Like most post-war, government-funded hotels, the Asteria had been built at one of the best locations in its community. The entrance stood along the broad flagstone road walked by virtually everyone coming into the old town off a boat or from a car parked in one of old port’s municipal lots. During tourist season, except for those in taxis or locals on business requiring a vehicle in town, everyone had to pass by the Asteria on foot.
A seven-foot high, whitewashed stone wall separated the hotel grounds from the road. Across the road sat a tiny beach used largely by cruise boat visitors sunning themselves during the day, and by cats and dogs for doing their thing at night. Rarely did one see a local on that beach…except in amorous pursuit of a tourist.
Sergey had a suite on the hotel’s top floor overlooking an acre of well-maintained gardens, a poolside dining area, and the old harbor. It was the best room the Asteria had to offer, yet compared to what else was available on the island, Wacki thought the accommodations spartan. But he dared not question Teacher’s judgment.
Sergey stood with his back to Wacki, looking out the window as he spoke. “I want to meet the owner of this hotel.”
“You mean the Mykonian who has the lease?”
“Yes. What’s his name?”
“Lefteris, but he’s not in town as much as he used to be. He leaves the operation of the hotel to his son. Would you like to speak to the son?”
“No. I want to speak to the owner.”
“Okay. Let me find him and see when he’s available.”
“Where does he live?”
“Out by the lighthouse on the northwest tip of the island.”
“I want to see him now.”
“He might not be home. He could be anywhere. If there’s something wrong with the room let me know and I’ll get it fixed without bothering Lefteris.”
“The room is fine. Just get me a meeting with him now.”
“May I ask why?”
“No.”
Wacki nodded and forced a smile. “Yes, boss. I’ll make some calls and make it happen.”
Sergey didn’t turn away from the window. “Good.”
***
An hour later Wacki and Sergey bounced along in a Jeep winding along a ridgeline road high above the island’s northwest coastline. The road ended at the island’s only lighthouse and, in keeping with the practical way islanders tended to name places after their geographical peculiarities, this area was known as Fanaria, the Greek word for lighthouse.
As with virtually all secondary roads in Mykonos, repaving schedules largely coincided with the four-year mayoral election cycle and, as the next election wasn’t for a year, the Jeep’s off road capabilities were getting a workout.
“Quite a view from up here, isn’t it?” Wacki spoke as his eyes darted between the road and Sergey in the passenger’s seat.
“Yes.”
“Over there to the left is Delos. It’s a holy island, second in importance only to Delphi. Next to it is Rhenia, the locals call it ‘Big Delos’ and straight ahead is the island of Tinos. It’s famous for––”
“How much longer until we get to Lefteris’ house?”
“A couple more minutes. It’s on the left, facing west. Terrific view of the sunset. Maybe the best on the island. He moved here from town a couple of years back. A lot of Mykonians have moved out of town. Practically abandoned parts of the old town to Albanians.”
“You don’t say,” said Sergey.
“Now we’ve got Pakistanis and Bangladeshis moving in. The whole place is changing.”
“I’m sure.”
At a long, white-stuccoed wall Wacki turned left through a blue, halfway-open sliding gate. He parked on a flagstone driveway next to the wall and led Sergey through an archway into an entrance foyer. The house stood on the right and a large, semi-enclosed terrace opened off to the left, each done in the same all-white with blue trim motif as the hotel. They went out onto the terrace.
Lefteris’ home, like his hotel, had an unobstructed view of the sea, though from this height the Aegean seemed a sapphire tabletop peppered with colorful toy boats sliding by puffs of white cotton.
Wacki waved to a gray-haired man of about Wacki’s height, but at least twice his girth. He sat on a beach chair next to a swimming pool that looked to fall off into the sea.
“It’s windy, Lefteris,” said Wacki.
“Always is this time of day this stage of summer. Sit over here. It’s protected from the wind.” He spoke in Greek and pointed to two chairs facing his. As the men approached, Lefteris struggled to his feet and extended his hand to Sergey.
“Welcome. I’m Lefteris.”
Sergey shook his hand. “Sergey.”
Lefteris motioned to the chairs again. “Please, sit. Would you like anything to drink?”
“No, thank you,” said Sergey.
“Water?”
Wacki gestured no.
Lefteris switched to English, “Please forgive my English, it is not very good but I understand you do not speak Greek.”
Sergey nodded. “I’m trying to learn.”
“Good. I’m sure we will find some way to communicate.” Lefteris sat down. “So, what can I do for you?”
Sergey sat down, crossed his legs, and pulled a cigarette and a lighter out of his shirt pocket. “May I smoke?”
Lefteris smiled. “Of course, this is Greece. We’re civilized.”
The men laughed.
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” Sergey lit the cigarette and put the lighter back in his pocket.
“You are a guest of the hotel.” He waved toward Wacki. “And a friend of Wacki’s. How could I refuse?” Lefteris smiled.
“I don’t know what Wacki has told you about me or––”
“Nothing,” said Lefteris in a bit too quick of answer.
