Rafe left the cathedral and walked into the warm afternoon light as the sun started slowly heading towards the horizon. I guess I'm going to Zymne, he thought to himself. I wonder what's the best way to get there? I need to eat and figure out what to do.
Kiev was bustling all around him as he started back up the hill towards the Golden Gate. This part of the city had escaped the drab remnants of the Soviet existence. There were no dull high-rise apartments here, as there were with most of Kiev. This district looked like any other European capital.
He found a cafe a few streets over that he knew from experience was popular with the locals. Rafe enjoyed revisiting places in foreign cities that he had found enjoyable in the past, especially in Europe. The locals usually knew where to eat and get great food without spending a fortune. The late afternoon crowd was just starting to pick up, and he selected a table outside out of the way of the pedestrian crowd. He sat down and ordered a glass of wine and a menu from the young, Slavic waitress. Being out of the way of the crowd suited him just fine. He needed to relax and find his bearings. His head hurt from the blow he had taken earlier. Luckily, it did not break the skin, but there was a swollen bulge on the back of his skull, which he touched lightly and winced. He needed to think and make a plan for the next couple days.
Clare is missing. Cecilia is now missing. He felt a wave of nausea as he thought of both of them. The situation was making him sick, the anxiety overwhelming. I guess I'll rent a car and drive out there. Probably will take me half a day, depending on the condition of the roads. I wish I had a weapon. I'll have to think about that. Rafe's phone rang. He picked it up and accepted the call.
"Hello?"
"Rafe, it's Neal."
"What have you got for me, Neal?"
"I've checked again with law enforcement in the States. There's been no more word of Clare. However, I have asked the FBI to get involved as a favor to us. I'll let you know of any updates."
"Thank you again, Neal, that means a lot."
"No problem, least we could do. And, there's something else."
"What now?"
"We've been searching travel records here in the UK, and we've picked up something quite extraordinary from our database provided by the airlines. It seems we've had other individuals making frequent trips to Kiev."
"And who might these people be and any idea why?"
'No, that's just it. They don't seem to be related to your hooded lady friend in any way. Except that they are fairly prominent in their fields. Some in media, but there are other professions as well, academics, et cetera.”
"That makes no sense."
"No, it doesn't. That's why we're going to keep working on this. You'll be my first call if anything more comes to light."
"Thanks, Neal. I've also got some bad news. Cecilia's been kidnapped. It was the man I saw in Barcelona, I'm sure of it. They took her from the train. I'm in Kiev now alone."
"Rafe, I'm really sorry. I'll put our people on this trail as well. What are your plans?"
"I've got some leads here myself. It seems the icon is associated with a monastery out in the countryside. I'm going to take a ride and see what I can find out. I have a feeling however that whoever wanted me to find that painting knows I'm coming. I sure would like to have something to protect myself with."
"Where are you currently?" Rafe told him. "Stay there. In one hour, go to the park several blocks over to the west and sit on a bench. Someone will sit next to you and leave you a present."
"Thanks, mate! I knew I could count on the Brits."
"No worries. Let me know what you find at the monastery. And take care of yourself. The good news is if someone wanted you dead, you would be already. Cheers." The phone went dead.
The waitress brought Rafe a glass of wine and a bowl of borscht per his request. The wine went down very easy and he started to relax. I've got to eat to take care of myself and sustain my energy. Even if I don't feel like eating. His plan started coming together. After finishing his meal, he paid the bill and left the cafe. A short stroll later, he found himself sitting on a bench in the park square, watching the girls walk by on the path through the center of the grassy area. He was soon joined by an older woman, who said nothing as she sat on the other end of the bench and began to read a newspaper. Ten minutes later, she folded the paper and set it down next to her. Saying nothing, she got up and left, disappearing into the crowd. After he was sure no one was watching, Rafe picked up the folded newspaper and walked in the direction of a hotel he was familiar with. He stuffed the newspaper into his backpack. It was heavy as something was inside.
Twenty minutes later, he arrived at the hotel located on the corner of a building several blocks away. It was a nondescript place that wouldn't draw attention to him, and no one would suspect him staying there. Usually Rafe stayed at the more luxurious tourist hotels while in Ukraine, but this was not a usual trip. The hotel had seen its better days. The lobby walls were covered in a cheap stone and the decor was something straight out of an American television set in the nineteen seventies. However, everything seemed functional and clean.
