Kytros examined his wrist-watch. “You have exactly an hour and a quarter until the boat leaves. I would suggest that you go to the Church of St. Katherine and speak with Father John. He was here at the time in question.”
Lomax looked at him in astonishment. “Do you mean Father John Mikali? But I met him when I was here during the war and he was at least seventy then.”
“A very wonderful old man.”
Lomax got to his feet and moved to the door. “Thanks for the advice. I’ll see you later.”
“On the pier at four o’clock,” Kytros told him. “And remember, Mr. Lomax. Time is your enemy.”
He pulled a sheaf of papers forward and reached for a pen and Lomax went outside and walked back along the waterfront.
Two Candles for St. Katharine
The lights m the little- church were very dim and down by the altar the candles flickered and St. Katherine seemed to float out of the darkness bathed in a soft white light.
The smell of incense was overpowering and for a moment he felt a little giddy. It was a long time since he had been in a church and he stretched out a hand and touched the cold roughness of a pillar in the darkness to bring himself back to reality and moved down the aisle.
Father John Mikali knelt in prayer by the altar. His pure, almost childlike face was raised to heaven and in the candlelight the beard gleamed like silver against his dark robes.
Lomax sat on one of the wooden benches and waited and after a while the old priest crossed himself and got to his feet. When he turned and saw Lomax he showed no visible emotion.
Lomax got to his feet slowly. “A long time, Father.”
“I was told you were here,” Father John said.
Lomax shrugged. “News travels fast in a small town.”
The old priest nodded. “Especially bad news.”
“You too?” Lomax said bitterly. “Now I know I’m in trouble.”
“It is not for me to judge you,” Father John said, “but it was foolish of you to return. Once the grass has grown over a grave it is not good to disturb it”
“All I want are the answers to a few questions,” Lomax said. “If you of all people won’t help me, who will?”
Father John sat down on one of the benches. “First, let me ask you a question. Why have you returned to Kyros after all this time.”
Lomax shrugged. “An impulse, I suppose.”
But there was more to it than that-much more. He squeezed his hands together and frowned, trying to get it straight in his own mind.
After a while he said slowly, “I think I came here-looking for something.”
“It would interest me to know what,” the old man said.
Lomax shrugged. “I’m not really sure. Myself, perhaps. The man I lost back there in the past so many years ago.”
“And you thought to find him here on Kyros?”
“But this was where he existed, Father. Don’t you see that? During the past two or three years a strange thing’s been happening to me. The events that other man was involved in here in these islands so many years ago seem more real to me than those things which have happened since. More important in every way. Does that make any kind of sense?”
The old priest sighed. “Captain Lomax, for these people that man has been dead for seventeen years. It would have been better if you had not resurrected him.”
“All right, Father,” Lomax said. “Let’s get down to hard facts. The last view I had of Kyros was from the deck of the E-boat which was taking me to Crete after the Germans had captured me. What happened after 1 left?”
“Everyone who helped you was arrested,” Father John said. “Including their immediate relatives. Some were shot in the main square as an example, the rest were sent to a concentration camp in Greece. Few survived the ill-treatment.”
“And the people think I was responsible? That I betrayed them?”
“You were the logical person and the fact that the
Germans failed to execute you seemed to prove it. After all, they usually shot any British officer they caught who’d been working in the mountains with the Resistance.”