Rojas turned and ran, while the Son grabbed a pistol and emptied the clip at the attacker.
There were more bursts from the far end of the basement. Men started screaming.
The Son walked forward painfully, picking up another pistol, and dropped to his knees by the Fat Man and the white-haired man.
‘They die if you don’t throw down your weapons,’ he said, jamming the weapon’s muzzle into Yiorgos’s neck.
‘Take me,’ Mavros said, stepping from the room next to the torture chamber and putting down the pistol he had grabbed. ‘Let them go.’
The Son looked round and grinned. ‘I know, I’ll take you and them.’
The shots came before he could pull the trigger. They hit him in the back and head. He fell forward over the men who had been his potential victims, his legs twitching briefly.
Mavros had turned round.
The man in the Homburg came towards him slowly, looking into each room. Then he smiled crookedly.
‘Hello, little brother,’ he said.
Mavros dropped to his knees as the hat was removed to reveal Andonis’s still dark hair and weathered but instantly recognisable features. His blue eyes shone above the hook of his nose as they had done a lifetime ago. Then Mavros’s vision was obscured by tears.
TWENTY-EIGHT
When the shooting started in earnest, Laura started to run to the factory. Marianthi wasn’t far behind. They found no one on the ground floor, but could hear voices from the basement.
‘Alex?’ Laura shouted, oblivious to danger.
‘Yiorgo?’ followed Marianthi.
They went down the stairs, stepping round the bodies at the foot.
The Fat Man was standing with a white-haired man beside a sprawling corpse. Marianthi ran to him.
‘Careful,’ he gasped, as she ran into him. ‘I got hit.’
‘Shot?’ she screamed.
‘No, punched in the gut.’
‘Who’s this?’
‘I don’t know.’
Laura ran along, looking into rooms. She stopped when she saw Mavros and the man they had met outside, his hat now in his hand and the machine pistols in his coat pockets.
‘Alex?’ she said. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes,’ he answered hoarsely.
Laura could see his eyes were damp.
‘Who’s this?’
‘My … my brother.’
‘What?’
‘Come,’ the other man said. ‘We have to get out of here before the police arrive.’ He smiled at Laura. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll have him back shortly, Ms Moreno.’
‘How …?’ She watched as they moved past her and approached the stairs. Mavros’s brother spoke to Yiorgos and handed him the machine pistols. He also talked to the white-haired man, who followed them after shaking the Fat Man’s hand.
Then Laura looked to her left and saw a sickening framework of hooks and lines above a table. She went towards it, unable to stop herself. Then she heard a faint knocking from inside a heavy cupboard. The key was in the door. She turned it and stepped back as a short, naked figure tumbled out. The ends of his fingers were stained brown and his right ear was missing.
‘Kostas.’
‘Laura,’ the old man said. ‘I’m glad to see your glorious anatomy.’
She took his arm, seeing the wounds on his wrist and across his body.
‘What did they do to you?’
‘Never mind that. Where’s my bitch of a daughter?’
She let him go as he hobbled towards the door, this time keeping her eyes off the torture device. It was no longer clear to her that Greece was the cradle of western civilisation.
‘Stephanos Hatzis, of all people,’ Andonis Mavros said, as the trio walked towards the olive trees. ‘What brought you here?’
‘It’s a long story,’ said the white-haired man. ‘And no one’s called me that for over three decades. I’m Jim Thomson now.’
‘Stephanos?’ Mavros said. ‘I remember you.’
‘And I you. Andonis brought me to your family house once. We were in the same Youth Party group.’
‘I … I can’t believe this,’ Mavros said, staring at his brother in the last of the light from the factory. ‘You disappear for thirty-eight years and turn up as I’m about to be killed? What the fuck’s that about?’
Andonis drew closer. ‘Listen, Alex, I don’t have much time. I—’ He broke off and looked down, then took off the glove from his right hand and reached for Mavros’s. ‘You have to understand. I was … broken in Bouboulinas Street. They made me betray … everyone.’
‘The same happened to me,’ said Jim Thomson. ‘You can’t live with the shame. This is the first time I’ve set foot on Greek soil since 1975.’
