The White Sea

by Paul Johnston

  After carrying his bag up to the house in the last of the light, he headed to the harbour. Lights were strung outside a taverna and it was still warm enough to sit outside. He kept up the tourist image, allowing an eager young waiter to talk him into ordering a grilled fish and mountain greens, as well as a carafe of local wine. Beside him a table of local worthies was downing ouzo – he remembered Lesvos was famous for the aperitif – and swallowing mezedhes. Their voices were loud and he couldn’t avoid hearing what they were saying.

  ‘It was Gatsos’s own fault,’ said one. ‘He always was a stingy bastard. He should have had a small army of guards. Everyone knows how well-off he is.’ The rotund man laughed. ‘Or was.’

  ‘Come on, Thanasi, that’s not right. The man might be suffering in a hole in the ground.’

  ‘Which is where he belongs, Maki.’

  ‘You’re too hard,’ said another man, this one unusually small, but with a huge drooping moustache. ‘Just because you had a dispute over land with him …’

  ‘He robbed me, Stelio, and bribed every judge on the island. I’m supposed to care he’s been kidnapped? He’d have been better off sailing the seven seas on one of his many ships.’

  Jim gradually realised that he knew who they were talking about. He had seen stories in the Melbourne Age about a Greek shipowner who had been abducted, but for some reason he hadn’t noticed it was Kostas Gatsos – or perhaps his subconscious had blanked that out. One of the Gatsos group companies was the owner of the Homeland, the ship that had gone down off the Philippines and cast him into the waters of the Pacific. He had been suspicious about the sinking and what had caused it but, along with so much of his previous lives, he had blotted that out when he left the sea. Now, as he’d already realised, coming back to Greece meant facing a succession of nightmares.

  ‘Maybe the family will sell the villa now the old bastard’s gone,’ Thanasis said. ‘I might even buy it.’

  His companions laughed.

  ‘Where would you get the money?’ asked the one called Stelios.

  ‘The Gritsis businesses aren’t doing that well,’ added Makis.

  ‘Just you wait.’ Thanasis called for the bill. ‘Come on, the suckling pig should be ready. If it isn’t, the wife’ll be sorry.’

  Jim Thomson watched them go, a trio of grizzled old men in expensive leisure clothes. Thanasis Gritsis was even wearing a gold chain.

  After he’d eaten, he asked if there was an internet café in the town. He went to the nearest one and did a search for Kostas Gatsos. Half-an-hour later he was much better informed. The man who had been the ultimate owner of the Homeland – each ship was the property of a different company – had been kidnapped from his villa a few kilometres east of Molyvos nearly five weeks ago and nothing had been heard of him since. It was the most recent newspaper story, under the byline of Lambis Bitsos, that attracted his attention most:

  The Gatsos family has hired experienced missing persons specialist, Alex Mavros, to assist in the search for the patriarch. Mavros, who has kept himself out of the limelight for the last five years, was involved in several high profile cases, including those of the terrorist Iraklis and the Chiotis organised crime family. He was unavailable for comment as we went to press. It is safe to say that if Alex Mavros cannot find Kostas Gatsos, then no one can. Brigadier Nikos Kriaras, who heads the police enquiry into the kidnap is unlikely to be happy about the family’s decision. He would not return the Free News’s calls.

  Jim Thomson sat back and rubbed his eyes. Alex Mavros: another ghost from the past. The sooner he disposed of Ivy’s ashes and got back to Australia the better.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Mavros and Nondas were sitting on the Fat Man’s sofa. The latter was in the bedroom with Marianthi, though he claimed they were only having a lie-down.

  ‘What did you tell Anna?’ Mavros asked.

  ‘The truth,’ the Cretan said, with a grin. ‘Well, a version of it.’

  ‘Late night with the figures?’

  ‘You owe me. I couldn’t find anything particularly dubious in the budgets, but it’s hard to be sure without in-depth knowledge of the group’s complexities.’

  ‘All right, let’s see what’s on Pavlos’s memory stick.’ Mavros put the device into one of his laptop’s USB ports.

  An icon opened on the screen. It led to a single file. Mavros clicked on it.

