Deadline in Athens kj-1

by Petros Markaris

  "How should I know? One of the parents might have given it to him so he could tell me something or give me something, and he never got around to it."

  "And they trusted a murderer?"

  "All Albanians turn into murderers eventually," she answered with scorn.

  We went on like that for another half an hour, getting nowhere. When we went outside, Ghikas looked at me perplexed.

  "What shall we do now?" I asked him. I was trying to kill two birds with one stone. On the one hand, I was asking for his opinion in order to get him to commit himself. If, the next day, something went wrong with Pylarinos, I didn't want to get it in the neck again, as had happened with Delopoulos. I couldn't count on my luck every day of the week. And on the other hand, he was more adept than me at handling situations and I wanted to let him take the initiative.

  "How did they get the kids to the nursery?" he asked me.

  "The girl had a day off once a week. Not always the same day. It was Dourou who arranged it. When the girl came back, she always found new kids there. Every so often, Dourou would take one of the kids to hand it over to his parents, so she told her."

  Ghikas laughed. "She wasn't lying. She was handing them over to their adoptive parents." He became serious. "See what you can get out of Hourdakis. In the meantime, we'll let it be known that we've arrested Dourou, but we won't say anything about Sovatzis, or about Pylarinos's businesses. Let's wait and see what Sovatzis does. Then we'll decide whether to bring him in or talk first to Pylarinos."

  From my office, I phoned the Ministry of Social Services and asked for the department responsible for overseeing nurseries. The director assured me that "The Foxes" had been issued a license two years previously and was operating legally. The file was clean. I asked whether the inspector had noted anything strange about the nursery.

  "In what way strange?"

  "That all the children were Albanian. That there wasn't a single Greek child."

  "If there's anything strange, Inspector, it's that half of Greece is inhabited by Albanians."

  There was no answer to that and I hung up. It seems that the news of Dourou's arrest had already got around, because Sotiris came bounding into the office.

  "At last, we're getting somewhere, eh?"

  "I don't know. We'll see."

  "If not, we're up the creek, because Hourdakis seems to be another dead end."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I got a copy of the family's accounts from the banks."

  "So soon?" I said, surprised.

  "I convinced the public prosecutor that it was urgent. He gave me permission and the legal council will take care of it afterwards. But there are no big amounts anywhere. The largest is 300,000 drachmas."

  And he laid the photocopies of the bank statements on my desk. I picked them up and looked at the deposits. It was true that there were no large amounts. The most activity occurred in the accounts belonging to Hourdakis and his son. I saw regular deposits of 250,000 and 300,000, but no more than that.

  "How old is his son?"

  "I don't know precisely, but he's grown up. He works in computers. A programmer, I think."

  No doubt the son earned more than his father. But if Hourdakis had a second income from somewhere, that would explain the amounts. The accounts belonging to his wife and to his mother-in-law also showed deposits of 200,000 and 300,000, though less frequently.

  "You're right. At first sight, there's nothing untoward here."

  Sotiris shook his head in despair. "That's what I meant. Dourou is our last hope."

  I looked again at the Hourdakis accounts, one after the other. I felt sure that I was missing something, but I couldn't put my finger on it. It was seven o'clock already, and I decided to pack up and go home. I had to get some money from the bank for Adriani. I also wanted to see the Christmas present she had bought for Katerina.

  All the way home, I couldn't get my mind off the Hourdakis accounts. It was while waiting to turn left onto Spyrou Merkouri Street at the traffic lights on Vassileos Konstantinou Avenue that I suddenly realized what I'd been missing. I made a U-turn and went back down Vassilissis Sophias Avenue.

