It had been a warm night and Jake had slept with his bedroom window wide open. It was starting to get light when he was disturbed by the sound of a vehicle in the courtyard. He lay, listening, while the memories of yesterday arranged themselves in his mind: the tracker dog, the trail that simply stopped, finding Zoë’s phone, seeing Taki again and meeting his rich dad. Finally his parents arguing and the threat to Thunder Bay. Kiteboarding seemed a distant memory.
You made a solemn vow, remember.
He rolled out of bed and flicked opened the curtains. A large coach idled in the courtyard as the departing group boarded it for their journey to the airport and home. They looked about his age and half awake like he was. The new grommets would arrive this afternoon and, from what his dad had said, he’d be involved in windsurfing classes and generally helping out.
Fair enough, but he would have to juggle his duties at Thunder Bay as best he could. He still hadn’t worked out where to start his search.
He sat down at his desk and pulled a sheet of paper out of the drawer. He wrote ‘Finding Zoë’ in capitals at the top of the page before gazing out of the window for inspiration. People don’t actually vanish except in fairy stories or films about aliens. If she’d twisted her ankle or banged her head, surely someone would have found her? The villagers, the monks, his parents, the instructors and the police with their dog had all been out searching.
The really weird thing was that the trail led to the bench, but not away again. She had gone without a trace, at least not a trail that the dog could find. The policeman had said it was their best dog. Perhaps it was having a bad day. He wrote down, ‘dodgy dog?’
But why would she have dropped her phone?
‘Phone – deliberate?’
If dropping the phone was a sign from Zoë, it could only mean that she had been abducted. She’d have taken it with her if she’d gone off on her own. But why would she go off on her own, or even with someone she knew? She was supposed to go back to uni tomorrow and she seemed happy there with lots of friends including a boyfriend. ‘Her special friend,’ she called him. He wrote that down too – someone should let him know what had happened.
But if someone had abducted her, who could it be? It couldn’t be Spyros; he was taking Selena to the airport, which was a two-hour round trip. It wouldn’t be him anyway, not Spyros, and surely it wouldn’t be anyone from the monastery. The villagers? They were mostly too old. And if she had been abducted, would there not be signs of a struggle or tracks as she was dragged away that the dog would have found?
He wrote down, ‘Bill Blizzard?’
The first rays of the sun were catching the upper branches of the massive carob tree in the middle of the courtyard. Light spilled out of the kitchen window in the building opposite and Efi was bustling about, tidying up after the early breakfast for the leavers.
He suddenly felt hungry.
Efi jumped as he walked into the kitchen. She smiled at him, but it was a sad smile. It’s two nights she’s been gone and hope is fading – the smile said it all.
‘Can I get you some food?’ she asked.
‘Thanks, an apple’s fine for now.’ He helped himself from the fruit bowl. ‘What d’you think has happened to her, Efi?’
Her face clouded and she looked at him earnestly. ‘The policeman told Dimitris they think she has run away. But no; she was happy, so why should she go?’
‘She’s not run away,’ Jake said. He was sure of it.
Efi put her hand to her mouth, remembering. ‘Oh, he brought you a letter.’
‘Who brought me a letter?’
‘Alesandro, when he came with the fruit and milk. There, I put it on the notice board.’
Jake turned the small brown envelope over in his hands. Block capitals firmly stated ‘THUNDER BAY’. ‘Why d’you think it’s for me?’
‘Alesandro said it’s for you.’
‘Where’d he get it?’ Jake hesitated, the envelope in his hand.
‘I didn’t ask him,’ Efi replied, continuing to bustle about.
‘Where has he been this morning, do you know?’ he persisted.
‘You have many questions,’ she replied, but shot him a smile. ‘I think he first goes to the taverna, then to the monastery, next here and then on to some restaurants in Sidari.’
Jake picked up a knife and slit open the envelope. There was a single sheet of lined paper with block capital letters written in pencil:
HMJPBDM A GQOP ODD XJQ A BTSD OJGDPBAIR PJ PDFF XJQ A UTIP VMAPD NJVI
‘Mental!’ he exclaimed, looking blankly at the letters. It wasn’t Greek, these were ordinary English letters. It must be a sort of code like the one the grommets use on the Friday Project. In fact, if it wasn’t that code he was completely sunk; it was the only one he knew.
