Yet he persists. He must be taught a new lesson, a more meaningful one. Let us hope that this time Thanassis Mavrakis' grandson is a better teacher. Demon was back in his favorite apartment. Only he knew it was his favorite. He had three. It was part of his no-routine routine. He'd slept a bit on Anna's couch, left just after sun-up, and passed a few more hours sleeping here. He never set an alarm. Didn't have to, he had an internal clock that did it for him. That's what made the chimes by his ear so unexpected. It was a cell phone, one of a half-dozen he kept around. But this one he only answered, never dialed, and rarely did it ring.
'Hello?' He was lying on his side.
'Do you know who this is?'
'Yes.' Demon's voice was flat, as usual.
'We have a problem.'
Demon sat up. 'What is it?'
'The message wasn't delivered.'
'I don't understand.'
'The message wasn't delivered.'
Now he understood. 'Is there a new address?'
'Mykonos.'
'Where on Mykonos?'
'I'm sure you'll find it.' The phone went dead.
Son of a bitch. The bastard didn't listen. He's still here. Something must be done, and quickly. The attitude of the caller didn't bother him. He had a right to be pissed. There was a lot at stake. For everyone.
'The bastard didn't listen.' This time he said it aloud. He stood up and walked over to the window. The view wasn't great, just one apartment building window after another, but he liked the way the sunlight hit his room in the morning.
He knew the Kostopoulos house on Mykonos — he knew everything about him. At least he thought he did. Now, to make that bastard regret the day he was born. Kouros knocked on the door to Andreas' office a millisecond before opening it. 'Chief, we found Demosthenes!'
Andreas could tell no response was required to keep him talking.
'I got an address for him off his ID. It was a long shot, but we got into an apartment across the street and did a laser-microphone set-up to pick up sounds off his windows.'
'No phone tap?'
'We never found any phone records for him. He must use prepaid phone cards, and there was no time to get into the apartment to set something up. Besides, going in might tip him off, and you said don't take the chance.'
Andreas nodded.
'We didn't get set up until seven. Someone matching Demosthenes' description paid a three a.m. visit on Anna last night, but there was no way of telling if he'd left. Too many back doors to her building for our guys to cover. So, we weren't sure if he was in his place or not. There was dead silence for about a half-hour, then a phone rang and our boys picked it up. We've got photos of him standing at the window.'
'Anything good?'
'Not sure, but he was upset. He left the apartment five minutes after the call, and we followed him as far as the university. Couldn't go in.' Andreas expected Kouros to start in on the law that forbid police from entering the campus, but he didn't. 'On the way over he tore apart a cell phone, dropping pieces of it into garbage cans and sewer grates.'
Kouros placed a plastic bag full of phone parts on Andreas' desk. 'Maybe we can nail him for littering?'
Andreas smiled.
'Even found the SIM card. At the bottom of a sewer.'
'Get all of it to the lab. We might get lucky. Any idea what the call was about?'
'Only heard his side of it.' Kouros pulled a mini-recorder out of his pocket. 'Here's what we picked up.' He pressed the play button and the sound of chimes was followed by a series of phrases, separated by pauses, spoken in the same voice:
'Hello?'
'Yes.'
'What is it?'
'I don't understand.'
'Is there a new address?'
'Where on Mykonos?'
Long pause.
'The bastard didn't listen.'
Andreas shut his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He took two deep breaths, and opened his eyes. 'Yianni, we have a very big problem. He's talking about Kostopoulos.'
'Zanni Kostopoulos? On Mykonos?'
Andreas nodded and leaned forward. 'I only learned where he was a little after six this morning and this guy hears about it an hour and a half later.' He ran his hands through his hair.
'Do you think they found out from the same source?'
Andreas shut his eyes and opened them again. 'I sure as hell hope not. But I can't say for sure.' He patted, then smacked, the top of his desk. 'I'm off to Mykonos.'
'When?'
'The next flight out.'
'I'll go with you.'