  By the time I reached the office, all my people had gone. I spread out the accounts, one beside the other. First, Hourdakis's account at the National Bank, then his wife's in the Commercial Bank, his son's at Citibank, and, last, his mother-in-law's account at the Credit Bank. The largest amounts fell into two categories. Every month, Hourdakis deposited either 150,000 or 200,000 drachmas. Obviously, his fortnightly salary. But there was a second category of deposits with an odd regularity in all four accounts. Hourdakis had deposited 200,000 in his account on June 25,1991. Two days later, his wife had deposited 300,000. Three days later, his son, too, had deposited 300,000. Last of all, his mother-in-law had deposited 200,000 six days after Hourdakis. The amounts differed each time. Sometimes it was Hourdakis who deposited the most, sometimes his wife, sometimes his son, and sometimes his mother-in-law. But the total amount was always the same: one million drachmas.

  I unlocked my drawer and took out Karayoryi's file. I found the list with the Transpilar refrigerator trucks and compared the dates. The refrigerator truck run of June 20, 1991, recorded by Karayoryi, corresponded to the deposit made by Hourdakis on June 25, 1991, and subsequently by the rest of his family. Likewise on August 25, 1991. This time, Hourdakis's wife had deposited 200,000 on August 30, 1991, followed by the rest of the family, with the last deposit having been made by Hourdakis Jr. There was a series of deposits each time corresponding to the dates recorded by Karayoryi. There were also other deposits, along the same lines, that couldn't be linked to one of the recorded refrigerator trucks. Evidently, Karayoryi had discovered some of them but not all. The consignments were much more frequent, and I was certain that if we looked into it, we'd find that they continued with some other customs officer.

  So that was the game, then. Hourdakis had got a one-milliondrachma backhander for each refrigerator truck. He received it in cash, but channeled it into four different accounts. Anyone looking at each account separately wouldn't have been able to see any amount worthy of note. It was only the combination of the four accounts that provided the true picture.

  I left a note for Sotiris telling him that I wanted Hourdakis brought in for questioning the next day, and I left to go home via the bank.

  CHAPTER 37

  The following morning I took Adriani to Larissa Railway Station, together with three suitcases that were hardly liftable. On the previous night, when I'd got home, I had found her in front of three open suitcases that she'd placed on the bed, struggling to get her entire wardrobe inside them. She took her clothes out of one and put them in another, reorganizing everything, pushing shoes wrapped in plastic bags into the corners.... In the end, I tired of watching, I took out my dictionary and made myself comfortable in the living room. By the time she'd finished, it was after midnight. I thought we'd make love, given that we wouldn't see each other for two weeks, but I had too much on my mind and Adriani was dead beat. She didn't have the energy to groan and fake an orgasm.

  By the time I'd got the cases into the compartment, I was bent double. "Give my love to Katerina."

  "So there's no possibility of your coming, then? Even for the weekend?" She knew the answer already, but she was having one last try, to not go down without a fight.

  "Are you kidding? We're just beginning to get somewhere with the investigation, and there's no knowing yet where it's going to lead."

  I kissed her on her right cheek, she gave me one on my left cheek, and I got off the train. She was leaning out of the window, but I had no intention of waving her off. I was in a hurry to get to the office.

  "Call me tonight to let me know you've arrived safely."

  The Mirafiori was waiting for me, squeezed into a little space on Philadelphia Street. It was already ten by the time I finally arrived at the station. Before going into my office, I called in on Sotiris.

  "What did y
ou do about Hourdakis?"

  "We delayed and we lost him. He's gone away on a trip."

  I was dumbfounded. "Trip? Where to?"

  "To Macedonia and Thrace. So his wife said."

  "By car?"

  "No, by train or bus, she doesn't know exactly."

  "Have his wife brought in." He looked at me in surprise. "Don't stand there gaping. Off with you. I want her in my office in an hour, together with her son. And find Hourdakis. Send a message to the Greek-Albanian border posts. He might be on his way to get rid of evidence that we don't know about."

  A thought flashed through my mind, transfixing me. How come Hourdakis had vanished like that? Was it a coincidence? Like the murder of the Albanian before we'd been able to question him further? Hourdakis hadn't known we were on to him, so someone had tipped him off. Who? Someone from the bank? I'd have believed that if the business with the Albanian hadn't come before. The previous night, I'd left Sotiris a note to bring him in for questioning. Today he was gone.

