Greek Odyssey Page 3

  “It is very likely,” Officer Rossolatos answered. “They will change the photo, of course. Sometimes they take the booklet apart and replace the entire photo page, inserting a new name and address, too. There are many ways to forge a passport.”

  Forgery! Nancy’s mind reeled at the prospect of Bess’s passport in the hands of criminals. What if a crime was committed by someone using Bess’s identity? Bess could be in serious trouble. Nancy didn’t have much to go on, but she decided to watch out for any clues that might lead her to the trail of the missing passports.

  By the time Bess made her call and the police report was complete, it was too late to make another trip back into Chora. The girls decided to take it easy and have a late dinner in the hotel’s taverna. Nancy went to get Mick in his room, and soon the teenagers were sitting at a table on a terrace that overlooked the Aegean Sea.

  “We just got here, and already you girls are involved in a mystery,” Mick said after the girls told him about the passport theft.

  “It is a mystery,” Zoe added. “I spoke to the hotel staff, and no one has any clue as to who might have broken into the safe.”

  Nancy finished buttering a roll, then turned to Zoe. “Did anyone seem upset by your questions?”

  “Not really,” Zoe replied. “But one of the maids, Niki Christofouros, seemed nervous when I mentioned Bess’s name.”

  Bess exchanged a curious look with Nancy. “We’ve met Niki,” Nancy said, without mentioning how. She didn’t want to get the maid into trouble unless she had more to go on.

  “I’m beginning to feel like one of those people in Casablanca who can’t escape until their papers come,” Bess said, stabbing a tomato in her Greek salad. “I must have tried to reach the embassy a dozen times, but I couldn’t get through to them.”

  “Our phone system is unreliable,” Zoe told her, “especially during the busy summer season. You’ll get through eventually.”

  Bess tried to smile. “Thanks for cashing my traveler’s checks, even though I don’t have my passport,” she told Zoe. “I hope that miniature windmill won’t be sold before tomorrow.”

  “This store—it contains many tiny replicas—boats and fish and things?”

  “That’s the one!” Bess said, nodding excitedly.

  “It is owned by a man named Spiros. He is a friend of my father’s,” Zoe continued. “If you like, I will call Spiros and ask him to hold the windmill for you,” she offered.

  “Would you?” Bess asked. “Tell him I’ll stop by as soon as we get back from Delos tomorrow.”

  Zoe nodded. “It’s the least I can do. I hope this theft doesn’t ruin your stay here in Mykonos.”

  George looked over at Bess, who was smiling at a passing waiter. “I don’t think there’s any chance of that,” she said.

  Nancy was awakened early Tuesday morning by the sounds of the island coming to life. After throwing back the crisp white sheets, she pushed open the wooden shutters and stepped onto the balcony.

  All around her, Mykonos was bustling. Hotel workers wheeled carts of food along the path below her. To her left, three mopeds raced up the hill toward Chora. Motorboats and sailboats zigzagged through the shimmering sea on the horizon, and a group of college guys jogged along the beach.

  She was watching the joggers when she spotted a young man and woman standing in the sand at the bottom of the path from the hotel. From their gesturing arms, they seemed to be arguing, though Nancy couldn’t hear them from the balcony.

  She blinked as she recognized the white uniform and blue apron worn by the maids at the hotel. The girl was Niki, Nancy realized, and she was talking to Dimitri, the photographer.

  Curious, Nancy leaned against the balcony rail and watched. Niki was shaking her head adamantly. She reached into a large tote bag, took out a manila envelope, and thrust it into Dimitri’s hands. Then she waved Dimitri off, turned away, and stalked up the path to the inn.

  What’s inside that envelope? Nancy wondered. It was certainly large enough to contain three passports. And considering Niki’s suspicious behavior, Nancy wouldn’t be surprised if the maid was the one who had stolen the passports. She still didn’t know why Niki would steal them, but she was definitely going to try to find out.

  “Wake up, you guys,” Nancy said, going back into the room. While Bess and George sleepily got out of bed, Nancy told them what she had just seen.

