And though the Island-state was gradually catching up with all the so-called ‘modernising’ EU legislation – Health and Safety, Human Rights, Diversity training, et al - for the time being things remained much as they had always been. Which included Divisional Commanders having no compunction about keeping visitors waiting. Murray was about to ask Andri how much longer, when a shadow fell across her desk, announcing the arrival of another visitor. He looked to his right.
Framed in the doorway, with the sun behind so he couldn’t make her out properly, Murray nevertheless knew at once she was a looker. Dark hair fell in waves onto tanned shoulders that were bare but for the thin straps of her bright summer dress. Cut low enough to tantalise, but not so much as to draw disapproving comments from those of a more conservative nature, it showed off a figure whose curves, his instincts told him, owed nothing to motherhood. The way Andri’s face lit up when she looked up and saw the newcomer, Murray could tell she was, Somebody.
For nearly a minute, a staccato of indecipherable Greek rattled between the two women. And though Murray understood barely a word, he sussed enough from the way Andri kept shaking her head and gesturing at first him, then the door to the office behind her, to know that whoever the visitor was, she also wanted access to the Commander. He could also tell that unlike him, she was not inclined to wait.
Even as his suspicions formed, she confirmed them. Waving away Andri’s protestations, she crossed the room and headed straight for the door. Andri looked horrified.
'Gina,' she hissed. 'NO.'
As ‘Gina’ turned, finger to her lips to give Andri a conspiratorial, 'Ssshhh,' she seemed to notice Murray for the first time. She threw him the sort of smile he couldn’t remember being on the receiving end of in a long time.
'You do not mind do you? I will be only a moment.'
He opened his mouth to say something, but wasn’t quick enough. Spinning on her heels, she knocked once on the door, loudly, and walked straight in. She closed it, firmly, behind her. At once, echoes of voices sounded through the door - Gina’s and a man’s. Both were loud. Andri covered her face with her hands in horror at the crime that had just been committed. But between the covering fingers, Murray spotted traces of wry amusement.
'She is so BAD,' Andri said, turning to him and shaking her head. 'He will be furious.'
For several moments the voice Murray assumed was the commander’s lent truth to Andri’s assertion. When it suddenly quieted, Andri span round to face the door, as if expecting to see it spring open and the invader be ejected by the man who was apparently still too busy to see Murray. But it stayed closed. Eventually, she turned back to Murray, biting her lower lip to stifle a smile. 'I think she wins. As always.'
As much amused by the young woman’s bravado as interested in who she might be, Murray was getting around to asking when the door flew open. As explosively as she had entered, Gina came out.
'Thank you Papa. See you later,' she said, before closing it behind her as firmly as when she entered.
Andri attempted a scolding look and launched into what Murray assumed was supposed to be a severe ticking off. When she lapsed into English, Murray wondered if it was for his benefit or just that the language suited better.
'You must not do this, Gina. Every time, it is me he shouts at. Now I will be in trouble again.'
But if Gina was concerned at all that her actions may bring problems for the sergeant, she didn’t show it, waving away Andri’s protests with a carefree flick of the hand that sent sunlight dancing across her several rings.
'Don’t worry Andri. I told him you did your best. If he says anything, you let me know and I will speak with him. Besides, it is his own fault. How am I supposed to know what he wants for dinner when he does not answer his telephone?'
Andri looked aghast. 'THAT was what you needed to see him about?'
'Of course. What else?' Gina’s face made clear that nothing was more important than dinner.
'Gina. You are terrible.'
Gina shrugged, and surprised Murray by rounding on him. 'You would not mind being interrupted at work to be asked what you want to eat, yes?'
Caught off-guard he just managed, 'I, er… suppose not.'
'There. You see Andri? It is not a problem.'
Andri shook her head, and groaned.
'And now I must go.'
But at the door she stopped. 'By the way, Andri.' She flicked her head in Murray’s direction causing her dark tresses to bounce and swing. 'He said to send him in.'
