‘You’re still alive.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you, Lambi.’ The reporter had left a couple of messages when he was on the island. ‘I was about to call.’
‘Sure you were. I was beginning to think you were in a sack at the bottom of the sea.’
Mavros looked over the side. ‘Not yet. What’s going on?’
‘Surprisingly little. It looks like the Russians have decided to keep their heads down.’
‘Very funny,’ Mavros said, remembering what had happened to the last victim.
‘I like to keep my spirits up. Got anything for me, then?’
Mavros thought about it. If he let the journalist in on Rea Chioti’s previous identity, it would appear in the next day’s paper. That might send more than a shiver through her. But even if going public put the head of the Chiotis family in a spot, he didn’t think it would push Ricardo into losing his cool.
‘No, I’ve been wasting my time.’
‘You bastard!’ Bitsos shouted. ‘You’re on to something, aren’t you? You’re clamming up on me again.’
‘I swear you’ll be the first to know.’
‘Excuse me if I don’t hold my breath.’ The reporter rang off.
The ferry was passing between a pair of tankers, the rust-streaked leviathans riding high in the water, when the phone rang again.
‘Do you recognise my voice?’
It took Mavros only a couple of seconds. ‘The gorilla called Damis.’
There was a laugh. ‘The gorilla? Thanks a lot.’
‘How did you get this number?’
‘Your client gave me it.’
Mavros felt his stomach flip. ‘You’ve spoken to Dmitri?’ The suspicions about the Russian-Greek that he’d laid to rest came to life again. Then a worse thought struck him. ‘What have you done to him?’
‘Calm down,’ Damis said smoothly. ‘Your client is fine. Call him if you don’t believe me.’
‘I will,’ Mavros said, moving away from an elderly couple who had appeared on the upper deck, pointing towards the Sleeping Woman. ‘In the meantime, what do you want?’
‘To meet. We need to talk.’
‘Is that right? The last time I encountered your people, there were bullets flying. My girlfriend’s still in hospital.’
‘I’m sorry about that. It was nothing to do with me. Listen, this is important. It won’t wait.’
Mavros looked ahead. There was a pollution cloud over the city, reaching down as far as the port. ‘Can you get to Piraeus in half an hour? The quay for the Aegina boats.’ He reckoned he would be safe enough in the busy port area.
‘I’ll be there.’
Mavros put his phone in his pocket and considered his options. He could call Kriaras and arrange for Damis to be arrested. His presence in the Audi with Ricardo and the man who turned up dead on the mountainside was ample grounds. But he was reluctant to do that. The guy had pulled his punch and there was something about him that suggested he wasn’t the average hard man.
When the ferry cut through the dirty water of the inner harbour, Mavros went down to the deck above the cars. Through the bustle on the quay he could see the tall man, sunglasses covering his eyes. He was leaning on the bonnet of a large four-by-four, a short-sleeved white shirt displaying his muscular arms. Mavros wasn’t sure he was doing the right thing. He got into the hire car and waited for the ramp to drop.
A space appeared beside Damis as Mavros drove out. He pulled in and opened his window.
‘Get in,’ he said, his eyes on the other man’s waist. He didn’t appear to be armed.
‘What took you to Aegina?’ Damis said, taking off his sunglasses.
‘Why do you want to know?’
‘I saw you on Ricardo’s tail last night,’ he said with an easy smile. ‘You decided to stick with his sister.’
‘Who were you following? Me or Ricardo?’
‘Both.’ Damis laughed. ‘Don’t look so surprised. You’re not the only one who’s suspicious of him.’
Mavros was kicking himself that he’d failed to check his mirror. ‘What’s this all about, Dami?’
The tall man looked around. People were boarding a ferry next to the one Mavros had come in on, men in white jackets selling bread rings to the travellers. ‘Listen, I can’t stay long. This girl you’re looking for, why do you think Ricardo has her?’
Mavros told him about Katia’s stay in Jenny Ikonomou’s house. ‘I’m pretty sure he grabbed her there. He’s been warning me off ever since.’
