The door slid open and a large figure slipped into the dimly lit area. As it came closer, she saw who it was.
‘Mr Capaldi? What are you doing?’ she said, then caught sight of the silenced pistol the security manager was pointing at her. She moved the hand holding the bayonet behind her back.
‘The coins,’ the Italian said. ‘Tell me where they are.’
‘How dare you? Get out of here now!’
The spit of the shot was scarcely audible. She crashed to the ground, a searing pain in her lower leg. In a second, Capaldi was beside her, his lips near hers.
‘Be quiet, you German bitch, or I’ll put a round in your thigh.’ He grinned. ‘Which will quickly be fatal. The coins – where are they? I want the keys and combination numbers.’
‘Did . . . did Roufos put you up to this?’ Hildegard asked, blinking as the pain flared even more.
‘You are still sharp. But not sharp enough to see something more important.’ The look on his face changed and Hildegard realized that he was going to kill her. That thought brought enlightenment.
‘You . . . you killed Rudi.’
‘Ah, that was a mistake. Mr Roufos told me to put as much pressure as I could on your husband to hand over the collection. Unfortunately, your husband’s neck snapped like a twig.’ The Italian showed no sign of regret. ‘Stringing him up got the cops off our back.’
‘Go to hell, Capaldi.’ Hildegard bit her lip and swung the bayonet round as hard as she could. The point slipped into the soft flesh of her attacker’s lower back. He gasped and then toppled forward on to the rug beside her. He stopped breathing soon afterwards.
Hildegard Kersten saw the slick of his blood join with that pumping from her leg wound. The heat was disappearing from her body and she slipped away from consciousness, happy that her mind was filled with the glinting snow peaks of the mountains she had looked up at for so many years.
Mavros had a bad feeling about Hildegard Kersten’s call. He rang the Heavenly Blue and asked for the widow, but heard she had told reception that no calls should be put through. Then he asked for Renzo Capaldi, only to hear, after a while on hold, that he couldn’t be located. That made him even more worried.
‘Listen, this is Alex Mavros, the investigator. I think Mrs Kersten is in danger. Break the door down to her apartment if she doesn’t answer. Do it now!’
There was a muffled conversation and then he was asked to stay on the line. Shortly afterwards he heard screams and his stomach somersaulted. Eventually one of the staff came back on.
‘Thank God you called, Mr Mavro,’ the man said, shocked. ‘Mrs Kersten has been shot in the leg and Mr Capaldi is . . . is dead. It looks like she stabbed him.’
‘Don’t touch anything in the apartment, do you hear? Call an ambulance and then the police. I can’t come to the hotel now.’
‘The ambulance is already on its way.’
‘Good. If she’s conscious, tell her I expect to see her tomorrow.’ He rang off.
‘Expect to see who?’ Cara asked.
Mavros ran his hand through his hair. ‘What?’ he said distractedly, then told her what had happened.
He had been a major idiot. Waggoner and Oskar hadn’t been the only people the scheming Roufos had put up to laying hands on Kersten’s coin collection. And Mavros had entrusted the widow’s safety to the former elite soldier. He could only hope he hadn’t been too late. Then he had another thought. He had seen Renzo Capaldi on the massacre set, but had paid no attention as he assumed he’d been escorting Rudolf Kersten. Now he wondered if Capaldi had actually killed the old man. If so, had he been acting on Roufos’s orders? He made another call to Nikos Kriaras in Athens, asking him to ensure that the antiquities dealer was picked up when the night boat docked in Piraeus, even though he was pretty sure Tryfon Roufos would never crack under interrogation.
‘Jesus freakin’ Christ,’ Cara said, standing up rapidly.
Eleni Tsifaki had appeared, wearing a camouflage jacket and trousers, with belts full of shotgun shells crisscrossing her chest and a large hunting knife in her belt.
‘Come with me, Cara,’ Mikis’s mother said. ‘I have the same for you.’
Mavros sat with his chin in his hands before he was joined by Haris.
‘It’s time for you to check your equipment, Alex,’ he said. ‘The advance teams have already set out.’
‘Are you sure there’s no other way of doing this?’
