A Killing Place in the Sun

by Robert F Barker

  'And?'

  'And what?'

  'Has it come in yet?'

  'Limassol were supposed to be getting one yesterday. They said they’d let us know if it came in.'

  'And?'

  Amused again at seeing Kodras so exercised, Leonidis decided it was time to bring him down. 'What do you mean, 'And'? It is Friday Kodras. Tomorrow is Saturday. What is the problem?' But instead of calming, Kodras’s face grew red.

  'The problem, Leonidis, is that I have just taken a telephone call from Mr Marinos Tsaliki, ringing on behalf of the chairman himself. Leonidis stiffened. The younger men took their hands out of their pockets, smiles disappearing. 'He has ordered that it-' He pointed at the X7. 'Be made ready by tonight.'

  Leonidis’s jaw dropped. 'Tonight? Do not be ridiculous Kodras. How can it be ready by tonight? We don’t even know if we have the panel.'

  Kodras stepped forward a few paces and in a way no one at the dealership had ever heard him speak before - low and menacing - said, 'In that case Leonidis, I suggest you find out.'

  'But what if it hasn’t arrived?'

  Kodras remained firm. There was no question he was going to allow Leonidis to let him down in this. 'In that case, you will send one of these two-' He jerked a thumb at the panel-beaters - 'to pick it up from wherever it is, and I mean, wherever. Then you will work on it until it is ready, and then I will ring Mr Tsaliki and tell him what a fine job you have done.'

  Leonidis tried one last time. 'But we close at four. I am taking Iroula to see her sister in Nicosia for the weekend.' But even as he spoke the words, the look on Kodras’s face – like the voice, one he had never seen before – told him that on this occasion, Kodras was not going to give way.

  'Let me tell you something Leonidis,' Kodras said. 'And then you can ring Iroula and you can tell her. I, you and these two will not be going anywhere until that-.' He pointed at the car again. 'Is finished and ready for delivery.'

  A few minutes later, back in his office, Kodras let out a long breath. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d had to take such a hard line. Usually it was a case of getting back to the customer and explaining how some third party had failed in their promise. 'I am sorry, but you must understand, such things are beyond our control.' Not this time. But at least the car’s wing was in stock. As he’d left the bodyshop the two fitters were scurrying about, putting the Jag away, making ready to fetch the X7 from its dusty nest. Kodras checked the clock on the wall. If Leonidis didn’t ring in the next five minutes to confirm the door-panel was also in-stock, he would go over there again and check what was happening.

  Sitting back, Kodras reviewed his actions since the phone call and did some calculations. So long as they had the part before late morning, there should still be time. Fitting was straight-forward, and the paint they used these days was quick-drying. Not ideal by any means – it would normally be left twenty-four hours to go off before polishing and finishing - but on this occasion it would do. At least then he could ring Tsaliki and inform him of his success.

  Satisfied he had things as much under control as was possible in the circumstances, Kodras decided it was time to find out what had precipitated the crisis. But as he reached for the telephone, he had no way of knowing that, after a morning spent ringing his contacts, both at Group Headquarters and elsewhere, he would be no nearer knowing what lay behind his chairman’s extraordinary intervention than he was right then. Nor could he have predicted that in the days and weeks following, the information would continue to elude him. In fact, like Leonidis, the two panel-beaters, and everyone else who heard about it during the course of that morning, Kodras Shikkis was destined to never find out what lay behind what he would always remember as the most frenetic day of his working life.

  CHAPTER 46

  As Marianna Podruznig put her case to her barely-listening husband, her heart beat so fast she had to call on all her reserves of guile to disguise the fact.

  'And it would be good for Sasha,' she reasoned. 'She has never been to anything like this, and there are so few opportunities these days.' As before, Valerik waved away her plea as if it were a fly around food. Whatever was on his mind and had been since the rumpus the previous evening, was clearly still his top priority.