  They looked in silence at the document that appeared.

  ‘Shit,’ Nondas said, scrolling down. ‘You know what this is, Alex?’

  ‘I can see it isn’t good.’

  ‘You’ve got that right. This is an agreement, dated August 13th this year, between Pavlos Gatsos, Vangelis Myronis and Santiago Rojas, outlining how they intend to wrest control of the Gatsos group from Kostas. They’ve already got a lot of shareholders’ preliminary agreement on the grounds that the old man’s lost his grip.’

  Nondas continued to scroll down. ‘There are several mentions of a “timber residue” to be shipped from Colombia to Europe. Is that what I think it is?’

  ‘I presume you’re thinking of stuff that looks like this,’ Mavros said, shaking white powder from his shirt pocket.

  Nondas licked a finger, put it on the powder and licked it. ‘It’s flour.’

  ‘I noticed. You think this is a glorified dope deal?’

  ‘Hardly. Have you any idea what the Gatsos group is worth?’

  ‘Billions?’

  ‘Plenty of billions. I’ve only begun to discover what they’re into. They’ve invested heavily in China over the last decade.’

  There was a shriek from the bedroom.

  Mavros shook his head. ‘A lie-down.’

  ‘Good luck to them,’ Nondas said, laughing. ‘See what happens when you lose weight?’ He slapped his own belly. ‘Maybe I should do more exercise.’

  ‘I’m surprised Anna doesn’t have you giving her fifty on a daily basis.’

  ‘Who says she doesn’t? I just put it all back on again at lunch.’

  Mavros sat back. ‘Where does this get us?’

  ‘It might explain why Pavlos and Vangelis were killed.’

  Mavros looked at his brother-in-law. ‘I don’t know. The former was shot during the kidnap and the latter during a police raid on Russian mobsters.’

  ‘Who were into drug-dealing.’

  Mavros did a search for ‘Gogol’ in the document.

  ‘You didn’t really think they’d be mentioned.’

  ‘No, but something doesn’t add up. Pavlos’ and Vangelis’ plan to take over the group seems to have been moving ahead. I’d been wondering if they were behind the kidnap, especially since the Gogols appeared. But in fact the absence or death of Kostas wouldn’t be to their advantage.’

  ‘It would if Pavlos hadn’t been killed,’ Nondas said, drinking beer that he’d taken from the Fat Man’s fridge. ‘He’d have been in pole position to take control.’

  ‘It seems unnecessarily risky and Pavlos didn’t have a reputation for taking chances.’

  ‘I agree. The shareholders they tapped will have gone into their shells until the situation’s resolved.’

  Mavros emptied his Amstel. ‘Someone else is behind the kidnap.’

  There was a loud crash from the bedroom.

  ‘For God’s sake, Yiorgo!’ he yelled.

  Nondas laughed like a fifteen-year-old. ‘Santiago Rojas,’ he said, when he caught his breath. ‘Maybe he was playing a different game. Maybe he’s the one who’s really in with the Gogols.’

  ‘Could well be.’

  The doorbell rang.

  Mavros got up and went to the entry phone. No one answered his demand that they identify themselves.

  ‘Bloody delivery boys.’

  He was on his way back to the sofa when the bell rang again, this time the one on the flat door. He looked through the spyhole and shook his head in surprise before opening up.

  The moment a statuesque dark-haired woman in a calf-length skirt swept in, the
Fat Man appeared from the bedroom with a towel stretched around his waist. Marianthi’s head came out from behind his.

  ‘Get back in here immediately!’ she ordered.

  The door closed behind them.

  The woman took in Mavros and Nondas, unabashed by the farcical episode she had just witnessed.

  ‘Is one of you Alex Mavros?’ she asked, in English.

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Laura Moreno,’ she said, extending a hand. ‘I badly need your help.’

  The feeling’s mutual, Mavros thought.

  In his office on the ninth floor of police headquarters Brigadier Kriaras was glaring at Lieutenant Haralambidhis.

  ‘The tests confirm that the ear and nails are from Kostas Gatsos.’

  ‘Sir.’

  ‘And the forensics evidence from the packaging is a dead end.’

