi in Angastina, authenticated by Mr. Papageorgiou. Dritsoulas’s attorneys will not release the doors to the Cypriots. His lawyers want proof of ownership. Yet the attorney general’s office continues to resist clarifying their position as to when the evidence will be released to support the restitution claims.16
“My words are intended to support you, so please do not take what I have to say as if it is sprinkled with bitterness,” says the archbishop.
“Of course,” I respond.
“I want you to know that it doesn’t matter to me what you promised to Mr. Van Rijn. I will do whatever you ask. Do you understand?”
“Your Beatitude, I know that the attorney general is putting immense pressure on you. I beg of you, please, do not agree to pay Van Rijn any more money. If you cave in to his demands now, you will place the Church and me in even more jeopardy. You must trust me on this.”
“I wanted to be sure, Tasoula,” he says. “This is the last time I will ever question you.”
I am alone in this like I was in the war, except as a child I could never see or feel God’s presence, but now I do—he is in the faces of the bishop and the archbishop.