Damis looked at him thoughtfully. ‘That doesn’t mean much. Ricardo spends his life warning people off. There must be more.’
Mavros was on dangerous ground. ‘The Father and Son,’ he said, watching Damis’s face.
‘The Father and Son? What is this? A prayer meeting?’
‘Very funny. You know them, don’t you?’
‘Do I?’
‘At least, you know who I mean.’ Mavros leaned closer. ‘They worked on the guy you and Ricardo had in the Audi the other night. I was on your tail.’
‘Until we shook you off, Alex. You don’t mind if I call you Alex?’
Mavros knew he was changing the subject. ‘Call me what you like. You’re tied to that killing, my friend. Is that why you’re looking for a way out of the Chiotis operation?’
‘Is that what I’m doing?’
‘Why are you talking to me?’
‘Because I don’t like Ricardo and I don’t want an innocent young woman to get hurt.’
Mavros took in the resolute set of his face. The eyes gave Damis away. They were sensitive, not those of a callous criminal. ‘What are you going to do about it?’
‘Look, it may be in the family’s interest to cut Ricardo loose. He isn’t as reliable as he used to be.’
‘You’re going to set him up?’
Damis raised his shoulders. ‘If that’s what I’m ordered to do. At this stage I’m just exploring possibilities.’
‘Explore a bit further,’ Mavros said, giving him an encouraging smile.
The tall man remained silent for a while, then began to speak.
Rea Chioti put down the phone and got up from her desk. The urge to open the safe and look into the gold mask’s unseeing eyes was overwhelming. She broke away and went to her husband’s room. The nurse sitting by the bed left quickly when Rea pointed to the door.
Standing by the twisted body, she looked into the damp eyes. She assumed they registered little, although the doctors hadn’t mentioned blindness. They were milky, the irises obscured, and they didn’t react to movement or changes in the light. It would be better if he’d lost his senses. She wanted a confessor who couldn’t answer back.
‘I think I’m losing control, Strato,’ she said in an undertone. ‘We’re winning the war with the Russians. Fyodor has sent a message saying he wants a truce. He’s taken enough losses. But the victory is compromised. Ricardo’s plotting, I’m sure of it. He’s never liked taking orders from a woman and, though he didn’t betray me to the Russians, he’s been busy building up his power. I thought the young man who saved me from the assassin’s bullets was the answer, but now I’m not so sure. We ran a check on the area he claims to be from and there’s no trace of any Damis Naskos. You’d say he changed his name, many people in our business do, but until recently he was nothing more than a bouncer. How could he have obtained a false identity? We didn’t give him one.’
Rea looked away from her husband’s motionless form. The shutters were partially open, the cypresses beyond the bulletproof windows swaying back and forwards in the breeze. ‘Perhaps I’m being too wary. If I ask Damis, I’m sure he’ll tell me his real name. Anyway, he isn’t the most serious problem. She ran her tongue over her lips. ‘The most serious problem is the Son. The Father’s trying to control him, but how long will he have the strength? The Father’s getting old, he’s…’
Suddenly she found herself back in the cells, her breathing shallow. The interrogator
was leaning over her, his hand in her groin, searching, probing.
‘You expect me to believe all that, you red bitch?’ he said, his eyes dark pools of hatred. ‘You expect me to arrest Manos Floros and his band of whores and queers on your say-so?’ He gave her a cold smile. ‘Without any coercion?’
‘You should do,’ she said, trying to smile back at him. ‘It’s all true.’
There was a hint of uncertainty in his expression. ‘Why are you doing this, Roza Arseni? What’s in it for you?’
‘That’s my affair,’ she said, holding his gaze. ‘But I want one favour in exchange.’
‘I don’t give favours to Communist traitors,’ the interrogator said disdainfully, but curiosity got the better of him. ‘What is it?’
‘I want to watch when you torture them.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I loved him, but he preferred her,’ she said, the last words burning her mouth.
The man who became the Father nodded with what looked like approval. ‘You’re hard, I can see that.’ He laughed coarsely. ‘Let’s see how hard.’