  Marianna had no idea what had happened. She knew only that halfway through the sumptuous dinner she had prepared - the first part of her plan to soften him up - Uri had suddenly burst in to whisper something in Valerik’s ear. It brought him bolt upright, eyes widening like saucers. Pausing only to throw down the remains of the Chateau Boyd Cantenac she had ordered in specially from her favourite Cava up near the market, he tossed her an already-distracted, 'Something has happened I must attend to.' Then he followed Uri out, closing the doors behind him.

  Rushing across the room to put her ear to the door, her mind’s eye followed their muffled voices into the kitchen and down to the basement. Now what?

  She didn’t see him again that night.

  When she rose in the morning, the signs something serious had happened were everywhere. Valerik was nowhere to be seen - probably already ensconced with Uri below somewhere. Looking out of the window, she saw Uri’s staff bustling about the place as if expecting some sort of attack, carrying things from the garage-storeroom to the gate-house, rushing to and fro, in and out of the basement. There seemed more guards on the gate than normal, others stationed around the compound. Later she would discover that Uri had even stationed someone up in the roof-turret. Before she could finish dressing, Ivan knocked with a message from Valerik. Sasha was not to go to school, and they were to confine themselves to the house. Also, they were to stay away from the basement – not easy given that the main access was via the kitchen.

  'Do not be ridiculous,' she responded, already sensing something with the potential to ruin her plans further. Time, especially, was against her. 'Tell Mr Podruznig I need to see him as soon as he is free.' Ivan’s derisory snort as he sloped away left her fearing he would ignore her instruction.

  But the message must have got through, as around lunchtime Valerik appeared to ask what she wanted. The way he didn’t even try to disguise the fact his mind was on other things simply confirmed the conclusion she had already come to. Right now - maybe always - she and Sasha were nothing but an inconvenient distraction, to either be ignored altogether or, at most, given only the consideration needed to let him get on with what was important. Like ensuring that he got his own way in life, no matter how others suffered.

  She knew now it was this increasing egotism that lay behind the ongoing vendetta with the Englishman - not that she could ever dare voice such an opinion. Apart from supposedly having no knowledge of the matter - he had remained tight-lipped about it from the start - if she as much as tried to broach the subject, to point out to him that they had other houses elsewhere, bigger and more luxuriously appointed even than this one, he would be instantly suspicious. He would want to know who she had been talking with to even have a view on the subject. And as there was no one she could point at who knew enough to discuss it – he would discount her bodyguards at once – she risked putting herself in a dangerous situation. If he pushed and got so much as a whiff she was keeping something from him, he would not hesitate to use more persuasive methods. Maybe even hand her over to Uri. He’d probably even enjoy doing so. Determined though she was, Marianna had not been brought up to be the sort who can withstand pain, at least, not for long. Certainly, any hint of a threat towards her daughter and she would tell anyone anything they wanted to know. For these reasons, she had no option but to keep her mouth shut, play dumb, and continue to hope she may yet manipulate him into letting her and Sasha go to the Festival. But as he dismissed her latest appeal, Marianna knew she was struggling.

  'Anyway,' he said, 'Since when are you interested in Opera?'

  It was a good point, though she didn’t dare concede it. 'It is not just the Opera,' she countered. 'There are other things going on as well. A fair. Street entertainers.
The Parade. She has never seen anything like that.'

  'What about the Gorky festival? You took her there didn’t you?’

  'For God’s sake Valerik, that was six years ago. She was three.' She took his surprised look as a small victory, of sorts. 'You cannot keep her cosseted all her life. Or me, for that matter. It is not fair on us.'

  Seeing the way his eyes flared at the implied criticism, she knew she had to be careful. If she went too far, he would simply walk away, as he was wont to when he tired of listening to her pleadings - whether for more freedom, flexibility, love. 'You have your business to keep you busy. But since we moved here, Sasha and I hardly get out at all.'

  'That is a lie,' he snapped, impatience now showing. 'You see Ria every week.'

  'For coffee and shopping. It’s hardly what you would call a special treat.'

