The Green Lady Page 17

  Paschos came out of the bathroom, a towel round his thick waist. He looked at her quizzically. ‘We’re attending the athletics this evening, you remember?’

  Angie nodded without enthusiasm. She would be overjoyed when the Games were over. The sight of muscular young limbs did nothing but make her think of Lia. How was it possible for the child of one of the country’s richest men to disappear without trace? She had addressed the question to Paschos so often that he had banned it, saying the authorities were doing all they could and she should be patient. She wasn’t the only one hurting, didn’t she realise that? When Angie had hired Alex Mavros, she had been careful not to change her demeanour or patterns of behaviour. In truth, she no longer trusted Paschos, let alone his oleaginous lawyer. She didn’t even trust Maria Bekakou, though at least she still expressed concern about Lia.

  She watched as her husband came out of his walk-in wardrobe with a pale blue suit and white shirt. He was fastidious about his clothes, a characteristic she had once found endearing but which now irritated her. How could he care about what he wore when his wonderful daughter was missing?

  Suddenly Angie was seized by a burning desire to call Alex Mavros. She managed to conceal it by wishing Paschos a successful day and walking into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Something was very wrong and she had begun to suspect both Rovertos Bekakos and her husband. She had been thinking about it for days, trying to conjure up images that would provide clues, looks that had been directed towards Lia, terms of endearment spoken – not by Paschos, of course, he never used anything but the most conventional language with both his wife and his daughter. Could the unthinkable have happened? After refusing to consider such an obscenity and then gradually allowing the thought to rise from her subconscious, she was now convinced that Lia had been the victim of an awful act. She couldn’t prove anything, she didn’t have the slightest evidence, but she was sure.

  Angie Poulou came back out of the bathroom, checked that Paschos had left in his chauffeur-driven Mercedes and quickly got dressed. There was a public phone less than five minutes’ drive away.

  Mavros was flicking through Professor Phis’s book on the Olympian goddesses, the chapter on Demeter being particularly well thumbed, when he got the call. He went outside and walked towards the small harbour. His client was struggling to express herself.

  ‘Take deep breaths,’ he said.

  Angie Poulou did so and managed to calm herself. ‘I’m sorry, I must have been having a panic attack. Listen, Alex—’

  ‘No names on the phone, remember?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Listen, there’s something I have to tell you.’

  ‘It normally works the other way.’

  ‘Well, have you found anything?’

  ‘Some leads that I’m checking, but don’t get your hopes up yet.’

  ‘Are you still down in—’

  ‘Yes. Now tell me what you were going to say.’

  There was a pause. ‘All right. The thing is, it’s nothing I can put my finger on.’

  It rarely is, Mavros thought. ‘Anything might be useful.’

  ‘Yes,’ his client said distractedly. ‘Anyway, Rovertos Bekakos, my husband’s lawyer?’

  Mavros was listening carefully.

  ‘He and his wife Maria don’t have kids. I don’t know if it was a conscious decision or if one of them’s infertile. And they never showed the slightest interest in Lia and the other children in our circle when they were small.’

  ‘But recently that began to change.’

  ‘Is this one of your leads?’

  ‘Possibly. What happened, exactly?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she said, almost wailing. ‘That’s the worst of it. I certainly wouldn’t have allowed Lia to go with Maria the day she disappeared if I’d had any suspicions at the time.’

  ‘Suspicions of what?’ Mavros asked gently.

  ‘I . . .’ There was the sound of choking. ‘Excuse me. I find it disgusting even to think about. Rovertos doesn’t have a reputation for chasing women – he and Maria have always seemed devoted to each other. But I began to notice him looking at Lia in a different way last summer when we were on Mykonos. He never touched her or anything, but he would often be where she was – at the pool or on the yacht. And there was something in his eyes that I couldn’t fathom. Then the old man came and they started hanging around together where Lia and the other girls were.’

  ‘The old man?’

  ‘Oh, he’s a professor who helps Paschos and other friends of ours with their collections of antiquities. Phis is his name, Epameinondhas Phis. I took against him from the start – he’s bent and has leathery skin, and he cackles like a madman.’

  Mavros decided to show part of his hand. ‘What would you say if I told you that Maria Bekakou visited Professor Phis at his home yesterday?’

  ‘What?’ There was a protracted silence. ‘Well, I suppose he would be helping her with their collection. They started one last year.’

  ‘OK. Do you by chance know another professor, Amanda Velouchioti?’

  ‘Yes. She’s a colleague of Phis. I’ve seen them together at art shows and the opera. I met her a few times. She seemed nice enough, but very intense. She never laughed like the old goat.’

  ‘Why do you call him that?’

  ‘After he’d been with us, I heard he was asked to leave by another family because he was getting too close to their girls.’

  So the journalists at Theophrastus got it right, Mavros thought.

