‘I’m a daughter of the people,’ Rea Chioti said, coming in from an adjoining room. She was wearing a green silk dressing-gown. ‘I like to keep in touch with my roots.’ She beckoned him to the sofa. ‘Sit down and relax.’ She smiled at him. ‘I’m not going to eat you.’
Damis sat at the far end of the sofa from her. Relaxing was out of the question. He smelled her perfume, a stronger one than she usually wore, and saw that her feet were bare. He wondered exactly what Mrs Chioti was going to require of him.
She filled glasses from an earthenware jug and handed him one. ‘This wine is from our own vineyard on the other side of the mountain. My husband never liked it—he said it was only fit for peasants—but I don’t agree. What do you think?’
Damis took a sip. ‘It’s good. Better than my grandfather’s.’
Rea was studying him. ‘Where do you come from?’
‘Evia. A little village in the far south.’
‘I’ve never been to the island.’ She put down her glass and looked around the room. ‘Since Stratos became housebound, I haven’t been anywhere.’
‘Probably just as well. It isn’t safe.’
She laughed. ‘No, I can’t even go to one of our clubs without an attempt being made on my life.’ She moved closer to him, the silk of her dressing-gown making a swishing sound on the cushions. ‘It’s just as well you were there that night.’
He felt her eyes on him and thought about how to play this. Was she about to jump him? ‘I was only doing my job.’
‘You were a bouncer,’ Rea said, crossing her legs and revealing well-conditioned white flesh. ‘I don’t know what we were paying you, but it wouldn’t have been enough for you to put your life on the line for a stranger. Tell me, why did you do it?’
He tried to move further away, but the arm of the sofa dug into his back. ‘Natural reaction, I suppose.’
‘The natural reaction would have been to hit the ground, like all the rest of them did. Why were you different?’
Damis kept silent. He had the feeling the interrogation was only just beginning.
Rea took another sip of wine. ‘All right, if you won’t answer that, tell me why you wanted to be a bouncer.’
He shrugged. ‘I didn’t. I wanted to be what I am now. An enforcer.’
‘Really?’ Her eyes were on him again. ‘You’ve got the build for it, there’s no doubt about that. But there’s a sadness in your eyes. A sign of weakness, maybe.’
Damis returned her gaze, his heart thumping in his chest. ‘Not weakness, Mrs Chioti,’ he said, trying to sound convincing. ‘I’m ambitious. But maybe I’ve been moving too fast recently.’
She sat back, one hand on the bare skin of her chest that was revealed by the gown. ‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ she said, her voice hardening. ‘Now, as to Ricardo. What do you propose we do about him?’
Damis concealed the relief that had flooded through him. It seemed he’d passed some kind of test. ‘Like I told you, he’s taking too many risks. The authorities will crack down if the violence in the streets goes on much longer. That won’t be good for the family’s businesses, especially the drugs trade.’
‘You may be right. But Ricardo’s been with us for years. He’s always been reliable.’
‘I’ve seen him using cocaine.’ Damis paused to see if the lie had an effect. Rea’s face was impassive. ‘Eventually it screws you up. And he’s attracted the attention of a private investigator who’s looking for a missing girl.’
‘That’s interesting. Tell me more.’
‘I’ve seen a photo of the girl. She’s doesn’t work at the Silver Lady, so maybe it’s a false alarm. But the investigator could be a problem. Alex Mavros is his name.’ He watched as a flicker of what looked like recognition passed over her face. ‘Have you heard of him?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘He’s quite well-known. There were some murders on an island last year. He was on the TV and in the papers.’
‘I remember that.’ She looked at him. ‘What sort of problem do you think this Mavros might be?’
Damis shifted his gaze from her. ‘If he keeps tailing Ricardo, a big one.’
Rea’s eyes narrowed. ‘He’s been doing that?’
‘He was behind us the other night. We shook him off.’
‘Well, Dami,’ she said, settling back on the sofa, ‘I’m glad someone finally told me. What are you going to do about him?’
‘I could talk to him. Try to make him see sense.’
