‘What information?’
‘Concerning the business relations between the families of Favieros and Stefanakos. I was informed that, apart from Jason Favieros’s construction company and Lilian Stathatos’s advertising company, there are two other consultancy companies for European investments that the wives of Favieros and Stefanakos are partners in. One of these operates in Greece and the other in Skopje, covering the Balkans. Favieros also had an offshore company Balkan Prospect, which operates a network of real-estate agencies throughout Greece and the Balkans, together with various construction companies. Finally, there is another offshore company owned by Favieros and Stathatos that deals in hotel and tourist enterprises.’
‘Thank God you’re a police officer and not a tax official. You’d have us all at your mercy,’ he said, without losing his smile. ‘So where are you leading?’
I began to explain to him the whole network of business relations linking Favieros and his wife with Stefanakos and his wife. I outlined my theory about the two bona fide companies, the construction and advertising ones, and how behind these operated the more shady ones, Balkan Prospect belonging to Favieros, and the consultancy companies and hotel enterprises.
He didn’t interrupt me even once, but nor did he show any great interest. ‘What is it that you want of me exactly?’ he asked impatiently when I had finished.
‘I’d like you to tell me if, in your opinion, there is anything unusual behind all this and how it might operate.’ I tried to formulate my question as innocently as possible so as not to bring him down to earth with a bang.
‘I see nothing unusual about it,’ he said, astounding me.
‘Not even in the way that Balkan Prospect runs its real-estate agencies?’
‘Why would I find it unusual? Every business operates by buying cheaply and selling dearly. If it doesn’t succeed in this in the first year, it will close.’
‘Yes, but the difference is not declared to the tax office. It goes straight into the pocket of the real-estate agency as undeclared earnings.’
He laughed. ‘Do you own the flat you live in, Inspector?’
‘No.’
‘Well, if you buy a flat for your daughter in view of her upcoming marriage, I suggest you don’t declare the whole amount to the tax office. No one does it. Consequently, the tax office doesn’t lose anything. It gets the tax it would anyway.’
‘Except that various Romanians, Bulgarians and Albanians end up paying more.’
‘Why do you just see the negative side? Personally, I’m only too happy when I see foreigners who came to Greece wretched and miserable succeeding in the space of a few years to become householders and property owners. It proves something about the dynamism of our little country.’
I saw that I wouldn’t get anything out of that conversation because I was coming up against the dream of every Greek to acquire his own flat. So I decided to change tack.
‘And the consultancy firms?’
‘Is it bad that there should be companies that advise Greeks how to take advantage of the funds made available by the European Union? On the one hand, we’re always complaining that we don’t absorb the funds given by the EU and on the other we accuse those who actually do something with them.’
‘I’m not accusing them. I simply wonder whether Loukas Stefanakos was using the political means he had at his disposal to secure the requisite participation of the Greek public sector in order that the company owned by his wife and Favieros’s wife could absorb the European funds.’
‘The important thing is that the funds are absorbed, not by which company they are absorbed.’
‘I imagine this was why that Balkan minister on the programme with you praised him so highly.’
Despite all my efforts, it seems I was unable to conceal my irony, because he registered it immediately and tightened up a little.
‘I don’t understand your irony. You have no idea of the difficulties these countries face in order to secure funding, credit and loans. Stefanakos helped them through the mediation of his wife’s consultancy firm.’
‘And a large slice of the funds went into the pockets of Mrs Stathatos and Mrs Favieros as a fee for their mediation.’
‘Isn’t it only natural that Greece should get something in return for the help it offers to a third country? Otherwise, what would be the incentive for such mediation? What does it matter if Stefanakos channelled the fee through the firm run by his wife and Mrs Favieros? After all, both Greece and the Balkan country benefited from it. The poor wretches in the Balkans recognised that and were grateful to him.’
I had no words to counter his. After all, I was a copper who dealt in dead bodies; I was neither a politician nor a financier. Andreadis, however, took my silence as acquiescence.
