The second incident amused him even more. He positioned the KEG Angela, an old 15,000 tonne bulk carrier, in Le Havre and waited for the right time. After only a week, the perfect combination of heavy fog and a Svolos vessel heading south occurred. His vessel was sent out and suffered a complete engine failure. Warning signals were broadcast, but the wireless operator and bridge officer on the Svolos Pride, a fully laden 50,000 tonne bulk carrier, claimed they were never received. The Pride ploughed into the Angela amidships. The captain, forewarned, got the crew into the lifeboats before the latter sank. The subsequent inquiry found the Svolos group negligent – unaccountably, the Pride’s radar had not been in service since she left Rotterdam. Tefkros Svolos’s hair was already white, but his heart took the brunt of the stress. He lasted another three years, a broken and ultimately gibbering man.
Kostas stood up, his good hand extended to feel his way through the dark. He needed to piss. Could it be that some spawn of Svolos had arranged the kidnap? Some faithful employee who had dug deeper than the Lloyd’s investigators? He shivered.
And then he shouted, ‘Fuck you!’
He squatted over the bucket and emptied his bladder. As he went back to the mattress, he had a disturbing thought. Could his son Pavlos have facilitated the kidnap? There were parts of his life that Kostas had never been able to access. But why, then, was he shot? Because he was no longer useful to the kidnappers? Because he knew too much about them?
Kostas Gatsos had always ruled his family with a rod of steel. By doing so, had he scared some of them into acting against him? Fuck family. The only person you could trust was yourself.
Mavros took a taxi to the green building near the sea. A car he recognised was parked by the entrance.
‘Lieutenant,’ he said. ‘How wonderful to see you?’
The policeman scowled. ‘You took your time.’
‘Did you think I was coming straight here from my breakfast? Sorry. I had this thing called work to do first.’
‘Funny. The brigadier wants to see you.’
Mavros took out his notebook. ‘I can fit him in a week on Friday at midday.’
‘Hear me laughing?’
‘You need a bit of practice with that. I’m going to see my employers. You can tell him that. Maybe I’ll call him.’ Mavros grinned. ‘Have you really got nothing better to do with your time?’
‘Orders are orders.’
‘Of course they are.’
Mavros had been planning to call Kriaras anyway, but not until he’d spoken to Loukas and Evi. The latter was waiting for him at the lift when he emerged from the stair door.
‘Good morning, Alex,’ she said. ‘I hear you’ve been hard at work.’
‘Morning. Oh yes?’
Evi led him into the array of desks. ‘We’ve had my mother on the phone. Dinos too. Who did you send to question him? He says he was pushed around and threatened.’
Mavros smiled. ‘Is he a whiner by nature?’
Evi laughed. ‘Yes.’
‘There you are then. My colleague is firm but fair.’
They went into Loukas’s office. He ended a call and got up to shake Mavros’s hand.
‘My step-mother was appalled that I gave you the group’s financial details. I hope you’ve got them in a safe place.’
‘In a safe, literally,’ Mavros lied. He was hoping that Nondas would find time to do more digging.
‘Good. Are you here to give us an update?’
‘Not exactly. I need to run some things past you.’
They sat down around the coffee table. Mavros told them about Dinos’s drug dealing and Vangelis’s financial involvement.
‘He’s a fool, that man,’ Loukas said.
Evi glared at him. ‘But he’s my father. Besides, from what Alex said, he’s not making any money from it.’
‘No, your idiot brother is shooting that all up.’
‘Dinos is ill,’ Evi said, red-faced. ‘He’s going for treatment.’
‘I think that had better wait,’ Mavros put in. ‘We may need to talk to him again. There’s a problem. The people that supply him are Russian gangsters.’
‘What?’ the step-siblings said, in unison.
‘The Gogol brothers.’ Mavros watched carefully to see if they showed any sign of knowing the name. Neither did. ‘They own a club called the Paradiso Bianco.’
