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for collecting antiquities. When he died between World Wars I and II, she was in her twenties and inherited everything he owned.

“She had six children by three different husbands, and the initials are those of her children. All are male, except for RIM and BZ.”

“But how does the publisher tie into this?” said Yianni. “His last name begins with none of those initials.”

“His mother was BZ, and she took her husband’s last name when they married.”

“So, what are the names of these folks?” asked Tassos.

Lila slowly recited the names, including those of their spouses and children.

“Oh. My. God,” said Tassos.

“You can say that again,” said Andreas. “That’s a veritable Who’s Who of Greek politics, real estate development, shipping, and society. Not to mention publishing.”

“And just to spice up your lives a bit, Mother said that for as long as she can remember there’ve been rumors of the family illegally trading in antiquities to finance their projects. Part of that comes from the family’s uncanny success at gaining permission to develop real estate in areas where others were forbidden to even sink a shovel. ‘Mining antiquities to finance modern development’ is what Mother said should be written across that family crest.”

“Oh,” said Andreas, a look of dejection spreading across his face.

“What’s wrong?” said Tassos. “We’ve got the bad guys in our sights and a motive.”

“But if all of Athens already knows about their operation, why would they panic if a reporter threatens to do a story on it? Surely it can’t be the first time. They’ll just have their lawyers and friends in Parliament deal with it and continue on with their lives as if nothing happened. To that extent I agree with our resident cynic.”

“Are you saying the publisher wasn’t involved in trying to kill me and Popi?”

“No. I’m saying there must be a different motive. Something that the publisher and his network saw as so potentially explosive in that sixth notebook that they had to resort to murder to keep it from going public.”

“And what, pray tell, could that be?”

“If I knew, Yianni, you’d be the first I’d tell. All I can say is that I don’t think it’s anything linked to what we know so far.”

Tassos shook his head. “You have a unique ability for plunging us from a state of utter euphoria into abject frustration in a heartbeat.”

“Now, now, that’s my husband you’re talking about.”

“Then you know that even better than we do,” chirped Yianni.

“Enough, guys. The answer lies in Nikoletta’s sixth notebook. Somehow we have to get a copy of it.” Andreas heard a muffled conversation on Lila’s side of the phone. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes. I was just asking Nikoletta again whether she might have a copy of the notebook, perhaps photos of the pages taken with her camera.”

“And?”

“She said no. She was so pressed to get it to her editor in a hurry that she didn’t think to make a copy.”

“Put her on the phone, please.” Andreas sat so that his right elbow was on the table, with his right thumb against his cheek and fingers against his forehead. He held the phone out in front of him in his left hand.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Nikoletta, it’s Andreas.”

“Tassos.”

“And Yianni.”

“You must be as stunned by the news as we are,” said Andreas.

“Stunned is an understatement. My own publisher trying to kill me? Utterly unbelievable. Made even more so by the fact it has to be true. It explains why he’s been so desperate to let the world know I disappeared. He needed to find me to kill me. And for the literal life of me, I can’t figure out what could possibly have made me his target.”

“That’s precisely where I need your help. You’re the only one besides your publisher who knows what’s in your sixth notebook. I’m convinced the answer’s in there. The fact that you can’t put your finger on what that is means it’s only obvious to someone who knows the risk it presents. I’d like you to concentrate on any possible reference or thought you put in that notebook that conceivably could have triggered such a violent reaction in a guilty mind.”

“Honestly, I’ve been trying all morning, ever since Lila told me about the initials.”

“Forget about the initials. Forget about the real estate projects, forget about the antiquities smuggling. What else did you mention in your notebook?”

For thirty seconds, only the sound of slow and deliberate breathing came through the phone.

“I can’t think of a thing.”

“Empty your mind and start again.”

This time it was a sigh, followed by more calm breathing, but as the silence went on, the breathing intensified until a rushed voice said, “I thought of something.”

“What is it?” Andreas’s voice was now as intense as Nikoletta’s, his right hand pressed hard against the tabletop.

“At some point I read in a guidebook or brochure that the extraordinary library, furnishings, and priceless archives once housed in the former School of Commerce that is now the Naxos Archaeological Museum were completely destroyed by occupying forces during World War II. That struck me as strange, because those forces were well known for pillaging, not destroying. Indeed, in the case of Germany, occupying forces were often under orders to send such treasures back to the homeland. I made a note to myself in that notebook to look into how many other Greek libraries, museums, and similar repositories were destroyed as opposed to pillaged. And I put a star next to it along with the words, ‘Could be great story.’”

Andreas looked at his buddies. “Start your engines, folks. We’re back in the race.”

Chapter Twenty

Andreas dispatched Maggie to reach out to her army of contacts developed through shared lifetimes of service in the trenches of Greek bureaucracy. Her network ran deep, into all ministries of government, fueled by a camaraderie and transcending loyalty to one another born of knowing that they, not those blown in and out by shifting political winds, kept their ministries running. He wanted any information on valuables destroyed by occupying forces during World War

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