“As I was saying, or the purpose of my business on Mykonos.”
“Business?” He looked at Wacki then back at Sergey. “What business?”
“One that will be highly profitable for both of us.”
“I already have a highly profitable business, I need no other.”
Sergey smiled. He was holding the cigarette but had not yet taken a puff. “We both know that’s not true. You, like every other hotelier on this island, are suffering. Hotels offering far more to guests than yours can possibly match are cutting rates to the point where you cannot compete on price and still make a profit. You’ll be lucky if you make enough to cover your expenses for the season. And with all that you owe to the banks I doubt you’ll make it another season, certainly not two. Crossing your fingers won’t work either. It will take at least a decade for Greece to get back on its feet.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I lease the hotel. I’m not an owner. I’m not worried about the banks.”
Sergey laughed. “I like your style. But we both know that not owning the hotel is a decided disadvantage, because the only time a hotel on Mykonos is likely to make any real money for its owner is when it’s sold. And that’s an opportunity you’ll never have.”
Lefteris stared at Sergey. “You seem to know a lot about my business.”
“Enough to know that what you said about your debt situation isn’t true. You borrowed a lot to cover renovations required by your lease, and even more to cover this season’s estimated operating costs. With the way things are going, how do you possibly expect to meet your bank payments? And, with what you’ll owe in lease payments to the government…” Sergey shook his head.
Lefteris didn’t answer.
Sergey continued. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that in the current political climate the ministry isn’t about to cut you any slack. It’s a new crew in there. Not like the old days. You’ll be in default on the lease and, if someone with money comes along willing
to take over your lease, bye-bye, you’re history. You’ll end up with no hotel and a lot of debts you can’t possibly pay.”
Sergey pointed at the house and pool. “My guess is you’ll lose this place, too.”
Lefteris stared at Sergey. “I assume you didn’t come here to lecture me on hotel economics. What’s your point?”
Sergey stared back. “I want to buy your hotel.”
Lefteris leaned forward in his chair. “Are you, crazy?” He wagged his right hand in front of his own face. “In the first place, as you just said, it’s not mine to sell. All I have is a lease. Besides, I have no interest in selling.”
“No interest in selling your lease? At any price?”
“At any price that you or your partner here could meet.” Lefteris turned and ranted at Wacki rapidly in Greek.
Sergey waited until he had finished.
“Wacki, tell me exactly what he just said, word for word.”
Wacki started to stammer.
“I said, ‘word for word.’”
Lefteris spoke. “I said that you and your asshole of a partner, Wacki, couldn’t possibly come up with enough to pay me what I would want to give up the hotel. It’s my baby. I’ll nurse it to my death. So stop wasting my time.”
Sergey nodded. “I understand your commitment to a place you created, but on reflection, perhaps the time has come to consider moving on and enjoying the fruits of your life in luxury and peace.”
“Like I said, the two of you are wasting my time.” He tried to stand.
Sergey barked, “Please, don’t get up before you’ve heard my offer.” He softened his voice. “That would be very rude.”
Lefteris dropped back into the chair.
“First of all, sir, Wacki is not my partner. He is just one of my many paid employees.”
Sergey fixed his eyes on Wacki. “Isn’t that right, boy?”
Wacki looked at his feet. “Yes, boss.”
Lefteris looked at Wacki. “You told me he was your partner.”
“You must have misunderstood,” said Wacki still looking at his feet.
Sergey turned to Lefteris. “Well, now that we’ve cleared up that little misunderstanding, perhaps we can get down to business.”
Lefteris raised and dropped his hands. “Why not? After all, it’s bad business to turn down a deal you haven’t been offered. So, what do you have in mind?”
Sergey pulled a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket and waved it at Lefteris. “I’d prefer that my employee not know the amount I’m offering you. It’s written out on this, and as soon as the ministry of tourism approves the lease transfer that amount will be paid to you in full. I assume you’d prefer for as much of the purchase price as possible to be paid off the books, but I’m afraid with all the regulatory scrutiny these days I can’t risk losing the license by doing it that way. So, to compensate you for that inconvenience,each year I will pay you five percent of the hotel’s annual net profits for as long as I have an interest in it.”
Sergey handed the paper to Lefteris and watched as Lefteris tried to hide his surprise. He wasn’t a very good poker player.
“There must be something else you want from me,” said Lefteris.
“Yes. In order to ease our transition into the community, for a reasonable period of time I expect you to make yourself available to me as a consultant, all expenses paid of course.”
Lefteris shook his head from side to side. “I don’t get it. Like I said before, you must be crazy. We both know your offer makes no sense. The hotel isn’t worth anything near what you’ve offered. Why are you offering so much?”
“I assume that means my offer is acceptable on the terms I’ve outlined?”
Lefteris looked at the paper again, drew in and let out a breath. He nodded. “Yes. But I’ll have to check with my attorneys. As soon as I get their okay I’ll have them prepare a memorandum of understanding to submit to the ministry.”
“No problem. As long as I have your word that we have a deal.”
