An Aegean April

by Jeffrey Siger

  “Convince me.”

  “My boss now says the physical evidence is useless, not that Ali didn’t do it, only that they can’t prove it. That still dangles Ali out there as a suspect, and if somehow he’s made to look guilty, perhaps even die in the process, it would resolve a lot of problems for a lot of people.”

  “I’ve heard that scenario before, too.”

  “That doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

  Dana nodded. “But where does a press conference come in?”

  “The last one you held set a lot of things in motion. Sitting back and doing nothing allows whatever the bad guys have planned—and there’s definitely something in mind––to move forward according to their schedule. But if you seize the initiative it might force them to change plans.”

  “You mean kill Ali sooner?” said Dana.

  “If it’s a question of trying to kill him sooner or later, don’t you think it better to get the killer to attempt to do it on our terms?”

  “Who’s ‘our’? You and me?”

  Aleka smiled. “Hardly. I never was into Nancy Drew. Call the conference, then we’ll tell the police all about our plan.”

  “Why don’t we tell them before I call the press conference?”

  “Because I know my father. He’ll lock us both up.”

  Dana nodded with a faint smile. “I believe you.”

  “So you’re in?”

  “Let me think about it. But I like it. After all, what do I have to lose?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Any news?” said Yianni, poking his head into Andreas’ office first thing Tuesday morning.

  “About what?”

  “Turkey. It’s been all quiet on the eastern front since Friday.”

  “I doubt it’s going to stay that way.”

  Yianni stepped inside the office. “Why do you say that?”

  Andreas shrugged. “Not sure. It just bothers me that a hot-to-trot prosecutor decides out of the blue to release his only suspect. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Have you spoken to McLaughlin?”

  “No. She’s back to not answering my calls.”

  “Any word from Immigration?”

  Yianni gestured no.

  “Great.”

  “Maybe our phones aren’t working?”

  As if on cue, Andreas’ phone rang. He reached for it before Maggie’s stand-in had the chance to answer for him. “Kaldis here.”

  A woman’s voice said, “Chief Inspector, I have the Minister of Public Order on the line for you. One moment please.”

  He looked at Yianni. “Great, our boss. Now what?”

  “Kaldis?”

  “Yes, Minister?”

  “What the hell’s going on over on Lesvos?”

  Andreas cleared his throat. “From what I understand, the prosecutor no longer believes the evidence supports a case against his suspect and so he’s releasing him from custody.”

  “I’m not talking about that, I’m talking about this damn press conference that’s all over the news.”

  Andreas blanched and pointed Yianni at the television mounted on the wall. Yianni grabbed the remote and turned it on. A still picture of Dana McLaughlin filled the screen above a banner headline running across the bottom of the screen: PRESS CONFERENCE NAMING KILLER OF MIHALIS VOLANDES SCHEDULED FOR LATER TODAY.

  “Son of a bitch,” said Andreas.

  “I assume that’s not directed at me,” said the minister.

  Not this time.

  “Do you have an answer I can pass on to the Prime Minister for why a private citizen seems to have more information on who killed one of our leading citizens than do our police?”

  “She doesn’t know any more than we do, just has a hell of a lot worse judgment. As to why she’s claiming to know, I can’t say, but we’re on the next plane to Lesvos to find out.”

  Yianni walked to the doorway, leaned out, and told Maggie’s friend, “The Chief and I need tickets on the next flight to Lesvos.”

  He looked back at Andreas and added, “Leave them open return.”

  l l l l l

  Dana heard the Mytilini police commander yelling for her well before he barged into her office.

  “Ms. McLaughlin, have you gone insane?”

  “How nice to see you, Commander. Is Ali with you?”

  He slammed his hand on her desktop. “This is not a game, young lady.”

  Dana straightened a photograph of her family knocked over by the commander’s smack to the desk. “No need to remind me that we’re talking about real lives here. Remember, it’s my organization’s benefactor and friend who was murdered, and my employee who’s wrongfully accused, arrested, and likely still sitting in your jail.”

  He leaned across her desk. “If you’re keeping a body count, you’ve left out a few.”

  Dana cocked her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “I just got off the phone with Chief Inspector Kaldis. It appears the killer you’re so hell-bent on identifying has been a very busy boy.”

  She fidgeted with the hair beside her ear. “What are you saying?”

  “Bottom line?” He scowled. “You just publicly threatened to announce the name of a world-class, maniacal killer across the planet for God-knows-what reason.”

  “To protect Ali,” she said. “We were always going to tell you. Our plan is to draw him out so you could catch him.”

  “We? Who are we?”

  Dana paused. “I meant me.”

  He dropped into a chair across the desk from her. “I don’t know what sort of crazy thinking has ahold of you, but from here on out, I’m just following orders. It’s someone else’s problem to figure you out.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Kaldis told me not to let you out of my sight until he gets here.”

  She tugged at her hair and bit her lip. “He’s coming. Good.”