The Cretan raised his broad shoulders. ‘Kornaria has been a cancer in this island for too long. Besides, they won’t hand over your woman or the other one, even if the man who calls himself Jannet is returned to them. I know how Dhrakakis works.’
Mavros thought for a few moments. ‘What about Waggoner?’
‘Ach, Waggoner. My father told me he was a fierce fighter in the war, but men like him often do not do so well in peacetime. I don’t know if he’s involved in the drug trade, but he’s had his snout in many other dirty deals over the years.’
‘He told me he has some things that belonged to my father, and that he’ll only give them to me if I don’t go to the village.’
Haris sat down beside him. ‘Alex mou, this I cannot help you with. But I know what I would do – put the living before the dead, God rest your brave father’s soul.’
Not that Spyros, as a good communist, thought he had one of those, at least not currently residing in heaven. Mavros nodded. ‘You’re right. Let’s do it.’
He followed Haris into the depths of the old building.
TWENTY-FOUR
Luke Jannet was removed from his makeshift cell, allowed to use the toilet with the guard present and then handcuffed by his unplastered wrist to the same solid Cretan.
Mavros, wearing a loose green cotton combat jacket, came up to the pair.
‘Guess what?’ he said. ‘We’re taking you to Kornaria to swap you for my other half and Maria Kondos.’
‘Are you fuckin’ kidding?’ the director said, his eyes wide. ‘I don’t want to go anywhere near that place.’
‘Really? And there I was, thinking you were their new best friend.’
‘Yeah, well, that depended on me bringing a large amount of cash to the table.’ He glared at Mavros. ‘Cash I’d have got if you’d let Roufos do his job.’
Mavros held his gaze. ‘So you were going to take the proceeds of the coin collection. In return for what? Cutting Roufos in on the drug trafficking?’
‘The two things go together – in the same containers, I mean. It’s a perfect fit.’
‘A perfect fit that’s about to get too tight for comfort.’ Mavros laughed. ‘Don’t worry, they’re very hospitable up there. Or so Maria Kondos didn’t say.’ He turned on his heel and left the American moaning. Suddenly that stopped. He looked over his shoulder and saw that the guard had placed his very large fist in front of Jannet’s face as a warning. Scene over.
His phone rang shortly afterwards.
‘Oh, he lives and breathes,’ the Fat Man said, with heavy irony. ‘I’ve been trying you for hours. You turned yourself into a telephone exchange?’
‘Busy-busy, Yiorgo. About to go into action.’
‘Cinematic or vendetta?’
‘Primarily the latter.’
There was a pause. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’
‘Very. Niki’s been kidnapped. I’ve got plenty of help, but so have the opposition.’
‘Those drug-producing tossers?’
‘Correct. If . . . if I don’t get out of this alive, you’ll have to tell my family.’
‘What? Alex, you’re hereby banned from doing anything dangerous, you hear?’ The Fat Man’s voice had gone up several octaves.
‘Too late for that, Yiorgo. Whatever happens, it’ll be on the news tomorrow. Kriaras is handling things in Athens.’
‘Oh, great. So why have you got to take any risks?’
Mavros sighed. ‘I told you, Fat Man, they’ve got Niki. But don’t worry, we’ve got some tricks up ou
r sleeves.’
‘So now you’re Prince Charming, going off to rescue a fair damsel?’
‘I might also get back some stuff that belonged to my old man during the war.’
That shut Yiorgos up, but not for long.
‘Call the cops in Chania. They can take charge till Kriaras’s people arrive.’
Mavros laughed. ‘Listen to yourself, Yiorgo. The cops down here have been living off Kornaria for decades. Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Love you, Fat Man.’ He cut the connection before he heard his friend’s reaction to that. Communists weren’t supposed to be emotional and Mavros had never said those words to Yiorgos before.
Cara came over, dressed like Eleni and carrying a pump-action shotgun.
‘Reminds me of my second picture,’ she said. ‘Country girl who got raped and took out a whole village of freaks.’ She racked the slide. ‘Good to be carrying live rounds for a change.’ She peered at him. ‘What’s up?’
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Something in my eye.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Look, will you try to keep your head down? I’ve grown quite fond of you and I wouldn’t like you to get hurt.’