  “That definitely seems suspicious,” Bess said, pushing her hair back with a headband and going into the bathroom to wash her face.

  George glanced at the watch resting on her bedside table. “Too bad we can’t do anything about it now. We still have to get dressed and eat breakfast, and Bess has to call the embassy in Athens,” she said. “We’d better hurry if we’re going to catch the boat to Delos at ten-fifteen.”

  Two hours later Nancy stood beside Mick on the deck of a thirty-foot fishing boat that was used as a ferry in the summer. Tourists milled along the deck, taking in the sunshine and the views. Bess, George, and Zoe stood by the rail, tossing bread crumbs to the gulls that flew alongside the boat, while Nancy and Mick watched.

  As Nancy turned toward Mick, he slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

  “Look at you, with your white sundress and golden tan,” he said, “You’re beginning to look like an Aussie girl.”

  “I hope that’s good,” Nancy said.

  “Good? You look fabulous!”

  Nancy couldn’t help thinking that he looked pretty good himself, in his khaki shorts and white T-shirt.

  “We’re almost there,” Zoe said, joining Nancy and Mick as the boat nosed toward a bare green island that was no more than a few miles long. Already Nancy could see the ruins of a huge, pillared building on a hill above the tiny harbor.

  “It doesn’t look as busy as Mykonos,” Bess observed.

  Zoe nodded. “Delos is mostly a museum. Once the tourists leave at the end of the day, it’s deserted, except for a small hotel, government guards who protect the ruins—and the lizards who live among the ruins.”

  “Ugh,” Bess groaned. “Lizards?”

  “Don’t worry—they don’t bite,” Zoe said with a laugh.

  As the boat docked, the teenagers moved toward the ramp where the other passengers were beginning to gather. They waited at the back of the crowd for their chance to disembark. Nancy was just about to step onto the walkway when she noticed the uniformed guards stopping the passengers as they got off the boat.

  “What’s going on over there?” she asked Zoe.

  The Greek girl frowned in confusion. “Those men are from the Delos police,” she said. “But they don’t usually question tourists. I wish I could hear what they’re saying.”

  “I can,” Mick said, wheeling back toward Bess. “They’re asking for passports.”

  George craned her neck to see over the crowd. “It looks as if they’re turning one couple away.”

  The color drained from Bess’s face. “Passports? But we’re still in Greece. I didn’t think I’d need a passport for this.”

  “I don’t understand,” Zoe said as the group hesitated at the edge of the gangway. “They usually don’t check passports here.”

  “What am I going to do?” Bess asked worriedly. “That stolen passport is going to ruin the rest of my trip!”

  Chapter Four

  NANCY TOOK another look at the two guards. They were wearing khaki uniforms and had stem expressions on their faces. She hoped they were friendlier than they looked.

  “Tell them the truth, Bess, that your passport was stolen,” Nancy advised, taking Bess by the arm and walking down the ramp with her. “Relax, we won’t leave you.”

  At the end of the gangway the two girls paused before the officers. “Passports?” one officer, a young man, asked curtly.

  While Nancy turned her passport over for inspection, Bess began talking rapidly, trying to explain about her stolen passport. The two guards seemed utterly confused until Zoe stepped in and t
ranslated, speaking to them in Greek. At last she turned back to Bess.

  “They don’t want to let you on the island,” she said apologetically. “They say they cannot allow a security risk today.”

  Nancy blinked. Bess, a security risk? She was about to defend her friend when Mick stepped up to the guards and handed over his passport. “I can vouch for this young lady, Officer,” he said, clapping a hand on Bess’s shoulder.

  The young officer was ready to dismiss him, but his partner, an older man, paused and pointed to the diplomat’s seal on Mick’s passport. Nancy could see that the guards were impressed. In Geneva Nancy had learned that Mick’s father was an Australian diplomat. Would the Greek police dare to cross someone with diplomatic ties?

  She held her breath as the young officer clapped Mick’s passport shut and returned it to him. “You may go,” he told Bess in heavily accented English. “But you must contact the American embassy today to get new papers.”

  “I will—I mean, I already did,” Bess said, backing away.

