“I don’t do legitimate.”
“If anyone knows that, it’s me, Christos. But I have no one else to turn to.”
“Okay, shoot.” His eyes returned to the passing tourists.
Toni swallowed. Screw subtlety. If the cops wanted info, they’d just have to do it her way. “What do you know about a big-time hotel-casino project being put together by Angelos Karavakis?”
Christos’ eyes jerked back to fix on Toni’s. “That’s not the sort of thing you talk about if you want to keep on breathing.”
“Come on, I didn’t ask you if he murdered anyone, I just want to know what you know about his new project.”
Christos looked around furtively before fixing again on Toni’s eyes. “Toni, I like you, so I’m going to tell you this. Don’t go poking around in this guy’s business. You just might find a body, and the next one could be yours.”
The next one. “What are you telling me?”
“Karavakis is lining up all the players he needs for his new project. Even has a guy tied into a big-name foreign hotel family willing to brand and operate it as one of its own.”
“That’s going to upset a lot of local hotel families who have big money at risk if he succeeds.”
“Already has. Up until now, the local families have been able to do whatever they wanted, wherever they wanted. That doesn’t exactly give them the moral high ground for objecting to Karavakis’ play.”
“Interesting to hear you use the phrase ‘moral high ground.’”
Christos smiled. “Knowing the words doesn’t mean I accept the concept.”
“So, you’re saying the other locals can’t out-influence Karavakis’ move into the hotel business?”
He shook his head. “Not with money or political influence. And the guy’s smart, because he’s also made a deal with Despotiko.”
Toni’s face went blank at the name. “Who’s that?”
Christos lowered his voice. “Despotiko is probably the most dangerous guy in Greece. That means strong-arm tactics also won’t work against Karavakis, so long as Despotiko’s on his side.”
“Why’s Despotiko involved? What’s in it for him?”
“It’s an investment. The casino’s meant to be action central for all the big-time vices that draw high-rollers to the island. That’ll make it one of the most profitable operations in Greece. At least that’s what I’ve heard. But if you ask me it’s more likely his wife is pushing him into it. She likes being a big shot on Mykonos, and being part of this will certainly make her that. Whatever his reason, Despotiko wants to keep his fingerprints as far away as possible, so Karavakis has agreed to front the whole thing with Despotiko’s contribution characterized as a passive investment, like a bank would make.”
Toni stared at him. “I’m truly impressed. How do you know all this stuff?”
Christos smiled. “It’s simple. I’ve got inconspicuous friends all over the island. Taxi drivers, maids, waiters, plumbers, gardeners, beach attendants. You get the picture. Sometimes they bring me information I can use in my operations, and I pay them for it. Other times, it’s just to have a drink with me and I listen to them gossip about things they overheard at work. For reasons I’ll never understand, big shots talk freely in front of them, almost like they’re furniture and can’t understand the secrets being discussed.”
Toni crossed herself.
Christos pointed at her chest. “I didn’t know you were Greek Orthodox.”
“I’m not. Just scared shitless at how close I’d have come to getting killed if I hadn’t spoken to you.”
He laughed, and patted her arm. “Just buy me a drink the next time I stop by the bar.”
“For sure.” Toni started to stand, but sat back down. “One last question, if I may. It’s also about the Karavakis family.”
“What are you, an amateur genealogist? What the hell do you want to know now?”
“It’s about the son. Someone asked me if he could be trusted with a girl’s virtue.”
Christos burst out laughing. “That’s easy: No. Fucking. Way.”
“Why is that?”
His laughter tightened, then ceased. “You have to understand, I’m not about to risk having my name tied to an answer that implies Angelos’ son is a pimp. Got it?”
In his special way, Christos had answered her question.
“Yes.”
“Be careful.”
“That seems to be the conventional wisdom on the subject.”
“I suggest you follow it.” Christos stood up. “It’s time for me to move on. This seat’s getting a little too hot.” He patted her shoulder. “And for my answer to your last question, my bill is now yours.”
She watched him walk away, glancing as he did at the wrists of three flashy men at a nearby table. Gold Rolexes, all around. He looked back at Toni over his shoulder with a wry smile and mouthed, “Fakes.”
The man certainly knew his business.
The question is, do I know enough to stick to my own?
On his way to the piano bar, Yianni was reminded of a book he read back when he’d been assigned to Mykonos. It was a novel by Mary Renault called The King Must Die. It was a variation on the myth of Theseus slaying the Cretan Minotaur and escaping the labyrinth with the help of Ariadne. The book puts the escaping Theseus and Ariadne on the neighboring Cycladic island of Naxos during a festival night of wild celebration filled with drinking, sexual revelry, and bloody sacrifices, yielding stark revelations come the dawn. Yianni had no doubt that if the gods had chosen to set their myth in modern times, they’d have picked Mykonos on a full-moon night as their party venue.
There was something about a full moon that yanked the inhibitions out of otherwise sedate souls and instinctively sent the prudent off in search of safe shelter until the dawn.