  The commander stared at her. “From the way he sounded, I’m not sure ‘good’ is the word I’d use.”

  l l l l l

  As the more recent visitor of the pair to Mytilini, Yianni drove from the airport while Andreas took in the scenery. They headed toward Dana’s office on the northern edge of Mytilini, close by the road leading to her NGO’s primary remaining work locations on Lesvos: Kara Tepe and Moria Relocation Centers. Her office sat along a road running next to the sea, but in a far-from-elegant setting. A heavily littered, narrow strip of beach across from the office served as home to several rusting container ship pods, and abandoned or rundown industrial buildings peppered the neighborhood.

  They parked off the road on the side away from the sea, close up against a concrete wall next door to a small, three-story, dirty-yellow apartment building. A discreet sign on the second floor door of that building read SAFEPASSAGE. Obviously, this NGO chose to plow its money into good works over image.

  Andreas wondered how Aryan would react to Dana’s latest mad act. Flight or fight are the natural choices for a threatened animal, but that presumed a rational animal. Even the fiercest tiger had enough sense to flee if it could. Aryan could be gone from this part of the world by now, never to be found. So why would he want to stay? But if he stayed, he needed to protect his lair, and that did not bode well for those he perceived as threats.

  Andreas knocked on the door, and a voice from inside yelled, “It’s open.”

  Not a wise way to keep the unwanted at bay.

  Inside, the vestibule walls stood covered in posters, flyers, photographs, and messages, giving the place a homey feel, but one in keeping with the unkempt neighborhood.

  They followed the sound of voices into what looked to have been a living room in the place’s days as an apartment. A deep brown area rug in a tight-tufted industrial weave sat in the middle of the room, atop the same sort o
f book-size, beige faux-marble tiles as covered the other rooms’ floors. Overall, it reflected a match-as-cheaply-as-possible approach to decorating.

  Andreas nodded to the commander sitting across a small rectangular table from a woman matching the image of Dana McLaughlin on television. Both stood, but Andreas motioned for them to sit. He’d never met her before, and come to think of it, neither had Yianni. She looked younger, slenderer, and more fit in person than on TV. In fact, she looked very much like a freckle-faced, red-headed marathoner.

  Yianni walked over and introduced himself to Dana, but Andreas simply sat next to the commander and stared across the table at her. He wasn’t playing mind games, just immersed in searching for some sign or sense of what made this obviously bright young woman so distrusting of him that she’d rather blindly leap into an abyss than talk to him first.

  Obviously, she saw him as part of an uncaring, non-evolved establishment that ignored the most basic needs of the refugees she’d dedicated her life to saving. But he sensed something more, a deeper underlying anger and mistrust of police, perhaps of all authority. He knew it a waste of time to attempt challenging her perceptions directly. Her image of him and what he represented stood as fixed as those her critics held of her, her views of life, and those she served. It was humankind at war with itself, few caring to look beyond his or her own agendas. For both sides, all was black or white, good or bad, faith or heresy.

  After saying hello to Yianni, she simply stared straight back at Andreas.

  “Ms. McLaughin,” Andreas said in English. “I’m sure your motives were well-intended, but––”

  “Stop patronizing me, Chief Inspector,” snapped Dana.

  Andreas’ expression did not change. “I’m sure your motives were well-intended, but I’m afraid they’ve upset the proverbial applecart.”

  “In order to upset an applecart, you need to have one in the first place, and as far as I can tell you have absolutely no strategy for capturing Mihalis’ true killer.”

  “Frankly, it would have been better for all concerned had you taken the time to ask me that question before unilaterally deciding to torpedo our plans.”

  “You’re mixing your metaphors.”

  “And you’re risking lives.”

  “He’s already made that point,” said Dana, nodding at the commander sitting between Yianni and Andreas.

  “And I bet you don’t believe him either,” said Andreas.

  “Why would the killer want to come after me? If I know his name, he has to assume the police know it too, so what does he gain by killing me?”

  Andreas stared at her. “That sounds perfectly logical to a rational mind. The trouble is, this killer’s logic board is irretrievably warped. To him, killing you could easily serve as an example to others never to mention his name, or as proof to himself of his power over all things. You’re not playing with fire here. Fire at least has some predictability. You’re playing with the mind of a madman.”

  She shrugged. “So what’s your great plan I destroyed?”

  “A simple, elemental one. With so many people dying every day, adrenaline had taken over for thought. We wanted things to calm down, give the killer a chance to evaluate his options, not just react, and for those in direct battle with him to do the same. We needed to convince those closest to him that helping us capture him stood as their only viable way of protecting themselves from him.”

  “Diplomacy?” she said. “What makes you think your killer won’t just disappear while you’re playing the long game?”

  “He might, and that would certainly be in your best interests, but somehow I don’t think your sending in beaters with television cameras to flush him out like a tiger is the way to do it, because this uniquely dangerous tiger is particularly adept at devouring its pursuers.”

  “I’m tired of your analogies.”

  “Well, then how about these facts? The Turkish police can’t find him even though they know who he is, what he looks like, and whom he’s likely with. Three guys who crossed him have been decapitated, three others shot to death, and who knows how many more he’s killed who haven’t turned up yet. The man is a killing machine. Does it make you more comfortable now knowing you’re not dealing with my tigers?”