‘Everything you’ve described to me so far, Inspector, is in keeping with the rules of a self-regulating, free market. Our great success is that we managed to convince even fanatic leftists like the families of Favieros and Stefanakos to accept these rules and apply them. And now that we’ve convinced them after so many decades, you want us to accuse them of illegalities. For heaven’s sake!’
All his rhetoric had made him forget the time and he suddenly looked at his watch. ‘And now I’m afraid I have to go as I’m already late.’
He accompanied me to the door. He halted there and slapped me on the back. ‘We’ve won, Inspector. As a member of the Security Force, that traditionally has always been closer to our party, you yourself should be happy. Give my best regards to Fanis.’
He gave me another friendly slap on the back and handed me over to his daughter, who accompanied me to the front door.
32
‘Capture: 1. med. & mod. seize, conquer, destroy. Eurip. Trojan Women, 95 A fool he who destroys cities and temples / mod. seize, see citadel or fortification / mod and metaph. He captured her heart 2. take as plunder, as spoils. Thucyd. 4, 57 They burnt the city and plundered all that was in it 3. pass. metaph. be undone. Soph. Trach. 1104 and here I lie dismembered and undone.’
I was looking to see which meaning best suited the taking over of my post by Yanoutsos. It was very close to two of the first meanings: those of ‘seize’ and ‘destroy’. He had seized my post while I was in hospital and, given the way he was handling the cases in the Homicide Department, he was undoubtedly destroying it. The other meaning was redundant because ‘he hadn’t captured my heart’. On the contrary, the second meaning ‘take as plunder, as spoils’ suited him to a tee. Yanoutsos had done what the adviser had asked, bypassed Ghikas, rounded up the three blockheads and had taken my post as his plunder and spoils. As for me, that was perfectly expressed by the third meaning: I was completely undone.
It was one of the rare occasions when I had taken Dimitrakos with me into the sitting room. The bedroom resembled a street market with Russo-Pontian wares. The wardrobe had been emptied out and all the clothes were scattered over the bed, the armchair and the dressing table, where Adriani was sitting and putting on her make-up. Decorating the centre of the double bed were two open suitcases, which operated on the lines of communicating vessels: the one emptied and the other filled. All this was part of Adriani’s preparations in view of our departure the following afternoon on the high-speed. Actually, she had time the following morning to pack the cases, but it took her so long to overcome her indecisiveness that she felt safer when she had a whole night in front of her.
‘Flight n.: med., mod. & colloq. hasty or secret departure, fleeing. Odyssey X, 117 but the two others running away in flight came back to my ship. 2. escape, avoidance, release from something. Aesch. Suppliants 395 escape from this cruel rape 3. eviction, expulsion, exile from the homeland. Herod. 7.3 and having gone into voluntary exile from Sparta. 4. coll. noun: exiles, fugitives. 5. refuge, sanctuary. Diod. XVIII, 17 refuge in the mountain.’
‘Come and choose what trousers and shirts you want to take with you.’
‘Pack as many shirts as I need to have a clean change ever
y second day, and throw in three pairs of trousers and a jacket for the evenings when it’s windy.’
So then, a hasty departure. Even if it wasn’t secret, it was certainly fleeing, as Dimitrakos had it. Put more simply, I was taking to my heels in search of the meaning in 5: refuge, sanctuary, except that the refuge was on an island and not in a mountain.
While I was investigating the lexicographic formulation of my situation, the idea became lodged in my mind that my self-sacrifice in saving Elena Koustas from the bullet of her adopted son had, in the end, brought me nothing but bad luck.
Fortunately, Fanis appeared at just the right moment to dispel my pessimism. That was the good thing about Fanis. He always breezed in with a smile on his lips and in two minutes he had raised your spirits.
‘I just popped round to say bye and wish you happy holidays,’ he said as I opened the door for him.