  I decided to tell Ghikas about it in order to be on the safe side. I was the one who'd asked him to delay the official investigation. I didn't want to pick up the pieces of some bombshell.

  I was on my way out of my office when I found two men blocking the doorway. I recognized the first of them immediately. It was Demos Sovatzis. He was wearing a gray suit, made of English cashmere, a dark blue shirt, and a light-colored tie. His hair was swept back, like in the photograph. I wondered whether he combed it with brilliantine every morning or whether he had stuck it down to his head with fishglue, once and for all. The other man was fat and balding, older, also impeccably dressed. Thanassis was standing behind them.

  I tried to guess the purpose of Sovatzis's visit. Up until now, we hadn't been anywhere near either him or Pylarinos. So he couldn't have known that we were after him. Could someone have told him that we'd picked up Dourou? Who? The one who was distributing information all around? The same one who had tipped off Hourdakis? And then again, why would he come out in full view instead of lying low and pretending indifference? I would have been glad of an answer to all of those questions, the better to know how to handle him, but I didn't have one.

  "Mr. Sovatzis would like a word with you," I heard Thanassis say.

  I stood aside and allowed them into my office. They sat in the two chairs and I went straight to my desk without offering them my hand.

  "This is Mr. Starakis, my lawyer," Sovatzis said. "Just this morning, Inspector, I heard that you had arrested my sister."

  So this was the answer to my questions. Dourou was Sovatzis's sister. It was the only answer that would never have occurred to me. I swallowed it slowly, like children do ice cream, the more to savor its taste.

  "We are holding Mrs. Dourou for questioning."

  "On what charge?" said the lawyer.

  "We haven't charged her. Yet." I didn't want to show my hand, so I added vaguely: "We had a tip-off that her nursery cares for Albanian children who have been brought into the country illegally and who are there to be sold."

  "Who gave you the tip-off?" said Sovatzis.

  "I can't possibly tell you that."

  "And you arrest a qualified child carer who runs a perfectly legitimate nursery on the strength of a tip-off?" The lawyer intervened again. "There may be other motives behind the tip-off. It may have been for competitive reasons or professional envy or mischief on the part of one of the parents. Any number of explanations."

  "We asked Mrs. Dourou to provide us with the names and addresses of the parents who had handed the children into her care. Up to now, she hasn't given us even one name. She says that the parents came to Greece, left their children, and returned to Albania."

  "And do you find that strange in this day and age?" Sovatzis said.

  "I find it strange to the point of highly unlikely. No parent hands over their child into care without leaving so much as a telephone number in case of emergency."

  "Telephones in Albania, Inspector?" Sovatzis found the idea amusing and smiled. "In Albania, not even the government ministries have telephones that work."

  Now the lawyer started laughing. I opened my drawer and took out Karayoryi's photograph. The one with Sovatsis and his friend talking in the cafe. "Do you know this man?" I asked as I handed him the photograph.

  The smile froze on Sovatzis's lips. "Where did you find this photograph?" he said, when he had recovered somewhat from his astonishment.

  "It's not important where I found it. What about the man? Do you know him?"

  "If I'm photographed with him, it means I know him." His composure was restored. "It's Gustav Krenek, a very good friend of mine from Prague. I grew up and studied in Czechoslovakia. I have many friends there."

  "Did your sister know this Krenek?"

  "Yes. She met him when Gustav came to Greece."

  "We have good reason to believe that this man is behind the trade in children and that your sister was working with him."

  "You can't be serious," he said, handing the photograph back to me. "Gustav Krenek is a most reputable businessman."

  "A lot of reputable businesses are fronts for other activities. Both in Greece and abroad."

  "You cannot accuse someone on the basis of generalities and vagaries, having no concrete evidence. I demand that you set my sister free."

  "We'll let her go free once we are sure that we have no reason to hold her."

  "When can I see my client?" interrupted the lawyer. He'd realized, it seems, from my tone, that I wasn't going to give way.