  A moment later the rest of the group had passed the guards’ inspection. Nancy gave a huge sigh. “That was a close call,” she said as they clambered along the dirt landing next to the ramp.

  “I wonder why they beefed up security today?” George asked, glancing back at the police officers.

  “Good question,” Nancy said. For a brief moment she wondered if there was some link between the security check and Bess’s stolen passport. Then she shook herself. Not everything that happened in the world was a mystery.

  The group paused at the ticket kiosk just a few yards away from the dock, and Zoe helped everyone count out the entrance fee. Then Nancy turned toward the island’s ruins.

  “Delos was the religious center of ancient Greece,” Zoe explained. “Most of the buildings here were built to honor the gods. Huge festivals were held with singers, dancers, processions, horse races, and athletic contests. The island is small, so we can tour it on foot in a few hours.”

  “Just lead the way,” Bess said cheerfully, following Zoe as she took a right turn from the boat landing in the harbor.

  Nancy smiled, glad that sightseeing seemed to be taking Bess’s mind off the passport problem. Soon after, Nancy, too, was absorbed by the houses they visited, with colorful mosaics and geometrically patterned tiles.

  The group worked their way through the many houses that were scattered along the uphill path to Mount Kynthos, the tallest point on the island. Nancy was nearly out of breath by the time she reached the summit. But when she stood overlooking the entire island, she knew it was worth the climb. The mixture of green fields and smooth marble ruins made Delos a land that time forgot.

  “You’ve been awfully quiet,” Mick said, coming up to her and placing his hands on her shoulders.

  “I guess I’ve been daydreaming,” Nancy said. “Can you imagine what it must have been like to live on this island two thousand years ago?”

  “So you’re drawn to faraway places, eh? I’d love to show you Australia sometime.” Mick stepped around to face Nancy and took her hands in his. “Promise me you’ll come visit.”

  Nancy laughed. “Oh, sure. I’ll just jet over when I have a free weekend.”

  “I’m not kidding,” Mick said, his expression serious.

  He actually meant it, she realized. “Mick, I’d love to see Australia, but—”

  “Don’t worry about details,” he said, placing a finger over her lips. “We’ll work it out.”

  Nancy was thoughtful as she and Mick followed the others down the hill toward lush palm groves. Soon they arrived at a walkway lined by six grand sculptures of lions stretching toward the east.

  “This is called the Terrace of the Lions,” Zoe explained.

  “It’s hard to believe they’re two thousand years old,” Bess said.

  Still thinking of Mick’s invitation, Nancy didn’t say much as the others commented on the statues. Mick was suddenly quiet, too. He wandered to one of the far lions while George, Zoe, and Bess strolled on, heading back toward the harbor.

  Nancy was about to follow when she spotted a photographer with curly black hair poised behind the base of one of the lions. She moved around the lion until she was face to face with Dimitri.

  “Yásou,” he said, greeting her in Greek as he adjusted a camera tripod. “You are one of the American girls staying in Mykonos, no?”

  “That’s right,” Nancy said, her eyes skimming over Dimitri’s bags of equipment. He was using a sophisticated camera with a long lens. “No more pictures of tourists?” Nancy asked him.

  “Not today. Today I’m taking beautiful photographs, which I will make into postcards in my studio,” he said proudly.

  This guy loves to exaggerate, Nancy thought. “Don’t you need special equipment to make postcards?” she asked.

  “Of course,” he agreed. “But my studio is the best on the island of Mykonos. One of the best in all of Greece! It has everything I need.”

  Including everything you need for forging passports? Nancy wondered, remembering the envelope she had seen Niki hand him on the beach that morning.

  “I’d love to see it,” she said, watching Dimitri carefully. “In the States I’m an amateur photographer.” She was bending the truth, but she thought that Dimitri might believe her.

  Instead, he seemed to withdraw. “My equipment is far too technical to interest you.”

  “I’m a fast learner,” Nancy insisted.

  “It is not a good idea,” Dimitri said, forcing a smile.

  Nancy had the distinct impression that there was something in his studio that Dimitri didn’t want her to see.