Aided by drink and drugs, and emboldened by the irresistible romantic draw of silver moonlight, many tossed sexual caution to the wind, while others sacrificed their youth to crippling, bloody road accidents.
In town, they howled past bars in packs, having entered the streets already drunk on cheap vodka or drugs consumed in their rooms to avoid paying the fortunes necessary to get equally intoxicated in town.
Arriving at the piano bar, Yianni saw its owner by the door telling all arrivals to leave cans and bottles outside. Some were turned away, others entered after gulping down whatever they held in their hands, some argued, some cursed, but none chose to start a fight. Which was good, because the owner kept at hand a half-meter length of lead pipe that he would not hesitate to use. Hard to imagine who’d want to fight a gorilla with a tree limb in his hand, but the night was still young.
Yianni walked in and scanned the crowded bar. The waiters were hysterically busy, practically jogging to meet, greet, seat, and treat new customers. That meant the place was making money, and Toni was meeting her prime directive of seeing to it that the place did exactly that.
From the piano, Toni smiled at him, and he smiled back. He stood patiently sipping a beer waiting for his turn for a seat at the bar, and when it came, he stepped up to take it. As he did, one of two black-clad, tree-trunk-sized security guards grabbed Yianni’s arm and motioned for their client to take the seat instead. One of the guards aimed his best dead-man, eye-to-eye stare at Yianni.
Yianni looked down at the man’s hand on his arm, and kept his stare fixed there until the guard released his grip. That’s when Yianni looked up, locked eyes on the guard’s eyes, smiled, and turned away from the bar to relinquish the seat.
A war had just been avoided.
Toni abruptly announced a break in her set. “I’ll be right back, folks.”
She hurried up to the bar and tapped the client on the shoulder. “Sorry, sir, but in here you wait your turn for a seat at the bar.”
The client stared at Toni before turning to say so
mething in a foreign language to the guard who’d grabbed Yianni’s arm. The guard stepped forward and paused for a second before whipping his hand up to deliver a hard slap across Toni’s face.
Toni’s surprise at what hit her wasn’t nearly as great as the guard’s at what hit him, and kept hitting him all the way to the floor and then some. The second guard jumped on Yianni from behind as Yianni pounded away on the first guard, but the second guard’s rescue effort ended with a hard rap to the back of his head from the owner’s lead pipe.
It all was over in less than ten seconds, so quickly that the crowd gathered at the bar hardly had time enough to instinctively jump back from the fray, let alone flee in panic.
“It’s all over folks,” shouted Toni. “Just a little full-moon floorshow at the piano bar.”
She leaned in and said something to the security guards’ client as Yianni and the owner dragged the bodies of his two muscle men out the front door.
The client nodded frantically at Toni.
She stood up straight and yelled, “As a thank you to all of you who’ve stayed through the show, this fine gentleman has offered to buy everyone in the place a drink! That’s any kind of drink you want!”
The client tossed a mound of euros on the bar and hurried out the door.
A few minutes later, Yianni and the owner walked back inside, smiling and nudging each other with fist bumps like triumphant comrades-in-arms.
As soon as Yianni saw Toni, he started shaking his head. “Why’d you do that?”
“Sometimes a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”
“You didn’t have to. I know how to take care of myself.”
“I know. I also know you didn’t want to make a scene where I work, which is why you let that asshole security guy push you into giving up your seat. That really pissed me off.”
“So I noticed. You’ve got to get a better handle on your temper. It could get you seriously hurt someday. Guys like the ones we tossed won’t cut you any slack just because you’re a woman.”
“It’s not a temper. I’m just impetuous.” She paused. “But, I have to admit, I didn’t expect him to hit me.”
“And I’m sure the asshole didn’t expect what happened to him either,” said Yianni.
“Yes, you can be quite impetuous yourself. Good thing the owner was here for backup with his lead pipe.”
“You mean good thing for the guards,” said Yianni flatly. “If your boss hadn’t ended it with his pipe, things would have ended far worse for them both.”
“Uh, huh. Good to know that.”
Yianni couldn’t help but smile. “Your boss actually thanked me. Said he’d been waiting a long time for a good excuse to use his pipe on that sort. He thinks black-shirt protection types like those two are taking over the island, acting like an occupying army, and at times bringing more crime to the island than they prevent.”
“Isn’t he worried they might take revenge on him or the bar?”
Yianni shook his head. “Nope. We explained the consequences of that sort of thinking to them outside when we lifted their IDs.”
Toni’s expression showed she didn’t quite know what to make of what he’d just said.
“So, what did you say to their client to get him to spring for a round of drinks for the bar?”
“Not much. Just that with his playmates indisposed at the moment, it might not be safe for him to be wandering around the island unprotected. After all, he’d offended a lot of people with the ruckus he’d caused. Perhaps he should consider buying a round to make amends.”
Yianni shook his head and said, “You’re pretty good at handling ruckuses yourself.”