  She shut her eyes, opened them again. “Look at it from our point of view. What other choice did I have? If we do nothing, he simply kills Ali. You know that’s why Ali’s free. You also must realize it’s the killer who somehow got him released.”

  “I’m not disagreeing with that, but now you’ve put your own head on the literal chopping block, and given us two targets to worry about.”

  “But if the killer’s as insane as you say, he’ll try to stop me from holding the press conference.”

  “How does that possibly help you?”

  “It gives you the chance to catch him.”

  Andreas threw up his hands. “And how, pray tell, do you suggest we do that?”

  “I don’t know. That’s your job, not mine.”

  Andreas gritted his teeth. “I’m all out of magic potions and incantations. You started this and unless you announce right now that it was just a publicity stunt aimed at getting the police to work harder on solving the case, and you get on the very the next plane out of Greece, I don’t see how we can protect you from the many potential ways and opportunities this killer has for taking you out.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Where do you plan on holding the press conference?”

  “At the murder scene.”

  The commander barked a laugh. “Great. The one place on the island our killer likely knows better than we do.”

  “What do you intend on doing after the press conference?” said Andreas.

  She shrugged. “I haven’t thought about that. Just keep doing the usual things.”

  Andreas nodded. “Like spending time at refugee camps, driving long distances over lonely deserted stretches of island roads, sleeping where you always sleep, seeing the same friends––”

  “Okay, I get your point, Chief Inspector. My routine makes me a target.”

  “Frankly,” said the commander. “It’s your mouth that makes you a target. Your routine just makes you an easy target.”

  “No reason to be rude,” she said.

  Andreas jumped in. “You don’t seem to appreciate the situation. I’m not sure if it’s out of false bravado, masked fear, or something else, but we’re telling you that someone very skilled at killing people likely wants you dead, and you have absolutely no idea who he is.”

  She bit at her lip. “Maybe if I don’t go through with the press conference he’ll take it as a sign I don’t know and forget about me.”

  Andreas glanced at Yianni.

  “Well, at least you’re coming around to appreciating the situation,” said Yianni.

  “Do you think that would convince him to leave me alone?” She looked at her hands.

  Andreas gestured no. “I think it’s too late. This sort of killer isn’t likely to change his mindset once he’s fixed on his prey.”

  “So, what do I do?”

  “What do you want to do? It’s your life on the line,” said Andreas.

  “I have no name to announce at the press conference. It’s all a bluff on my part to smoke out the killer.” She ran her hands through her hair. “If what you say is correct, then it’s the worst of all worlds for me. Even if I don’t name him at the press conference, he may still kill me.”

  “Just to be sure that you can’t name him,” said the commander.

  She rubbed at her eyes. “It might be better if I could name him, because then I’d have done all I could to harm him, and no longer be a threat to your tiger, only an object of revenge.”

  Andreas nodded. “Possibly.”

  She put her head in her hands.

&
nbsp; Andreas paused before speaking. “I think we’d all agree you’ve really fucked up. But let’s see what we can do to minimize the risk, yours and Ali’s, as I agree he’s also a target.” Andreas turned to the commander. “Can you get Ali here so we can figure out a strategy?”

  “I don’t know where he is. The prosecutor ordered his release while I was here baby-sitting Ms. McLaughlin and he left before anyone let me know.”

  Andreas drew in and let out a breath. He looked at Yianni. “Remember when I was talking before about that other shoe?”

  Yianni nodded.

  “Let’s hope it hasn’t dropped.”

  l l l l l

  Ali had smiled throughout the discharge process, though his jailer labored solemn-faced while explaining to him that he was free to go once he signed papers he didn’t really understand. Ali didn’t care, he just wanted to leave, though he sensed he must have shown surprise when the jailer handed him all the things taken from him when he’d been arrested. That hadn’t been his experience with other police in other lands. They would arrest refugees just to see what they could take from them. Back then, he did the same as he did now: never questioned, always smiled.

  He behaved the same way today, not even asking why he’d been released. That did not seem a wise question to ask, for in his experience, police saw those who asked questions as trouble-makers. They preferred their subjects to smile, especially if your skin was as dark as Ali’s.

  He left the jail expecting to hear someone yelling, “Stop, come back!” He wanted to get as far away from the jail as fast as he could, but didn’t dare run. A man of color running through a city street invited problems. So he strolled briskly in the direction of a bus stop that would take him back to where he had friends.

  That thought reminded him to call Dana. He pulled his phone from his pocket. Dead. The jailer had returned it, but not charged it.

  Ali recognized a taverna close by the bus stop. The food was cheap, and the décor slightly better than the cell he’d just left. He went inside and ordered a cheese toast and Coca-Cola. It would be his celebratory meal. He sat at a table as far back in the rear as he could find. No one could see him from the outside. He wanted to be alone and possibly get his mind off the stress of being in jail, not knowing what the law had in store for him. He still wasn’t sure, but at least he was free for now and that was good.