  "Now." I called Thanassis on the internal line and told him to bring Dourou to the interrogation room.

  "Can I see her, too?" Sovatzis said.

  "I'm sorry, but while the preliminary investigations are still taking place ... only her lawyer." I turned to Starakis. "If I were you, I would advise her to talk to us. It would certainly improve her situation."

  As soon as they were gone, I got my breath back in Ghikas's outer office.

  "He's on the phone," Koula said.

  "He can just hang up," I told her succinctly and stormed in.

  Ghikas had the receiver in his hand. He motioned to me to sit down. When he saw me pacing back and forth, he grasped that I was on hot bricks and hung up.

  "What is it?" he said.

  First I told him about Sovatzis and then about Hourdakis disappearing from under our noses.

  "It's good news about Sovatzis. Now we know that Dourou is his sister and that he knew that-what was his name?"

  "Krenek."

  "Krenek, yes. It's not so good about Hourdakis. I would have preferred to have had his statement before talking to Pylarinos, but we can't put it off any longer. Leave it to me, I'll take care of it." He said it as if I'd put a huge burden on him.

  "There's something else."

  "What?"

  "First the murder of the Albanian before Petridi had time to question him and now the disappearance of Hourdakis. Someone is getting hold of all this from inside the station and passing out information."

  "Do you want me to order the official investigation right away? You were the one who asked me to wait."

  I thought about it. "Let's wait another couple of days. Something tells me that everything will become clear. I'm just telling you so that you know."

  He smiled. "You're finally learning," he said and picked up the phone again.

  Waiting for me outside my office was the policewoman I'd sent the previous day to Dourou's nursery.

  "I came to report to you something that happened yesterday."

  Her expression made me curious. "What happened?"

  "At around six there was a knock at the door and a foreign couple appeared. They spoke to me in English and asked for Dourou. I told them she wasn't there, and they asked me when she'd be back. I didn't know what to say so I told them tomorrow-to give me time to warn you about it. Then they went into the room with the playpen and the woman lifted one of the toddlers into her arms. She played with him and talked t
o him. From what I understood, with my basic English, she was telling the toddler how cute he was. I asked them if they had a phone number to leave me, but they said no and that they'd come again to the apartment."

  "When they come, make sure you keep them there and inform me immediately."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Well done," I told her. "You'll get on." She went out with a smile from ear to ear.

  When the policewoman had gone, I began thinking to myself, and gradually my mood improved. I took the list of arrivals from Karayoryi's file. Arrival of a refrigerator truck from Tirane on June 20, 1991, arrival of a charter from London on June 22, 1991. Arrival of a refrigerator truck on August 25, 1991, another arrival of a charter on August 30, 1991. Another arrival of a refrigerator truck on October 30, 1991. This was followed by the arrival of a group from New York on November 5,1991. The same pattern could be observed all the way through the list, with a difference of two to five days between the arrival of the refrigerator truck and the arrival of the charter or group.

  I phoned the switchboard and asked them to connect me with the head of customs for the Greek-Albanian border. I asked him to give me a list of the most recent arrivals of Transpilar refrigerator trucks from Albania to Greece. The last one had crossed the border just four days previously; the one before that a week previously. One of them must have been carrying a load of children, which would explain why the English couple had turned up at Dourou's nursery. The kids would arrive first, and a few days later the couples inter ested in adoption would arrive by charter or in package groups. They obviously had a child stamped on their passports and when they came here, someone from Prespes Travel would take care of the formalities. Because they were charters and package groups, the paperwork was taken care of all together and no one was interested in whether there was a child when they were leaving. They'd take the child from here and leave at their convenience. This is what Karayoryi had discovered and confirmed with her list. I couldn't but admire Sovatzis's organizational genius. He'd set up two illegal operations: exporting patients for transplants and importing kids for adoption, both of which were sheltered by Pylarinos's perfectly legal businesses. International operations on the part of Pylarinos; international on the part of Sovatzis, too. Perfect.