Andonis nodded slowly. ‘That’s how it is, little brother. I could never face Mother or Anna or you. I wasn’t just a traitor to the Party and my comrades, but I disgraced our father’s good name. I couldn’t stay, I couldn’t get in touch …’
‘Bullshit!’ Mavros shouted. ‘You think Mother would have cared about that? You were tortured, for God’s sake. No one could stand that. Fuck you, Andoni. No calls, no letters, no contact for all this time. It’s obvious you don’t give a damn about us.’
‘That isn’t true,’ his brother said, reaching out to the hand that had been snatched away. ‘I got involved in work that I’m not … I’m not proud of.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘The Soviets?’ said Jim.
Andonis looked at him briefly. ‘Them and their successors.’
‘What were you?’ Mavros demanded. ‘A KGB hit man?’
‘A fixer, more like. But I gave that up five years ago. Now I right wrongs that others can’t. You can be sure I’ve been following your career closely, Alex. I’m very sorry about Niki.’
Mavros stared at him. ‘You’ve been following my career? You fucking arsehole, we could have worked together. Do you know how much time I’ve spent looking for you? Instead you got involved with the Son, didn’t you? That’s why you made sure he couldn’t talk back there.’
Andonis looked puzzled. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Back in 2004 he told me you were alive.’
‘He must have picked that up from the people he worked for. Some are ex-KGB. As is Pyotr Alenov, who set the kidnap up at Sergei Potemkin’s behest.’
‘I know he did,’ Mavros snapped. ‘And Santiago Rojas was their mole on the Gatsos group board.’ He paused and tried to get a grip on his breathing. ‘So what am I supposed to say? “Thanks for saving my life, big brother, and goodbye”?’
‘I have to go, Alex. You know the police will be here soon. But I promise I’ll be in touch again.’
‘Maybe you could do that before Mother dies. She’s eighty-five, you know.’
‘I think of her every day.’
‘I’ll bet you do. Do I let her know you’ve been hiding from her and the rest of us all these years? No, I don’t think so. Let’s see if you have the balls to do it yourself.’
Jim Thomson came closer. ‘Don’t be so hard on him, Alex. You don’t know what failing your friends does to you.’
‘Go to hell. You’re both cowards. Where’s the honour in hiding from the people who love you?’
Andonis smiled sadly. ‘You saw what went on in the basement back there, Alex. Where was the honour in that?’
A vehicle came racing down the access road, lights blazing. The two older men stepped deeper into the trees.
‘Here come Greece’s finest,’ Andonis said. ‘I’d be grateful if you kept my name out of this, Alex, but I’ll understand if you don’t.’
‘Ditto,’ said Thomson.
‘There’s also a man in there with a sword tattoo on his neck,’ Andonis continued. ‘He was my contact. I asked Yiorgos to let him go, but if you could check …’
‘Where are you going?’ Mavros said. ‘How can I get in touch with you?’
‘Leave that to me.’ His brother
looked at the white-haired man. ‘Come with me, Stephane. We have things to talk about.’
Thomson looked at him. ‘I wanted to tell that old bastard Gatsos I was on a ship he had sunk, but what’s the point? There’s nothing else to keep me here.’
Andonis approached Mavros and opened his arms. ‘I’ll tell you about my life when we next meet, Alex.’
‘What makes you think I give a shit?’
Another soft smile. ‘It’s in your eyes, my brother. And under that grizzled stubble.’
Mavros walked into the embrace and felt his sibling’s thin frame. In his youth Andonis had been muscular and solid.
‘Are you ill?’ he asked, swallowing a sob.
‘Not that I know of. Just approaching sixty after too many hard years.’
‘Stay alive, Andoni. There are people who need to see you again, soon.’
‘I hear you.’
They kissed each other on the cheeks, then Mavros watched as Andonis and his old comrade disappeared into the darkness. He stood there for a time, taking in the calls of the night birds and the rustling of the leaves in the wind.
Lieutenant Babis and Sergeant Elisavet got out of their hire car, pistols at the ready.
