She blushed. Perhaps she sensed he wanted to add something more.
'Just promise me you won't do anything without clearing it with me first.'
'Do you promise to return my calls?'
'Promise.' He smiled.
She looked at her watch. 'Oh, my god, I was supposed to be at the museum fifteen minutes ago.'
'Come on, I'll give you a ride. Even use the siren and the lights.'
'As long as you don't make me sit in the back. I can imagine the field day the paparazzi would have with that picture.'
Andreas imagined a headline: Socialite Held by Police. On the way to the museum they talked about nothing important… to the case. She talked about her husband, how they met while she was at college in Boston, and how his death affected her. Andreas talked about how tough it was losing his father when he was eight, and growing up watching his mother endure all the rumors. Lila spoke of how difficult it was being a single woman in Athens 'even at my level.' He spoke about his sister's children, Nikos, Mihalis, and Anna, as if they were his kids and how his life made it unlikely he'd be having a family of his own anytime soon. She said her own job kept her 'safe from that sort of thing, too.'
He wished the ride had taken longer. He liked hearing her voice. He liked talking to her.
But for now, he was left to talking to Kouros about the four names he just wrote on the marker board on the wall behind his desk. Andreas stared at the names. 'Okay, Giorgio, you're the muscle, but what's your connection to the Kostopoulos family, and Athens society?'
'Maybe it's the drugs?' said Kouros.
'Yeah, there's certainly drugs in that crowd, and if you're looking to find someone to do a murder he's the one to talk to.' Andreas hesitated. 'But suppose, just suppose, that there really is a lot more going on here than an isolated murder. I don't see bringing a notorious drug dealer onboard as a confidant in something so big-time and serious unless you're willing to be blackmailed for the rest of your life. Whoever's running this is too smart to take such a risk.'
'Maybe there's a middleman,' Kouros pointed to Marios' name, 'and he's the link to Giorgio?'
'Or it's the one who forced Marios to talk to us. Marios certainly is connected to both worlds. Everyone likes the press. Especially a press that can be discreet.'
'For a price.'
Andreas nodded. 'Linardos. What are you doing up there on my board? You've got a big name, big power, big money, and a big likely hate for Kostopoulos. But you also have an impeccable reputation.' He fluttered his lips as he let out a breath.
'And then there's Anna,' said Kouros.
'I can't imagine she's anymore than what she seems, but why was she chosen? Who picked her out of all the possible-' he was about to say hookers '-choices available?'
'It's a strange mix.'
Andreas got up, walked around his desk, and stared out the window. 'If this really is something bigger, where's the money coming from? This kind of muscle doesn't come cheap. And who's the son-of-a-bitch tying everything together? The money, the muscle, the messages. He might not be at the top of the pyramid, but he's sure as hell making it all happen for whoever is.'
'Which of our four do you think it is?' Kouros pointed at the board.
Andreas turned from the window, walked back to the wall, and picked up a marker. Touching a spot in front of Giorgio's name he said, 'This one,' then drew a huge question mark embracing all four names. 'Someone who links all of them together. And I don't think we've found him yet.'
'Or her.'
'Yes, or her.' Andreas looked at his watch. 'Let's take a ride over to Linardos' office, just drop in unannounced.' Andreas smiled. 'Who knows, maybe he forgot to tell his secretary he's back in town.'
'And, if he is, maybe we can ask him to join us for a drink at the Ramrod.'
'At the what?' asked Andreas.
'That gay bar. I guess it gets its name from the long, stiff rod used to pack gunpowder, wads, and balls into the end of an old musket.'
Andreas stared at him. 'You really could use some sensitivity training.'
Kouros shrugged.
Great, thought Andreas. Three ramrods to deal with: a ramrod bar, a ramrod-minded cop, and a ramrod-stiff Athenian patrician. This was going to be some afternoon.
11
'Mr Linardos, there are two gentlemen here to see you, sir.' It was his secretary calling through on the intercom.
'Do they have an appointment?'
