The Green Lady Read online

  ‘They’ll kill her, you know,’ Pachos Poulos said.

  ‘That’s the price you have to pay,’ Maria Bekakou said.

  ‘Yes,’ Poulos said. ‘But none of them will escape the son.’

  They split up in the central corridor without kissing. The Fat Man considered following the businessman, but thought Alex wouldn’t approve – his target for the day was the woman. She went back to the car park. He moved as fast as he could towards the Peugeot after she’d got in and started the Merc’s engine. She was four cars ahead of him at the exit gate and had accelerated away down the highway by the time he was out. With difficulty, he kept her in view. She got off at the Kifissia Avenue exit and went back home without making any other stops.

  Yiorgos parked at the other end of the street from the one he’d been at earlier and tried to get his thoughts in order. Paradheisos. That was probably the town in Viotia where the Hellenic Mining Corporation workers lived. As for the rich people’s final conversation, he wasn’t sure which part of it horrified him most – the dispassion with which Poulos had mentioned the likelihood of a female’s (his daughter’s?) death, Maria Bekakou’s similar detachment, or the mention of ‘the son’.

  He called Alex, but couldn’t make himself heard. His partner seemed to be in the middle of a combat zone.

  Mavros answered his phone when he saw the Fat Man’s number on the screen, but he couldn’t hear anything above the shouting and the banging of drums and cooking pots. Yiorgos would have to sort out whatever he was calling about himself. Pushing on through the increasingly angry mob, he managed to keep Rovertos Bekakos in sight. The lawyer stopped from time to time, speaking to men in boiler suits and shaking their hands.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he asked one of the few calm people, a moustachioed man in his thirties, sitting by a boulder on the roadside.

  ‘It’s the ecologists, isn’t it? They’ve finally got their act together and blocked the road. The night shift can’t get home and we can’t get to work.’ He didn’t seem unduly concerned. ‘I’d have a dip if I didn’t know I’d come out in lumps.’ He peered at Mavros. ‘Hey, you’re not a journalist, are you?’

  ‘Certainly not,’ Mavros replied, laying on the outrage. ‘I hate those scumbags. I’m with Mr Bekakos.’

  The worker raised an eyebrow. ‘Tell him the new contract’s a piece of shit.’

  ‘All right. You wouldn’t give me your number?’

  The man laughed. ‘Do I look suicidal?’

  Mavros smiled and pushed on. Labour relations were obviously bad at the plant, but he already knew that from his research. He wouldn’t pass himself off as a management lickspittle again. Eventually he reached the front line. A banner had been raised above an old Fiat. ‘Ecologists for a Better Viotia,’ it proclaimed. The young men holding it up used their boots to kick back the workers.

  ‘Where are you going?’ a woman demanded. She was in her fifties and in the traditional black mourning blouse and skirt.

  ‘Ecologists for a Better Athens,’ he said, hoping his lack of boiler suit would back up his words. His long hair might help too. ‘What’s your leader’s name, again?’

  The woman eyed him suspiciously.

  ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ he said, grabbing her as a stone flew close by.

  She thanked him, leading him to the front of the car. ‘My husband,’ she said.‘He worked at the plant for fifteen years. Now he’s in hospital with his lungs in tatters and I’ve been told to leave Paradheisos by the end of the month.’

  ‘That’s terrible,’ Mavros said, no longer feigning.

  She nodded. ‘I’ve got nothing to lose.’ She caught his eye. ‘Lykos is our leader, though Angeliki does most of the work.’

  The Wolf, Mavros thought, as he pressed on. He remembered the Axis occupation when resistance leaders had used noms de guerre to strike fear into the hearts of the enemy. Was something similar going on here?

  Finally he got to within five metres of the blockade – a tractor and trailer that had spilled large rocks across the road. In front of it an animated discussion was taking place between Bekakos, a very tall policeman in uniform but without his hat and jacket, and a pair of protesters. The woman, well-stacked, was shouting, fortunately not through the megaphone she had in one hand, while the man, thin, bearded and belligerent, was waving his finger as he lectured the lawyer. The cop had taken a pace back and was watching the debaters with a look of mild amusement.