‘Except that I don’t have any treat for you this evening,’ said Adriani, who had emerged from the bedroom. ‘I decided not to cook given that we’re leaving tomorrow.’ She always apologised to him when there was no home-cooked food in the house, as she considered it her duty to make up for her daughter’s culinary incompetence.
‘What do you think tavernas are for?’ Fanis replied.
She liked the idea, because she immediately showed willingness. ‘Let me finish packing and I’ll get ready.’
She jumps for joy when it comes to going out to eat but as soon as she sits down in a taverna, the one dish smells funny to her and the other she thinks is off. You just can’t win with her.
‘It seems Andreadis thinks the world of you,’ I said to him when we were in the sitting room.
He laughed. ‘Because of his mother. The patient and all his family think that you’re a good doctor, but you yourself know that you just got lucky. When they brought her in, she had a blockage the size of the Anatolian fault. I was certain she wouldn’t make it through the night, but the old woman’s organism reacted and she got away with it. I gained Andreadis’s gratitude.’ He looked at me gravely. ‘Did you find out what you wanted?’
He had no idea what game was being played at the office at my expense, but he realised that it must be something serious for me to want to talk to a Member of Parliament.
‘He was helpful and polite with me, but I didn’t expect to learn what it was I wanted.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I was looking for a needle in a haystack.’
‘It’s a good thing your wife’s not listening. According to her, that’s what you’ve been doing all your life,’ he said, laughing.
‘A drowning man clutches at straws.’
He saw my expression and became serious, but at that moment we were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell and I went to open the front door. Standing in the doorway was a young lad of the kind that delivers letters sent by courier.
‘Costas Haritos?’
‘Yes, that’s me.’
‘Sign here, please.’
I signed and he handed me a thick and heavy A4-size envelope. The young lad turned and left, leaving me wondering who might possibly have sent me an envelope by courier and at seven thirty in the evening. I looked at the name of the sender and froze. The sender was Minas Logaras, 12 Nisaias Street, Athens 10445. The addresses of both the sender and the recipient were typed on labels.
I went back into the sitting room, tearing open the envelope in the same way that in the village my mother would skin a rabbit to make rabbit stew. Inside was a thick pack of printing paper. My eyes fell immediately on the title:
MINAS LOGARAS
APOSTOLOS VAKIRTZIS
THE JOURNALIST – THE ACTIVIST – THE MAN
I was unable to shift my gaze from the name Vakirtzis. Apostolos Vakirtzis was one of the most well-known newspaper and radio journalists. His articles were something of a barometer for the political scene and his morning radio programme was heard by the whole of Greece, from bus drivers and barbers to car mechanics.
I tried to understand why Minas Logaras was sending me the typed manuscript of his new biography. Fanis came over to me and looked over my shoulder. He murmured to himself bewildered:
‘Apostolos Vakirtzis? The journalist? Why would Vakirtzis commit suicide? He’s got the government and the opposition in fear of him. He can make and break ministers. He’s made more money than he knows what to do with. Houses, villas, yachts, whatever you can imagine.’
Then he came out with the same question that had passed through my mind: ‘And why has Logaras sent the biography to you?’
‘He’s warning me,’ I said. ‘He’s warning me that Apostolos Vakirtzis is going to commit suicide.’
‘I don’t understand,’ he said with a troubled expression. ‘Why would Logaras warn you? So that you’ll prevent him from doing it?’
His bewilderment suddenly opened my eyes for me. Correct, why would he warn me? He knew that I would immediately move heaven and earth to prevent Vakirtzis committing suicide. I tried to imagine what Logaras had in mind, but I was flustered and my mind was working at half speed.
Adriani walked into the sitting room all dressed and spruced up. ‘I’m ready,’ she said with a smile of satisfaction.
I grabbed Fanis by the arm and began shaking him. ‘He’s playing with me!’ I shouted angrily. ‘He’s playing with me! He’s not warning me that Vakirtzis is going to commit suicide. He’s telling me that he’s doing it at this very moment and there’s nothing I can do about it!’
