Andreas shook his head and tapped faster. “Don’t you just love guys who think murder is so simple? How could the father think he’d get a professional to kill someone blindly?”
“Because he offered Club Guy a half-million euros to do it.”
Andreas dropped the pencil. “And he turned it down?”
“Tells you something about how much money clubs make these days.”
“But what makes you think the target’s Spiros? I get it that the arrogance and untouchable allusions fit him, but it’s still a hell of a jump from there to him being the target.”
“We know Tank’s father is going after Spiros big-time in the press for what he did to his son’s business. Now he’s trying to line up a guy he’d used before to kill a politician to take out some anonymous target he’s really pissed at. To me that adds up to Spiros as the likely target.”
“But why not go after me, too?”
Rolex chuckled. “The thought did cross my mind, but you don’t fit the ‘arrogant’ profile. Pain in the ass, yes. Arrogant, no.”
“How nice of you to say, but I still don’t see the percentages in the father going after Spiros. After all, he’s not the big man applying the pressure. That’s the prime minister.”
“Precisely. And that’s what has me worried for Spiros. I think he’s being targeted in order to send a message to the prime minister”
“I don’t follow you.”
“Club Guy said that Tank’s father was obsessed with killing the target, but that he wanted it done in a way that sent a message to the target’s master.”
“Master? You’re saying Tank’s father considers the prime minister to be Spiros’ master.”
“Well, Club Guy didn’t actually use the word master. But it describes what he meant.”
“Do you remember his exact words?”
“I figured you’d ask that. Let me check my notes.”
Andreas closed his eyes, not to sleep but to concentrate, as he waited for Rolex to get back on the line.
“What he said was, ‘The old man wants me to take out the target in a way that will get a message back to his teacher.’”
Andreas froze. “Teacher?”
“Yes, he wanted the target killed in a manner that would get ‘back to his teacher.’”
“And you’re absolutely certain he said teacher?”
“Andreas, I may be tired but I can still read. Yes, ‘teacher.’ It’s not how I’d describe the relationship between Spiros and the prime minister, but considering the father’s obsession with all Spiros has done to his family, it makes sense to me he’s the likely target.”
“Thanks, Rol—I mean Ted. I’ll get right on it.”
“Let me know if you need any more help from me. Good night.”
“Will do. Sleep tight.”
Andreas put down the phone and shook his head. Even NATO won’t be able to help Tank’s father if he’s nuts enough to go after Teacher.
***
“The Turks better be invading and at my front door for you to be calling at this hour.”
“That we could handle. Apologize to Maggie for me, then shut up and listen.”
He heard Tassos say, “Andreas says he’s sorry. If you care to believe him.”
Andreas spoke quickly. “I just got off the phone with my buddy Rolex from antiterrorism. Looks like Tank’s father is shopping for an assassin and my friend thinks the target is Spiros.”
“Our Spiros? Is the father mad? That makes no sense.”
“Apparently he’s made that sort of thing happen before, but I have to agree with you. I think it’s Kharon he’s after.”
“The one who killed Tank’s sister?”
“Yes. The guy that Tank’s father tried to hire told Rolex that the father’s angry at someone threatening his family, and he wants the target killed to send a message to the target’s ‘teacher.’”
“Damn.”
“I don’t want to even think of the Humpty Dumpty mess we’ll have on our hands if the old man starts a war with Teacher.”
“But why would he want to do that?” said Tassos. “The media hasn’t picked up yet on Tank being as big a crook as any of those he’d put on his list.”
“Who knows what bad blood has passed between them since our raids shut down Tank’s business. Or maybe the father found out Kharon killed his daughter and he simply wants revenge. All that we do know is Tank’s disappeared off the face of the earth. Not a sight, sound, peep or even wink for the TV cameras.”
“Maybe Teacher took out Tank and that’s what this is all about?” said Tassos.
“I think we’d have heard about that. Teacher seems to like those sorts of hits broadcast to the world as examples to others.”
“I wonder if the father realizes whom he’s about to seriously piss off? You’d think his son would tell him, if just to warn him.”
“Tank’s so used to his father bailing him out of jams he probably thinks his father’s invincible. And the old man’s just arrogant enough to believe that he is.”
Tassos snickered. “Or Tank’s too afraid to tell his father how seriously he fucked up this time.”
“Either way, going after Kharon is bad news for Tank’s family and any innocents who happen to be in the general vicinity when the world as we know it comes to an end by Teacher’s hand.”
“You make her sound like a god,” said Tassos.
“I was trying for devil.”
“I see a bit of middle of the night humor. But let me jump to another possibility. What if Spiros really is the target?”
“I told Yianni to get over to the guard booth outside Spiros’ house and alert the two cops stationed there that they and the minister may be targets. He’s also arranging for a couple of blue and whites to stay parked outside the house all night.”
“What about telling Spiros?”