He ordered a rental car for the morning, checked in, and soon was in his room. He locked the door then put his backpack on the single bed and pulled out the folded newspaper and opened it. There he saw a 9mm Beretta handgun and three extra magazines full of ammunition. He stuffed the rounds into his sport coat pocket and put the pistol in the rear of his belt. Now I feel a little safer. Rafe grabbed his laptop and made his way down to the hotel bar, where there was WiFi. Now let's see what I can learn about Zymne.
He sat in the bar in the corner where no one could see what he was looking at on his screen. No one noticed him, except the waitress. She offered him a menu but he waved her off. Rafe just wanted to work for a bit and collect his thoughts. He felt sure he hadn't been followed to the hotel. His plan was coming together. Tomorrow he would show up at the monastery and see what he was supposed to see. At least he would be prepared.
The monastery was built by Vladimir the Great in honor of his chosen religion, Orthodox Christianity, and was perched on the top of Holy Mountain, overlooking the Luh River. He is said to have built two churches and a palace near Zymne, meaning wintry in Ukrainian. The village was located five kilometer south of Volodomyr, Ukraine. Initially several monks secluded themselves in the caves surrounding the area, and eventually a religious community developed. At some point fortifications were constructed but were not sufficient to keep out the eastern invaders who occupied and destroyed Kievan Rus' in the thirteenth century.
Why does someone want me to go there? What am I supposed to find? Is my daughter there? Is Cecilia there? Rafe ordered another drink. There was nothing more to be done tonight. He had to wait until the morning to proceed. A few hours later, Rafe went back to his room and crashed for the night, putting the pistol under his pillow. He slept intermittently, dreaming nightmares alternately of Clare and Cecilia.
The drive to the monastery the next morning was long and arduous. Most of the trip was spent on the main national highway which was somewhat well serviced. However, once he departed Volodomyr for the local direction to the site, the road turned to a potholed path more than a modern transportation route. The last few kilometers took longer than the first fifty. Rafe was tired when he arrived. He first drove into the nearby village of Zymne and booked another room in a small inn, perched on the hillside and surrounded by trees. It was a nice enough place. He would be assured of a good meal by the proprietors, he could tell. He looked forward to that on his return from his visit with the monks.
An hour later, he arrived at the monastery which was perched on the top of a large hill overlooking the river running below. Rafe marveled at the contrast of the golden domes with the deep green meadows surrounding the complex. Dark clouds were approaching from the north. There was a thunderstorm coming. Such a beautiful place, I'd like to come back here some day and explore, but under different conditions. The monastery had been fortified at one point and the massive red brick walls and guard towers were a pronounced addition to the religious architecture. He parked the car, and walked inside. He was met by an elderly priest.
"I wasn't expecting anyone quite at this hour," the priest said softly.
"Well, I came rather unexpectedly."
"Very well, follow me." Rafe decided to play along and did as he was told. He deferred showing the blessing from the bishop until it was needed.
The priest led him through the outer building and then through several passageways that seemed to go on forever, deep into the building. He seemed to know what Rafe was here for. At some point the priest stopped, turned and handed Rafe a long, thin candle and pointed to another lit candle mounted on a stand near a small door. "You'll need the light," the priest said. Rafe dipped the tip of the small candle into the flame. The wick sparked a small glow and the flame slowly grew. Then the priest lit a candle as well and motioned for Rafe to follow him into the ensuing corridor. The priest opened the small iron door, revealing a low passageway, and slowly started down the darkened steps. Rafe followed. He immediately realized they were descending into the mountain. Soon they were walking through a tunnel that was carved into the rock. The air grew colder. The walls had been smoothed over the centuries and whitewashed. We're in the catacombs, Rafe thought to himself. Soon he passed the miniature coffin of a monk which lay on a small shelf carved into the rock on the side of the tunnel. Then another. Eventually they passed close to fifty caskets. Amazing how small these people were a thousand years ago, Rafe thought to himself. It's an eerie feeling being down here among all these bodies, even if they are hundreds of years old.
Centuries ago, the monks would commit themselves to a life of reclusion. Some would even seal themselves in a small cave in order to commit totally to worshiping God. Food and water was placed in front of a small opening every day. If the servants noticed the food was uneaten, they assumed the monk was dead. They would then seal the tomb completely for three years. At the end of that time, they would check if the body had deteriorated. If not, they would consider the monk a saint and prepare the body for burial in the catacombs. If the body did deteriorate, the monk was obviously a sinner and the skeleton would be scattered among the caves. Since Rafe had been raised an Orthodox Christian, he turned and kissed one of the caskets as he walked by, saying a small prayer for the dead. The priest acknowledged his act with a look of surprise in his eyes. Rafe was not what he thought him to be.