Adriani stared in amazement, first at me, then at Fanis. ‘What’s wrong with you both?’ she asked.
‘We’re not going. It’s off!’ I shouted.
‘But didn’t we say we’d eat out?’
‘Not that! The holiday is off! There’s been a third suicide!’
She remained speechless for a moment, then she raised her eyes to the chandelier and began crossing herself. ‘Holy Mother of God, enough of all these ups and downs. Let my husband have a normal job, let him go to work at nine and come back at five, and I’ll light a candle to you that’s as big as I am.’
She had no idea just how close she was to having God fulfil her wish. I rushed to the phone to call Ghikas at his home. No one answered. I searched for his mobile number. He only allowed us to use it in extreme circumstances, but this was as extreme as they came. I heard some old mother hen saying that my call would be forwarded. I called the exchange at Security Headquarters in the hope that he might still be in his office or that they might be able to tell me where he was.
‘Turn on the TV and find the channel where Favieros and Stefanakos committed suicide!’ I called to Adriani, while I waited for them to answer. If Vakirtzis had already committed suicide, they would lose no time in announcing it. If not, perhaps there would still be some hope, but every moment that passed counted in favour of Logaras.
‘Inspector Haritos! I want to speak to the Head of Security, Superintendent Ghikas! It is extremely important!’
‘Just a moment, Inspector!’ I waited, at the same time trying to bridle my impatience and my nerves. ‘The Superintendent will be away for a few days, Inspector. Would you like to speak to someone else?’
The ‘someone else’ would be Yanoutsos. ‘No,’ I said and hung up.
Ghikas had obviously moved in the same direction as I had, but more quickly. He had turned his back on it all and gone on holiday. I cast a quick glance at the TV, but there was nothing that looked like a special news bulletin. I grabbed hold of the remote control and began switching channels at random. All the channels were much of a muchness. That relieved me somewhat though it didn’t bring me any nearer to preventing Vakirtzis’s suicide.
‘What if it’s just a farce?’ asked Adriani, not believing it herself, but simply saying it to calm me down.
‘And what if it’s not?’ Fanis asked her.
‘It’s not,’ I answered categorically. ‘No one sits down and writes a three-hundred page biography as a farce.’
As I was
replying to Adriani, I had a sudden flash of inspiration and I remembered Sotiropoulos. I called him on his mobile, praying that he would answer it. God left Adriani’s wish in abeyance and fulfilled mine. At the second ring, I heard his voice.
‘Sotiropoulos, listen to me and don’t interrupt.’ I told him the whole story with the biography. ‘Do you know where Vakirtzis might be now and how we might notify his family?’
‘Give me a minute to think.’ Silence followed. Then I heard his voice again, this time with a much more anxious tone. ‘It’s his name day today and he’s throwing a party at his place in the country. He invited me, but I have a TV programme and I couldn’t go.’
That’s it, I thought to myself on hearing this. He’s going to commit suicide at the party in front of his guests. There’d no doubt be at least one TV crew there that would record the scene and broadcast it as an exclusive on the news bulletin. For nothing to have been broadcast yet meant that he was still alive.
‘Can you inform anyone in his family?’ I asked Sotiropoulos.
‘I’ve got Vakirtzis’s mobile number, but I doubt if he’s going to answer.’
‘Don’t call him! If he’s made his mind up that he’s going to go through with it, he’ll only speed it up and we won’t be able to prevent him.’
‘I’ve no idea who else will be there.’
‘Where is his place?’
‘Somewhere near Vranas.’
‘Exact address?’
‘I don’t know, but I can find out.’ Suddenly, he changed his tone and shouted angrily. ‘And how the hell am I going to communicate with you when you don’t have a mobile phone?’
‘I’ll give you another number.’ I gave him Fanis’s mobile number.
‘You get going and I’ll be right behind you.’
That meant he would set off after first securing a TV crew. ‘You drive, please,’ I said to Fanis. ‘I don’t want to take the wheel. I feel too shaken.’
Che Committed Suicide Page 23