'GINA.'
Turning, she flashed Murray a smile that hit him between the eyes. 'Nice to have met you.' Then, like a whirlwind, she was gone, leaving everything in her wake upside down, the people she had touched gasping.
But before Murray could ask what was uppermost in his mind, Andri was on her feet.
'This way Mr Murray.'
CHAPTER 7
The office was longer than it was wide. At the far end, the large desk stood under the only window, which was open. The man sitting at it rose as Murray came in. As Murray strode down to take the hand the man held out, he noted that the air-con unit above and behind the desk wasn’t operating. Nevertheless, it was a couple of degrees cooler than the ante-office.
'Welcome again Mr Murray,' the man said as they shook hands. 'Please, sit.' He gestured to the chair already pulled up in front of the desk.
Murray sensed the difference in him at once.
Superintendent Pippis Iridotu, Divisional Commander for the Pafos Police Division, was an imposing figure. Inches over six feet and broad shouldered, his thick, black hair was flecked with grey, matching the moustache that entirely hid his top lip. At their last meeting, Murray had gleaned he was around fifty, though the rugged features gave an impression of someone older. Nevertheless, Iridotu lacked the self-important air some senior police officers carry. His face was the sort that, in repose, fell naturally into an easy smile. But Murray could already see that, unlike last time, he seemed to be doing his best to not let it show. He wondered what lay behind the change.
'Would you like coffee?' Iridotu said.
'No, thanks,' Murray said. Given the length of time he’d had to wait and the policeman’s changed manner, he was interested to hear what he had to say without further delay.
Reaching down, Iridotu opened a drawer and took out a plain buff folder which he placed on the desk in front of him. About to open it, he paused to give Murray a look that suggested he was thinking, carefully, about how to proceed. As Murray waited for him to decide, he noticed the empty coffee cup that was closer to his chair than that of the Divisional Commander’s.
'I have made many enquiries since we last met, Mr Murray.'
Murray didn’t respond. Iridotu had indicated his intention the last time they met. He continued.
'And I have learned much.' He tapped the folder with a fingernail, as if to warn its contents before he opened it. Lifting the topmost sheet, he perused it for several seconds.
'As you suggested, this Podruznig is an interesting character.' He stopped to look up. 'You are aware that he spent time in a Russian prison?'
Murray nodded. Most of his sort had done so, one time or another. It was how they forged their connections.
Iridotu hesitated again, which was when Murray realised. This wasn’t just going to be about Podruznig. The policeman shuffled the papers before him. 'There is much information here, Mr Murray. About Podruznig’s background, and how he came to be what he is today.' He glanced up again. 'But there is nothing, I fear, that can help you.' Murray said nothing, still waiting. 'Like you, I am not happy about the way this man does business. But as far as the Cyprus authorities are concerned, he is legally entitled to be here. And he has been granted the necessary approvals to purchase property.'
Still Murray didn’t react. So far, it was all pretty much as he had expected.
'As far as his dealings with the builders are concerned, my Chief of Detectives has spoken with both of the Klerides br
others. They deny that Podruznig subjected them to threats of any sort. They say you were in breach, and therefore they acted within their rights.'
Iridotu waited, as if expecting a response. When none came he continued. 'I do not want you to misunderstand me, Mr Murray. I do not take kindly to foreigners coming to my country and acting as if they think they can tread all over our laws just because they have money and power.' He paused again. It made Murray wonder. Was that a message? 'But like any policeman, I can only act on what I can prove. I have no evidence that this Podruznig has committed a crime in my country, therefore I cannot intervene in your dispute.'
Dropping the paper he was holding, he spread his hands to show open palms. And there you have it.
Murray nodded. 'Did your Chief of Detectives say if he believed the Klerides brothers?'
The way Iridotu took his time, Murray guessed the answer.
'Like me, he can only go on what he can prove, not what he believes.'
'I understand.'