Lefteris stood and extended his hand. “We have a deal. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone what you’re paying me. No reason to start attracting hungry relatives and long lost friends.”
Sergey laughed. He put down the cigarette he had not smoked, stood up, and shook Lefteris’ hand.
Teacher would be pleased.
***
On the way back to town, Sergey listened as Wacki rambled on about how Lefteris must be losing it to have thought that Wacki would ever suggest he was Sergey’s partner. As they pulled up in front of the hotel, Sergey leaned over and patted Wacki’s thigh.
“I assume Lefteris and the recently departed Christos Vasilakis were friends?”
“Yes, very close friends.”
“And you were as well?”
“Yes, I’d worked for Christos for a while a few years back.”
Sergey shook his head. “Horrible what happened to that old man. Beaten to death in his home during a robbery. He was a legend on this island. Probably almost as much of one as you think you are.” Sergey laughed and gave a gentle slap to Wacki’s thigh.
Wacki forced a grin.
“Just so there’s no confusion, my friend, about the degree of loyalty and confidentiality I expect from you, if I think you’re even mumbling in your sleep about anything having to do with me or any of my business, let alone talking about such things to another human being, I can assure you that you’ll look a hell of lot worse at your funeral than poor Christos did at his.”
Sergey squeezed Wacki’s thigh hard enough to make him jump. “Remember that always.”
***
Teacher smiled as she listened to Sergey tell the story of his negotiations with the hotelier. He sounded as enthusiastic as a young boy reciting the details of his first day at school. He had so much more to learn, but this was not the moment to make that point. This was a time to praise and encourage him, and to savor an emotion she never thought she’d sense again: a loving mother listening to her child.
It was a lifetime since she’d felt that way. No, two child-lifetimes.
Teacher had tens of thousands of followers gladly willing to die to execute her orders and she truly loved them, but not with a mother’s love. Her love for them was born out of the camaraderie they shared as ignored and undervalued human beings united by a common lack of faith in governments and endless suffering at the hands of society’s empty promises. They were the disenchanted, the crazies, the betrayed, the outcasts, the exploited.
Teacher used the skills she’d developed as a trafficked child to harness their rage and focused it in violent attacks on those she presented as symbols of their oppression. She offered her followers a simple satisfaction for otherwise belittled lives: revenge.
It did not take long before prospective targets saw the wisdom in paying Teacher for protection from her followers’ ire. That’s when money started rolling in and Teacher’s life became infinitely more complicated.
The money was far more than necessary to care for her followers, and deciding what to do with it led to bankers, lawyers, and investment advisers. Teacher had become part of the very system her followers despised. But they saw her as different, for she brought them a better life; something no government had ever done. In exchange, they ruthlessly spread her methods of doing business across Eastern Europe, taking advantage of power vacuums that accompanied distracted, corrupt governments. And those who went to prison found new followers for her there. No opportunity was missed, and all knew her simple rule: Those loyal to her were lavishly rewarded and those not were mercilessly destroyed. Teacher had become the quintessential, multi-national corporate leader.
She smiled again as Sergey described how “Lefteris’ eyes popped wide open when I gave him our offer.”
She thought how very different things would have been had h
er sons lived to succeed to all that she’d achieved in her life.
Her smile vanished. I never would have permitted them my life. They were gentle, open souls who loved, not harmed.
No. Her life demanded a very different sort of successor.
Chapter Eleven
In mid-afternoon Andreas received a call from Europol informing him that a man traveling as Sergey Tishchenko had arrived that morning in Greece on a flight into Athens’ Venizelos International Airport. They had no further details, except that the name matched that of a man the Greek police were looking for in connection with a murder investigation. Andreas thanked the agent for the information and gently put down the receiver before letting out a roar of curses at the ineptitude of Greek bureaucrats.
Maggie opened the door to his office. “Are you calling me?”
“Some goddamned idiot at immigration couldn’t spot a polar bear in a Santa Claus suit in August. But I bet the bastard’s damn good at finding a reason to wreck a tourist’s holiday. Can you believe it took Europol to tell me what’s in Greece’s immigration database? Had the asshole bothered to check the same alerts we’d given Europol we could have snatched the boyfriend at immigration.”
He slammed his hand on the desk. “Now he could be anywhere.” Andreas ran his hand across his face. “Have Yianni check the passenger list for every flight out of Athens today. Let’s see if he’s on one of those.”
“Will do, but he could have taken a boat and, as loose as ticket agents are on checking IDs before issuing a boat ticket, no telling what name he could have used.”
“Good point. But if this Sergey is our boyfriend, I don’t think he’s hiding if he flew into Greece using his real name. Check out the boats, too.”
“There are a lot of boats in Greece this time of year, some with thousands of passengers and crew, and not all their records are available on computers.”
Andreas picked up a pencil.
“Is this a tapping or breaking moment?”
Andreas smiled and began tapping the eraser end on his desk as he stared out the window. “Start with the boats leaving today for Mykonos. See if we get a match on a ticket issued in his name.”
Mykonos After Midnight Page 8