“It would just mess up his head waking him in the middle of the night with this kind of news. I’ll wait until the morning.”
“How’s that going to make what’s happening any easier for him to take?”
“Because by then, dear friend, you and I may have something better to tell him.”
“What’s this ‘you and I’ bullshit?”
“Just get dressed. I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes. And don’t end up looking like a cop unless you want us to get killed.”
“This sounds like a very inviting proposition. Stay in a warm bed with my beloved or race off into the night to indulge a crazy man with a death wish.”
“Thirty minutes.”
“Bye.”
***
Andreas pulled up to the curb in front of Maggie’s apartment building. Not a soul anywhere to be seen. A rarity in the normally bustling Athens middle class neighborhood of Pangrati.
Andreas sat watching the front door of Maggie’s first-floor apartment. He glanced at his watch. It wasn’t like Tassos to be late. Out the corner of one eye he caught a stocky man in a black Greek fisherman’s hat, dark woolen pants, and a blue denim work shirt step out of the shadows at the far end of the building and head toward his car.
“Who the hell are you supposed be?” said Andreas as Tassos opened the passenger side door.
“You said not to look like a cop.”
“Yeah, but we’re not going to a masquerade party. You look like a Russian revolutionary straight out of 1917.”
“Look who’s talking,” said Tassos dropping onto the seat. “You’re dressed like a preppy out of Kolonaki trying to look like a hippie. Jeans, boat shoes, and a Grateful Dead tee shirt. And what’s with this shit box of a beat-up old Atos you’re driving?”
Andreas steered the dark blue Hyundai away from the curb. “I borrowed it from my building’s night-elevator operator.”
“But why?”
&nbs
p; “I don’t want to be conspicuous.”
“Where are we headed?”
“Exarchia.”
Tassos slammed his right hand on the top of the dashboard. “Damn. She’s right again.”
“Who’s right?”
“Maggie. I told her what you said and she told me to dress like an old anarchist.”
“Am I that obvious?”
“You and me both. We’re crystal clear to her.”
“How’d she know?”
“She said if you’re looking into something having to do with Teacher and Kharon, the only link you have to them is that taverna owner in Exarchia, Jacobi.”
“I wonder if she’d be interested in picking horses for us at the track.”
“She doesn’t gamble.”
“So you tried.”
“Uh-huh,” nodded Tassos drumming his fingers on the dash. “So what’s the plan?”
“You should know better than to think I have one.”
“That’s what I thought. It’s also why I’m carrying two guns.”
“Wise decision.”
“As opposed to the one I made that has me in this car with you at three in the morning.”
“Stop complaining, I know you love a good time.”
“Yeah, this should be real fun, a hippie and a Bolshevik arriving in anarchist party central at just about the time of the night when antiestablishment types are drunk, high, and angry at their lot in life that has them sweltering in Athens summer heat while capitalist lackeys are off enjoying the sea, islands, and mountains.”
“Hey, man, it’s the price we gotta pay for the revolution.”
“Somehow that fails to comfort me.”
“Stop with the sarcasm and let me concentrate. It’s almost show time.”
“Great. I always wondered what it would be like to die on stage.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Tassos walked into the taverna alone and headed straight for the bar. Customers, mostly young men, huddled over drinks at four tables, a young woman in bring-on-the-revolution garb with complementing facial piercings and tattoos sat next to a fat man at the bar. Every eye in the place fixed on Tassos as he sat on a barstool three stools down from the fat man and ordered a beer from a Heracles size bartender sporting a King Leonidas-style beard.
As Tassos patiently waited for his beer, he glanced into the mirror running behind the bar, making eye contact with no one. He nodded thanks to the bartender, lifted the bottle to his lips, doing a quick scan of the room in the mirror as he did. He noticed only one table, possibly two, still paying him any attention.
He reached for a copy of the newspaper Avriani on the bar and began reading it. As he turned the page he glanced in the mirror again. No one was looking at him now.
Ten minutes later, Andreas strolled in. He looked at the faces at each table as he made his way toward the bar. He stopped a few paces away from the fat man sitting by Tassos and waved. “Jacobi, how are you, my friend?”
Jacobi studied Andreas’ face until a look of recognition came across his own. “I am definitely not your friend.”
“Of course you are, you just don’t realize it yet.”
Jacobi glared. “I’m tired of being pushed around by you fascist fucking cops.”
“Easy now, or your friends here might not realize just how buddy-buddy we are.”
“Malaka,” said the girl, spitting at Andreas but not quite reaching him.
“Honey, you need some practice with the spitting. But don’t do it in front of your boyfriend here, because he might get jealous at how freely you share your bodily fluids with total strangers.”
She lunged off the stool at him, but tangled her feet together, tripping, and falling at Jacobi’s feet.
“But first you ought to learn to walk.” Andreas pointed at the girl and said to Jacobi, “I think you ought to help your girlfriend up off the floor.”
