Devil of Delphi: A Chief Inspector Andreas Kaldis Mystery by Jeffrey Siger Page B

around the world with grand promises of a glorious afterlife for all who followed them in their violent path against the non-believers.
    Her competition financed their proselytizing with oil and drug money. Teacher relied on counterfeit booze—and a global network of loyalists channeling its profits into bettering the day-to-day street-level lives of the exploited. All she asked of those benefitting from her largesse was the simple commitment of absolute fealty to furthering her vision. If that meant some had to die in the process, so be it. Her goal was just.
    Teacher shifted in her chair and thought about what Kharon had said to her in the car. “It’s never been just about the money.”
    She smiled. Perhaps he is the right choice.
    ***
    At a casual pace, the drive from the hotel near Athens’ Omonia Square to Kharon’s home in the modern village of Delphi just beyond ancient Delphi took approximately two hours. For most travelers, entering modern Delphi meant a two-lane highway splitting into twin one-way streets, each a third of a mile long, one taking you away from the ancient site toward the towns below and one bringing you back. The streets stood lined with hotels, restaurants, snack bars, tourist shops, an occasional market or bakery, the random private home, and on one road, a post office. Much like most tourist areas, the locals lived away from the main streets, in this case up the mountain. There they’d find the goods and services necessary for sustaining a normal existence amid a tourism-driven economy.
    But, for Kharon, entering Delphi today meant that he’d made the trip from Athens in one and a half hours, a near record, in large measure due to the BMW motorcycle he’d borrowed from Jacobi.
    “Why not, you paid for it?” was all Jacobi said when Kharon asked to borrow it.
    The rush of the high-speed ride cleared Kharon’s helmetless head and got him thinking about Teacher’s offer. No question if he accepted it he could say good-bye to being his own boss. She’d own his soul. And if she somehow thought him disloyal or inept, that would be the end of him. Or maybe there wouldn’t even have to be a reason; simply an instinct on her part to get rid of him would do the trick.
    But—and it was a big but—if he refused her offer, she’d likely kill him now. Her story about them parting ways amicably if he declined her offer was pure bullshit. Someone as powerful as Teacher, and used to dominating the lives of all about her, did not take rejection well. Rejection made her type worry about the motive and, rather than worry, elect to remove the source of concern. She’d probably already lined up his killer, just in case she had to pull the trigger. He thought about that last point. He thought about it a lot.
    Know thyself, he thought, and thy enemy better .
    By the time Kharon reached home he’d made up his mind. If he had no choice but to work for the devil, he’d damn well better have the devil’s respect from the start. That meant pressing the devil hard. Extremely hard. Kharon now knew his price, and how far he might have to go to get it.
    ***
    Sunset colors in the Athens sky depended upon a lot of things. Some of which the city tried to control by limiting vehicular traffic in the city center according to the last number on a license plate. Those with even numbered plates could enter on even days, odd ones on odd days. But no matter what colors happened to be performing on a particular night—orange, magenta, crimson, rose—staring out his apartment windows at the Acropolis, backlit against a sunset sky, never failed to remind Andreas of how very blessed he was.
    He sat in his living room holding his son on his lap, pointing at the Parthenon and telling of the glory that once was Greece.
    “Daddy…do gods live on the Acropolis?”
    Andreas kissed Tassaki on the top of his head. “We Greeks certainly hope so.”
    “My teacher said all gods are myths.”
    “Do you know what a myth