  ‘No prints in the database. One of the clerks said she remembered the customer wearing gloves. And a hood and dark glasses.’

  ‘They probably all were. What about Lavrenti Gogol? Is he still as hermetically sealed as a mussel in a hurricane?’

  The lieutenant raised an eyebrow. ‘Sir. His lawyer’s claiming we used excessive force and that the Russian shot Vangelis Myronis by accident because our entry gave him a shock.’

  ‘Fuck the smartarse’s mother. I take it there have been no sightings of Igor Gogol.’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Have you got any good news for me?’

  The lieutenant lowered his head.

  ‘Mavros,’ Kriaras said. ‘What’s he up to?’

  ‘I don’t know, sir.’

  ‘Not good enough.’ The brigadier picked up his phone and made a call. ‘The bastard’s not answering his phone, at least not to me. Find him and find out what angles he’s investigating.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the lieutenant said gloomily. Then he had a thought. He could order Elisavet Latsou to come with him.

  ‘I’ll be waiting for your call.’

  ‘Sir.’ Babis left the office and immediately rang the sergeant.

  ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Neapolis.’

  ‘That won’t take long. I’ll meet you in the car park.’

  ‘Done. Uniform not required.’

  ‘You want me in my underwear?’

  ‘Pardon?’ The lieutenant was so surprised that the response came out quicker than that of a teenager whose grandmother had caught him in front of a porn film.

  ‘See you shortly, sir,’ she said, then cut the connection.

  Lieutenant Babis strode to the lift like Hermes with a message from Zeus. It was only as the contraption juddered into action that he remembered one of Hermes’ duties was accompanying the dead to the underworld. Not the best of omens for a night on duty.

  ‘How did you find me?’ Mavros asked.

  ‘I didn’t want to use the telephone,’ Laura said, her English unaccented. ‘Loukas Gatsos sent me to your mother’s apartment. She was kind enough to give me this address.’ She looked around the Fat Man’s place. ‘You live here?’

  ‘No,’ Mavros said quickly. ‘With my mother.’ He realised how feeble that sounded. ‘She hasn’t been well.’

  ‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of. The native tribes in Colombia look after their old people with great devotion.’

  Nondas nudged Mavros.

  ‘I’m sorry, this is my brother-in-law, Nondas Chaniotakis.’

  ‘You’re a shareholder in the Gatsos group,’ Nondas said.

  Laura’s dark eyes opened wide. ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘Don’t mind him,’ Mavros said, taking her arm and leading her to the sofa. ‘He’s been helping me with certain financial aspects of the kidnapping.’

  ‘I hope you don’t think I had anything to do with it,’ she said, as she sat down.

  ‘Of course not. You said you needed my help.’

  A high-pitched cry came from the bedroom.

  Laura smiled. ‘I take it that is Mr Pandazopoulos – do I say it right?’

  ‘Yiorgos, yes,’ Mavros said, rubbing his forehead. ‘He’s …’

  ‘Checking a taxi driver’s suspension,’ Nondas supplied.

  Mavros gave him a stony stare. ‘Anyway, you were saying, Ms Moreno.’

  ‘Please call me Laura. I wasn’t saying, but now I will. Since you know I’m a Gatsos group shareholder, I presume you are also aware of Santiago Rojas.’

  ‘We are,’ Mavros said noncommittally.

  ‘I …’ She dropped her gaze. ‘I was going to the police about this, but I changed my mind after speaking to Loukas – not that I went into detail about what happened.’

  Mavros saw she was frightened though doing her best to conceal it. ‘Relax, Laura. Between us we’ll find a way to handle your problem.’

  The Colombian laughed sharply. ‘If only … The fact is, I made a mistake in getting too close to Santiago regarding business. He talked me into taking ownership of one of the Gatsos companies, as Kostas did himself. They were very convincing. I had no idea that such profits could be made from shipping. Having an in-house transportation company is useful for Colarmco too.’

  Mavros nodded. ‘But?’

  ‘But I’ve just been threatened by Santiago and a Russian called—’

  ‘Igor Gogol?’

  Laura Moreno stared at Mavros. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘He’s on the run after the police raided the nightclub he and his brother own.’