Jacobi smiled. “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s his.” He nodded toward the bartender coming up behind Andreas, a lead pipe in his right hand.
Andreas’ raised his hands in front of his face. “Whoa there, big fellow. Not a good idea.”
The bartender paused but Jacobi growled, “Break the asshole up bad.”
The bartender lifted the pipe above his head and drove it diagonally across his body toward Andreas’ head, but in the instant it took to bring the pipe down, Andreas slid off to his left and the bartender stumbled forward, tripping over his girlfriend.
“You two should produce wonderfully coordinated children together,” said Andreas.
The bartender regained his balance with the help of the bar stool next to Tassos, lead pipe still in hand, and came up facing Tassos.
Tassos smiled, his semiautomatic service pistol pointed squarely at the middle of the bartender’s forehead. “Uh-uh, play nice.”
The bartender turned his head to look at Jacobi.
“What are you looking at him for? I’m the one who’s going to put a bullet in your head if you don’t drop the fucking pipe.” Tassos jammed the barrel of the gun against the side of the bartender’s head. “Now.”
All heard the distinct clunk of a lead pipe hitting the floor.
“Good decision. Now pick up your girlfriend and take her over to that table against the wall. And don’t either of you dare move from there until I tell you to.”
Tassos watched the bartender carry his girlfriend to the table. “Terrific. I love young people who listen.”
Tassos reached down to his ankle, pulled out a second gun, and waved it at the people still at the other tables. “As for the rest of you folks, two choices. Leave now with whatever bill you’ve run up on the house, courtesy of your host.” He pointed the first gun in Jacobi’s direction. “Or stay put and be a part of whatever additional unpleasantries are yet to come. Ten seconds to decide.”
He looked at his watch. “Nine, eight…”
The place was empty by three.
“So, with that, back to you, maestro.”
Andreas nodded. “Thank you.” He bent down and picked the lead pipe up off the floor.
Holding it in his right hand and slapping it against his left he fixed his eyes on Jacobi’s. “‘Break the asshole up bad.’ So, that’s what you think of our relationship, huh?”
Andreas smiled, Jacobi forced a grin, and Andreas drove a butt end of the pipe hard enough into Jacobi’s solar plexus to take him off the stool and double him over on the floor, struggling to breathe.
“That’s just so you remember there are consequences for ordering someone to attack a police officer. But that’s not why I’m here in the middle of the night. I came to give you the opportunity of choosing between living and dying.”
Jacobi wheezed for air. “You’re not going to kill me. No way.”
Andreas lifted Jacobi’s chin up off the floor with the pipe. “I never said I’d be the one to kill you. But how I decide to play what I’m about to tell you will definitely determine whether you live or die. So, are you ready to listen?”
“Can I sit down?”
“Sure, pick a table, any table, the place is yours.”
Jacobi crawled to the nearest table and pulled himself up onto a chair facing the door.
“Nope, other side. I face the door.”
Jacobi struggled to stand and move to the other side of the table. “You hurt me bad.”
“File a complaint.” Andreas sat down, putting the pipe on the tabletop.
Jacobi coughed and leaned forward, head down. “What do you want from me now?”
“The last time we met, you mentioned the name of a certain lady.”
Jacobi lifted his head. “Go ahead, beat me to death with that pipe. That’ll be nothing compared to what she’ll do to me if she finds out I talked to cops about her.”
“You do know you’re fucking crazy.”
“Yep,” nodded Andreas.
“I don’t even know how to begin to get a message to her, let alone convince her I have a warning from cops trying to help her.”
“That falls into the category of not my problem.”
Jacobi dropped his head and banged it lightly on the table. “So, what is it you want me to pass along?”
“All we know is that somebody is setting up a hit intended to send a message to Teacher.”
Jacobi lifted his head and smirked. “Someone put out a hit on Teacher? Say good-bye to whatever idiot did that and all his nearest and dearest.”
“I didn’t say ‘a hit on Teacher.’ It’s on someone in Greece close enough to Teacher to get her attention.”
Jacobi’s eyes widened. “Do you have a name on the target?”
“No, nor on the person placing the hit. If we did we wouldn’t be here asking you for answers.”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
“What about your friend? Maybe he could help you.”
“What friend?”
Andreas cocked his head. “Jacobi mou. Are we going to play that game again?”
“Oh, that friend.”
“That’s right. Kharon.”
“No, he wouldn’t know.”
“Are you sure, because if somebody close to Teacher dies who would have lived had you cooperated, I can assure you that message will get out there too.”
“You made that point before.”
Andreas shrugged. “Repetition is good.”
“So, why are Greek cops so interested in preventing someone close to Teacher from getting whacked?”
“You already know why. If she gets angry, a lot of innocents are going to die on Greek soil. And we Greek cops don’t want that happening here.”
Devil of Delphi: A Chief Inspector Andreas Kaldis Mystery Page 21
