it again …’
She carried on, undaunted. ‘D’you remember what it said in that leaflet I found in reception? When Hotel Katastrophos was first built, smugglers used to raid the mainland and hide the loot in the islands.’ She looked at him expectantly, as if he ought to know what she was getting at. ‘What if it’s still going on?’
‘Eh?’
‘It could be stolen icons or Greek bronzes – there’s a big market for that kind of thing, especially in the States. Rich American collectors would pay a fortune. And with more than fourteen hundred Greek Islands to choose from, who’d come to Katastrophos to look for them? I’ve never seen so much as a village policeman here, have you? I doubt there’s any kind of structured law and order at all, apart from the old priest and he must be at least ninety.’ She began to pace the room, piecing together the scam. ‘All you’d have to do is make the hit, nick the stuff, have it away fast and stash it in the monastery. Then you lie low and when the heat’s off, you fence it to the highest bidder.’
‘Corrie, don’t be so lurid. Try to remember you’re a caterer. You’re starting to sound like a seventies TV villain. Nobody talks like that in real life.’
She ignored him, warming to her crime. ‘It would explain those lights we saw. The boat bringing the loot across from the mainland signals to his accomplice up in the monastery, who flashes back to let him know he’s up there, ready to receive the icons. The boat ties up on the cliff side of the islet, out of sight, and they use the medieval winch to haul up the stuff. The accomplice hides it in the abbey church until it’s safe to contact the buyer, then they flog it and split the cash. How’s that?’ She folded her arms with a triumphant flourish.
‘Sounds risky to me.’ Jack grunted. ‘What if somebody else spots the signals, gets curious, and goes up there to investigate?’
‘They wouldn’t. You heard what Yanni said when Sid asked about it. Except for pilgrimages, nobody slogs up all those steps and even if they did, they wouldn’t poke about among St Sophia’s precious relics. This is a profoundly superstitious rural community. They live under their saint’s protection and they sincerely believe something bad will happen to anyone who displeases her.’
‘Any danger of you going to sleep tonight,’ asked Jack, wearily.
Corrie grinned. ‘Not much. Pity I didn’t have time to case the joint properly while I was up there, but the storm was brewing and we had to come down.’ She went back to her own bed and lay down. ‘I don’t feel like climbing back up for another look, though, do you?’
‘Nope,’ said Jack. His eyes closed and he went straight off to sleep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
N ext day, the storm had cleared. At dawn, Helios, in his sun-chariot, emerged from his golden palace in the east and leapt up into the brazen sky where he would rest until evening.
Corrie stood on the terrace, shielding her eyes and staring out to sea, intoxicated by the candescence of sun on water with boundless blue sky pouring into it. She was not aware of Professor Gordon standing behind her until he spoke in his deep, educated voice.
‘You are not, of course, the first visitor to Katastrophos to be mesmerized by “ To Phos ” – the light. The Greeks believe it is the naked eyeball of God that blinds the wicked and the unwary.’
She turned and smiled self-consciously. ‘It’s easy to believe almost anything on this spellbinding little island. Even the Greek myths take on a kind of relevance to human nature.’
After witnessing their sexual contretemps that night on the landing, Corrie was even more seduced by her notion of sultry-eyed Diana as Medusa and Ambrose as the lecherous, cheating Poseidon.
As if reading her thoughts, the professor nodded. ‘The Greek gods were the first gods to resemble humans. Not just look like them, but act like them too. They each had his or her own personality
She carried on, undaunted. ‘D’you remember what it said in that leaflet I found in reception? When Hotel Katastrophos was first built, smugglers used to raid the mainland and hide the loot in the islands.’ She looked at him expectantly, as if he ought to know what she was getting at. ‘What if it’s still going on?’
‘Eh?’
‘It could be stolen icons or Greek bronzes – there’s a big market for that kind of thing, especially in the States. Rich American collectors would pay a fortune. And with more than fourteen hundred Greek Islands to choose from, who’d come to Katastrophos to look for them? I’ve never seen so much as a village policeman here, have you? I doubt there’s any kind of structured law and order at all, apart from the old priest and he must be at least ninety.’ She began to pace the room, piecing together the scam. ‘All you’d have to do is make the hit, nick the stuff, have it away fast and stash it in the monastery. Then you lie low and when the heat’s off, you fence it to the highest bidder.’
‘Corrie, don’t be so lurid. Try to remember you’re a caterer. You’re starting to sound like a seventies TV villain. Nobody talks like that in real life.’
She ignored him, warming to her crime. ‘It would explain those lights we saw. The boat bringing the loot across from the mainland signals to his accomplice up in the monastery, who flashes back to let him know he’s up there, ready to receive the icons. The boat ties up on the cliff side of the islet, out of sight, and they use the medieval winch to haul up the stuff. The accomplice hides it in the abbey church until it’s safe to contact the buyer, then they flog it and split the cash. How’s that?’ She folded her arms with a triumphant flourish.
‘Sounds risky to me.’ Jack grunted. ‘What if somebody else spots the signals, gets curious, and goes up there to investigate?’
‘They wouldn’t. You heard what Yanni said when Sid asked about it. Except for pilgrimages, nobody slogs up all those steps and even if they did, they wouldn’t poke about among St Sophia’s precious relics. This is a profoundly superstitious rural community. They live under their saint’s protection and they sincerely believe something bad will happen to anyone who displeases her.’
‘Any danger of you going to sleep tonight,’ asked Jack, wearily.
Corrie grinned. ‘Not much. Pity I didn’t have time to case the joint properly while I was up there, but the storm was brewing and we had to come down.’ She went back to her own bed and lay down. ‘I don’t feel like climbing back up for another look, though, do you?’
‘Nope,’ said Jack. His eyes closed and he went straight off to sleep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
N ext day, the storm had cleared. At dawn, Helios, in his sun-chariot, emerged from his golden palace in the east and leapt up into the brazen sky where he would rest until evening.
Corrie stood on the terrace, shielding her eyes and staring out to sea, intoxicated by the candescence of sun on water with boundless blue sky pouring into it. She was not aware of Professor Gordon standing behind her until he spoke in his deep, educated voice.
‘You are not, of course, the first visitor to Katastrophos to be mesmerized by “ To Phos ” – the light. The Greeks believe it is the naked eyeball of God that blinds the wicked and the unwary.’
She turned and smiled self-consciously. ‘It’s easy to believe almost anything on this spellbinding little island. Even the Greek myths take on a kind of relevance to human nature.’
After witnessing their sexual contretemps that night on the landing, Corrie was even more seduced by her notion of sultry-eyed Diana as Medusa and Ambrose as the lecherous, cheating Poseidon.
As if reading her thoughts, the professor nodded. ‘The Greek gods were the first gods to resemble humans. Not just look like them, but act like them too. They each had his or her own personality
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