‘Over here,’ Mavros called. ‘Don’t worry, everything’s under control.’ His voice was level, but the emotional turmoil almost made him throw up.
When they got to the basement, Mavros managed to get across to the Fat Man, Laura and Marianthi that he would tell the officers what had happened. Andonis hadn’t killed all the Russians, only three who had gone for their weapons, and the Son. The others had serious but non-lethal wounds. They weren’t in the mood to talk and probably never would be. There was no sign of any man with a sword tattoo. Igor Gogol had passed out from loss of blood and Elisavet Latsou tied a tourniquet around his upper thigh. Ambulances were on the way.
Mavros said that a firefight had started when he brandished a grenade that he found – he made sure he picked it up so his fingerprints were on it. Kostas Gatsos had been calmed down by Laura and was hunched in a blanket, his eyes wild but his mouth closed. He looked physically frail. Santiago Rojas’s gabbled accusations were ignored by Babis after Mavros told him that the Colombian was involved in the kidnap. When the lieutenant saw the torture table he was even less inclined to pay Rojas any heed.
No one was allowed to leave the old pressing plant, although Mavros, Yiorgos, Laura and Marianthi, along with Kostas Gatsos, were taken upstairs by Sergeant Latsou. She had found a makeshift kitchen, and Marianthi volunteered to make coffee and sandwiches.
It was nearly eleven o’clock when Nikos Kriaras arrived with his team. He gave Mavros a steely glare and went downstairs. Ten minutes later he appeared at the top of the steps and beckoned to him.
‘What the fuck went on here? Who gave you permission to start a battle? Kostas Gatsos could have been killed.’
‘Unlikely. He was locked in a cupboard until the shooting finished.’
‘And the rest?’
Mavros told him his version of events, saying they’d decided not to wait when they heard shots.
‘Where were they taking him?’
‘You’d better ask Rojas that.’
‘He’s clammed up. Wants a lawyer.’
‘He’ll need a good one. He was working with Igor Gogol, but I think you’ll find the plot goes much higher than them.’
‘Greeks?’
‘Not primarily.’
‘Thank God for that.’
‘Let’s you off the hook a bit, yes. But I doubt you’ll be able to stop Kostas Gatsos telling his story to the world’s media.’
Kriaras smiled tightly. ‘That’s all to the good, considering the Greek police was responsible for his discovery.’
‘So that’s how it’s going to be.’
‘What do you care? You’ve got the family’s half million euros.’
‘I suppose. If the old man doesn’t renege.’
The brigadier grabbed his arm. ‘What happened to the Son?’
‘He lost his head or at least the functioning parts of it. Aren’t you pleased? He could have come out with some pretty tales about how you used him over the years.’
‘Do you want me to arrest you?’
‘On what charge? Telling the truth? And something else – the Son knew I was coming. How do you explain that?’
‘I don’t have to.’
‘Really? If I find the slightest evidence that you were in contact with him, your career will turn into a mushroom cloud.’
Nikos Kriaras stalked away.
‘Can we go now?’ Mavros called after him.
‘Yes, but I want you all at police headquarters in Athens tomorrow afternoon at the latest.’
‘Please.’
The brigadier kept walking.
Mavros thought about what he’d said. Why would Kriaras have been in cahoots with the Son? To ensure he got credit for the case while letting the killer escape? Anything was possible in the policeman’s world of graft and services rendered, but that was a stretch. There was probably a lower ranked informer.
‘What did you say to him?’ Lieutenant Babis asked.
‘The usual pleasantries.’ Mavros looked at Sergeant Latsou, who was supervising the photographing of the Son’s corpse. ‘Some body,’ he said.
‘Yes, he had muscles like …’ He saw where Mavros was looking. ‘Careful. We don’t tolerate comments about fellow officers.’
‘Especially not when they’re female.’
‘Exactly.’
Elisavet looked round. She might even have smiled.
Marianthi drove them to Mytiline, where they found rooms in a harbour front hotel. Mavros organised e-tickets on the morning flight. They only had a few hours to sleep, but none of them wanted to go straight to bed. Laura and Marianthi sat together in one of the rooms, not as shell-shocked as they might have been, while Mavros and the Fat Man shared small bottles of Plomari ouzo from their mini-bars.