The policeman shuffled through more papers, as if thinking about sharing some of their contents. But then, with a finality that caught Murray off guard, he closed the folder.
'I do not think there is anything here that can help you, Mr Murray.'
Murray stared at him. For all that much of what Iridotu had said came as no surprise, he had, nevertheless expected at least a little more. Clearly, Iridotu was closing him out. He wondered why. When he’d first approached the commander with his story, he’d come away with the impression that the Cypriot was keen to do whatever he could to deal with one of those he referred to then as, 'The land-grabbing Pontians who think they can run our country.'
Murray was familiar with the term, 'Pontian'. Originally ethnic Greeks from Pontius, on the shores of the Black Sea, nowadays Cypriots use it, disparagingly, to refer to those from the former Soviet regions around Georgia and Ukraine. Having ancient Cyprus blood in their veins and therefore the right to a Greek passport, they see themselves as having an even greater claim on the Island of Aphrodite than its present incumbents - Greek and Turkish. Despite its holiday-resort credentials, Pafos is home to a sizable Pontian Community. They complain, frequently, about police harassment.
Murray waited, still saying nothing.
Eventually Iridotu said, 'There is another matter I must discuss with you, Mr Murray.'
Here it comes.
'Podruznig is not the only person about whom I have made enquiries since our last meeting. I also took the trouble to enquire into your own background.'
As would any policeman with any sense.
'It seems that our Mr Podruznig is not the only one with, how shall I put this? An interesting history?'
Murray nodded slowly. It was the policeman’s play. He would let him run with it.
'I understand you did some work with the military.'
Murray nodded again. 'I left the army several months ago.'
'I know. You were a policeman as well, of some sort?'
Murray hesitated, careful as always about discussing his past. For all he knew, Iridotu might now know of it, though he doubted it.
'I was a policeman back in the UK for a while.'
'But not now.'
'No.'
'So what sort of work were you involved in with the army?'
'I’m sorry, I can’t say.'
'Undercover work, I believe?'
Murray came on alert. Now where had he got that?
Iridotu seemed to sense his reaction. 'You were in Iraq and Syria. During the Isil wars I understand? Some sort of… secret operation?'
Murray’s mind began to work. It wouldn’t have been recorded on any personnel file.
'Like I said. I can’t talk about it.'
'I also believe… you fell out with your employers.'
Murray tensed.
'Something to do with some property that went missing?'
By now Murray’s brain was racing. There had to be a leak somewhere. Senior though Iridotu was, Murray was pretty sure a Cyprus Police Commander wouldn’t be vetted for that sort of information. A thought sparked.
'I believe it involved a consignment of gold?'
The spark fanned into a flame. Murray crossed his arms.
'Who told you this?'
But it was Iridotu’s turn to say nothing. And the voice, when it came, sounded from behind him.
'I did.'
Murray glanced at the empty coffee cup.
The flame turned into a conflagration.
CHAPTER 8
As Murray met Iridotu’s gaze – he was checking his reaction - he felt no antipathy towards the man who had set him up. Had the roles been reversed, he would probably have done the same. Behind him, the sound of the voice’s owner rising, coming forward. He must have been tucked away in the corner when Murray entered, shielded by the bookcase to the right of the door.
He understood now why Iridotu had kept him waiting. They would have been talking about how to play things. And though Murray’s instincts still told him that Iridotu was a man he might trust, he was glad now that he had chosen not to say too much. If the time came for the two to talk about these things further – though after this meeting it was probably unlikely - he would rather do so knowing that only the two of them were present.
The man who had spoken came level with Murray’s field of vision.
'Hello, Peter.'
Murray didn’t reply, nor did he turn to look at him. It was a complication he should have anticipated, been prepared for. But he wasn’t going to grant the sneak the pleasure of seeing him acknowledge his mistake.
The man came around to stand next to the Police Commander, where Murray could not avoid looking at him. Before switching his gaze, Murray noted the policeman still weighing him, and was glad. It meant he was still interested in gauging things for himself.