Toni’s boss waved at her from the door and pointed to the piano.
“My master calls. Time for me to get back to work.”
“Don’t you want to ask me if I have a musical request?”
“No need to. I already know it.”
She strolled over to the piano, sat down, and launched into the theme from Rocky.
Toni and Yianni left right after her last set, a fringe benefit of being a musician in a bar. You didn’t have to clean up. They found an all-night crepes and ice cream place along the street leading to the bus station.
“Thank God, no more booze,” she said.
Yianni nodded. “It’s been too many late nights. I have no energy left.”
“For what?” smiled Toni.
Yianni laughed. “No comment.”
She patted his hand. “Patience.”
“Now I get to ask, ‘For what?’”
“No comment.”
Yianni waved off the subject. “What kind of ice cream would you like?”
“Vanilla, two scoops.”
“I’ll be right back.”
When he returned, Toni thanked him and started in on her ice cream. She didn’t speak.
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
“Uh-huh.” She looked up. “Why do you ask?”
“You just seem unusually quiet.”
She took another taste of her ice cream. “I have a question for you.”
“Sure.”
Without looking at him, she asked, “Was someone murdered in connection with that hotel project you’re interested in?”
Yianni froze. “Who told you that?”
“First, answer my question.” She still didn’t look at him.
“There was a murder, but we had no indication it was related to the hotel project.”
“Don’t you think it would have been nice to let me know that before sending me out to ask questions?”
“We told you not to take any risks.”
“When you send someone out to swim alone there’s always risk, especially when you don’t warn them that there might be crocodiles.”
“Since you put it that way, you’re right.”
“Is there any other way to put it?”
“Yes. We didn’t want to panic you.”
“I see…you decided to leave that up to others.”
“Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry.” He sat silently for a moment. “Who told you there’d been a murder?”
“You just did.” She paused. “Though my contact did drop me a hint.” She picked at her ice cream with her spoon. “Considering the size of the project, and how worried you and Andreas are over a potential gang war, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that a body’s involved.”
She looked up and stared him in the eye. “How many so far?”
He bit at his lip. “One.”
“Do you have any idea how big this project is?”
“Obviously not.”
She shook her head. “The people behind it are the most dangerous on the island, and the island’s major hotel families are worried the project will cost them their control over the island’s tourist business. A lot of people feel threatened, but they’re even more afraid of a guy named Despotiko who’s involved with his wife in the deal through Karavakis.”
Yianni blinked. “They’re right to be scared. And again, I’m very sorry. I don’t want you asking any more questions about Karavakis or Despotiko. It’s too dangerous.”
“Now you tell me. So, what am I supposed to tell my client?”
“What client?”
“The father with the knife who wants to use it on Karavakis’ son for pimping out his daughter.”
“You really want my advice?”
“No.”
“Well, you’re going to get it anyway. You didn’t create this mess for the father or the girl. There’s a simple way out that they won’t take. Get her off the island. What you don’t do is screw around with Karavakis or his son. They’re too dangerous. And Despotiko, even more so. This is not like throwing a temper tantrum in a bar when I’m there to protect you. Messing with these guys
could get you killed.”
She stood up. “Thanks for the ice cream. And the advice. I’ve got to get home and crash.”
“I’ll walk you home.”
“No, thanks. I know the way. Catch you later.” She hurried off.
Yianni sat, watching her leave.
He couldn’t blame her for being aggrieved. He hoped she’d forgive him for his role in her unexpected swim among the crocodiles.
Thanks, Chief.
Yianni took out his mobile and sent a text message to Andreas: JUST LEARNED DESPOTIKO IS PART OF HOTEL DEAL.
He didn’t care if it woke him up.
Toni headed home through a less-traveled part of town where families still lived, though few of them were native Mykonians. She skirted the still-open bars along the way to the bus station, crowded with foreign workers and Greek kamakis plying tourist girls with two-euro shots as a prelude to a cheap sexual encounter down some dark alleyway or in the girls’ rooms.
She thought to call her father and looked at her phone. It was still early back in the U.S., but that would inevitably lead to a conversation about what she was doing with her life. And from the way things were going at the moment, she wasn’t sure she had an answer that would please him. On that downer of a thought, she put her phone away.
As she moved through the neighborhood, she cursed herself for having walked out on Yianni as she had. It hadn’t been his intention to put her at risk. The opposite, in fact. That’s how Greek men thought. At least the good ones. Women need to be shielded, protected.
Lord, give me the strength.
Toni sighed. It was going to be quite a lift, getting men to change their mindset.
As she walked up the steps to her hotel, she smiled.
I think I’ll start with Yianni.
Chapter Fourteen
Toni woke up early enough to make it to breakfast by ten, an appearance that earned a burst of applause from Niko.
She dropped into a chair at his table.
“This is for you,” he said, handing her an envelope. “An Albanian left it with the night man.”
The Mykonos Mob Page 18