‘Thanks, Efi,’ he called as he hurried back to his bedroom. He flung himself down at his desk again and got out another sheet of paper and tried to remember the session on codes he had sat in on once.
First write down the letters of the alphabet across the page… Okay, then you need the code word.
He turned the message over. Nothing. He picked up the envelope. ‘THUNDER BAY’ was all it said in those pencilled block capitals. Sunlight was filtering almost horizontally through the branches of the carob tree as he gazed thoughtfully out of the window.
That must be it! It had been staring him in the face. Thunder Bay! He wrote it out as a second row of the page, before completing the remainder of the alphabet, careful not to repeat any letters.
That was right; plain letters in the first row and coded letters in the second.
As he jotted down the decoded words a smile spread slowly across his face.
Jake walked purposefully down the road through the village. He would help Rob check over the windsurfers in the afternoon before the new grommets arrived, but his morning was free and the coded message had given a glimmer of hope to his search. He knew it had come from Taki from the very first word: ‘Brother, I must see you. I have something to tell you I can’t write down.’
It wasn’t signed, but the only person to call him ‘brother’ was Taki. It was a private joke going back to the course last year when he had called him ‘Brother Taki’ when he first met him.
Taki must have given the message to Alesandro early that morning; Efi said he went to the monastery before coming to Thunder Bay.
The village was quiet. The old woman in black clothes was methodically sweeping her front step. A small boat was coming into the bay and he recognised Spyros, obviously back from an early morning fishing trip. The boat cut a straight wake from the heads to the centre of the arc of beach. Spyros jumped out into the shallow water, pulling the boat up and tossing an anchor onto the sand before lifting his catch and slinging it over his shoulder. He would go and talk to him sometime, but not now.
The monastery made its presence felt as soon as visitors stepped through the front door. It was as though you were stepping back from the twenty-first century into a quieter, less pressured world. Not that Zengounas was pressured, far from it, but the thick stone walls that had stood for centuries shut out not only the sounds of the sea and of birds and insects but seemed to exclude the realities of everyday life.
A ticket desk was set across the hall with small wooden gates either side of it. Behind this barrier, corridors led off to the inner parts of the building and a staircase ascended to floors above. A monk sat behind the desk, reading. It was the breathless brother from yesterday.
Jake remembered, in time, a discussion with Taki about greeting the holy men of the Orthodox Church. Taki was called ‘brother’ because he was only a novice or dokimoi, while all the more senior monastics should be addressed as ‘father’. Confusingly, the monks mostly used ‘brother’ when talking about each other. Father Theo was the abbot, or archimandrite, but even so was simply called ‘father’.
‘Good morning, Father. My name is Jake Harding. Could I speak to Brother Taki?’
‘I am Father Yannis,’ the monk looked sorrowful. ‘You are from the adventure school, I think. Is it your sister…?’ His voice tailed off.
Jake nodded and, as the monk gazed serenely at him, he wondered whether he was at that moment saying a silent prayer for Zoë. At last, he picked up an old fashioned telephone, dialled a number and spoke rapidly in Greek.
‘Someone will come and see you,’ he said, motioning to a pew in a recess in one of the side walls.
Twenty minutes later, Jake had got up to stretch his legs when Father Theo appeared. His black robe was buttoned to the neck and a silver crucifix swung gently on a chain but there was no other insignia to mark him out as the abbot.
‘Richard and Barbara’s son, yes?’ Father Theo was a big man with a kindly face half hidden by a moustache and a sorcerer’s beard.
‘Yes, Father, my name is Jake.’
‘May the Lord bless you,’ the Abbot said gently, making a sign of the cross, three fingers bent into a Christogram, a traditional sign for the Greek words for Jesus Christ.
Jake bowed his head, hoping that was the right thing to do.
Father Theo rested his large frame awkwardly on the arm of the pew. His face was unlined with rosy cheeks like the cherubs in many of the paintings that adorned the walls of the monastery.
Jake had met him before, although the abbot obviously didn’t remember. He had seemed relaxed and easy going then, but now his brown eyes looked troubled as he fingered his crucifix.