'No, sir, and I told them you just arrived from London and are very busy, but they said it's very important.'
'Who are they?'
'Chief inspector Kaldis and officer Kouros of GADA.'
It was a full thirty seconds before he answered. 'Okay, I'll see them in five minutes.'
Andreas smiled at the woman. 'Thank you for being so helpful.' She had little choice. Before she knew who they were, she'd kept them waiting by her desk while she finished some tirade with a restaurant over how it 'dared' to deliver such a 'horrible lunch' to 'the Sarantis Linardos.' Andreas never would forget the look on her face when they identified themselves. Kouros actually had to cough to cover up a laugh.
Andreas guessed Linardos was using the five minutes to call his lawyers. But how could he explain to them why he was afraid even to find out what the police wanted? Besides, he always could cut off the interview at any time. There was nothing Andreas could do about that.
This guy's life was right out of one of Maggie's magazines. He was isolated from the day-to-day demands made of virtually everyone else on earth: valets to choose and lay out his clothes, cooks to prepare his meals, personal shoppers to obtain whatever product or service he desired, maids to launder and clean up after him, chauffeurs, private pilots, and sea-captains to whisk him door-to-door to anywhere he wanted, and assistants anxious to arrange it all. Andreas wondered if he had any idea of the efficient, ruthless nature of the oh-so-many predators lurking about in the real world. Or maybe he was one of them.
Andreas looked at his watch; four minutes had passed. He smiled at the secretary.
'Let me show you into Mr Linardos' office.' Obviously, she wanted nothing more to do with them.
Andreas always was amazed at how elegant an office could be. Then again, most cops were from the gypsy school of interior decorating: whatever worked and was portable was fine. From the paintings, sculptures, antique French furniture, inlaid woods, and Oriental carpets in this one, it looked nothing like a working office. More like a five-hundred-square-foot throne room for holding court.
When they entered the office, the king was not on his throne, at least not any they could see.
'Please, sit here.' The secretary pointed to a pair of matching, tapestry-covered chairs in front of an ornately carved, gold-trimmed desk. 'I'm sure Mr Linardos will be right with you.'
There was the sound of a flushing toilet. The secretary looked uncomfortable. 'That's okay, we'll wait for him here,' said Andreas facing the desk from the rear of the room.
The desk was in front of a bank of windows, with more windows running along the length of the wall to Andreas' right. Bookshelves lined the wall facing the desk. On the wall to Andreas' left, between the door through which they'd entered and another door on the same wall closer to the desk, were three paintings Andreas knew he should recognize. Conspicuously absent were photographs of the rich and famous. Then again, Linardos had no reason to impress a visitor with whom he knew. He knew everyone who mattered, and anyone coming here already knew that. The only photographs were of his family, and they stood in silver frames on a small table between his desk and the second door.
No one moved. They just waited for that second door to open. Two more minutes passed before it did.
'Sorry, gentlemen.' Sarantis Linardos nodded to his secretary who immediately turned and left, then he shook hands with both men, pointed for them to sit where his secretary had suggested, and went to sit across from them behind his desk.
'So, what can I do for you?' He was smiling and p
leasant.
Andreas used his most official-sounding, courteous voice. 'Mr Linardos, I can't thank you enough for agreeing to see us unannounced. I apologize for such an intrusion, but we're hoping you might be able to help us with a rather delicate matter.'
'If I can, certainly.'
'Thank you.'
'I'm certain you're aware of the Kostopoulos murder.'
He nodded. 'Yes, I am. Terrible, terrible tragedy.'
'I know that you and the father were involved in business dispute-'
Linardos cut him off. 'Yes, we were.' He was still smiling.
'I was wondering if, in the course of your dealings, you heard of anyone who might harbor such anger toward him to do such a thing?'
'I'm sorry, "do such a thing?" I thought this was a gay-bashing murder or lovers' quarrel or something like that.'
'That's the delicate part, sir. It looks to have been a premeditated murder made to look like what you described.'