  ‘We will not be moved!’ the woman he took to be Angeliki screamed, repeating the words through the bullhorn. ‘Take your filthy pollution to Switzerland!’

  Mavros smiled. He was sure Poulos A.E. had numerous Swiss bank accounts, like all Greek big businesses, and there were probably plenty in Paschos Poulos’s own name. He heard the noise of heavy machinery and looked between the tractor and trailer. The workers on the other side had moved their vehicles to the side of the road to allow a large bulldozer to approach.

  ‘No retreat!’ Angeliki yelled. ‘No surrender!’

  At the same time, the workers to his rear came together and charged the demonstrators. The few police officers were overwhelmed and thrown to the side, one of them tumbling into the bay.

  Mavros was in the dragon’s jaws. He made his decision. Running forward, he grabbed the tall policeman with one hand and the young woman with the other.

  ‘Get up on the trailer!’ he shouted. ‘They won’t have the nerve to bulldoze it if there are people aboard.’

  The cop stared at him and then nodded.

  Angeliki yelled to Lykos to follow. He did so, leaving Bekakos on his own. The lawyer took fright and climbed up too.

  ‘Who are you?’ the policeman shouted, raising both hands to stop the bulldozer. Bekakos and the others did the same.

  ‘The name’s Mavros, Alex Mavros.’

  ‘Deputy Commissioner Telemachos Xanthakos. What are you doing here?’

  Mavros watched as the driver of the Caterpillar stopped a few centimetres from the trailer. Rovertos Bekakos jumped down and went to speak to him.

  ‘I’m looking for someone,’ he replied to the cop.

  ‘Aren’t we all?’ Xanthakos spoke into his walkie-talkie, ordering his men to regroup and await orders.

  Angeliki was still shouting through the megaphone, while Lykos was beckoning to his supporters.

  ‘I’ve heard of you,’ the cop said, a grin spreading across his lips. ‘You’re that private investigator.’

  Mavros nodded, relieved that Bekakos couldn’t hear the conversation above the uproar. ‘You’re looking for someone too.’

  Xanthakos narrowed his eyes. ‘Meaning?’

  ‘The killer of the burned body up on Kithairon. Any leads?’

  ‘That’s a conversation for later – if it happens at all.’ The deputy commissioner jumped down and went to the lawyer.

  ‘Good thinking,’ Angeliki said, her voice hoarse. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Alex,’ Mavros replied. ‘A sympathiser. Are you all right?’ He’d noticed a large bruise on her forearm.

  ‘Ach, that’s nothing. Come and see us. We’re over in Kypseli.’ She pointed to a blur of white buildings across the bay. Then she went to Lykos and kissed him on the mouth. ‘We’ve made our point, my love. Let’s break this up. Look, the TV cameras are here. We can give them a rant.’

  Lykos laughed.

  After a few minutes the tension went out of the situation as the protesters were told by their leaders to stand down. Mavros watched as a thin-faced man climbed into the tractor cab and started the engine with a key he took from under the seat. The policeman turned round, looking surprised. There was a tarpaulin above the tow-bar, the muzzle of a double-barrelled shotgun visible. Mavros shivered as he saw the points of several harpoons. He had bad memories about fishing gear.

  ‘You’d better cover those up,’ he said to the driver.

  The look he got would have melted rocks, then the man smiled.

  ‘Thanks, my friend. Wouldn’
t want the cops seeing those.’

  ‘Wouldn’t want any of them to be used against your fellow human beings.’

  The humour went out of the man’s expression. ‘There are worse weapons than these and the accursed plant produces many of them.’

  ‘Steady,’ Mavros said, giving his name.

  ‘Akis Exarchos,’ the driver replied. ‘Are you one of the good or the bad? Maybe we’ll find out.’ He revved the engine and started to manoeuvre the tractor towards Paradheisos.

  Mavros was pleased with the contacts he’d made in the course of only a few minutes. Then he saw Rovertos Bekakos staring at him from beside the bulldozer. He had been well and truly spotted by his target. All he could do was hope that the lawyer didn’t know or find out who he was.

  His phone rang. It was Yiorgos again. The news couldn’t have been worse.