He told Jake how sorry he was, how the monks had searched for Zoë but sadly had not found her and were now praying for her safe return.
‘Thank you, Father,’ Jake replied gravely.
‘A pleasure.’ Father Theo started to get to his feet, his hands on his knees to push himself upright.
‘Father Theo, can I speak to Taki?’
The abbot sat down again with a bump. ‘Aah, Taki,’ he said and paused in thought. ‘Brother Taki is of course a friend of yours, is he not? Yes, he had a week at Thunder Bay at the start of his time here at Agios Petros. Your parents run truly excellent courses for young people. Well, so far he has had a busy and interesting year and has become popular among his colleagues. Indeed they tell me what a pleasure it is to have such a lively and enthusiastic novice in their midst.’
He looked upwards for inspiration. ‘I am sure the experience here has been uplifting for him, but he has not yet decided where he wants his life to take him.’
Jake smiled politely, wondering where all this was leading.
‘So, it has been agreed that, to give him a full experience of life here, he should join our most reclusive order for his remaining time with us.’ There was finality in the abbot’s voice.
‘So, does that mean I can’t have a word with him?’
Father Theo smiled patiently. ‘Well, yes, you see, this morning he joined our small group of brothers who have taken vows of silence.’
Father Theo noticed Jake’s incredulous expression and went on hurriedly, ‘This will be just as a trial for a few months so he can experience all dimensions of being a monk.’
Jake thought he saw sadness and uncertainty in Father Theo’s eyes, but the abbot tried to smile reassuringly. ‘Very few of us ever wear the cloak of silence. So I’m sorry, Jake, he can’t have a word with anyone.’
Jake walked slowly up the driveway, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his jeans. The monastery windows looked down at him mockingly; Taki was in there somewhere with something important to tell him, something he couldn’t write down. He kicked a small stone that skittered off the roadway into the shrubs at the side. As far as he knew, Taki had no way of communicating; certainly no access to email and perhaps not even to a phone. If he did, Jake didn’t have the number so even texting was out. And under his cloak of silence, Taki wouldn’t be able to speak to him. Or to anybody.
He turned at the gates and looked back down the drive. Perhaps Taki would be running after him or beckoning to him from a window. But no, the building gazed out unseeingly at its beautiful surroundings with nobody in sight except a group of visitors on the gravel forecourt.
He could try sending a note with Alesandro tomorrow, but the soonest Taki would get it was the following day because of the way Alesandro did his round.
And he hadn’t even asked Father Theo to let Taki know he had been to see him. Somehow he didn’t think he would.
Efi had laid the table on the terrace for lunch. There was a bright blue tablecloth with a vase of flowers and Dimitris had put up the big canvas sun umbrella. Jake’s dad and the three instructors wore yellow Thunder Bay polo shirts making it look like a group on holiday. But the talk was deadly serious.
‘The Chief of Police has gone for the week-end.’ Jake’s mum didn’t even try to conceal her frustration. ‘His men are checking flights and watching the airport and ports,’ she went on. ‘That seems to be about all they’re doing.’
‘That’s plain stupid,’ his dad said angrily. ‘She’s eighteen, almost an adult. If she wanted to go somewhere she’d have said so and we’d have driven her to the airport.’
‘They’re just doing the minimum.’ There was despair in her voice.
‘Besides, nothing’s missing from her room. Her passport and purse are there.’
‘The police say girls Zoë’s age run away all the time. ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Harding’ they said. ‘She’ll come home’’
‘So they’re not prepared to believe she might’ve been abducted?’ Rob asked.
‘No, I put that to them and they flatly say it’s incredibly unlikely.’
‘So, what do we do?’ Jenny had a catch in her voice.
‘We must push the police into doing more, appeal to the media and check everywhere we can ourselves.’ Jake’s dad spoke with fierce determination.
‘I went down the coast with Dimitris this morning,’ Rob said. ‘We had some pictures of Zoë and stopped at kafeneion, tavernas, and hotels. Nobody had seen her, a total blank.’
‘And I went along the coast the other way,’ Jenny said. ‘Same result: nothing.’
‘I’ve walked Zengounas flat,’ Matt reported. ‘Looked everywhere except actually in the houses.’