‘Aw, sweet.’ She kissed him, taking care not to touch his abdomen. ‘Haven’t you noticed?’ She unzipped her jacket to reveal a Kevlar vest. ‘Tightly constricted twin peaks.’
He laughed and they headed for the exit. In the parking lot, two long wheelbase Land Rovers and two large pickups were being loaded with various supplies.
‘There will be twelve armed men in the convoy,’ Haris said, glancing at his wife and Cara. ‘Plus two armed women.’
‘Keep them all out of sight for as long as you can,’ Mavros said. ‘It may be I can finish this on my own.’
‘And maybe I can sing Tosca,’ Eleni said, with a sardonic laugh. ‘This is a fight to the finish, Alex, and you know it.’
He nodded. ‘Let’s hope that Niki and Maria aren’t among the casualties.’
‘You forgot someone,’ Cara said. ‘Yourself.’
‘Leave him be,’ Haris said, pulling her back. ‘He’s getting his thoughts in order. He’s going into the village alone apart from that wanker of a director. The adrenaline has to be controlled.’
Mavros got into the second vehicle, a Land Rover, with Haris, while the women went in the third. The lead pickup was filled with four young Cretans, to deal with the expected road block. Jannet was with his escort in the last vehicle.
As they headed through the dark orange and olive groves, he looked up at the night. The snow on the mountains was visible, an almost full moon casting its pallid light over the line of ridges and summits.
‘Are you sure about the timing?’ Mavros asked Haris.
‘The sooner you walk up there the better. They’ll all be awake from sunrise, but the longer we wait, the more likely that one or other of our people will be spotted.’ He gave a guttural laugh. ‘It’s always best to take your enemy by surprise. Dhrakakis will assume you’ll leave it till the last minute to show up, having wasted your time trying to get the police interested.’
‘You sure your men will be able to extract the walkie-talkie passwords from the sentries?’
‘You’ve obviously never had a hunting knife in the immediate vicinity of your balls.’
‘Erm, not yet.’
Haris slapped him on the thigh. ‘Don’t worry, they won’t come near you.’
‘Best you observe the same principle.’
The Cretan glanced at him and then nodded. ‘Sorry, that was stupid.’
‘I appreciate the sentiment though,’ Mavros said. Then he slipped into a zone where the people he would be trying to save flashed before him – Niki, smiling bravely; Maria Kondos, as haughty as ever. Then his father appeared, his face younger and less care-worn than in the photos that Mavros’s mother had on display. Suddenly he understood. Although Spyros’s experiences on Crete – the paratroop landings, the Battle of Galatsi, the years on the run – had been terrible, it had been on the island that he learned the truth about violence: that it led to more brutality and heartbreak, and that no political system, even a communist one, could be built on blood-drenched foundations. Whatever happened in Kornaria, Mavros had to remain true to those principles. The rock that he had thrown into the Kornariate’s face had to be his last violent act.
The sky in the east was lightening to grey and the vehicles in the convoy turned off their headlights, following an order from Haris, relayed by walkie-talkie.
‘Roadblock in sight,’ said one of the men from the Land Rover in the lead. ‘Approaching on foot.’
That meant the men were splitting up and heading in a wide circling movement towards the pickup that had been parked across the road. Haris stopped the Land Rover and waited. Tension in the cab rose and Mavros struggled to keep his breathing regular. If they couldn’t get beyond this first barrier, the whole plan would be compromised – although Haris had told him he had reserve options.
‘How often have you done this kind of thing?’ Mavros asked, in a low voice.
Haris smiled. ‘You aren’t taping this, I hope. Not so often, and never on as large a scale as this. Crete isn’t like the rest of Greece, my friend. We have our own ways of justice. I don’t only mean vendettas. If someone persists in anti-social and damaging behaviour, he is taught a lesson. That is not a bad thing.’
‘Unless it gets out of control.’
‘You are worried this operation will go that way? I can understand that. But you must trust me, Alex, as I trust you. That is how the Turks and the Germans were driven out – we acted in unison.’
‘Freedom or death,’ Mavros said. ‘But this time you’ll be fighting against your fellow Cretans.’