'That's horrible.' He blinked rapidly three times. 'How can you be sure?'
'Forensics.'
'But why would anyone do that sort of thing to an innocent child?'
'Don't know. That's why we're here. We were hoping you might have some idea who would. After all, the father was aggressive in his business tactics. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that.' Andreas paused, but Linardos said nothing. 'So, I was wondering if, possibly, in defending against what he was doing to you, you might have come across information on other victims.'
'Victims?' Linardos' voice almost cracked.
'Of Kostopoulos' business tactics. Someone so upset with what he'd done to them, or tried to do, that they might be willing to kill his child for revenge.'
His smile was gone. 'I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I cannot help you. Those are not types of people I would know.'
'No, I don't mean the ones who actually did the murder, I mean someone so angry with the father that he would resort to murder.' He wondered if he should say more. 'Perhaps, to send a message?'
Linardos paused. Andreas wasn't sure if it was to think or explode.
'No, sir, I'm afraid, I know of no such persons. I wish I could help but I can't. If you think my lawyers might have come across that sort of information, I'll be more than happy to arrange for you to speak with them.' Linardos stood up, a clear signal the audience was over.
'Thank you, sir, that would be very helpful.' Andreas and Kouros rose.
Linardos leaned across the desk to shake hands and say goodbye. He did not show them out. Andreas opened the door leading out of the office and allowed Kouros to pass through it first. Just as Andreas was closing it, he heard the bathroom door open. He doubted the problem was Linardos' prostate. 'He didn't even ask to see an ID!' Kouros almost was shouting. 'I mean, we could have been anyone.'
Andreas smiled. 'I guess he figured from the way we looked we couldn't be anything but cops.'
Kouros turned his head and stared at Andreas.
'Hey, Yianni, watch where you're driving.'
'You know he's hiding something.' He looked back at the road.
'Yeah, no doubt about it.' Andreas scratched the top of his head with his right hand. 'I got more than I expected. I pushed him to where I expected to hear "Who do you think you're talking to?" but he let it all pass.'
'We spent more time listening to him piss than talk.'
Andreas grinned. 'That told us a lot more about him than anything he said. The guy was nervous.'
'A lot of people get nervous around us.'
Andreas shook his head. 'Yeah, but not Linardos. He knows our boss. He knows everyone's boss.'
'So, what's he hiding?'
'Don't know yet. But he's definitely involved somehow. I can't believe that if Marios knew about the banishment thing Greece's most influential newspaper owner wouldn't know about it, too, or at least have heard the rumor. And as far as not knowing anyone who might want to harm Kostopoulos…' Andreas waved his left hand in the air in little circles, 'that would make him just about the only person in Greece who couldn't name at least one.'
'Maybe he's behind the whole thing?'
'Anything is possible, but I'd think whoever is would handle it better. Be cool. After all, getting nervous in front of cops attracts attention, no matter what the reason, and I don't see the guys running this as nervous types. They've been at it too long and too successfully.'
Andreas drummed the fingers of his left hand on the dashboard. 'I think he's more worried about them than us. If they think he's turned on them, he knows they're capable of killing not just him, but his children. That could explain why he wouldn't point a finger at even a publicly declared enemy of Kostopoulos. He's afraid to be seen as cooperating with us one bit.'
'Can't blame him.'
Andreas looked at Kouros. 'What are you saying?'
'He has to protect his family.'
'From us?' Andreas' voice was rising. 'I'm not used to hearing that sort of don't-trust-the-government Greek bullshit from a cop.'
'Come on, Chief, if this is a big-time conspiracy, don't you think Linardos believes whatever he says to us will get back to the bad guys?'
Andreas' temper was rising. 'Yianni-'
Kouros cut him off but his tone was apologetic. 'Chief, you know I'm not saying we're like that, but how does he know to trust us? Virtually everyone in this country thinks everyone in government is corrupt. We know that's not true but, let's be honest, even we're careful about what information we let out of our unit. If he knows how dangerous these guys are, can you really blame him for wanting nothing to do with us?'
