He could not shake off his deep feelings of guilt. I’m a murderer, he thought.
Frederick Stavros agonized over his dilemma, and finally came to a decision.
He walked into Napoleon Chotas’s office early one morning. “Leon—”
“My God, man, you look terrible,” Napoleon Chotas said. “Why don’t you take a little vacation, Frederick? It will do you good.”
But Stavros knew that that was not the answer to his problem. “Leon, I’m very grateful for what you’ve done for me, but I…I can’t stay here.”
Chotas looked at him in surprise. “What are you talking about? You’re doing fine.”
“No. I—I’m being torn apart.”
“Torn apart? I don’t understand what’s bothering you.”
Frederick Stavros stared at him incredulously. “What…what you and I did to Noelle Page and Larry Douglas. Don’t you…don’t you feel any guilt?”
Chotas’s eyes narrowed. Careful. “Frederick, sometimes justice must be served by devious means.” Napoleon Chotas smiled. “Believe me, we have nothing to reproach ourselves with. They were guilty.”
“We convicted them. We tricked them. I can’t live with it any longer. I’m sorry. I’m giving you my notice. I’ll stay here until the end of the month.”
“I won’t accept your resignation,” Chotas said firmly. “Why don’t you do as I suggest—take a vacation and…?”
“No. I could never be happy here, knowing what I know. I’m sorry.”
Napoleon Chotas studied him, his eyes hard. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing? You’re throwing away a brilliant career…your life.”
“No. I’m saving my life.”
“So you’ve definitely made up your mind?”
“Yes. I’m really sorry, Leon. But you don’t have to worry, I won’t ever discuss—what happened.” He turned and walked out of the office.
Napoleon Chotas sat at his desk for a long time, lost in thought. Finally, he made a decision. He picked up the telephone and dialed a number. “Would you tell Mr. Demiris I must meet with him this afternoon? Tell him it’s urgent.”
At four o’clock that afternoon, Napoleon Chotas was seated in Constantin Demiris’s office.
“What’s the problem, Leon?” Demiris asked.
“There may not be a problem,” Chotas replied carefully, “but I thought I should inform you that Frederick Stavros came in to see me this morning. He’s decided to quit the firm.”
“Stavros? Larry Douglas’s lawyer? So?”
“It seems that his conscience is bothering him.”
There was a heavy silence.
“I see.”
“He promised not to discuss what…what occurred that day in court.”
“Do you believe him?”
“Yes. As a matter of fact, I do, Costa.”
Constantin Demiris smiled. “Well, then. We have nothing to worry about, have we?”
Napoleon Chotas rose, relieved. “I suppose not. I just thought you should know.”
“You were right to tell me. Are you free for dinner next week?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll give you a call, and we’ll arrange something.”
“Thank you, Costa.”
On Friday, in the late afternoon, the ancient Kapnikarea Church in downtown Athens was filled with the sound of silence, peaceful and hushed. In a corner next to the altar, Frederick Stavros knelt before Father Konstantinou. The priest placed a cloth over Stavros’s head.
“I have sinned, Father. I am beyond redemption.”
“Man’s great trouble, my son, is that he thinks he is only human. What are your sins?”
“I am a murderer.”
“You have taken lives?”
“Yes, Father. I don’t know what to do to atone.”
“God knows what to do. We will ask Him.”
“I let myself be led astray, out of vanity and greed. It happened a year ago. I was defending a man accused of murder. The trial was going well. But then Napoleon Chotas…”
When Frederick Stavros left the church half an hour later, he felt like a different man. It was as though a tremendous burden had been lifted from his shoulders. He felt cleansed by the centuries-old ritual of confession. He had told the priest everything and, for the first time since that terrible day, he felt whole again.
I’ll start a new life. I’ll move to another city and begin fresh. I’ll try to make up somehow for the terrible thing I’ve done. Thank you, Father, for giving me another chance.
Darkness had fallen and the center of Ermos Square was almost deserted. As Frederick Stavros reached the street corner, the light turned green and he started to cross. When he reached the middle of the intersection, a black limousine started down the hill with its headlights out, hurtling toward him like a giant, mindless monster. Stavros stared, frozen. It was too late to jump out of the way. There was a thundering roar and Stavros felt his body being smashed and split open. There was an instant of excruciating pain, and then darkness.