Rea came back to herself. He’d hurt her, he’d violated her, but she didn’t care. It bound him to her. Not with anything as weak or sentimental as love. What she felt for the man who’d tortured her, then Manos Floros and then Era, raping the simpering fool in front of them, was cast in the fires of pain. It was founded on respect for his abilities. When she encountered him years later with Stratos, it was a validation of her life—the torturer and his victim working to the same ends. Not that Manos and Era had talked, the fools. They kept their mouths shut, betrayed no one, said nothing of the plans that only they’d known about. Manos paid for that with his life, while the woman he’d chosen disappeared into the void.
‘Mavros,’ she said, the name springing into her mind. ‘Andonis Mavros. He went missing too, though it was later in the dictatorship. And now his brother is looking for a lost girl with a connection to Ricardo.’ She touched her husband’s veined hand. ‘Strato, you told me often enough that there are no coincidences in our business. Have I lost my wits completely? I authorised Damis Naskos, the man with a false name, to make contact with Alex Mavros.’
Rea walked away without looking back at her husband. She called Damis and told him to report to her immediately. To her satisfaction, the young man sounded alarmed.
Mavros called his client as soon as Damis left.
‘No, Alex, I have not plans for tonight.’
‘Good. There’s somewhere we have to go.’
The Russian-Greek’s voice rose. ‘You find Katia?’
‘Maybe.’
‘What you mean, maybe?’
‘Look, I have a lead. We’ll follow it up when it’s dark.’
‘I see. What time?’
‘I’ll pick you up at nine. And, Dmitri? Don’t get your hopes up. This may not work out.’
‘You see the boy Damis?’ Tratsou sounded enthusiastic. ‘He help me, you know?’
‘So I heard. Listen, Dmitri, call me if he gets in touch with you again.’
‘Okay, okay.’
As Mavros drove up to Athens, he tried to make sense of what was going on. Damis had reacted to the call he’d received like a soldier to an order from a very superior officer. Mavros wondered if it had been Rea Chioti. He’d told Damis about Ricardo’s house near Lavrion. They’d agreed to meet in the town at ten o’clock that night. The bald man was usually at the Silver Lady then. As for Damis’s denial that he knew the Father and Son, Mavros wasn’t convinced. Although the pair’s existence was an underworld secret, Damis had surely come into contact with them the night he was in the Audi with the victim. Then there was Ricardo. Damis said the family was suspicious of him. What if Damis was setting the bald man up to advance his own cause?
The lorry in front stopped suddenly, forcing him to stamp on the brakes. A gypsy boy in a torn vest was on the traffic island, bunches of roses in his arms. Mavros opened his window and bought one, winking at the gap-toothed kid. Niki would appreciate the fact that the roses were red. As he continued towards the city, he thought about Damis again. Had he made a mistake in telling him about Ricardo’s hideaway? Maybe all he’d done was set himself and Dmitri up. He considered going straight out to Ricardo’s house, but decided against it. The bald man might have gone there when the Silver Lady was closed. If he was with Katia when they arrived, she’d be in even greater danger. He found himself trusting Damis, and he needed him if he was going to track down the Father. Katia was the first priority, though. He owed his client that.
Mavros parked on the pavement behind the hospital. He cursed himself for a hypocrite, having kicked hundreds of cars that had obstructed his passage over the years, but there were no other spaces. The hospital was as crowded as ever, patients and their extended families spilling out into the corridors. He was surprised to see no policeman outside Niki’s room.
‘There you are.’ She stood up unsteadily, her expression anxious. ‘My phone battery’s dead and the public phone’s out of order. I was worried.’
‘Sorry. I left a message when the doctors were with you.’ He gave her the roses.
‘Thank you, Alex,’ she said, kissing him. ‘I’m sorry. I’m a bit jittery this morning. I’ve remembered what happened outside your place.’
‘Oh, shit,’ he said, putting his arms around her. ‘I suppose that’s good from one point of view.’
‘That’s what the doctors said.’ She swallowed a sob. ‘I’m frightened, Alex. Why did those men fire at us?’