  Telemachos Xanthakos stayed on the works road until the lines of traffic cleared in both directions. He’d posted officers at intervals towards Paradheisos to ensure that the protesters weren’t attacked on their way back to Kypseli. The young man who called himself Lykos – real name Periklis Roubanis – and the tractor driver Akis Exarchos, had been booked for deliberate obstruction of a public highway, but not taken in. He had judged that would be unnecessarily provocative, even though the HMC lawyer Bekakos had exerted a lot of pressure to have all the demonstrators jailed in advance of trial. The deputy commissioner didn’t react well to being pressurised, and he was relieved when his boss – somewhat reluctantly – backed him up. Bekakos glowered at him as he was driven back to pick up his flash German car.

  Xanthakos turned to the private investigator Alex Mavros, who was looking across the bay. It wasn’t often that a law and order celebrity turned up in Viotia. The deputy commissioner was curious.

  ‘They have a point, you know,’ Mavros said. ‘That smoke cloud can’t be healthy.’

  ‘Is that why you’re here? I thought you were a missing persons specialist.’

  Mavros laughed. ‘Have you been stalking me?’

  Xanthakos wondered if the PI had clocked his sexuality. Surely he couldn’t be that sharp. ‘No, but you will insist on getting your photo in the papers.’

  ‘True. I’d rather that didn’t happen, but you know how it is. Journalists can sometimes be helpful.’ Which reminded him – he should call Lambis Bitsos. If the ever-hungry hack had discovered anything, he wouldn’t necessarily call Mavros until he’d followed it up.

  The policeman smoothed back his hair. ‘I can’t say I’ve ever found those sewer-rats helpful.’ That was one good thing about Brigadier Kriaras’s involvement in the burned body case. Xanthakos had been able to refer all press calls to the Athenian’s office. ‘So, why are you here, Mr Mavro? Has someone gone missing from the HMC plant? Their security people normally have everything tied tighter than an anarchist’s pony tail.’

  ‘Alex,’ the PI said, smiling. ‘They didn’t do too well today, did they?’

  ‘No, they didn’t. People have the right to protest, though obviously not to block a public highway.’

  Mavros looked surprised. It was true that not many cops were as liberal as Telemachos. But he still hadn’t heard why the investigator was there.

  ‘Alex, I can help you. On the other hand, I’m not aware of any missing persons in Viotia apart from the usual school drop-outs and abused wives.’

  ‘Deputy Commissioner—’

  ‘Telemachos.’

  ‘All right, Telemache. Who burned your man on Kithairon?’

  ‘Why are you so interested in that?’

  ‘I’m betting you don’t get many torture-homicides in Viotia. On the other hand, we do see them from time to time in Athens.’ The PI’s gaze dropped, as if he was suddenly reluctant to continue. ‘In fact . . . I had dealings back in 2002 with a couple of scumbags who could well have carried out your killing.’

  Xanthakos tried not to look over-interested. Was the long-haired celebrity dick going to hand him the murderer on a plate? He had a vague recollection of the case. ‘Russian gangsters, weren’t they?’

  Mavros wiped his forearm across his forehead. ‘Can we get out of the sun? My car’s back there.’ He pointed towards Paradheisos.

  ‘I’ll give you a lift.’ The policeman got into the unmarked Nissan that he had driven with great difficulty to the front of the tailback. He put the air conditioning on full blast.

  ‘There was a Russian gang involved, yes,’ the PI said, ‘but a Greek crime family was behind the worst killings.’

  Xanthakos nodded. ‘I remember now. The Chiotes.’

  ‘That’s right. They employed some very nasty people.’

  ‘Don’t leave me hanging.’

  ‘Hm. I think I’d better talk to one of your counterparts in Athens first.’

  Xanthakos raised a hand at the last of his officers. ‘Don’t worry, they’re fully aware of my investigation.’

  Mavros stared at him. ‘Really? I’d have thought they had their hands overflowing with the Olympics.’ He pointed. ‘It’s that Citroen.’

  The policeman stopped the car.

  ‘Who are you talking to?’ the PI asked.

  ‘I shouldn’t be telling you, but I need all the help I can get.’ Xanthakos smiled. ‘Plus you seem to be trustworthy.’

  Mavros laughed. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Brigadier Nikos Kriaras.’ The deputy commissioner turned to watch his passenger, who had already opened the door. ‘What? Don’t tell me he puts the shits up you too?’

