Except for bank robbers.
Chapter Six
Tassos turned left out of the airport onto a narrow road headed east.
“The new road is to the right,” said Kouros.
“I thought I’d take the scenic route.”
The road twisted east for a quarter mile until meeting up with a ten foot high chain link fence topped with razor wire marking the perimeter of the airport. From there the road and fence ran due east together for another quarter mile before turning sharply north for a half mile run parallel to the runway. Off to the right, roads led off to Agrari and Super Paradise beaches, and fields edged away from the side of the road onto steep hillsides filled with homes offering spectacular views to some of the island’s most celebrated seasonal residents.
Halfway down the runway the road turned abruptly right and into a half mile-long series of S curves and straightaways. Tassos barely slowed down as he popped the police car out onto the main road headed east toward Ano Mera.
“And before you say it, Yianni, yes I know this isn’t the way to the port.” Tassos tapped a screen on the console of the police cruiser. “I’m following this.”
“What’s that?” said Kouros leaning over the front seat.
“Modern police legwork,” said Tassos. “Each of the bank’s money drawers contains a packet of money capable of transmitting a signal. Cashiers know to turn it over when there’s a robbery.”
“I thought the ministry’s cutbacks killed that project?” said Andreas.
“They did,” said Tassos. “But bankers on Mykonos thought that with less than twenty full-time cops spread out over three shifts during most of the year and only an additional fifty third-year police academy cadets assigned to help them out during tourist season, it might be good business to get together and fund the idea on their own. The technology is basically what’s used to locate a missing iPhone.”
Andreas shook his head and looked out the window. “We’ve got wolves descending on Greece in packs and all the government gives us to fight them are slingshots.”
“And the bad guys know it,” said Kouros. “The bastards have taken over parts of Athens.”
“Hard to imagine that Greece once had the lowest crime rate in the EU,” said Tassos.
“It’s become so bad in some neighborhoods that vigilante groups are offering protection,” said Kouros.
“For the price of your vote,” said Tassos.
“It’s working. Those neo-Nazi bastards are now in parliament,” said Kouros.
“Let’s not get into that political rats’ nest,” said Andreas. “We’ve three armed bank robbers to find before they get off the island.”
“No problem,” said Kouros. “Besides, they’re a lot easier to catch than the miserable cocksuckers who steal us blind with campaign promises and a pen.”
Andreas spun his right hand in the air.
Tassos pointed at the screen. “The money’s stopped. Can’t tell if the bad guys are with it. It’s on the south shore between Kalifati and Kalo Livadi beaches, at the foot of two hills the locals call the ‘mounds of Aphrodite.’”
“I know the place,” said Kouros. “It’s on an isolated peninsula about a quarter mile off the highway. The only way in by land is along a flat dirt road across a wide open space. Anyone coming is visible the whole time.”
“So much for the element of surprise,” said Andreas.
“It gets worse. The road turns east at the base of the first mound and runs between a gauntlet of one-story buildings on both sides. Mainly private homes, rooms to rent, and a couple of fish tavernas. Everything is owned by one family that likes its isolation.”
“The perfect setting for a major shootout,” said Andreas.
“They must plan on getting away by boat,” said Tassos.
“Makes sense,” said Kouros. “Just past the second taverna is a turn off to the left that brings you down to a cove behind the taverna. There’s a tiny concrete pier with its far end and west side open to the sea. It’s barely long enough for two small fishing boats to tie up alongside. Fishermen use it to unload their catch.”
“Sounds like a boat’s in their plan,” said Andreas.
“What’s ours?” said Kouros.
Andreas smiled. “The usual.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“Improvise?” said Tassos.
Andreas nodded. “And pray.”
***
The distinctive, green three-wheel hauler with an extended truck bed hadn’t seen a repair shop in decades. But its owner knew how to keep the tiny thing’s 1300cc engine running. Those Mazda three-wheelers, with their generally oversized drivers crammed into tiny cabs up front, were once a staple of transport around the old port, but modern times and methods had made that form of hauler virtually extinct.
But this three-wheeler and the old man in the driver’s seat with the steel gray fisherman’s mustache, Greek fisherman’s hat, and denim work shirt, were familiar figures in these parts. Everyday he’d drive his unmuffled hauler in along the same dirt road to pick up fish off his cousin’s boat for delivery to nearby tavernas and hotels.
The old man noticed the three men in windbreakers standing by the first building on the left at the end of the dirt road. When he reached them he saw three yellow motorcycles tucked inside a shed on the far side of the building. The old man didn’t recognize the men, but nodded to them. Two nodded back, the third kept yelling into a cell phone. He wasn’t speaking Greek and wore a backpack.
The old man drove past the three and down toward the pier. He shouted greetings spiced with obscenities at his cousin unloading fish onto the far end out of a caique taking up practically the full length of the pier. The cousins exchanged waves as the old man backed his three-wheeler halfway onto the pier, getting it as close as he could against the wall. He slid across the seat and got out the passenger’s door. He noticed one of the three men up by the tavern watching him and asked his cousin who the three strangers were.