'Hello Glyn,' Murray said at last.
'Surprised to see me?'
'Not really. It’s hot and humid. Worms surface.'
The man smiled.
As they regarded each other – how long had it been? Two years? – Murray wondered if the Special Investigations Branch man was still part of the Cyprus Joint Police Unit, or if he had returned because he’d heard of Iridotu’s enquires. In the intervening period, Major Glyn Westgate hadn’t changed much. Tall, athletically built, and with a receding hair line, he still had the superior, self-assured look that comes with a commission in the Royal Military Police. And as they checked each other, Murray realised that his attitude towards the man who, had he had his way, would have seen Murray put away long ago, had changed not one bit. Murray still felt he could cheerfully plant a fist into the smug face.
Not yet ready to acknowledge his tormentor, Murray spoke to Iridotu. 'There is another side to it.'
Iridotu gave a knowing smile, 'Of course. It is always so.'
'Oh, I was quite fair Peter,' Westgate chipped in. 'I did tell the Superintendent that nothing was ever proved that would have stood up in court.'
Murray eyes stayed on the policeman. 'Nothing was ever proved, period.'
Westgate continued.
'But I was interested to hear about this house of yours. The Superintendent tells me you put your deposit down about two years ago? Now there’s a coincidence. Come into some money did you? And you seem very determined to get your property back. Makes me wonder what’s so important about it, especially seeing as how I understand you’ve been offered fair compensation.' Westgate placed his hands flat on the Commander’s desk and leaned forward. 'So what’s it all about Peter?'
Murray’s hands balled into fists, but he stayed put, keeping them down at his side. When the time comes…
'Not that it’s any business of yours, but yes, as a matter of fact we did come into money. An aunt of Kathy’s who died. As for my interest in getting the house back, well you always were an insensitive prick.'
Westgate put on a hurt look. 'Oh I’m sorry, Peter. Of course I remember now. It’s got no connection with
anything that happened back then. It’s just about keeping promises to your dead wife.'
Before Murray could move from the chair, the policeman leaned forward in his, putting out a staying hand. 'Please,' was all he said.
Wound like a watch-spring – the bastard always did know which buttons to press - Murray practised what he had forced himself to learn long ago. After a few seconds, the urge passed and he settled back. The policeman turned to Westgate.
'The loss of a man’s wife is not a thing to speak lightly of Major. Not under such circumstances. I think perhaps that if you wish to discuss such matters with Mr Murray, you should do so outside this office?'
Westgate responded like the officer he was. 'Of course Superintendent. I’m sorry Peter, my remark was uncalled for. Please accept my apologies.'
Iridotu turned to Murray. 'The Major contacted me after I enquired about you with the military authorities.' I’ll bet he did. 'Pafos is my town. I am interested in anyone and everyone who comes here, particularly people who may cause trouble.'
'You don’t have to justify anything Superintendent,' Murray said. 'And I am not looking for trouble.'
'Perhaps not. But from what I hear, trouble seems to have a habit of finding you.'
'If it comes, I deal with it.'
'Then please Mr Murray, do not deal with it here. After my enquiries I know some of your background. But what happened when you worked for the Army is between you, them and the Major here. Pafos is a nice town. That is why the tourists come. Please do not do anything that would spoil it. I would not like that.'
For several seconds, Murray let his silence serve as acknowledgement of the policeman’s warning. Eventually he said, 'I’ll do my best.'
Iridotu fixed Murray with a stare that left him in no doubt about the message he wished to convey.
'Do not do your best Mr Murray. Do as I say.'
Ten minutes later, as Murray stepped out into Ypolohagou Avenue where his jeep was parked, he stopped, closed his eyes, and turned his face up to the sun, letting its fierce heat burn away the memories his encounter with the Special Investigations Branch man had resurrected.
A Killing Place in the Sun Page 4