‘Sounds like a good idea. Do it. And keep an eye on Ricardo. Without him noticing.’
He stood up. ‘Yes, Mrs Chioti.’
‘Where do you think you’re going?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Damis smiled. ‘You gave me my orders. I’m going to carry them out.’ As he went to the door, he could feel her eyes boring into his back.
Mavros spent the night in a chair next to Niki’s bed in a single room that had been found for her in the neurological wing. She’d been hooked up to a monitor, a saline drip running into her arm and another tube into her nose. He slept for no more than a few minutes at a time. Whenever he checked her, he spoke to her. She made no reaction to his voice and her breathing remained shallow.
‘You should go home,’ a fresh-faced nurse said when she pulled back the curtain in the early morning.
‘Not till she wakes up,’ he said, wincing as he touched his head.
‘That looks nasty. Did you get any sleep?’
‘A little.’ Mavros turned on his mobile. He saw that he had several messages. ‘When will the doctor be in?’
‘Soon. Don’t worry, we see it all the time. People tune out from the world for a while and then they come back better than ever.’
Mavros didn’t find that very comforting. He went to the window and looked down over a building site wreathed in clouds of dust. Checking the phone, he saw that three of the messages were from the reporter Bitsos. Two of the others were from his mother and sister. He called them to reassure them—both had seen the TV news and recognised the outside of his flat. Then he called Bitsos.
‘Jesus, are you all right?’
‘I am, but Niki took a blow to the head. She hasn’t come round yet.’
‘I’m really sorry.’ There was unexpected compassion in the reporter’s voice. ‘Look, can you give me a rundown of what happened?’
Mavros raised his eyes to the damp-stained ceiling and told him what he wanted to know.
‘You reckon it was the guys from the Silver Lady, Alex?’
‘Who else?’
‘I told you to be careful. You’re lucky they weren’t aiming to kill.’
Mavros glanced across at Niki. ‘It might well come to the same thing. I’ll tell you what you can do. Print a story pinning this on Ricardo Zannis. That’ll make the bastard think.’
‘I can’t just write what you want. Have you got any proof?’
‘No, I haven’t. Christ, you’re as spineless as the cops. No one wants to do anything about these lunatics.’
‘Get me proof and I’ll print it.’
‘Since when were you scumbags so fastidious? Piss off if you can’t do anything to help.’ He terminated the call.
‘Alex?’ The voice from the bed was weak and cracked.
He ran across the room, dropping his mobile. ‘Niki.’ He bent over her and examined her face. She was blinking, her eyes gummed up. He went to the sink and ran water on a cloth, then dabbed them gently. ‘Niki, how are you feeling?’
Tears blossomed from her bloodshot eyes. ‘Oh, Alex,’ she said, looking around. ‘Where am I? My head hurts. And my mouth.’
‘Keep still, my love.’ He pressed the call button. ‘You’re in hospital. You took a blow to your head and—what is it?’
There was a smile on her broken lips. ‘You called me “my love”. You’ve never…you’ve never said that before.’
Mavros leaned over and kissed her on her damp cheek.
The door bange
d.
‘That’s enough of that,’ the nurse said with mock severity. ‘You see? I told you she’d come round.’ She came closer and checked the monitor. ‘Good. I’ll fetch the doctor.’
Mavros squeezed Niki’s hand. ‘Do you remember what happened?’
‘No.’
‘But you remember me.’
She laughed weakly. ‘You’re the brave knight who’s come to rescue me.’
‘You really have got problems.’ He realised that he was trembling with relief. ‘I’m sorry. This is all my fault.’
‘I know,’ she said, blinking. ‘And you’re going to pay.’
Mavros stayed in the hospital till midday. Doctors and nurses bustled around Niki. They seemed happy with her progress, but wanted to keep her in for a couple of days to make sure there was no residual damage. She was exhausted and soon fell into a deep sleep. At first Mavros thought she’d regressed to the comatose state, but he was told not to worry. He decided to leave the hospital. He had things to do that wouldn’t wait.
