The captain walked over to his desk, picked up the phone, pressed a speed dial button, and after a hushed, thirty-second conversation, hung up. ‘He’ll see you in an hour at the monastery.’

‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’ The captain extended his right hand.

Andreas wasn’t sure if that meant they’d made up, or that a farewell sucker punch was on the way. Andreas smiled, reached out and shook the captain’s hand, but all the while kept an eye on the man’s left, just in case.

Andreas and Kouros parked in the square across from where the monk was murdered. Flowers now covered the bloodstains. A sign pointing to the monastery was posted on the wall of the path that began a few feet from where the body was found. They followed it out of the square. The route soon merged with another path funneling tourists up from the parking area below. They followed the crowd uphill, past a taverna on the left and a few souvenir shops on the right.

Just before the path started downhill, almost everyone made a sharp right up onto a set of terraced steps leading into a small piazza. It was packed with tourists. On the far left side, a dozen more steps led up toward the monastery’s entrance. Andreas looked at his watch. They were thirty minutes early for their meeting. He suggested they have coffee at the taverna they’d just passed.

It took only a minute to get there, and no sooner did they step inside than a man built like Kouros, but twice his age, yelled out, ‘Welcome to Dimitri’s! Come, let me show you to our best table.’

‘We just want coffee,’ said Andreas.

‘Does that mean I should not give you our best table? Please do not offend me by suggesting I treat my guests as euros. My duty is to show Patmian hospitality to all pilgrims to our holy island.’