Jake told them about the note from Taki and that Father Theo had headed him off when he tried to see him.
‘A vow of silence!’ Jenny exclaimed.
‘Sounds extreme,’ Rob said. ‘But Jake, he probably only wanted to say he’s sorry about Zoë.’
Jake looked doubtful. ‘He told me that yesterday.’
Jake’s mum hurriedly finished her lunch. ‘I’m going to see Bill Blizzard next,’ she told them.
‘Why him?’ Jake asked.
‘We need to publish photos of Zoë and appeal for help. Hopefully he’ll have media contacts to help us.’
Jake didn’t comment but thought back to Thursday afternoon when Zoë had walked onto the taverna terrace. He was top of his suspect list, for sure.
‘I’ll go and see the police twice a day, more if necessary, to rev them up,’ his mum said. ‘The minister has promised us top priority and I’ll get on to him if the police don’t do more.’
After she left, they discussed how they would run the course without her. Jenny said she could handle the admin work if Jake could free her up by helping out with Red Group.
Jake nodded in agreement but wondered how much of his time would get taken up.
‘And also,’ his dad said. ‘You can be the end-point marshal on the Fun Run this afternoon.’
Jake sat on the wall next to the old bench and studied the list of names on his clipboard. Fourteen boys and ten girls, all fourteen or fifteen years old.
Let’s hope they’re no nightmares, moaning Mikes or available Angelas.
Six of them, Red Group, would be part of his life for the next week. He would get to know them well, but just how well he was yet to discover.
The Fun Run was the first event of the course. They set off in pairs from the school at six-minute intervals and headed through the olive grove to the top of the cliff. Matt and Rob were there and told the runners they had to choose how to get down; one of each pair would scramble down a rough path to the beach while the other had to abseil down the cliff face, assisted and encouraged by the two instructors. Time was often lost in a heated stand-off between the runners deciding which of them would do the abseiling.
From the base of the cliff they followed the beach to the mouth of the bay. They would climb around the rocky headland and run on along the beach as far as the taverna.
Spyros would give them each a question sheet, the answers to be found around the beach and village. He loved doing that and told each pair, ‘See you tomorrow for the Greek evening.’
The final task this time was to find the bench at the viewpoint and count the wooden slats. Jenny thought they should change it because of Zoë, but there wasn’t time to prepare new question sheets.
Jake’s job was to collect the sheets, log arrival times and hand out bottles of water and bars of chocolate. He looked around as he waited and tried to picture what might have happened here just two nights previously.
His daydreaming was interrupted by voices and two boys charged down the path into the clearing.
‘Here it is, mate,’ the first called.
‘Brill! Count the slats,’ the other replied.
Jake checked his watch. ‘Answer sheet, please guys.’ They handed it over, now crumpled and dirty, before flopping onto the bench.
Another pair, a boy and a girl this time, arrived a few minutes later and two girls five minutes after that. They admired the view, chatted about the run and exclaimed over the surprise of having to abseil down the cliff.
Jake was kept busy, giving out water and chocolate and working out individual times. He half listened to their discussion, which eventually turned to Zoë’s disappearance.
‘Really strange,’ one of the boys remarked. ‘Shouldn’t affect us though.’
‘I feel sorry for Mr Harding. He seems very nice,’ one of the girls said sadly.
They set off to walk back to the school and soon others arrived until there was a small crowd around the bench.
‘Who are you?’ One of the boys asked Jake. They had all more or less ignored him up until then.
‘My name’s Jake.’ His questioner was called Doug and Jake guessed he would be on his dad’s list under ‘trouble’. He was big and slightly overweight with short dark hair and an indefinable arrogance about him.
Hellfire, he’s in Red Group.
‘So, tell me, what’s the buzz about Mr Harding’s kid vanishing?’
‘It won’t make any difference to the course,’ Jake said, uncertain whether to say who he was.
Doug took a long pull at his bottle of water. ‘Why’d he tell us then?’
‘You might hear something from home; it’ll be in the papers.’ Jake replied, conscious that all of them were listening.
‘Where do you go to school, then?’
‘In England, like you. I’m here on half-term.’