  Mavros looked back at him. ‘No, but he knows everyone who matters. Listen, give me your private number. I’ll talk to you later.’

  ‘All right, Alex,’ Xanthakos said, handing him his card. ‘Don’t be a stranger.’

  The PI smiled. ‘No problem. Some of my best friends are cops.’ He closed the door and walked away. ‘Not.’

  TEN

  Mavros drove into Paradheisos and stopped at a café on the seafront. He ordered a beer and a sandwich, then called the Fat Man.

  ‘It could just be a coincidence,’ he said, after listening for several minutes.

  His friend sighed. ‘How likely is that, with a naked corpse wired to a chair and set on fire? Who else’s son would do something like that?’

  ‘Come off it, Yiorgo, there’s no shortage of thugs – Albanian, Serbian, Russian as well as Greek – at work in Athens these days. Besides, why didn’t Poulos mention the Father? He was the lead operator.’

  ‘He’s probably dead by now, having his flesh picked apart by demons in the underworld like all the Junta’s torturers.’

  That was probable enough. The Father had been vicious when Mavros met him two years back, but he was getting on. The fast-learning Son could well have developed into a solo act.

  ‘Hello?’ the Fat Man said. ‘Is there life in Viotia?’

  ‘All right, smart arse. I’ve made friends with a senior cop here. Maybe I’ll do some information-sharing.’

  ‘Oh, you’re friends with the beaters of the people now. Shame on you.’

  Mavros groaned. ‘Give it a break, Yiorgo. Have you got any better ideas?’ He looked around – there was no one in the vicinity, Paradheisos being to tourists what cigar smoke was to mosquitoes. ‘Besides, my contact told me that your friend and mine Nikos Kriaras is following the burned man case with extreme interest.’

  ‘That would be the Nikos Kriaras who met Maria Bekakou yesterday – by the way, she’s still at home.’

  ‘Exactly. There are things going on here that I can’t get my head around.’

  ‘Well, you’d better get a move on.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘If the Son really is at work, he’s going to go after you as soon as he gets a sniff that you’re involved.’

  That was true. Mavros had put a stop to the torturers’ activities, neither of them having been heard of since – until now. They, or the surviving family member, would be burning for revenge.

  ‘What next?’ Yiorgos asked. ‘Shall I
stay here all day?’

  ‘If you can. I’m going to talk to the people who blocked the road to the HMC works. The fact that Bekakos came down here personally is interesting, especially since he and his wife have been before. If anyone knows what’s going on, Ecologists for a Better Viotia will.’

  The Fat Man repeated the group’s name scornfully. ‘What are they, a bunch of hairy males and hairier females? How are they going to help you find Lia Poulou?’

  It was a good point, but Mavros wasn’t going to argue it. Sometimes you had to follow your nose and his, stinging from the dirty air, was directing him round the bay to the village of Kypseli.

  Lady, in your grief we make these offerings to you. The road ahead is long and rough, but we believe your quest will be successful with the passing of the seasons. Although the earth is barren now, the plants and crops withering in the blasts of hot wind, there will come a time when it is fertile and green again.

  Accept this libation on behalf of your daughter, taken before her time and hidden in the dark halls of the death god. By his trickery she is confined and undergoing the worst of separations. She does not know what you are doing for her, the efforts you and your followers are making to bring her back. But this period of testing will not last forever, she is not one of the betrayers who will pay for all eternity for their blasphemy – Tantalus starving and maddened by thirst but unable to reach food and drink; Sisyphus rolling the great boulder up the hill and watching it career downwards for him to start over again; and wretched Tityus, whose liver is pecked away by eagles and snakes every day. Not even Hades would dare subject the Maiden to serious harm. Be comforted by that.

  Green Lady, we share your pain as we plait these reeds and stems before you. They are meagre gifts, but we supplement them with the last of the honey made in this place before the bees fled. We also wash your feet with pure water, brought from mountain springs far from this cursed place. We crave indulgence as we send our prayers to you, then direct the Maiden to her temporary home beneath the earth. She is the world’s great wealth, worth more than the gold and silver heaped in the treasuries at Delphi. She will return and you will dispense fertility, we know this.