‘Never heard of it,’ Loukas said. ‘I’ve no time for such places.’
‘Me neither,’ said Evi. ‘Apart from looking after my donkeys, I go to modern dance classes.’
Mavros tried not to look surprised. Evi wasn’t exactly built like a dancer.
‘We often wear masks,’ she volunteered. ‘Our identities are subsumed into the characters.’
‘Right.’ Mavros turned a page. ‘I gather your grandfather had a liking for statuesque Ukrainians.’
Evi turned away.
Loukas glanced at her. ‘So I heard. He was … is incorrigible. I suppose you have to admire his stamina at over 80.’
‘No, you don’t,’ Evi said, her face flushed. ‘It’s disgusting, paying to use women’s bodies.’
‘I agree.’ Loukas took her hand. ‘I married at 24,’ he said to Mavros. ‘There’s only one woman for me and that’s Sandra. She’s American. We met at Columbia.’
‘Good for you. The thing is, your grandfather may have picked up his Ukrainians at the Paradiso Bianco.’
‘Really?’ Loukas said, frowning. ‘Do you think these Gogols could have kidnapped him?’
‘Where did he find his Russian guards?’
‘Our lawyer arranges such things. But since one of them was killed, it’s hardly likely they worked for the kidnappers.’
‘Possibly, but loyalty is always for sale to the highest bidder in that business. Perhaps the other two changed allegiance and he got in the way.’ Mavros pushed on. ‘Tefkros Svolos. What do you know about him?’
‘Not much,’ Loukas replied. ‘He died years ago.’
‘He and Grandfather were fierce rivals,’ Evi added.
‘Do you know his granddaughter Nadia?’
‘Yes, but not very well,’ she said. ‘Shipping and charity circles.’
‘She’s closer to your brother.’
Evi stared at him. ‘Not that I know of.’
‘Apparently she’s in his parea. Along with Agamemnon Pyrsos, Kirki Houkli, and Jimmy Tzakos.’
Loukas shook his head. ‘They’re all wasters. Some rich families let their kids get away with anything.’
‘They’re probably regulars at the Paradiso Bianco too.’
‘Are you suggesting one or all of them are involved in the kidnap?’ Loukas asked, laughing. ‘They can’t see beyond their next drink.’
‘I was thinking about Nadia Svolou.’
‘Svolos Shipping is tiny now,’ Loukas said. ‘The family is strapped for cash.’
‘Even more reason to strike at a hated, much more successful rival.’
Evi and Loukas exchanged glances.
‘I suppose anything’s possible,’ the latter said.
‘I’ll look into it.’ Mavros looked at Loukas. ‘Something else. Your father. Why do you think he was killed?’
‘I presume because the kidnappers didn’t want him.’
‘He’s worth a lot of money, isn’t he?’
‘What are you getting at? Maybe he resisted.’
‘The autopsy report mentioned no other wounds. Besides, was he the kind of man to resist?’
Loukas bit his lip. ‘No.’
‘I think he was deliberately killed – the shot to the eye suggests professional skill, which fits in with the rest of the kidnap.’
Evi stifled a sob.
‘Sorry.’ Mavros poured her a glass of water but kept his eye on Loukas, not wanting to lose momentum. ‘Can you think of any reason he should have been targetted?
The young man got up and went to the far side of the desk. ‘My father was the CEO of the group. He had the same enemies as my
grandfather.’ There was tension in his voice.
‘Did your father visit the Paradiso Bianco too?’
‘Don’t you dare speak ill of him!’
‘It’s a simple question.’
Evi touched Mavros’s hand. ‘My step-father was a very restrained man. He hardly ever went out in the evening. He spent most of his free time playing chess on the Internet. He could have been a grand master if he hadn’t been forced to join the group.’
‘Did he hold a grudge about that?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Loukas. ‘My father understood his responsibilities.’