Standing on the avenue waiting for a taxi, he saw the afternoon papers being pinned up at a kiosk. There had been a gunfight outside a bar in the northern suburbs that left one man dead and four wounded. They were Albanians. It wasn’t clear if the Chiotis family was involved.
When he got back to his street, he saw a police car outside his building.
‘Alex Mavros?’ a uniformed officer asked, getting out.
‘The same.’ ‘Commander Kriaras sent me. You’re to have a guard.’
Mavros looked at the holes in the wall and door. His neighbours wouldn’t be impressed. He called Kriaras.
‘I don’t want a guard, for Christ’s sake. My girlfriend’s in hospital and she can’t look out for herself.’
‘You don’t get it, do you?’ the commander said testily. ‘That guard is to stop you doing anything stupid. Not to mention illegal.’
‘I promise I’ll behave, Niko. What do you think I’m going to do? Put a bomb in the Silver Lady?’
‘It sounded like you were ready to do that last night.’
‘Look, I was uptight. Niki’s come round so things are looking brighter.’
‘But you still want her protected?’
‘Just in case.’
‘Do you promise you won’t disturb the peace?’
‘Yes, I promise. Now can I get on with my life?’
There was a long pause. ‘All right. But I’m warning you, don’t step out of line. I won’t give you any more help.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Mavros heard a buzzing in his ear. He passed the order to the policeman and told him where Niki was. He also gave him his mobile number. ‘Ring me if anything happens. I’ll be round later.’
The officer nodded and drove away.
Mavros went inside. As he was halfway up the stairs, he heard a phone ringing and realised it was in his flat. He got there in time.
‘Ah, Aleko, I was about to give up,’ came the archivist Pikros’s cigarette-ravaged voice. ‘Are you all right? I saw in the paper that you were attacked.’
‘I survived. It was a warning, not a serious attempt.’
‘You work with very civilised people, my boy.’
Mavros laughed. ‘True. Have you got something for me?’
‘I have.’ The old man lowered his voice. ‘But not on the phone.’
‘Can you come here? I really haven’t got time to come out to you.’
‘Of course. Any excuse to leave this madhouse.’
‘No,’ Mavros said, looking out of the window. ‘On second thoughts, there might be press here. Go to a café called the Fat Man’s.’ He told him the street name.
‘Give me an hour.’
Mavros had a shower and changed his clothes, then went down to the Flea Market. He assumed the Fat Man would be taking his normal afternoon nap. He still wasn’t sure about putting him and Pandelis Pikros in the same room, but at least it would be private at this time of day. When he got to the café, he hammered on the grimy door. After a while, he heard heavy footsteps.
‘Go away!’ came an aggressive voice.
‘It’s Alex. Open up.’
There was the sound of bolts being drawn.
‘You bastard,’ the Fat man said, glaring at him. ‘Why didn’t you return my call?’
‘I thought you’d prefer to see me in person.’
The café-owner turned away in disgust. ‘I thought you’d been shot to pieces.’
Mavros followed him in, leaving the door ajar. ‘How did you find out?’
‘I heard it, for Christ’s sake. One of the locals came round and told me your doorway had been used for target practice and that an ambulance had taken two people away. Bastard.’
‘Sorry, Yiorgo,’ Mavros said, putting his hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘I had other things on my mind.’ He told him about Niki.
‘Shit, I’m sorry,’ the Fat Man said, bowing his head. ‘But she’s going to be okay?’
‘Looks like it.’
‘Thank God for that.’ Like many atheists, Yiorgos had a habit of invoking the deity in times of need.
‘Hello? Aleko?’ Pandelis Pikros appeared in the doorway. ‘Ah, there you are.’ He looked around. ‘Nice place for a meeting.’
Mavros swallowed a smile and introduced the old man. ‘Pandelis was in the Party,’ he added.
The archivist snorted. ‘Until the fools got a thirst for each other’s blood and broke into warring factions.’
The Fat Man, loyal to the comrades for all his irritation with them, was unimpressed. ‘It may have escaped your notice, Aleko—’ he used the unfamiliar name with heavy irony ‘—but I’m closed.’
