IKARIA, GREECE
SHE’D BEEN EXPECTING FATHER BASIL TO BE AN OLDER PRIEST, but Eva opened the door to a man who looked to be in his thirties—trim and fit with dark hair and a short beard.
“Let’s go to the kitchen,” she said, ushering him in. He followed her and she automatically set out plates and some pastries. “Coffee?”
“No, thank you. Just water, please.”
Before he sat down, he walked to the window and closed it. “One cannot be too careful.”
Pointing to a chair, she waited for him to sit down, his proximity making her nervous. “Would you show me some identification, please?”
“Of course.” He took his passport from his satchel and showed it to her. Basil Parakos.
She set a glass of water in front of him and poured herself a strong cup of Turkish coffee. “My uncle was very sick when he told me you were coming. I wasn’t even sure you were real.”
He looked back at her, unsmiling. “I’m real.”
“What can I do for you?” she asked.
“I’ve come to take you back to America. Are you ready to return?”
“If I must. My mission is the same as yours—to protect the coins,” she answered.
He nodded. “It is not safe for them or you to remain here any longer. It’s time to take all the coins to America. I have collected the coins that were hidden at Mount Athos, and I have something for you.”
Father Basil pulled a folder from his satchel and opened it, handing her a Greek passport with her real name. “I’ve already booked your flight. You leave in two days.”
She reached out and took it from him, studying it. “How did you get this picture of me?” It was a photo from a few years ago that he must have cropped and scanned.
“Your uncle had it sent to me.”
He handed her a piece of paper. “Memorize the number, then destroy the paper. It’s your daughter’s cell phone. Once you land, get in touch with her. Tell her the truth.”
She ran her thumb over the number, imagining for a moment what it would be like to hear Taylor’s voice again after all these years. The priest went on.
“Credit cards, extra cash. Everything you need is here. Once you’re back in the States, you’ll take the coins to a church ceremony. That’s how they will be transferred to the archbishop.”
“How?” she asked.
“I’m getting to that. But first, I need you to show me where your family coins are. I will hide them here,” he said, bringing out two wooden icons from his satchel.
“Why can’t you leave the icons with me and let me do it?”
“The coins are not safe for you to handle directly. I’ve been preparing myself spiritually for weeks now.” The priest went on. “I’ve had false backs adhered to these icons so that you can hide the coins within them. You can take the icons back with you to the States. There’s a church in Pittsburgh that was damaged by a fire last year, where you will donate the icons. When the archbishop stops there during his tour in a few weeks to bless the icons, he will take your ten coins and get them to the patriarch in Istanbul. I’m going to do the same with the ten coins that have been on Mount Athos.”
“Why not try to do the exchange here?”
“This is the order of the archbishop. I don’t question him. The plan is for the patriarch to go to Rome to meet with the pope and leave ten of the coins at the Vatican until the final ten are found and we can reunite all thirty. The Eastern and Western Churches will work together. The coins will be safe there until they can be destroyed and—”
“But they can’t be destroyed until the other ten are found,” she interrupted him.
He nodded his head patiently. “Yes. When the final ten are regained, the patriarch and the pope will meet to destroy them.”
“Do you know where they are?”
“Yes.”
She gave him an exasperated look. “Well?”
“Damon Crosse has them.”
She froze. How could that be? “Damon Crosse has been dead for almost two years now—my uncle told me.”
Father Basil shook his head. “That’s what everyone believes, but his suicide was a hoax. His son, Jeremy, used the coins as a bargaining chip to get back onto the premises of the Institute. Jeremy had planned to take the coins back after Crosse was arrested, but Crosse tricked him. Jeremy had no idea that they were not the real coins, but the fakes you placed at Agape House before you brought the real ones to Greece. Then Crosse killed himself . . . or so it seemed. After Crosse’s supposed death, the coins were gone. The church sent people to investigate; they talked to the emergency staff, the coroner, the funeral director, but nothing turned up. Last month, the coroner finally admitted he had helped Crosse orchestrate his false suicide. He had a crisis of conscience when he got a terminal cancer diagnosis and reached out to one of our investigators to tell us that Damon is alive—and he’s looking for the rest of the coins, too.”
“Crosse hasn’t found them in all these years. Why can’t we leave them where they are?”
“You’re not understanding. He’s not the only threat. Ten, twenty, a hundred years from now, someone else may find them. The coins call out to one another. They corrupt. They want to find a way to be together. This is the first time in over two hundred years that the church has regained a majority of them.”
She’d given up her life, her family, to protect these relics, and this stranger wanted her to just hand them over. What if he wasn’t actually trustworthy? What if he’d gotten her uncle to believe his lies?
She sat up straighter. “I’ll go back. But I’m doing it my way.”
He looked taken aback. “Pardon me?”
“I will hide them in the icons. I have a strong spiritual life, and I’m sure that I’ll be just fine. I’ll see you again at the church ceremony back in the States.”
He assessed her for a moment. “You don’t trust me?”
“I’ve been taught to trust no one.”
He sighed. “I have served His Eminence for seven years.”
She folded her arms. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not telling you where they are. I will do as you say and take them to America, and once I can confirm that there is indeed such a service planned at a church in Pittsburgh, I’ll get in touch with you.”
His face turned red and he opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself, seemingly thinking it over. Eventually, he spoke. “I suppose I understand your concerns.” He was quiet for another moment. “There’s no way Crosse knows you have them, nor could anyone else for that matter. I suppose you can carry them safely if you put them securely in the icons. I have a receipt for them you need to keep on you. Otherwise, if a customs officer searches your bags and sees them, he might assume you’re stealing relics from Greece.”
She hadn’t thought of that. “Okay, thank you. And just so you know, Father, I won’t be bringing them out of hiding until after you’ve left the island.”
“I understand.”
After he’d given everything to her, Father Basil left and she breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t think he was on the wrong side, but then again, she’d lived with Warwick Parks all those years and never suspected he would betray her. Of one thing she was certain—now that her beloved uncle was gone, there was no one she could take at face value.