This was not a conversation that the chief of a police unit wanted to have with a subordinate, no matter how valid the point might be. 'Let's head on over to the bar.' Andreas said the words without emotion. He wondered if this was how Don Quixote might have felt had he ever accepted that Sancho Panza might be right about the windmill.
12
They arrived at the bar and parked up the street to wait for the place to open. Andreas wanted the undivided attention of the owner, unencumbered by the demands of a busy late-night crowd.
From outside, the place wasn't large as bars go; no more than twelve feet wide at most, with just two small windows, one on each side of a single glossy black door that opened directly onto the street. The windows were done in an opaque, black and silver handcuff motif, leaving no doubt to the casual observer just what sort of place this was; even though no one could tell from the outside what actually was going on within THE RAMROD. That name was announced in all white letters on both windows.
A man dressed in a business suit walked up to the door and went inside.
'Well, I guess it's open for business. Time to move.' Andreas opened his car door.
Kouros was quiet as they walked toward the bar. He hadn't spoken for quite a while.
When they got to the front door, Andreas put his hand on Kouros' arm to stop him. 'One thing, Yianni, I want you to keep whatever feelings you have about this sort of place in check. Do you understand?'
No answer.
'I said, "Do you understand?"'
Kouros exhaled. 'Yes, Chief.'
'Good, let's go in.'
Andreas went through the door first. There was no one inside, and it was not what he expected. A light-colored, well-worn wooden bar with a brass footrail ran for about twenty feet along the left wall. It stood in front of an even longer mirror reflecting three ascending rows of liquor bottles. Four faintly glowing casino-style lights in amber-colored glass hung equidistant over the bar. A dozen matching wooden stools lined the bar. The floor was dark, likely old marble, and there were no tables to be seen. This was where customers mingled. For sitting and other nonvertical activities they had to find someplace else.
At the back of the room were two doors. The one to the right was marked WC, the other unmarked, but if it led to the outside it should be marked with an exit sign. Just beyond the far end of the bar on the left was an open doorway leading to what looked to be
a hallway. Andreas walked over and stared through the doorway. This place was bigger than it appeared from outside. There was a closed, unmarked door directly across from where he stood. The hallway ran for about thirty feet straight back to another door, this one marked EXIT. On the wall to the right was another unmarked door. From its location Andreas guessed it led to the same place as the unmarked door in the back of the bar room. Separate entrances for patrons trying to hook up discreetly with each other, perhaps. As for what went on once inside those doors-
'Excuse me, can I help you?' It was the voice of a man coming through the unmarked doorway next to the toilet.
Andreas turned and smiled. 'I certainly hope so.'
Andreas could tell the man was checking them out. Only natural. Andreas was doing the same thing. Hard not to: the man's appearance demanded attention. He was about fifty years old, five-foot-ten, stocky, but not fat, with a gleaming, bald head and jet-black handlebar mustache. He wore a silver velveteen shirt, embroidered in a white floral pattern set off by pearl buttons. A thick silver German cross on an even thicker silver chain hung around his neck. His pants were black leather, his shoes black Pumas with silver laces. This was a man in his element, and certainly not the man in the business suit, wherever he might be at the moment.
'Are you the owner?' Andreas asked.
'Who's asking?' The guy knew how to be belligerent.
Andreas didn't answer, just pulled his ID out from beneath his shirt and showed it to him. Kouros did the same.
'Okay, yeah, this is my place. Name's Pericles. What can I do for you?' His tone hadn't changed. Maybe that's just the way he was.
'We're here about the body in the dumpster.'
'I already told the cops everything I know.'
'Well, we just have a few more questions. Mind if we sit down?' Andreas gestured toward the bar.
Pericles grunted, 'Go ahead.' Andreas hoped he might be more comfortable talking to them across a bar, something, from the looks of the place, he'd been doing for decades. The man walked behind the bar and stood in front of them. 'Want something?'
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