Mavros kept at it. ‘What about female company? I understand your mother is in Paris.’
Loukas looked away. ‘They haven’t lived together for years. I’m sure he didn’t use prostitutes.’
‘Was it his idea that the group offer shares to Colombians?’
Both Evi and Loukas seemed genuinely amazed by the question.
‘How … how did you know about that?’ the latter asked.
‘From the financial records you gave me.’
‘But they’re highly complex, as well as enormous in scale.’
Mavros wasn’t going to mention Nondas, at least not yet. ‘Reading spreadsheets is part of my job. Don’t forget, I’ve been running my mother’s company for the last five years.’
Loukas looked at him dubiously. ‘That’s a small publishing concern, not a global group with hundreds of subsidiaries.’
Mavros went on the offensive. ‘You’re stonewalling me about the Colombians.’ He glanced at his notebook. ‘Laura Moreno and Santiago Rojas each hold two per cent of Gatsos group shares.’
‘Don’t tell me you’re making a ludicrous connection between them and Dinos’s drug-dealing?’ Loukas said.
‘I was thinking more of the Gogol brothers.’
Evi turned to him. ‘They’re serious business people, Alex.’
‘I imagine they are. But they run arms and logging companies. How did they end up with Gatsos shares?’
‘They wanted to expand into shipping,’ Loukas said. ‘Careful checks were made and there was no sign of any illegality.’
‘And they’re lovely people,’ Evie added. ‘Both visit every year.’
‘Presumably your grandfather approved of them.’ Mavros looked at Loukas. ‘Or was your father the one who brought them on board, so to speak?’
‘I don’t know,’ the young man replied. ‘And I doubt it’ll be possible to find out for the time being.’
‘I know, I’ll ask your lawyers. I presume you’ve told them about me.’
‘Of course.’
‘Who’s the contact person?’
‘Mr Siatkas himself.’
Mavros smiled. ‘That’ll be an honour.’ He didn’t manage to keep the irony from his voice.
Loukas and Evi failed to respond.
Mavros got up. ‘All right, I’ll be in touch.’ He paused. ‘Unless anything else has come to mind that you want to share?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Loukas said.
Evi led Mavros out. There was an array of flags in display cases on the far wall.
‘Yellow and purple are the group’s colours?’
‘Gold and purple,’ Evi corrected.
‘Very imperial.’
At the lift she looked up at him. ‘You don’t like us, do you?’
‘That’s irrelevant.’
‘We know your father was a Communist.’
‘So’s that.’ Mavros smiled. ‘Besides, who says I don’t like you? Your step-brother’s hard work, though.’
Evi laughed. ‘You’re telling me. He’s already wearing Grandfather’s armour. I hate to imagine what’ll happen when he comes back.’ She clutched his arm, her expression suddenly sombre. ‘He will come back, won’t he?’
‘That’s what I’m here to facilitate,’ Mavros said in English, as he got into the lift. ‘See, I can speak the universal language of business.’
Lieutenant Babis was waiting for him outside.
‘Get in. The brigadier’s waiting.’
Mavros sighed. ‘Just when I was making progress.’
Kostas Gatsos had the feeling more time had passed since the last trial than between it and the first. He hadn’t been abandoned – his bread and water was still supplied and the bucket emptied. He asked for his watch but got no response from the balaclava-wearing guard.
What was planned for him? Surely Siatkas would have put the best investigators he could find on the case. The police would be as much use as a supertanker on the rocks. Or maybe the lawyer hadn’t. He’d been told so often that the group’s affairs were not to be disclosed to an outsider that perhaps he was sitting back and doing nothing. If so, Kostas had only himself to blame.
But he didn’t do that. He never allowed himself to accept responsibility for failure. That was why he had executives. Only two or three survived more than a decade. If there was a cock-up, they paid for it with their jobs – unless they were family, of course. That didn’t include the useless sponger Myronis; he had no Gatsos blood. What had Eirini seen in him? It was obvious that Dinos’s weaknesses came from Vangelis’s pathetic genes. There were rumours that Eirini preferred women now. He couldn’t blame her.