Eventually Rafe and the priest stopped in front of an opening to a cavern naturally eroded into the earth. The priest turned and said," I haven't seen you here before. But, you should be able to let yourself out. If you need anything, please ring the bell on the wall." He pointed to a long tapestry cord hanging in the corner. Attached to a bell. He turned to leave.
"Wait," said Rafe. "Have there been others here before me?"
The priest looked at him in a strange way. "Why yes," he said. "The visitors come here regularly. I assumed you were one of them?"
"Oh yes, I am," replied Rafe. "Thank you."
"There were many here this morning. I thought you had all arrived." The priest smiled, turned, and left. Rafe said nothing and pretended to comprehend what the priest was talking about.
When he was gone, Rafe turned and walked into the cave. There was a sign above the opening with letters in Greek that he did not understand. He wrote them on a notepad he had taken from the hotel. The cave was nondescript and was obviously ancient. There were etchings on the wall from centuries before. It had been the dwelling of many a monk through the ages. There was a small, wooden bed and a writing table, not much else. Rafe carefully looked over the carvings in the wall and could not make heads or tails of most of them. He wrote many of them down in his pad. He glanced up and saw across the room something that got his attention. Carved into the wall near a wooden floor platform, he saw a large trident. It was the same he had seen in Gibraltar, only this one fit, as this was a monastery of Vladimir the Great. Rafe walked over to the etching and examined it. He drew an exact replica on his notepad. Is this it? Is this what I am supposed to find? I don't understand. This is maddening. I wish Cecilia was here to help me with this. The thought of her saddened him.
Rafe checked the rest of the cave and found nothing. Am I at a dead end? He went back down the passageway and made his way to the exit of the monastery. The priest was closing the main doors as he left. He saw Rafe and looked surprised. "You are leaving?"
"Yes, thank you for your help."
"You are different than the rest," he said as he looked at Rafe warily. "Are you sure you are one of them?"
Rafe pulled the letter from the bishop out of his jacket pocket and handed it to the priest. "I was sent here to find information. You have been helpful. I thank you."
The priest read the letter and his eyes grew wide, then shrank with wariness. "We are retiring for the evening meal and meditation. I will close the doors behind you," he said coldly. Obviously aware he had been lied to.
"Thank you again," said Rafe, and he left, walked to the car, and drove back to the hotel, a feeling of frustration washing over him.
He was right about the food. He enjoyed a very nice Ukrainian meal. Rafe enjoyed the cuisine of Eastern Europe. It was very tasty and not as heavy as you found in Germany and elsewhere. There were lots of freshly cooked vegetables that were usually well spiced, cuts of sausage, and smoked fish. A couple shots from a bottle of local vodka helped wash everything down. After eating, Rafe felt full and relaxed, but still frustrated for information.
After the dishes had been cleared, Rafe spread the pages from the notepad out on the table in front of him. None of it made sense. Nothing stood out to him as significant. He had gone to his room and retrieved his laptop. Upon opening it, he pulled up his web browser and a translation page. He typed in the Cyrillic letters of the words άνοιγμα της πόρτας. It was not a Ukrainian saying and the software identified the language as Greek. He hit the translate button into English. A word appeared: Doorway. Rafe sat back in his chair. That does not help me! What am I supposed to understand? He slammed his fist down on the table. The waitress in the kitchen turned to look at him. He smiled and mouthed the word sorry in Ukrainian. She smiled back and returned to her conversation with the cook, occasionally staring back at him over her shoulder. She was young, cute and obviously interested in him. She probably thinks I'm rich and can be her ticket to the West, he thought.
Rafe stared at the computer screen. Doorway.
Later that night Rafe awoke, wide-eyed. His mind was racing, even though he had been sleeping. Something had awakened him. Was it a dream? I'm going to find out! He bolted upright in bed and dashed to get dressed, clumsily throwing on his clothes. He left the room in a hurry, slamming the door behind him. Soon he was in the car racing towards the monastery. The high beams on the rental car barely kept up with his speed as he negotiated the winding, barely-paved road. Doorway.