'No, stay here and keep an eye on Demosthenes. My guess is he's gearing up to go after Kostopoulos again, and it's going to happen soon. Do whatever it takes, but find out what he's up to-' Andreas pointed his index finger directly between Kouros' eyes, 'but tell no one what's going on. Understand?'
'Maggie?'
'Trust no one!' Andreas drew in and let out another breath. 'Except for Maggie. And tell her to have our phones swept for bugs, just in case.'
Kouros left the office and Andreas looked at his watch. There was less than an hour until the next plane to Mykonos. He thought to call Lila and tell her his plans had changed but decided against it. The coincidence was too great: she tells him and the next thing he knows someone tells Demosthenes. He couldn't believe she was one of the bad guys but, whatever the explanation, he came out in the same place: trust no one. Demon had phone calls and arrangements to make. He used, but never trusted, cell phones, certainly not for this sort of thing with these contacts. He always found some anonymous university landline to use but still worried about the other end of the conversation. These people only used cell phones.
They assured him not to worry, that in their country everything was under control. They even bragged they were responsible for their country's first cell phone system, a network that didn't accomplish much more than better coordinate their smuggling operations. He wasn't sure whether to believe their bragging, but he needed them, and so far, at least, no problems. Still, at his insistence, every two weeks he received a letter addressed to one of his many post office boxes listing new cell phone numbers for him to call.
He waited for someone to pick up.
'Hello.'
The language wasn't Greek but Demon spoke it. 'We need to make some additional arrangements.'
'What sort of arrangements?'
'Our recent message was ignored.'
'I see.'
'We must meet at once.'
'Where?'
'Location three at one-seventeen.' The man would know that meant five this afternoon in the Omonia metro station, a place where Greek was the minority tongue.
'Okay.'
He ended the call. These people were very good at what they did. But they needed direction. He'd make sure that this time that bastard Kostopoulos got the message — loud and clear.
15
It was Andreas' first trip to Mykonos since his promotion to Athens and he told no one there he was coming. No reason to. He wanted anonymity, not dinner invitations. Still, sooner or later he'd be recognized; he just hoped it wasn't the moment he got on the plane. Mykonos was one and one half times the size of Manhattan, but when it came to gossip it was a tiny village — of ten thousand citizens and fifty thousand seasonal visitors.
He boarded before the other passengers and sat in the first row, his face pressed against the window. His plan was to get to Kostopoulos right away, then head down to the old harbor for a few hours amidst the bouillabaisse of fishermen, farmers, politicians, and miscellaneous other spicy sorts who made up Mykonos' version of cafe society. Andreas hoped acting like he was on holiday might keep the island's wagging tongues from speculating too seriously on the reason for his visit, but he knew there were better odds at keeping the sun from setting.
Maybe I should have brought Lila along, he thought. It would be a better cover story. Yeah, for every gossip magazine in Greece: 'Cop and Socialite on Hide-Away Holiday in Mykonos.
' He decided not to think about her; it only aggravated him. He'd focus on her involvement in all this back in Athens.
The flight took about twenty-five minutes and Andreas' eyes never moved from the window. He'd spent a lot of time in his life doing far worse things than watching uncluttered Cycladic Aegean islands roll out beneath him with their round-edge mountains of beige-to-brown faintly accented by slashed, hillside dirt roads and random dots of white and green. And all of this surrounded by coves and harbors of emerald to sapphire waters set against an endless lapis-colored sea. Ships of every type and size sat pasted on the blue, with bold wakes feigning movement carefully painted behind each one. He watched as the blue began picking up sharper accents of white. That meant wind-driven waves and Mykonos, the Island of the Winds, was close-by. The plane turned to approach from slightly southeast of the harbor town of Mykonos, passing by the neighboring holy island of Delos and coming in over Paradise Beach. There was a lot of history down there. Memories too.