  As if sensing the balance of logic was with her, he made to brush the matter aside. 'This is not the right time. Something has happened.’ So I can see. ‘It requires my attention. I cannot be distracted to make arrangements for you and Sasha. Wait a few days, then you can go wherever you want.'

  Though it confirmed what she had been seeing all morning – Whatever can it be? – she had no choice but to press on. 'But the Festival will be over by then. It will be too late.' She put on her most kittenish look. 'Come Valerik, a trip to the harbour hardly involves much trouble. It is only the same as our Saturday morning run into town. And we will not stay for the second act. Sasha will have seen enough by then anyway. It would only be for a couple of hours.' The way he hesitated, searching for another point in his favour rather than outright dismissal, she sensed an opening. ‘And whatever it is that requires your attention so badly, I am sure you will be better off if Sasha and I are not around.' His eyebrows lifted. Another hit. 'And if you need us to come home, I will come at once, no arguing.'

  As he turned to her, anger still yet to show, she felt a surge of hope she might actually be winning. But before he could say anything there was a sharp knock on the door and Uri walked in. Her heart fell.

  No. Not now.

  'I am sorry Valerik.' Though he addressed his master, Marianna saw the way his suspicious eyes slid to her as if to say, Now what are you up to? She met his gaze without turning away, certain he’d timed his intrusion deliberately.

  'What is it Uri?'

  'The garage has just called to say your car will be ready later today.'

  His face changed. It actually lit up. 'It will?'

  Marianna quashed a frustrated groan. As she thought, the news was hardly earth shattering, though the enthusiasm in her husband’s voice said he thought otherwise. She saw the moment that might have been beginning to slip away. And I was so close.

  'When can they bring it back?'

  'They mentioned tomorrow, but I told them they would have to wait. Right now I don’t want unnecessary callers coming and going.'

  'Nonsense, Uri. I have waited long enough as it is. Ring them back and tell them tomorrow will be fine. It is not motor dealers we need to be careful about.' Then, as if realising he might have said too much, he turned to her, glancing warily at Uri.

  'Go to this Festival thing. Take Sasha with you. But you will return at once if I need you here.'

  Marianna’s heart leaped. The good news about his beloved car must have turned him. 'Of course, my husband.'

  Podruznig turned to Uri who was looking aghast. 'That is all Uri. Thank you.'

  As Uri left, she felt, rather than saw the look of hate in his face. She did not get the better of the Siberian very often. But on those rare occasions she did, she loved the feeling. This one was special, for all sorts of reasons.

  Alone again, she moved to stand close to her husband, smouldering in a way she had not practised in a long time, sensing the need to reassure him. 'Thank you Valerik. You are a good husband and father.' As she reached down, she pretended not to notice the flash of surprise that came into his face. 'And when you have more time, then perhaps….' She turned her face up to his, lips apart, ready. His head began to dip towards hers. But suddenly, as if remembering his priorities, he pulled back.

  'Enough of this. I have no time right now.' He headed for the door. 'When you see Ivan, send him to me. I will give him his instructions.'

  'Of course Valerik.'

  As he left the room Marianna let out a long sigh of relief, but she resisted the temptation to jump for joy. The CCTV sees everything.

  CHAPTER 47

  Approaching the iron gates, Kodras Shikkis had never been so nervous in his life. He had no idea what was going on at the house overlooking the Sea Caves, and he did not want to know. All he had been told was, he should follow the instructions he had been given, to the letter. He had been here only once before. The day he delivered the X7. That experience was enough to discourage him from making the, usually obligatory, two-week follow up visit, just to make sure the customer was satisfied with the product and service. Unfortunately, events of the past twenty-four hours meant he now had no choice in the matter.

  The first evidence this was the case had come in the form of yet another telephone call from Tsaliki – less than an hour after Kodras had rung him late the previous afternoon with the good news that he had succeeded in his mission and the car would indeed be ready on time. Of course, in telling his boss this he made no reference to Leonidis - by then in dire straits with his wife - or the two exhausted panel-beaters.