‘What did Andonis tell you?’ Yiorgos asked.
Mavros filled him in.
‘I never thought we’d see him again,’ the Fat Man said, when he’d finished. ‘Let alone when we were staring death in the face.’
‘We’d better see him again soon or I’ll go looking for him.’
‘Like you’ve been doing all your adult life.’
‘Except during this case. And the last five years.’
‘Which goes to show that patience is a virtue.’
‘Thanks for that, Aristotle.’
Later, in bed, Laura gave Mavros a serious look.
‘You’re taking it badly, aren’t you?’
‘Thirty-eight years,’ Mavros said bitterly. ‘Why didn’t he call? Once would have been enough.’
Laura kissed him on the cheek. ‘No, it wouldn’t. I can see that. It was either full contact or nothing.’
‘That’s your considered opinion, is it?’
‘Are we having our first fight?’ she said, eyes flashing.
The tension left Mavros’s body. ‘No. I’m sorry. It would have been much worse having to handle this without you.’
She kissed him again.
‘I mean, I’d have had to cry on the Fat Man’s shoulder.’
Laura nudged him in the ribs.
‘Ow! My abdomen’s a restricted zone.’
‘Really? I’ll have to see if I can find somewhere else that’ll respond to my advances.’
She succeeded. Neither of them got much sleep.
The wind was gusting hard when they left the hotel, the water in the port churning.
‘This is going to be a hell of a flight,’ Yiorgos said.
‘If it isn’t cancelled,’ Mavros said. He was hoping it would be because he hated turbulence.
They drove past signs to the Theophilos Museum at Vareia.
‘I’d have liked to visit that,’ Laura said. ‘His work’s very unusual. I wonder where the painting from the bedroom is.’
‘I doubt it�
��ll ever surface. Greed, that was what let the Russians down. If they’d left the painting where it was, we’d never have found the old olive press in time. I wonder what they were going to do with Kostas. Still, he probably owns other Theophilos works. Maybe he’ll ask you back next summer to see its replacement.’
She looked at Mavros. ‘If he does, it’ll have to be an invitation for two.’
‘Four,’ the Fat Man grunted. ‘We risked our skins for him as well.’
‘Maybe he’ll give us a reward’ said Marianthi.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll cover it,’ Mavros said.
‘You can say that again,’ Yiorgos declared.
The driver smiled when Mavros pointedly didn’t.
On the plane Laura looked down at the wind-blasted sea.
‘It’s even whiter today,’ she said. ‘Like a huge llama coat.’
Mavros was holding on tightly to the arm rests.
‘Of course,’ Laura continued, ‘llamas can be grey, reddish-brown and black too.’
The plane dropped suddenly and Mavros used the paper bag that he’d put between his knees.
‘Goats,’ he said, wiping his mouth with a tissue.
‘What?’
‘I told you on the way over. Little white goats.’
‘Oh yes.’ She paused. ‘But llamas are much sweeter than goats.’
‘Will you stop talking about long-haired quadrupeds?’
Laura gave him a cold and studied look. ‘Is this our first fight?’
‘No,’ he sighed. ‘Call the bloody sea what you like.’
They hit more turbulence and he used the bag again.
Laura sniffed. ‘How much ouzo did you drink last night?’
That provoked another bout of vomiting. Mavros’s stomach only calmed down when the plane came to a halt at Athens airport. Then it struck him like the edge of a broadsword that his challenge to Andonis meant he was going to have to dissemble to Dorothy and Anna. Would he be able to pull that off?
EPILOGUE
‘So these are the heroes who found me,’ Kostas Gatsos said. He was sitting in the leather chair behind the desk in his office. Loukas was on his left, while Evi had ushered Mavros, the Fat Man and Marianthi in. She introduced them, having been given the last two’s details by Mavros over the phone. They had come straight from police HQ, where they’d given statements. Laura was still there, but had insisted she’d come down to the green office building on her own.
The White Sea Page 28