‘Oh, you’re Harding’s other kid.’ Realisation dawned on Doug. ‘Why didn’t you say so? It’s your sister that’s done a bunk.’
‘Doug, cut it out, for goodness sake.’ It was Olivia, a dark-haired girl they all called Liv. She sounded embarrassed.
‘He looks very relaxed about it.’
‘We’ve found out this stuff about the village,’ a boy with spiked hair spoke now. ‘We’ll have to find his sister next.’
‘Don’t be disgusting, Tyler,’ a boy called Sam said. ‘It’s nothing to joke about.’
‘Nah, it’s part of the course,’ Tyler retorted. ‘You can’t fool me that easy. Yeah, Yellow Group rules.’
‘Shut up Tyler,’ Sam shouted. ‘You’re freaking mental.’
‘Shut up yourself, retard.’ Tyler hurled his half full bottle of water at Sam, who ducked in the nick of time. The bottle crashed into the prickly pear hedge behind him.
Jake closed the lid of the cool-box with a bang and they all stopped talking and looked at him. ‘Right, Tyler, cut it out. Now, okay?’ He sounded more authoritative than he felt.
Tyler advanced on him.
‘I’ve been put in charge here,’ Jake said calmly, his anger raging below the surface. ‘Get yourself under control, please.’
Tyler stood in front of him, his hands on his hips, staring at him aggressively. Jake met his gaze and held it steadily. Doug came over and stood shoulder to shoulder with Tyler. They were similar in many ways, and obviously mates, reminding Jake of a pair of boys at his own school who were bigger than the others, always wanting their own way and usually getting it.
The others looked on in silence.
‘Just back off, okay?’ Jake said firmly. ‘Both of you.’
The next pair of runners came into the clearing and the moment was over. Doug took Tyler by the arm and led him away towards the path while Jake checked his watch and spoke to the new arrivals, a tall girl with golden blonde hair, whose name was Cath and her co-runner, a boy called Jamal.
‘Have you got a ransom note?’ Tyler called loudly as they pair of them walked off down the path.
‘We’ll do a whip round!’ Doug shouted and Tyler brayed with uncontrollable laughter.
Jake stayed on at the bench after the last pair had left.
Doug was going to be a real pain, that was obvious, but Liv and Sam were also in Red Group and they were cool. So were Ruby and Jamal and the blonde girl, Cath, who was simply gorgeous. ‘Tidy’ his school friend Ben would’ve said. Tyler was trouble too but at least he was in a different group, probably a deliberate move by his dad based on information from the school.
There was still some warmth in the sun although it was sinking quickly towards the horizon, the strip of burnished gold across the sea becoming ever wider.
It was two nights ago, around this time that Zoë was here. He sat on the bench, perhaps where she had sat, and stared out at the view, trying to make sense of things.
He didn’t hear the person come up behind him, the footsteps muffled by the loose sand. Only a footstep on gravel, right behind the bench, told him that someone was there and he swung around.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ Bill Blizzard said, his voice flat.
Jake got to his feet. ‘Would you like to sit down?’ His mum wanted the Buzz to help them publish stuff about Zoë so he’d better be polite, especially after their last encounter.
‘What are you doing here?’ The question was abrupt.
‘I’ve been marshal for a fun run,’ Jake said. ‘It’s just ended.’
‘Yes, I saw them, running everywhere, as if they owned the place.’
‘And what are you doing here?’ That didn’t come out sounding polite but suspicion had raised itself again in Jake’s mind.
Bill Blizzard looked at him keenly but spoke eventually, his voice razor sharp. ‘I’m on my way to the taverna and came here to admire the sunset.’
‘Did you come here on Thursday evening?’ Jake asked.
‘Listen young man, I know it’s where your sister disappeared from, your mother told me this afternoon.’
‘But were you here on Thursday?’ Jake asked again. ‘You might’ve seen something,’ he added soothingly.
‘Look, I’m sorry about this and I’ll do what I can to help, but I won’t stand for teenage boys quizzing me and more-or-less accusing me of kidnap or whatever your sordid little imagination is dreaming up.’
‘I didn’t accuse you of anything,’ Jake protested.
‘Good, keep it that way,’ Bill Blizzard replied as he turned on his heel and walked out of the clearing.