Haris shrugged. ‘Criminals and bullies are the same the world over. Someone must stand up to them.’
There was a burst of sound from his walkie-talkie.
‘Road block neutralized. WT codes obtained. No serious injuries.’
‘You see?’ Haris said. ‘Now all we need is confirmation from the advance units.’
That came in three separate messages over the next ten minutes.
‘All is ready, Alex. Are you?’
Mavros nodded. His heart was beating at a normal rate and his breathing was regular. He got out of the Land Rover and checked his equipment, then watched as the pickup containing Luke Jannet came slowly alongside. The director had been gagged with duct tape. His guard unlocked the cuff on his wrist and attached it gingerly to Mavros’s belt.
‘Is everything that needs to be turned on?’ Haris asked.
‘Yup. Thanks for everything. I’m only sorry Mikis couldn’t be here to see this.’
The Cretan nodded solemnly. ‘He would have enjoyed it, but he’s better off in his bed. Now, Alex, bring your woman and the other one back.’ He stopped himself slapping Mavros’s back just in time.
Mavros dragged Jannet into the pickup and took the wheel.
‘Keep still if you want to stay alive,’ Mavros said.
The director, who had been told what Mavros was carrying, nodded vigorously.
The pickup moved slowly up the road, past the vehicle which had been moved out of the way. Mavros saw in the mirror that Haris’s men had taken the villagers’ mandilia, jackets and shotguns. He continued at low speed, avoiding the worst potholes and ridges, until they passed the sign announcing Kornaria. It had been riddled with pellets.
‘Welcome to Hell,’ Mavros said, glancing at Jannet. ‘This is going to be better than any film you’ve shot, asshole.’ The director’s face was white around the strip of black tape.
Mavros drove up the narrow street between the white houses. The shutters on some had been thrown open to take in the early morning light, but there were no people to be seen. He pulled up in the square and hauled Jannet out, then put his hand on the pickup’s horn. It wasn’t long before heads appeared at windows and men started coming out of doors, some of them carrying shotguns.
Mavros took his captive towards the kafeneion where he and Mikis had talked to the mayor. It wasn’t open yet. Then a metal door a few yards down the square swung open and Dhrakakis came out, rubbing his eyes. He was wearing a singlet, blue pyjama trousers and slippers.
‘You don’t look like the man behind a multinational drugs business,’ Mavros said. ‘More like a grandfather who’s just wet himself.’
As he’d expected, the words stung the mayor. Mavros held Jannet in front of him as the Cretan approached, his cheeks red. The next few seconds were decisive.
‘You’ll pay for insulting me, you Athenian arse-bandit,’ Dhrakakis said, as he came closer. ‘Look at you, hiding behind your hostage.’
‘Come and get him then, Grandpa,’ Mavros said, with a sharp smile.
‘Ela, Louka,’ the mayor said, his arm extended towards Jannet.
Mavros waited as long as he could, and then pulled out the other handcuff attached to his belt and snapped it shut around Dhrakakis’s wrist. He unzipped his jacket and took out the detonator that was wired to the explosives on his chest, his thumb over the short plunger.
‘Tell your men to keep their distance,’ he said calmly to the Cretan. ‘If any of them comes within range, we three will turn into very small pieces. If you try to take the detonator from me, ditto.’ He laughed like a madman. ‘I know what you’ll have done to my woman and to Maria Kondos. I don’t give a shit what happens to me.’
This was another critical moment. If Dhrakakis thought he was bluffing, there would be no way out.
‘No, no,’ the mayor stammered. ‘Nobody has touched your woman. I swear it.’
‘Why should I believe you?’ Mavros demanded. ‘You run the most lawless village in Crete. You’ve bribed the police, the local authorities, the politicians, the bankers, anyone you could, to keep this place in business. What I want from you is a confession. Then I’ll let you go.’
It wasn’t obvious that he was wearing a wire, but Dhrakakis was the kind of scheming bastard who would immediately think of that. Mavros was hoping that he would talk, assuming he would subsequently be able to kill Mavros and destroy any recording device before others arrived.
The Silver Stain Page 27