‘Do me this favour,’ Mavros pleaded. ‘I’m trying to avoid cops and journos. Not to mention trigger-happy gangsters.’
Yiorgos stared at him, then went to the door and locked them in. ‘All right, but I’m going back to bed. You can make your own coffee.’ He lumbered off to the mattress he’d installed behind the kitchen.
Pikros sat down at a table. ‘Bring me some water, Aleko,’ he said, his expression serious.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Fine.’ The old man shook his head. ‘No matter how many times I go back to those years, they still get to me.’
Mavros put the glass he’d filled on the uneven tabletop. ‘That bad?’
Pikros drank and then wiped his lips with the back of his liver-spotted hand. ‘It’s the hopelessness, my boy. Young lives destroyed, so much pain.’
Mavros sat down opposite him. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—’
‘You did right,’ the archivist interrupted. ‘These things shouldn’t be forgotten. That’s the problem with the national reconciliation that the politicians trumpet. The ones who died are forgotten, and the ones who survived feel betrayed.’
Mavros took out his notebook as the old man started to talk in a low voice.
Rea Chioti put down the phone and got to her feet. She walked across the study and opened the door that led to her assistant’s office.
‘Is Damis in the villa? He isn’t answering.’
‘No, Mrs Chioti. He drove out of the compound when you were with your husband. Do you want me to try his mobile?’
‘No, leave him be.’ Rea went back into the study. The young man would probably be watching Ricardo and she didn’t want to disturb him.
Stepping across the tiles, she stood facing the fireplace, her eyes on the portrait above. The golden mask was drawing her to it, but she didn’t intend to open the safe. The ancient artefact was less powerful in daytime, although recently its influence over her had been increasing. The unease that she’d begun to feel was growing. That was why she had gone to Stratos’s room. Normally she only sat with him in the evenings, but she was under pressure now and talking to the motionless, twisted figure brought her some comfort. The war with the Russians, the Father and Son, Ricardo—they were all squeezing the air from her lungs.
Rea broke away from the mask’s un
seen power and went back to her desk. She’d brought her hand down hard on the wooden surface when she heard about the attack on Alex Mavros. She knew instantly that Ricardo was behind it. Her first reaction was to tear him to shreds. Then she thought again. She’d already taken steps to control him. Damis would handle Ricardo. There was something about the young man, a subtle intelligence inside the muscular frame. He’d already proved himself to be quick-witted and resourceful. Stratos had taught her that personal ties with trusted lieutenants were essential. That was why he had cultivated a working relationship with the Father. She’d tried to create a bond with Damis. She’d have liked to feel his hard body close to hers, but she couldn’t blame him for making a hasty exit. No matter what she did to improve it, her own body was ageing and unappealing. No doubt he was also frightened of intimacy with the wife of Stratos Chiotis. But Damis didn’t seem to be the type that scared easily. There was a darkness in him, a concealed centre. She could see that in his eyes. It might be a good idea to run a check on his background.
She felt her head rise towards the concealed safe. As if she didn’t have enough to contend with, there was the question of Mavros. Not Alex. She wasn’t concerned by a lone private investigator, no matter how much of a splash he’d made in the media with one of his cases. The family had plenty of contacts in the government and the police who could shut him up without difficulty if he became insistent. That was another reason she was livid about the attack on him. No, Alex Mavros was nothing. Damis would deal with him. The problem was his brother Andonis. How was it possible, after all these years, that a name from her youth could disturb her so much? She’d lain awake overnight, blinking to shut out the images of faces she’d consigned to oblivion years ago. Manos Floros, his Era, Jenny Zanni, and now Andonis Mavros—the look he’d given her was still raw. He’d known what she would become before she’d understood it herself. He’d known she was a traitor.
She stood up and went to the safe, then fumbled with the combination. Was it any wonder she needed the mask to protect her? She’d suffered too. Could none of them understand that? She’d endured the same pain as them, her face contorted, her eyes bulging like the woman’s beneath the golden surface. At least her pain had stopped. But now it was back again.
The Golden Silence Page 24
