“Get me away from this thing.”

Most of the return drive passed in embarrassed silence. There was nothing angry or accusing in Aleko’s manner; more confusion, mixed with fatigue. For long minutes he seemed about to speak, and finally did.

“I don’t know what you intended by all this. Maybe you’re proud of the work and wanted to share it with me.”

“Something like that,” Matthew managed, eyes glued to the damp road.

“I know some things about that icon, some things your Yiayia told me, years ago. I don’t know the whole story, but both of those bastards have blood on their hands over that painting. I thought your Papou was going to tell you about it.”

“No. Fotis told me something. It was pretty awful.”

His father grabbed Matthew’s forearm.

“Listen to me,” Alex said firmly. “Are you listening to me?”

“I’m listening.”

“I mean listen to me.”

“Dad, I’m listening, for chrissake.” He fought the pressure on his arm to keep control of the wheel.

“Believe nothing Fotis tells you. Until you hear it from someone you trust, believe nothing. Do you understand me?”

“I hear you.”

“But you don’t believe.” Alex released him. “After all, what could your idiot father know?”

“That’s not what I’m thinking.”

“No? What are you thinking?”

Matthew grasped after his own thoughts, then shifted lanes quickly to make the exit off the expressway, which he hadn’t noticed coming up.

“I’m thinking that I’m hearing an awful lot of shit from everyone, and I don’t know what to believe.”

“Why would I lie to you?”

“I don’t think you’re lying, you’re just not saying anything useful. It’s this vague, angry ranting against those two that I’ve been hearing my whole life. What did they do?”

“They made a devil’s bargain with the Germans.”

“That much I know.”

“Talk to your grandfather.”

“He won’t tell me. I’ve tried.”

“Did you tell him whatever Fotis told you? Did you? No? Oh, that one has you wrapped around his finger. Ask your Papou.”

“I’m telling you he won’t speak to me.”

“He’ll speak to you. I’ll see to it.”

They sat idling at a stop sign, though there was no traffic in sight. Matthew pulled the shift arm toward him once and the wipers made a quick arc across the rain-speckled windshield.

“Why do you hate them so much?”

“I don’t hate them,” Alex said, “Any more than I hate a dog that’s been trained to kill; but I don’t trust them. They’re creatures of their time, and it was an ugly time. Greece suffered terribly during the war. Then the civil war, troubles with Turkey, Cyprus, all the changes in government, all corrupt. The politicians had a siege mentality. They were fighting to keep Greece free, so anything was allowed. Your Papou and godfather were government men, loyal soldiers. I don’t know the details, but I know they participated in some terrible things. You can see it in their faces. And it started during the war, with that damn icon. They took the first step from being freedom fighters to being political operatives right then. Trading with the enemy for guns to use on their brothers.”

“The communist threat was real,” Matthew insisted, accelerating away from the stop, surprised by his own defensiveness.

“They could easily have taken over Greece.”

“I don’t deny that, but it was a bad war that followed. Thousands were rounded up, tortured, locked away without charges. Some executed. Even the men who fought that war have trouble defending it. They just don’t talk about it at all.”

Matthew slowed the car as they neared the house. His father’s inarticulate rage toward the old men had been a feature of the family dynamics for so long that no one inquired into it any longer. But Alex had revealed more of his feelings in the last few minutes than in all the years preceding, and despite how angry some of it made him, Matthew was loath to let the moment pass.

“Is it impossible for you to accept that they did what they thought was necessary? That it’s in the past now and they’re old men?”

“Would you accept that argument for the Nazis in South America? For Milosevic or Karadzic?”

“Come on, you can’t put them in the same category.”

“My point is that their actions do not disappear because they’ve become old men. They did what they did. And they still have their hands in it. Don’t believe for a moment that they’ve given up those ways.”

“This is where you lose me. Fotis has been in this country for decades. Papou spends his time in his garden. What would the Greek government need with a couple of guys that old?”

“I’m not speaking of whom they work for, I’m talking about their ways. They’ve been bred in the ways of manipulation and double-dealing. It’s become instinct with Fotis. He has to have some scheme going at all times, business schemes, spy schemes, it doesn’t matter. He’s like a shark, in constant motion. If he stops plotting, he’ll die.”

“And Papou?”

“He’s subtler. I don’t think he takes the same pleasure in his work as your godfather, but he still takes orders from the Greek government, or some part of it. He keeps an eye on Fotis, and performs other jobs as well. Don’t believe that he came here just to see me.”

“I do not buy this stuff.”

“I know. I don’t know how to make you believe.”

They pulled into the driveway and Matthew killed the engine, yet neither made a move to get out of the car. Rain built up slowly on the windshield, obscuring the details of the house, but a warm yellow light shone clearly in the kitchen window.

“Why does Fotis have the icon?” Alex asked at last. “What happened with the museum?”

“The seller changed her mind. The Greek church approached her about the work, and she decided that they should have it.”

“How does that involve him?”

“They approached Fotis also, to try and influence the deal, I guess. He knows the estate lawyer. And to help arrange transport, so he got to hold on to the icon for a little while.”

“To what purpose?”

“For him? So that he could pray before it. It’s a very holy icon. It’s supposed to have miraculous curative powers.”

“The old bastard. Does he think he’s found a way to live forever?” Alex seemed halfway between rage and laughter.

“He’ll only have it a week or two, then it goes to the church.”

“How did you end up in the middle of this? You were supposed to be appraising the work for the museum.”

“I did. I really thought that would be the end of it. But Ana, Ana Kessler, the seller, she wanted me to advise her.”

“And Fotis encouraged this?”

“Yes.”

“So you talked her into the deal.”

“No, it’s what she wanted to do. I didn’t talk her out of it, though. I didn’t tell her about Fotis’ involvement.”

“You didn’t influence her at all?”

“If I did, it’s because I thought it was right, not because of him.”

“Are you sleeping with this girl?”

Matthew only sighed and leaned back in the seat. The air in the car was cooling, and the house suddenly beckoned.

“I see,” Alekos nodded. “He’s teaching you well.”

Matthew slammed the dashboard with his fists, startling both of them.

“Do you really think so little of me? That I don’t have any ideas of my own, that I don’t believe in anything of my own? Are you so consumed by this hate for them that you need to reduce everything to that level?”

Alex shook his head slowly, but he seemed more distressed at having upset his son than bruised by his words, making Matthew feel impotent in his anger.

“You shouldn’t take it personally. They’re masters. They’ve done it to me my whole life. If you can take a lesson from this, you can avoid some future pain.”

“What in God’s name do you think they’ve done to you?”

A figure appeared in the kitchen window, blocking most of the light.

“They’ve orchestrated my life. I’m a chemical engineer because my father wanted me to be. I live in America because he sent me here. Even marrying your mother…”