  As with Tsaliki’s first call, the second was instructive in nature, informing Kodras what he was to do next and giving notice of the visitors who would soon be arriving to brief him further. At that time, all Kodras knew was that he was to act as if his visitors’ instructions were coming from the chairman himself - which puzzled Kodras no end, but made sense when the visitors arrived and he recognised one as the local Chief of Police, Superintendent Pippis Iridotu, himself.

  As the Superintendent marched towards Kodras’s office with two men Kodras had never seen before in tow, Kodras just knew that the mysterious sequence of events that had started with the phone call that morning was far from over. Within minutes of the Police Chief’s arrival, it became clear that harrowing though the day had been thus far – the door panel the beaters had to fetch all the way from Limassol had proved more troublesome than expected – things were about to get a whole lot worse.

  His suspicion proved correct when Superintendent Pippis began to lay out what would happen the following day, starting with Kodras’s return to the dealership first thing Saturday morning. Kodras still hadn’t worked out how he would ever placate Peta for having to cancel their attendance at the Pre-Festival Reception at the Municipal Hall that afternoon. For the first time in his life, he had managed to secure tickets for the event - and early enough to give Peta plenty of time during which she could drop the fact into as many conversations as she could without making her gloating appear too obvious. Worse, he still didn’t know if he would be free by the time the Opera began. For all he knew, once this present task was finished a whole new set of instructions awaited him. He was beginning to feel like he had been selected as the dupe in some convoluted game, the end purpose of which would remain, forever, a mystery to him – which in fact, wasn’t far from the truth.

  But for all his doubts, fears and questions, Kodras was not about to defy the wishes of his company chairman. Certainly not Superintendent Pippis. Things had changed greatly since his country joined the EU. And they were still changing. But not so fast that people like Kodras could afford to not cooperate with the police when asked to do so.

  All of which explained how Kodras found himself delivering the Russian’s supposedly pristine BMW X7 eDrive that Saturday afternoon, instead of donning his best suit and stepping out to the Festival Reception with his sexy young wife on his arm. The fact he had been told to wait two hours beyond the time he originally gave Podruznig’s number two, the Siberian Uri, when he rang to arrange delivery, made the whole thing even more mysterious.

  As he pulled u
p in front of the gates, checking his mirror to make sure that the demonstrator X7 following behind to take him back was not so close as to run into him, one of the gates opened just wide enough for someone to step out. Kodras swallowed hard as he recognised the big Siberian and steeled himself. The man with the scar made him jittery at the best of times. As he approached the driver’s window, Kodras prayed to God he wasn’t about to wet himself.

  'You are late,' Uri barked the moment Kodras let the window down.

  'I-I’m sorry,sir.' Kodras said. 'We had to make sure the paint was dry before-'

  'Never mind. Just take it in. And be quick.'

  'Yes sir,' Kodras said.

  As Uri motioned to someone and the gate swung open, Kodras tried not to let his embarrassment show. His nervousness had actually led him to address the muscle-bound idiot the way he would his chairman. Get a grip of yourself Kodras.

  Kodras drove through and up the drive, at the same time checking behind to make sure that his companion hadn’t been stopped. The two cars pulled up in line, at the bottom of the steps. As Kodras stepped from the car, Podruznig himself came down the steps to meet him. He sighed with relief. So far, everything had happened as he had been led to expect it would.

  'Hello Mr Podruznig,' Kodras used the cheery voice he reserved for home deliveries as he put out his hand. Podruznig ignored it.

  'You were supposed to be here two hours ago.'

  'I am very sorry, sir. It was just that-'

  'It is as new I hope?'

  'Of course sir, see for yourself.'

  As he had been instructed – he would have done it anyway – Kodras led the owner around the vehicle, showing him the panels that had been replaced, explaining to the less-than-interested Russian the reasons for the delay. As Podruznig examined the bodywork, running his hands, lovingly, over the buffed metal, Kodras sensed the Russian’s enthusiasm was less marked than he remembered it. In fact, apart from checking that the vehicle was in its original, unblemished condition, Podruznig seemed almost distracted. But not too much.