  Just then Mick came around the statue and took Nancy’s hand. “We’d better get going if we want to catch up with the others,” he said.

  After saying goodbye to Dimitri, Nancy and Mick continued down the stone-paved path toward the boat landing. During the ride back to Mykonos, she mulled over the encounter with Dimitri. If his studio contained equipment that could make postcards, it had to be fairly sophisticated—maybe sophisticated enough to create a good replica of a passport page.

  That thought was still nagging at her when the teens sat down to a late lunch at the hotel’s taverna. Zoe had decided to join her father, so Nancy, Mick, George, and Bess shared a table.

  “You look as if you’re lost in space,” George told Nancy as she passed around a platter of moussaká, a casserole made of layers of eggplant and ground meat covered in a zesty sauce.

  “I’ve been thinking about Bess’s passport and wondering who on this island could pull off a forgery,” Nancy said. Lowering her voice, she shared her thoughts about Dimitri’s studio. “All that ‘special equipment’ could come in handy for passport forgeries—especially if he has three American passports to work with.”

  “Wow,” Bess said, stabbing a chunk of juicy eggplant. “Do you think he’s the forger?”

  “It’s possible,” George said. “Niki had access to the room with the safe, and Nancy saw her give something to Dimitri this morning. Maybe she agreed to steal the passports and sell them to him.”

  Nancy had been thinking the same thing. “I still don’t have any proof, though. I really want to check out Dimitri’s studio. He was reluctant when I said I wanted to see it . . .”

  “So maybe the stolen passports are there,” Mick finished for her.

  “Would the forger have to be on this island?” George asked. “I mean, maybe the thief took the passports to Athens to have them altered.”

  “Maybe,” Nancy agreed. “But we saw the beefed-up security on Delos today. If security is that tight all over, there’s a good chance that the thief—and the passports—are still on Mykonos.”

  After lunch Bess decided to go to Chora to purchase the windmill from Spiros’s shop. Zoe and George had already decided to stay behind and squeeze in a swim before the engagement party that night, but Mick and Nancy opted to go along with Bess.

  When they got to the town, the labyri
nthine streets were empty except for a few dogs napping in shaded doorways.

  “That’s right!” Nancy said, slapping her forehead. “Zoe told us yesterday that it’s just like in Italy. The businesses close up for siesta from two to five.”

  “Maybe the shop with my windmill is open, though,” Bess said hopefully. But when they reached Spiros’s shop, the door was locked and the lights were off.

  Mick peered through the glass door into the darkness. “What’s next?” he asked.

  Nancy was beginning to think the trip would be a waste of time. But as her gaze landed on the building’s second story, she murmured, “I’d still like to check out Dimitri’s studio.”

  Looking up and down the deserted street, Mick said, “Maybe he hasn’t returned from Delos yet.” He climbed the narrow white staircase that led to the studio door, then knocked. “And if no one’s home, what’s the harm in having a quick look?”

  When no one answered, Mick looked through the window next to the door. “I don’t see anyone,” he said. He reached through the open window, stretched, and turned the bolt on the door. “So much for security,” he said, and grinned.

  He pushed the door open and leaned inside. “The coast is clear, but he could turn up while we’re snooping around.”

  Nancy turned to Bess. “Why don’t you stay out here and keep a lookout?”

  “Okay.” Bess sat in a shady spot at the bottom of the stairs while Nancy joined Mick at the door. “But try to make it quick. I’m roasting.”

  Inside the studio the first thing Nancy noticed was the wide array of equipment. In the shadowed light she could see a large copy machine, a paper cutter, a light box, an overhead projector, and other equipment. Fake background drops were stacked in one corner.

  Although Nancy wasn’t an expert, she could see that Dimitri hadn’t exaggerated about his studio. “Pretty impressive,” she murmured.

  From the way Mick whistled through his teeth, she could tell that he agreed. “This color copier is really something,” he said, leaning over the huge machine. “This baby can do anything. It can make copies bigger, smaller, darker, lighter—hardly the type of thing you’d expect to find in a vacation resort. I’ll bet—”