Kostas found himself thinking about the women of the family. None of them had submitted to his will, at least not the way he would have liked – meaning complete submission. Both his wives had resisted him, Marguerite subtly and Tatiana the opposite, arriving drunk at receptions and pawing the waiters. Pavlos’s wife, now widow, spent most of her time in Paris. He’d never understood why his son allowed that. Then again, Myrto was a frigid bitch who looked disparagingly at Kostas and probably Pavlos too. Old money, it was a curse. Her daughter Nana took after her, having decamped to New York as soon as she left school. Shipping meant nothing to her except to finance her art gallery. The only one worth anything was little Evi. She was an ugly dwarf, but she was loyal and loving. Loukas’s blonde and freckled wife Sandra openly laughed at Evi. There would be trouble about that when he got home.
If he got home. The unlikelihood of that struck him like a spear cast to the heart. There had been four people at the table, not including the piece of shit who ran things. He’d assumed there would be at least two more trials, but what if there weren’t? On the other hand, if they had discovered even a fraction of the scams he’d perpetrated and chopped bits off him for each, there would be nothing left.
Kostas Gatsos wasn’t a god-fearing man, but he was beginning to worry about a hell of eternal pain.
TWELVE
‘Where are we going?’ Mavros asked, as the car sped eastwards along the coastal motorway.
‘That’s for me to know and—’
‘Me not to. Very helpful, Haralambe.’
‘Don’t call me that.’
‘It’s your name, isn’t it?’
‘I prefer “lieutenant”.’
‘OK.’ Two breaths. ‘Lambaki.’
‘You looking for a punch in the face?’
Mavros opened the passenger window. ‘Help! Police brutality!’
Lieutenant Babis pressed the over-ride button and the window went back up. ‘What age are you?’
‘A lot older than you.’
‘That’s true.’
‘With age comes wisdom. We’re going to … Glyfadha.’
‘Wrong.’ The officer took an exit and drove towards the waterfront.
‘Long live the Royal Hellenic Navy!’ Mavros exclaimed.
The three funnels of the cruiser Averof rose up before them. The grey warship that had won command of the Aegean before the First World War was now a floating museum. There had been a scandal a few months earlier when a shipowner’s son had held his wedding party on the vessel. The Fat Man had thrown things at the TV.
A dark blue Audi was parked at the corner of the pier. The lieutenant drove close, ensuring the passenger windows were next to each other.
‘May I?’ Mavros said, rais
ing his forefinger.
Babis grinned. ‘Allow me, sir.’
The other car’s window was tinted. It lowered to reveal Nikos Kriaras in plain clothes.
‘Haralambidhi, you have the copies of the files?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Very well. Give them to him.’
‘Yes, sir,’ the lieutenant said reluctantly.
‘What do you think I’m going to do with them?’
‘Show them to your friends in the press,’ interjected the brigadier.
‘I haven’t seen Lambis Bitsos for, oh, at least a week.’
‘Eight days.’
‘Have you had me followed for the last five years?’
‘No. We keep an eye on Bitsos. Do not tell him.’
‘You think he doesn’t know? Anyway, I’ve signed a confidentiality agreement. No leaks to the media or I lose everything. Even my stubble.’
Kriaras shook his head. ‘Is there anything you want to tell me?’
‘Drink more Grecian 2000.’
‘Haralambidhi, apply a wrist hold.’
‘Ow! For fuck’s sake …’
‘Let him go. Well?’
‘Actually, I did want to discuss something with you even though I’ll be breaking my contract with the Gatsos family.’
‘I’m listening.’
Mavros watched as a seagull landed on the wall of the pier beyond the car. It started to eat the remains of a burger from a polystyrene box.
‘The Gogol brothers.’
The White Sea Page 11
