“We just want to know what it is and where it came from, originally,” I told him.
“It is based upon the Ladder of Divine Ascent,” he said. “See the thirty rungs of the ladder? It signifies the thirty steps to reach the highest level of religious perfection. Each step is an instruction. Created at the request of the Abbot of Raithu in 600 AD, his monastery being on the edge of the Red Sea.”
“So, it’s an old religious symbol?” I asked him. “Is it possible to trace where this particular one came from?”
“It is old,” he replied, “but it’s not religious. Not this symbol. If it’s religious artifacts you’re after, I would advise you not to pursue this one.” He passed it to his wife. She looked at it briefly, her eyes clouding.
“Our study would be incomplete,” Constance protested. She glanced at me in a half-anxious way that I was sure our hosts noticed.
“Yes.” I forced a smile. “We’ve come a long way to find out more about this.”
“You’re seeking someone,” said Petrina flatly. “Aren’t you? Someone who is missing.”
I leaned back in the chair, confused at Petrina’s question and trying not to look defensive. “That’s not why we’re here.”
But she eyed me levelly. “Are you sure, Michael? Who are you two, and why are you here? At first I thought you were perhaps a couple, despite the difference in accent and age. But I can tell by your body language that you are not.”
“I didn’t think we’d be given the third degree,” I muttered. “We’re just—”
Constance’s sudden change of expression burrowed underneath the exterior I was trying to project. She shook her head, closing her eyes and pressing her lips into a thin, guilty line. “We’re looking for my daughter and Gray’s wife.”
I turned to watch Rico and Petrina’s reactions. Constance had not only told them what we were doing here in Greece, but she’d just said my name. If the Greek newspapers were running stories about me, it wouldn’t be hard for them to put two and two together.
Constance’s eyes snapped open as she realised she’d given away too much, giving me a look of open-mouthed alarm.
Rico exhaled a low, weary grunt. “Two people? A daughter and a wife?” He exchanged looks with Petrina.
I kept both Petrina and Rico in my line of sight as I gulped the last of my drink. I didn’t know the first thing about these people. How had Petrina figured out we were looking for someone? Again, I felt trapped, here on the ninth floor with only a narrow set of stairs for an exit. If someone with a gun—or a knife—was waiting on the stairs for us, Constance and I might not leave this building alive.
“You didn’t want us to know, but we know,” Petrina said to me in a gentle tone. “You wouldn’t be so interested in this symbol otherwise. I also know you won’t take our advice and leave this alone, because you’re seeking loved ones.”
“Can you help us?” said Constance, breathy and tense. “Please.”
Rico’s brow indented itself with deep, crisscrossing lines. “We can’t promise anything. But to go any further, I must insist on you showing us some identification.”
There were just two courses of action now: get up and leave or go for broke. Constance stared at me with round eyes, waiting for me to decide. I had far more to lose than her in revealing who I was.
I decided to show them my ID. Constance followed suit. They asked about our missing relatives, and we told them about Evie and Kara. I left out the part about the police seeking me for murder, but they’d easily be able to find that out for themselves now.
Rico stood. “Let’s head into the living room. There is much to talk about.”
Were the Vasiliou couple really going to tell us more, or were they just stalling for time now they knew for certain who we were? I couldn’t put aside my increasing nervousness at being here.
“I need to know,” I said, as Constance and I followed them but before we’d seated ourselves on the sofas, “how you knew we came here looking for missing persons?”
Rico sighed heavily. “Please, sit, and we’ll tell you how we knew.”
Constance and I stood rigidly in the living room, and I could tell that she was wondering, as I was, if the Vasilious were our way forward or if we’d just stepped willingly into a trap.
55. Constance
RICO AND PETRINA FACED GRAY AND me with serious expressions that were edged with something I could only call dulled fear. Yellow Athens sunlight streaked in from a window, catching a cloud of dust motes—the unseen occupiers of air suddenly made visible.