Andreas was first off the plane, but instead of heading toward the door marked ARRIVALS he walked toward a half-dozen large and larger private jets parked by the far end of the terminal. Amazing how much money so many people had. Andreas always shook his head when that thought ran through his mind. He wondered why he did that.
He saw what he was looking for: the most popular tourist vehicle on Mykonos, a white Suzuki Jimny parked between the jets and the terminal. The key was in it, and a map. God bless Maggie; he always could depend on her. He picked up his cell phone and dialed.
'Hello.'
'Hi, Maggie, it's me.'
'Everything okay?'
'Perfect. Thanks to you. So, what's the story?'
'The bad news is they found nothing useful on the SIM card-'
'Not surprised, but what about Kostopoulos' house?'
'That's the good news. It's on the northern tip of the east side of Panormos Bay. In the Cape Mavros area.'
'That's in the middle of nowhere! How the hell do I find it?'
'Well, you start by taking a left at the first road you come to in Ano Mera, go past the monastery…' Ano Mera was the island's other town, located at its rural center, and Andreas could tell Maggie was reading from something that involved a lot of 'at the big tree,' 'by the light green — not dark green — gate,' 'just past the horses,' and the like. Mykonos had few street signs and virtually no working maps, for that matter. The locals didn't need them, and most visitors considered it 'quaint,' at best, but it did offer a bit of privacy from curiosity seekers randomly searching out celebrities.
'How did you get those directions?'
'I called up Zanni and said "My chief would like to drop by for a chat this afternoon."'
He didn't respond, just started the engine.
'It's illegal to drive while talking on a cell phone.'
'I'm not talking, just listening.'
'Cute. What better things do you have to do for the next twenty minutes than listen to me?'
'Maggie…'
'Okay, okay. I called a real estate agency on Mykonos, said my boss wanted to rent a villa for a month like his friend's, Zanni Kostopoulos. They said there was nothing like his in the Cape Mavros area but they had a few others elsewhere they could show me. I said my boss wanted to be as close to the Kostopoulos' home as possible and, after some serious pleading and assurances that I wasn't trying to cut them out of their commission, they gave me "general directions" to one.
'Then I called a liquor store in Ano Mera that delivered, told the man who answered I was trying to find the Kostopoulos home but "got lost by the light green gate," and wondered if by chance he might know what turns I should take to get there. He asked why I didn't call the house. I said, "I tried but no one answered." He asked what number I called and I gave him what I knew was the right one. That's when he gave me directions.'
Andreas was shaking his head. 'Amazing what people will tell perfect strangers.'
'It's the voice. You have to sound like you need to be rescued. Men don't understand. They're all so macho. It gives us power.'
He could tell she was grinning. He didn't mind; she'd made him smile too. 'I think I'll hang up now. Thanks again.'
Andreas looked at his watch. If Maggie was right about the time, only fifteen more minutes until show time. Should be one hell of a performance. He just wished he knew his lines. The road was narrow, partly dirt, and filled with blind turns and steep drops, but it was the main and only road to Cape Mavros, at the very end of the area locals called Mordergo. The view across the bay to Panormos and Aghios Sostis beaches was spectacular, but Andreas was too busy concentrating on what to expect at the house to notice. He even missed the turnoff 'by the horses,' but caught a glimpse of three in his rearview mirror and backed up to make the turn. This road ran straight up a mountain, was all dirt, narrower and much steeper than the other. So steep, in fact, that at the crest of the hill he was tempted to get out to make sure the road actually ran down the other side, but he took his chances and kept going.
There it was, huge and obvious. More a compound than a house, it sat on a bluff by the bottom of the hill about a hundred yards above a small, private cove. Andreas could make out three buildings, all of natural stone, and two enormous swimming pools. The entire property was circled by two concentric stonewalls, five yards apart. The space between them was filled with green — trees, bushes, and flowers. It looked so inviting, but he'd bet anyone who made it uninvited over the first wasn't likely to make it over the second.
