Chapter 3

Elana caught movement behind a hedge and ignored the shadows. She knew who watched them. Pausing on the steps leading to St Lydia’s Abbey, she turned to Salma.

“I know you’re not comfortable with entering a Catholic institution.”

“All roads lead to God or Allah, but I’d prefer to wait here, and I also need to call Toby. Drop me back at my villa when you’re done.”

Elana didn’t push Salma to change her mind. Unlike Elana, Islamic worship played an essential role in Salma’s world. It wasn’t like Elana didn’t believe in a higher power, but she wasn’t at the nunnery for any faith-based challenges; she was there on business. She purposely entered from the front, avoiding the apartments and dormitory at the back and stepped through the main entrance of the church into the Narthex.

The cool air and sudden quietude had Elana pacing before forcibly stilling herself. Eventually, she sat on a plain wooden bench under a stain glass window. The dappled light lit up her white cardigan.

An Ursuline nun nodded as she floated past.

Too nervous to chat, Elana focused inwardly, calming the fluttering in her stomach. She needed to play a role and play it well. She’d come so far. Now it was time for action.

“Ellie. It’s good to see you again.”

Turning, Elana stepped forward and shook Sister Nikola’s hand. Brittle bones enveloped Elana’s finger’s in a firm grip, as she met the nun’s hazel-eyed stare.

“Follow me.” Sister Nikola strode down a side passage, and Elana lengthened her strides to keep up with the petite and wiry woman.

“Is our visitor here?” Elana asked as they ascended a set of narrow stairs.

“No, but the Imam is. I heard that your colleague is waiting in your car—Imam Jamal will want to say hello.”

Elana nodded. Salma knew Jamal well and worked closely with the holy man.

An Imam was a religious leader in Islam, and Elana smiled at the unfolding and unique situation.

The sister led Elana into a small space. A large wooden table and chairs sat in the middle of the circular room. A couple of benches lined the walls, and the only light came from a small arched window that looked out onto an apple orchard. A sturdy man dressed in a simple white cotton thobe stood in the corner, and Elana clasped her hands and bowed her head in respect.

“As-salaam’alaykum.”

Imam Jamal returned her greeting. “Wa ‘alaikum as-salaam. It is good to see you again, Miss Sevil.”

They’d met once before when Salma had recruited Elana into the fold at the mosque. It was now time for their work to begin.

Sister Nikola left the room, and Elana joined Jamal at the window to admire the scenery. A postcard view—so picturesque. Unsuspecting tourists only saw the villages, azure waters, and pristine beaches. They had no idea of the crimson river spreading insidiously throughout the land. Crete was but a babe when it came to the evil dealings that had touched Elana’s soul. There were darker places on the European continent where screams went unchecked, and harsh secrets shredded bodies and souls.

Returning footsteps had Elana stepping up to the head of the table, as that was where she belonged. This was her show, and she called the shots. Jamal sat to the side on a bench and smiled reassuringly at Elana. Sister Nikola walked back in and took a seat at the opposite end of the table.

Elana paused, taking in the absurdity of the situation. It was the makings of a bad joke… A nun, an Imam, and a blonde walk into an abbey… She quickly hid her smile, before focusing on their visitor, standing uncertainly in the doorway.

Rage replaced her amusement, and she willed herself not to strike out at the bitch. “Please sit. We won’t bite. I promise.”

The tall woman hesitated. Her hands twisted together before dropping to her sides. She smoothed her skirt and took one small step forward into the room. Elana watched the woman swallow, before raising her chin and heading for the closest chair.

“Do you speak English?” Elana asked.

The local Cretan woman settled and placed her hands in her lap. She wasn’t what Elana expected—not seeming as arrogant as most women in her position. Elana needed to know of her triggers and motivations.

“I speak English. I have many English customers. British and American.”

Customers. Nostrils flaring, Elana asked, “Why are you here, Gia Christos?”

“I want the Kite,” Gia stated.

“The Kite is unavailable.” Elana slid a business card across the table. “I represent the Kite’s interests.”

Gia examined the card. The silver printed letters “PREY” shone against a matte black background—the card held no other information.

Elana cocked her head. “You’ve been marked.”

Pushing the card away like it was poison, Gia stood. “I came to you, and I call the shots. I have what you need.”

“Miss Christos—” Jamal leaned forward.

“You will call me Madam—”

“Sit.” Elana’s command echoed through the tiny room. “Your name will not save you.”

Gia’s chest heaved as she considered her options.

“I ask you again. Why are you here? What do you gain from such a meeting?”

“You talk to me in such a way in my country—on my island. You foreign malakas.”

“Enough!” Sister Nikola’s chair slammed back as she rose. “Do not curse in my church. It’s also my country. And his.” She gestured to Jamal. “And we are washing your mess. Now sit down and behave.”

Elana inwardly smiled at Sister Nikola’s attempt at English idioms. She always got them wrong. But, the authority in the nun’s voice worked, as Gia meekly complied. Once she’d sat, she looked over at Elana.

“I’m tired of this life. I’ve turned sixty, and have the means to retire.”

Oh, she had the means. The evil cow swam in blood money.

“You’re willing to risk your life for retirement?” Elana asked.

“There are men who’d want to see me dead. They’ve killed five of my women—burned them in their beds. I can’t lose that kind of money—and I have a big mouth. I told them all to fuck off.”

Swallowing against the rising bile, Elana pushed past the horror of the words so casually spoken.

“Men in the syndicate?” Sister Nikola asked.

“Yes. Theron. He says that I’m skimming money from him. He thinks that I’m working for an enemy. How you say?”

“A competitor. We can make you disappear, but you’ll need to earn your ticket to freedom. I want names, places, phone numbers. I want your list.” Elana steepled her hands.

“And if I do not give it?” Gia asked.

“Then you can find your way off the island, but remember—the wolves are at your door.”

“You do not care for me.”

“You’re right. I don’t,” Elana stated.

Gia bit her fist, rocking in agitation. Her gaze flickered to the two holy figures at the table. “You will keep your word.” She nodded at Sister Nikola. “You’re an Ursuline.”

“Your answer?”

Gia nodded and rose. “You have a deal.”

A deal with a devil. Elana wanted to race to the nearest lake and scrub the foul stench from her skin.

Once Gia was led from the room, Elana turned to Sister Nikola. “How many women do we have in the dormitory?”

“Eighteen.”

“And I have ten,” Imam Jamal added.

“Where are you housing them?” Elana asked.

“We have quarters in Heraklion. My wife is seeing to them, and Salma is helping,” Jamal stated. “But not for long.”

Elana almost groaned at the reminder. Salma was a valuable member of PREY, but after her marriage, she would leave the fold. As it stood, it had already been a challenge for her to avoid her parents, who still lived in Istanbul. The only reason that they allowed her out of their sight was the assumption that she was with Elana, on an extended shopping trip. Like Elana, Salma came from a wealthy family.

“Bravo, child. Send the Kite my thanks.” Imam Jamal grasped Elana’s hand.

Elana forced a smile. The Kite didn’t want accolades, only results, and it was up to her to complete her mission. If she weren’t careful, she’d land up like those five women… tied to a bed and burned beyond recognition.