  ‘So he said.’ She told them what had happened at Kaisariani.

  ‘The shooting range?’ said Nondas. ‘Lovely.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’

  ‘So Rojas and Gogol are partners in crime,’ Mavros said. ‘You should take a look at this.’ He handed her the laptop, having refreshed the document.

  Laura read it, scrolling down, then turned to him. ‘I know nothing about this, but it squares with Santiago’s attempts to get me to help him take over the Gatsos group. He’s approached a lot of shareholders.’

  Mavros looked at Nondas. ‘Surely the family will have enough shares to see anyone off.’

  ‘You’d think so,’ his brother-in-law said. ‘It’s become clear that the CD-ROM Loukas supplied doesn’t tell the whole story, not least about the holdings he and his relatives have. In any case, Pavlos Gatsos would have had a substantial percentage of the shares and perhaps Myronis was planning on getting hold of his wife’s one way or another.’

  ‘I heard about Pavlos’s death, of course,’ Laura said. ‘I was shocked but I can’t say Santiago was.’

  Mavros was studying her face. He looked away when she met his eyes.

  ‘Why did you both come to Greece?’ he asked.

  ‘That was something else Santiago persuaded me to do. He wants to use me as a figurehead for his machinations with the group. My plan was to take a few days away from home so I could convince him I would have no part of what he’s doing. I never imagined he would try to press a Russian thug on my company.’

  ‘What exactly do you want from me?’ Mavros asked.

  Laura bowed her head. ‘Protect me?’

  Nondas raised an eyebrow.

  ‘That isn’t what I do,’ Mavros said, wondering why a high-flying and wealthy businesswoman would be so needy. ‘I’m a missing persons specialist.’

  She gave him a piercing look. ‘You’re trying to find Kostas Gatsos. I’m part of that case.’

  ‘You are,’ he conceded. ‘And you must know a lot about Rojas.’

  ‘I do,’ she said, with a smile.

  Suddenly there was activity at both the bedroom door and the flat entrance. The Fat Man and Marianthi, fully clothed, came out of the former, while the bell at the street door rang.

  Mavros left Nondas to do the introductions and answered the entry phone.

  ‘Come on up,’ he said, putting the receiver back on the wall. ‘It’s Lieutenant Babis,’ he reported to the others. ‘Marianthi, can you take our guest into the bedroom? I do
n’t want the police to know she’s with us.’ He explained to Laura in English.

  If the South American had any reluctance about entering Yiorgos’s boudoir, she didn’t show it.

  The flat bell rang.

  ‘Be a good host, Yiorgo,’ Mavros said.

  The Fat Man glowered at him then opened up.

  The policeman was followed by a muscle-bound young woman, both of them in plain clothes.

  ‘Evening, all,’ he said. ‘This is Sergeant Elisavet Latsou.’ He introduced the three men, getting their names right.

  The sergeant sniffed the air. ‘Expensive perfume. I can’t quite place it.’

  ‘My other half’s,’ Yiorgos said. ‘Only the best for her.’

  ‘Really?’ Disbelief dripped from her lips like honey in a ravaged hive.

  ‘Refreshments?’ Mavros interjected.

  ‘No, thanks. We won’t be staying long.’ The lieutenant went over to the open laptop. Just before he got there, Nondas closed it.

  ‘What can we do for you?’ Mavros asked.

  ‘I need to talk to you in private,’ Babis said. ‘How about in there?’ He pointed to the bedroom door.

  ‘Er, no,’ the Fat Man said. ‘It’s in a hell of a mess.’

  ‘Follow me.’ Mavros led the lieutenant to the bathroom. ‘Shall I turn on the taps like in the spy films?’

  ‘That won’t be necessary. The brigadier’s wondering if you’ve come across anything we should know about.’

  Mavros grinned. ‘Sweet. What do I get in return?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘I made it clear that I wouldn’t work under surveillance. If you want something from me, I want something back.’

  ‘But we don’t have anything. Lavrenti Gogol isn’t talking, his brother’s gone to ground, and there’s nothing on the people who sent the packages.’

  ‘But the ear and nails have been confirmed as belonging to Kostas Gatsos.’