A military-style Zodiac drifted in the cove. Two men sitting on the gunnels scrambled to the wheel when his car came over the top of the hill. He heard the engines start up. They weren't the only ones moving. Two men leaning against a black Hummer halfway down the road reached inside for what Andreas guessed were weapons. A flash of reflected light off the roof of the main building meant he must be in some sharpshooter's sights. Another black Hummer and two more men stood down by the main gate. And those were the ones he could see. Kostopoulos must have an army with him.
Andreas put the Jimny in first gear and let the gearbox brake the SUV down the hill. The whining of the transmission made the car sound out of control. The two men by the first Hummer scrambled to put it between them and the roaring Jimny. Andreas' improvised David and Goliath confrontation of off-road vehicles ended when one of the men put a grenade launcher across the hood of the Hummer and started aiming at the Jimny. Andreas had the answer to his question, what am I dealing with here? He slammed on the brakes and the Jimny slid to a stop about thirty feet from the Hummer. Andreas turned off the engine, opened the door and stepped out.
'Halt, don't move.' The words were Greek, the accent wasn't.
'And a good morning to you, too, sir.' But Andreas didn't move.
'What business do you have here?' The same man spoke.
'I've come to see Mr Kostopoulos.'
'He's not here.' The talker seemed the one in charge.
Andreas smiled. 'Didn't your mother ever tell you it's not nice to lie to a policeman?' He pointed to the ID around his neck.
The man waved for Andreas to walk to him. He was about forty, but four inches taller and had thirty pounds more muscle than Andreas. He looked at the ID, keeping an eye on Andreas' hands as he did. 'He's still not here.'
Andreas guessed the accent was from somewhere in the Balkans. 'I admire Mr Kostopoulos' concern for his garden.'
'What are you talking about?'
Andreas gestured toward the house and the boat. 'All this artillery and professional military talent, just to keep the goats away.'
The man didn't speak, just stared at Andreas' eyes.
Andreas smiled. 'Serbia, right?'
'Why don't you leave now, sir?'
The man didn't lose his cool, a real professional. 'Can't do that, major. I'm guessing that was your rank.'
'You'll have to leave, sir. This is private property.'
It wasn't, but this wasn't the place or the guy with which to
debate the legal niceties.
Andreas shook his head. 'I'm afraid I'll have to call this in. I think you need more help here. Those goats look pretty mean. They might attack any minute.' He pointed to three scraggly-looking brown-to-black ones nibbling at thyme and savory a hundred yards up the hill. 'Nope, it's my duty to see you have all the help you need. What do you think, are a dozen local cops and a port police boat in that cove sufficient? Trouble is, I'll probably have to use some of them for crowd control, what with all the attention that much police presence out here is going to generate. Hope the media cooperate. Hate how nosey they can get, don't you?'
The major gestured to the other man to keep an eye on Andreas, went over to the Hummer and began speaking on a walkie-talkie, in Serbian.
A minute later he was back. 'Drive down to the gate. The man there will speak to you.'
'Thank you.'
The major nodded. Andreas liked his style.
The man waiting for him was the same one who'd met him at the door of the Kostopoulos home in Athens. The two men from the second Hummer stood behind him.
'My name is Alex. Good afternoon, Chief Kaldis.'
'Good afternoon.'
'I'm afraid Mr Kostopoulos will not see you. He received your message but said to tell you, "Do as you must.''' The tone was courteous, but final.
Andreas looked behind Alex until he saw what he wanted. 'Excuse me for a moment.' As he brushed past him, the two men blocked his way. Andreas smiled and pointed to a potted plant ten feet behind them. 'Just going over there.'
The two looked at Alex. He shrugged okay.
'Thanks.' Andreas walked over, picked up the plant, held it up to eye level, and dropped it to the stone floor. The pot shattered into pieces. None of the men moved; they stared at Andreas as if he were crazy. Andreas took out his felt-tip pen, picked up a piece of broken pottery, wrote three words, and handed it back to Alex. 'Give this to him. I'll wait for a reply.'
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