Mavros tried to comfort her, stroking her shoulder. Her lips were less swollen and there was some colour in her face. ‘They were assholes trying to scare me off.’
‘To do with Katia?’
‘Sort of.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s a complicated case,’ he said, looking away. ‘Don’t worry, I’m being careful. Where’s the policeman?’
‘I haven’t seen him today. Am I in danger?’
‘No, it was only a precaution. Are you feeling all right?’
‘I’m a bit dizzy. Help me back to bed.’
Mavros pulled the sheet over her. ‘Do you want anything?’
‘No. I’m going to sleep.’ She closed her eyes. ‘Find Katia, Alex,’ she said faintly. ‘Find her and come back to me in one piece.’
Mavros waited until her breathing was regular, then went to the nurses’ office. The woman in charge hadn’t seen any policemen either. She told him that Niki would probably be able to go home tomorrow. Mavros walked away and called Kriaras.
‘Why have you taken the guard off Niki?’
‘Because there are other priorities,’ the commander said drily. ‘Have you got anything for me?’
Mavros knew he should tell him about Damis and about Ricardo’s house, but he didn’t. The last thing that would help Katia was the police turning up in force. ‘No,’ he said abruptly.
Back in his flat, he spent the afternoon writing a report on the search for Katia and what he’d learned of the Chiotis operation. He left the file, entitled ‘For Commander N. Kriaras’, on the desktop, and then copied it on to a diskette. He addressed an envelope to his sister, enclosing a note with the diskette saying that she could decide what to do with the story if anything happened to him. He smiled when he thought how unimpressed Lambis Bitsos would be by that. Then he went to the post office and sent the package.
He was ready.
‘Are you sure this is a good idea, Mrs Jenny?’ Thanasis watched as the nurse led the woman who never spoke to the Mercedes.
‘Yes,’ the actress said, smiling at Era. ‘I’ve waited too long.’
‘Is that long-haired snoop making you do this? I knew he was a bad one the minute I saw him.’
‘No, no,’ Jenny said, putting her hand on the old man’s sinewy arm. ‘This is something I’ve decided to do myself. But you’re wrong. Alex Mavros isn’t a bad one.’ She got in behind the steering wheel. ‘Don’t bother telling my
brother I’m coming. We should be back tomorrow.’ She nodded to him, then checked that Era and the nurse were strapped in behind.
Driving down the mountain, she was aware of the sun sinking behind the ridge to the west. ‘Look, Era,’ she said, lifting a hand from the wheel. ‘The Sleeping Woman. Do you see her?’ She glanced in the mirror. ‘It’s all right, there’s nothing to be frightened about. We’re going to visit someone. It’ll do you good.’
Era’s head dropped and the nurse took her hand.
Jenny drove to the port. She’d convinced herself that what she was doing was for the benefit of poor Era, that her old comrade deserved the chance to put the past behind her. But now doubt was gnawing at her. Was she simply doing it for her own benefit, using the silent woman to assuage her own guilt? What if Alex Mavros was right and she wasn’t responsible for Manos’s death? Would confirmation of that change her life and Era’s for the better?
The actress tightened her hands on the wheel. This was no time to be turning back. Tonight she would free herself from the past—or put an end to the worthless performances she’d been giving ever since she escaped the torturers.
The Father was staring out of the hotel-room window at the people below. They were like ants, passing endlessly up and down the streets in lines, their heads bowed and their limbs loose; filling buses, going down the steps to the underground railway station, hurrying to work, returning home like defeated soldiers. Was this what he and his brothers-in-arms had fought for? The country had become a hive full of drones. There was no love of the fatherland, no respect, no faith. The young were empty-eyed and heartless. He thought of the Son. He was going to have to take action. The Son was weak, rotten inside like the woman who bore him. The Father remembered how she’d ended—the push, the tumble down the stairs and the crack of her head on the stone floor. After that there was no chance she would betray him. When he’d seen the Son watching from the landing, the Father had been glad. He’d thought his heir would be like him, that he could take over the business, but now he knew differently. The Son was weak.
The Golden Silence Page 28