The fisherman shrugged. “Tourists, I guess.”
The old man kept talking to his cousin as he went to the back of his hauler, undid the tarp covering the two-foot high sideboards, and rolled it forward about a foot and a half. He began loading in fish from off the pier and, as he filled one section, he’d roll the tarp about a foot further toward the cab and load in more fish. He’d just about reached the rear of the cab when he heard the high whine of a fast boat sweeping into the cove from the open sea to the east, headed right for them and coming in quickly. The three strangers sprinted toward the pier. They squeezed past the hauler and old man, kicked through the fish still on the pier, and stood behind the hauler waving frantically at the boat.
The boat sidled up next to the pier facing into the cove and, as the first of the strangers leaped into it, the old man jumped into the caique. As the second stranger landed in the boat, two fish-covered men, one wielding a shotgun and the other an assault rifle, raised up from the hauler’s truck bed shouting at the captain to cut his engines.
The stranger with the backpack still stood on the pier. He pulled a gun from his jacket, firing as he did at the two in the hauler.
The man with the shotgun instantly fired back, partially separating the gunman’s head from his body and tumbling him backward off the pier and into the boat. His two companions in the boat jerked their hands above their heads but the captain ducked down, spun the wheel, and full-throttled the twin outboard engines in a dash back to open sea. A barrage of shotgun blasts and explosive automatic rifle rounds struck the engines, killing the boat dead in the water. The captain stood with his hands raised above his head.
By the time the three marked police cars made it to the pier, three live bad guys lay cuffed face-down on the concrete and the fast boat sat tied up alongside the caique with a dead bank robber still in it.
“Quite
a mess you made here,” said Tassos pointing at the body in the boat.
“Better him than us.” Andreas gave a wave that included the old man and the fisherman. “I hope your friend with the hauler is okay.”
“Petros? He’s an old combat soldier. Loves a bit of action every once in a while. It was his idea for Yianni to use explosive rounds in the rifle. Said it’s what the coast guard uses on boat engines when someone tried to run from them.”
Petros smiled and cursed Tassos.
“I owe you one, my friend. You too.” Tassos nodded at the fisherman. “I’m glad you listened when your cousin told you it was time to duck.”
“What a cockamamie plan you came up with,” said Andreas brushing fish parts out of his hair.
“Hey, it worked. When I saw Petros coming down the road, it all hit me.”
“Next time you’re inspired with a plan,” said Kouros, “make sure you end up in the back with the fish.”
“I’d have gladly partaken in the fun, but as Petros pointed out, he couldn’t possibly hide me in the back of his truck, even covered with fish.”
“We could have dressed you like a whale,” said Kouros.
Tassos burst out laughing, hugged Kouros, and slapped Andreas on the back. “They’d have gotten away without your help. These guys have been robbing banks all over the Cyclades. First time on Mykonos though.”
“Are they local?” said Andreas.
“Don’t think so. One of my guys said they’re speaking Russian to each other.”
“Christ, don’t tell me the Russians are getting into the crime business in the Cyclades, too,” said Kouros.
“Why not? They go where the money is. Always have, always will,” said Tassos. “Plus they love to party here. Who knows, it just might turn into their new romp and rob paradise.”
“Catchy slogan. Maybe the Greek National Tourist Organization would like to borrow it?” said Kouros
Andreas shot him an open palm. “Do you think this crew had anything to do with Christos’ murder?”
Tassos gestured no. “I doubt it. But we’ll do whatever is necessary to make sure. He stared at the three on the ground. “And I mean whatever.”
Andreas rolled his eyes.
“What we need is a break,” said Kouros
“Europol is looking for the girl,” said Tassos. “When they find her they’ll watch her until she hooks up with her partners and arrest them all.”
“Sounds like the sort of plan I like,” said Kouros pulling a small fish out through the back of his shirt collar. “Let the other guys do it.”
Tassos winked at Andreas. “My, my, I think our little boy’s finally figured out this cop business.”
Andreas shook his head. “I better get Yianni out of here and back to Athens before he starts thinking like you.”
Tassos handed Andreas a set of car keys. “Leave the cruiser at the station. I’ve got a lot to do here. And don’t forget the briefcase in the trunk.”
“I was hoping you’d forget.”
“Not a chance. And while we’re on the subject of the briefcase, one more thing.”
“What’s that?” said Andreas.
Tassos smiled. “No exchanges, no returns.”
Chapter Seven
Andreas’ office sat on the fourth floor of Athens General Police Headquarters, next to a major hospital, across the street from the stadium of one of Greece’s two most popular soccer teams, and down the block from Greece’s Supreme Court. Better known as GADA, police headquarters lay at the heart of much of what affected the more than five million souls living in Athens. But Andreas’ office looked away from all of that and its two long windows didn’t offer much of a view. Andreas liked it that way. Fewer distractions. Besides, most of the time the blinds were closed. Too many prying eyes from up on high.
