“You know,” Wallace said, lowering his voice threateningly,

“you are the only source for that rumor we’ve heard from.” His eyes went absolutely flat.

“It is a fact, sir, not a rumor,” the priest answered coldly.

“I’ve never seen evidence. And it’s an awfully convenient tool for driving down the price.”

“We can provide the evidence, I assure you.”

“You’ll forgive me if I remain dubious. In any event, the estate has certain minimum financial requirements, and if we have to turn to private buyers to fulfill those, so be it. I don’t think the collector we heard from would be troubled by this issue.”

“You would seriously consider such a move?” Tomas’ indignation filled the room.

“We are earnestly trying to avoid it. We are giving you the opportunity to keep the work available to the public and return it to its native soil, but you have to work with us, Father. Ms. Kessler has obligations to her grandfather’s estate which she must meet.”

Matthew realized that most of this was simply negotiating hardball, but the alternative which the lawyer threatened was exactly the one he feared, and he had to work hard not to convey his panic to Ana. Tomas became quiet again. Then the beatific smile returned.

“Let me, as they say, put my cards on the table. I have clearance to offer up to seven hundred thousand U.S. dollars. I am reasonably confident that with a telephone call to Bishop Makarios here and a few others in Athens, I could get that number to something very near one million. Beyond that, they will not go.”

Wallace readjusted his glasses and sat up in his chair.

“Well, that’s movement. We’ll take that as an encouraging step, Father.”

“Please do not misunderstand, Mr. Wallace. I have been straight with you; do not abuse me for it now. I have given you our best offer.”

“It’s enough.” Ana’s voice surprised them all. “Arthur, I think it’s enough.”

Nobody spoke for a moment.

“My client and I need to talk,” Wallace finally said. The priest shrugged.

“No,” Ana said quietly. “I don’t think that’s necessary. I know my mind here.”

“There is absolutely no reason for haste. We have some options to weigh.”

“I understand, someone else might pay more. It’s not important.”

“There are other issues.”

She looked at Matthew. “What do you think?”

He took a deep breath and made himself block out his fears, ignore the heat on the back of his skull from that ancient painted gaze across the room.

“Mr. Wallace is right. If you’re satisfied on the price, fine, but there are additional things you need to know.”

“Such as?” queried Tomas.

“What will her access to the work be after the sale? Will it be available for possible exhibitions of her grandfather’s collection?”

“Yes, I have those points here,” said the lawyer, tapping his legal pad.

“Where will the work be displayed?” Matthew continued.

“What sort of access to it will the general public have? What steps will you take for its protection and preservation?”

“Excellent points.” The priest nodded. “None of which I can answer definitively at this moment, except to say that I suspect we can satisfy you on most of them.”

“Let’s run through them anyway,” the lawyer grumbled, reasserting himself.

“Certainly any request by Ms. Kessler for a private viewing would be favorably heard. As for loaning the piece for an exhibition, I doubt the Synod would commit to such a thing.”

“I don’t care about that,” said Ana.

“The icon would likely hang in the cathedral in Athens. Wherever it is, it would be on display to the faithful. It is not our intention to hide it, that would contradict its purpose. Yet we will need to take measures to safeguard it, so that we do not again suffer its loss.”

“Of course,” Wallace answered mechanically. “I can put all the details into a draft of the contract.”

“Leaving us sufficient latitude, I trust. I am already agreeing to more conditions than most buyers would permit.”

“That’s part of the compromise,” the lawyer said evenly.

“These are the conditions we’re demanding in return for giving you a bargain price.”

“A bargain,” the priest scoffed. “Mr. Wallace, you could sell rugs in a Turkish bazaar.”

“You flatter me.”

“Not a bit. Do I take it we have an agreement?”

“There is no agreement until you see the terms, and your superiors approve the money. But I’d say we have an understanding. Ana?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

The priest checked his watch. “I do not know if I can reach my people this evening.”

“See what you can do,” the lawyer said. “I’ll draft the paperwork, and we’ll wrap this up in the next few days.”

“Very good. I am most pleased by this. Most pleased.”

The priest smiled at all of them. If he was stunned by the speed of the negotiation, or his supposed good fortune, he was doing a good job of concealing it. Everyone stood to shake hands, and Matthew relaxed somewhat. It was happening. Now he had to keep his eye on the old men until the icon hung in the Athens cathedral. Then he could truly let it all go.

“I’m sorry,” Ana said.

The lawyer looked up from packing his briefcase, then gave her his most paternal smile.

“Nothing to be sorry for. I wish that we had been a little clearer on strategy beforehand, but no matter. As long as you’re happy with the result.”

“I’m happy to have it over with. I couldn’t stand squeezing him, he’s a priest.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Matthew said, gently placing a drop cloth over the icon. There was an immediate sense of relief as the image vanished. “The Greek church is rich. Maybe not cash-rich, but certainly rich in holdings. They can afford it.”

“He just seemed so vulnerable, all by himself.”

“Vulnerable,” laughed Wallace. “Vulnerable as an iron safe.”

“Yeah, I agree,” said Matthew. “Vulnerable is not the word I would use, but I was surprised by the lack of advisers. I thought there would be a whole entourage.”

“Didn’t need them.” Wallace snapped his case shut. “He’ll have their lawyers vet the agreement before he signs, you can be sure. Meantime, he’s trusting his own judgment. I think they wanted to get this done quickly, and involve as few people as possible.” He wrestled himself into a tired green overcoat, coughing furiously. Then he patted Ana on the shoulder. “I’ll have a draft of the paperwork for you to look over soon. Take care, dear.”

She saw him to the door. Matthew wanted to walk out with the lawyer and ask a few more questions, but a look from Ana made him remain where he was.

“Thanks for being here,” she said when they were alone.

“Those were good questions.”

“Wallace had them covered.”

“I just needed you around.” She reached for his hand and he stepped closer to her. “Are you going to be in trouble with the museum?”

“Don’t worry about that.” In fact, if his role in this became public he could be in trouble with all sorts of people, but Matthew had put that thought aside whenever it came up. His work had suffered terribly in the last ten days, and he’d come to believe that he would never be able to focus on it again until this matter with the icon was settled, in a way which left his mind at peace.

“Stay awhile,” she said.

He’d had no intention of doing so. This business was eating up his life; he’d stolen time to be here, was behind on everything. The pressure of her hand held him. He could not leave her alone now, and he knew that in a few moments he would no longer wish to.

The connecting flight in Frankfurt had been delayed, and Father Ioannes arrived at JFK hours later than expected. Makarios was supposed to send a driver to get him, but Ioannes did not know where they were to meet and had not been able to find a working telephone. His baggage was lost briefly, then found on the wrong carousel. Leaving the men’s room, he became disoriented and could not find the Arrivals area. This is what hell must be like, he mused. This is when he needed the patience they had taught him on the mountain, but it came less and less easily as time passed. He would pray for peace of mind as soon as he was done silently cursing.