At the moment, his office looked like a clandestine peep show parlor. Andreas, Kouros, and Maggie sat huddled behind his desk staring at images flashing across a computer screen. It was compilation of film clips shot at different times and different locations.
“Jesus, Maggie, I’m embarrassed to be watching this stuff with you. It’s like watching porn with my mother.”
“Your mother would have better taste. Never saw so many naked, pot-bellied men in my life. In one place that is.” She smiled.
“Pot-bellied is generous,” said Kouros.
“We’re not all in our twenties,” said Maggie.
“Yeah, and neither are the girls. The oldest looks about eighteen,” said Andreas.
“I wonder if they knew Christos was filming them?”
“I’d say not,” said Maggie. “None of the men is trying to hold in his belly.
Andreas glanced at Maggie. “Women notice that sort of thing?”
She patted Andreas’ belly. “Don’t worry, Lila will tell you if it gets out of control.”
Andreas looked down and squeezed his belly. “It’s less than an inch.”
“Two, but like I said, ‘Lila will tell you.’”
“Uhh, folks, is that who I think it is making a grand appearance?” said Kouros.
A man in his fifties and a boy in his teens, alone in one of the bedrooms in Christos’ house. The scene progressed to its inevitable, predictable conclusion.
“Jesus. I can’t believe what I just saw,” said Kouros.
“And we still have more than half the videos to watch,” said Andreas.
“The photographs were bad enough, but these videos are…” Maggie shook her head. “I’m not a prude, guys. You know that. And I know men screw around, especially politicians, but what I’m seeing here is…”
Kouros finished her thought. “Disgusting.”
“And it’s not just politicians. We’ve got business leaders, academics, clerics––” Andreas tossed his hands up in front of his face and waved circles in the air.
“It’s just what Tassos thought from the ledger entries. What’s in here explains why Christos had them all…” Kouros paused…“literally ‘by the balls.’”
“You just had to say that, didn’t you?” Maggie smacked Kouros on the back of his head.
“Now you are acting like my mother.”
The phone rang and Maggie picked it up. “Chief Inspector Kaldis’ office.”
She paused. “Hi, my love. I’m with the Chief and Yianni now. We’re watching porn films. I’ll put you on speakerphone.”
Tassos’ voice came bellowing through the speaker. “Glad to hear you guys are having such a fine time corrupting my girlfriend.”
“We need her. She’s the only one of us who keeps up on who’s prominent in the news,” said Andreas.
“With or without their clothes on,” said Kouros.
Maggie smacked him again.
“Well, I’m back on Syros and just received pictures of another naked body. But you won’t want to see this one.”
“Of Christos?” said Andreas.
“No, his girlfriend. Polish police fished her body out of a pond yesterday in Bialystok. It wasn’t really a pond, more like the cesspool for a toxic waste dump. They identified her from prints taken on a prostitution bust a few years back. The Poles notified Europol they’d found the girl Europol was looking for, and Europol called me.”
“How’d she die?”
“Drowned and strangled. But not in the cesspool. Best guess from what they found in her lungs is a bathtub. Probably raped, too. And there was no effort to hide the body. It was thrown naked into the cesspool, not even weighted down.”
“It has to tie into Christos’ murder,” said Kouros.
“The question is, ‘How?’” said Andreas.
“Local police said she left Poland a few years back after her boyfriend was arrested for drug dealing. He spent two years in prison. Just got out six weeks ago.”
“About the same time as the girlfriend’s first trip back to Poland,” said Kouros.
“Sounds like we have a suspect in two murders,” said Andreas.
“Wish it were that easy. I’ve seen photographs of the boyfriend. He’s about six-four, with blue eyes, light hair, and movie star good looks. He’s definitely not one of the two guys we caught on security cameras with the girlfriend on Mykonos.”
“What about those two? Any leads?” said Andreas.
“I sent photos taken off the security videos to the Polish police for an ID. Haven’t heard back yet.”
“We need a break,” said Kouros.
“At least the Polish police know who they’re looking for,” said Maggie.
“But where?” said Andreas. “From the sloppy way they disposed of the girl’s body I don’t think they intended on hanging around Bialystok. Or Poland for that matter.”
Tassos said, “If they headed east they could be in any of those ex-soviet peripheral satellites. It’s the Wild West out there. No way Europol will find them if that’s where they are.”
Andreas rubbed at his eyes. “Somehow I don’t think heading east is what they had in mind. Why kill the girl in a place where she could be identified if they were heading to a no-man’s land? No one would have cared what they did to her there.”
“And they could have sold her off to sex traders for fast cash,” said Kouros.
“Maybe she didn’t want to go and they were afraid she’d talk?” said Maggie.
“I don’t think so, my love. From what Christos’ maid overheard of the dead girl’s conversation with her boyfriend, she’d have followed him anywhere.”
“And she did,” said Kouros.
“So, why did they kill her?” said Maggie.
“Don’t know,” said Tassos. “But my guess would be that she no longer figured in their plans.”
“What plans?” said Kouros.
Mykonos After Midnight Page 5