  ‘You realise I can’t do my job unless you’re completely honest with me,’ he said firmly. ‘What else is there?’

  ‘I don’t know how to say this.’ His client’s voice was almost inaudible.

  ‘Take your time. Remember, it may help me find your daughter.’

  ‘It’s . . . it’s Paschos. I didn’t think of it before Lia disappeared, but recently I’ve been tormented. He . . . I found him in her room last March. It was after she’d been playing basketball and she was in the shower. He . . . he was watching her through the glass door. I’d never seem him like that. He was stock still, his eyes locked on Lia like a hunting dog’s, and he . . . he was holding the . . . the knickers she’d been wearing.’

  Jesus, Mavros thought, was Poulos like Bekakos? ‘What did he say? I assume you asked what he was doing.’

  ‘Of course. He just brushed the question away, saying something about how untidy Lia was. He handed me the underwear as he went out. I . . . I don’t know what to make of it.’

  ‘Have you mentioned the episode to him since your daughter disappeared?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Please don’t.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I can’t say at this stage. Is there anything else?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. Bring her back to me. I don’t care what’s happened, I just want Lia back.’

  Mavros tried to comfort her, then ended the call. He sat down on a rock and stared out across the glistening water. Bekakos was definitely in the frame for child molesting, maybe Phis too, but could Paschos Poulos be too? That was conceivable since Nikos Kriaras was on the case; he was so senior that he could manipulate the investigation. But it seemed Poulos had also turned the Son loose, resulting in three killings that were linked by the pomegranate seeds, but in no other obvious way. Had Rovertos Bekakos stashed Lia Poulou somewhere, without knowing that his employer had hired the Son? If so, was he running scared? That might explain Kloutsis and the musclemen who had attacked him.

  ‘My catches have halved in the last two years.’

  Mavros turned to see Akis Exarchos approaching, a couple of vicious harpoons in one hand. There was a large bruise on the left side of his face.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be lying down?’

  The fisherman shrugged. ‘The fucker knocked me out, then I woke up. End of story.’

  Mavros asked him to run through his experience with the gunman.

  ‘You were lucky,’ he said, when Akis finished. �
�I think I know who it was. People died the last time I had dealings with him.’

  ‘People are going to die the next time I see the wanker. People meaning him.’

  Mavros remembered the methods used by the Father and Son. Fishing equipment had been among them, but it seemed the younger torturer had gone more hi-tech.

  ‘I’ve been round the village,’ Akis said. ‘There’s no sign of the blue pickup.’

  ‘I don’t think he’s gone far. For a start, he wasn’t seen at any of the police roadblocks.’

  Akis lit a cigarette with a match, screwing up an eye as he blew out smoke. ‘I thought you were a private operator. Why did you get the cops involved?’ He had obviously spoken to Lykos and Angeliki.

  ‘Because they can do things I can’t. Plus, they’re not all bad.’

  ‘You mean Xanthakos? He kept his head yesterday, true enough. But I’m betting he’s on the HMC payroll like the rest of them.’

  ‘I’m not sure about that. Let me ask you – the lawyer Bekakos, did he offer you compensation for your wife’s death?’

  The fisherman scowled. ‘One of his female sidekicks did. Clever, using an attractive young woman on a widower. I wasn’t interested. I’d heard about the contracts. You have to waive the right to sue the HMC. Fuck that.’

  ‘It’s a big company. What do you expect to do against it?’

  Akis grinned, showing a newly missing canine. ‘Kick the shit out of its hired help, for a start.’

  ‘Yes, I meant to thank you for intervening last night in Paradheisos. Presumably Lykos sent you to keep an eye on me.’

  ‘No, it was my idea. When he told me you were going in, I had a feeling you’d be targeted.’ He dropped the cigarette butt and ground it under his bare heel.

  ‘You know what Bekakos did to that girl, Aki. Have you heard of any other cases?’

  The fisherman looked out across the bay. ‘Only rumours. Bekakos has a bad reputation with teenage girls. They say that sometimes his wife watches and that other men participate. The workers are too scared to do anything.’ He turned back to face Mavros. ‘There’s only one way to find out the truth.’

  ‘Ask the man himself. Under pressure.’

  ‘That’s right. I have contacts in the plant. He’s going to be there tonight for a union meeting. How about catching up with him afterwards?’

  Mavros thought about it. The idea was high-risk and dangerous: exactly the kind of thing that would put the calculating lawyer on the back foot.

  The Fat Man had brought a book – French Pastry Cooking – to while away the hours on surveillance. The problem was that, even though he’d eaten a large portion of kataïfi, the illustrations were making his mouth water. Fortunately, he’d brought more of the sticky stuff with him. He was reaching for the plastic container when the gate opened and Maria Bekakou’s Mercedes coupé nosed out. He started the Peugeot’s engine and set off at a respectable distance. Although it was only nine in the morning, the sun was already pounding down and the hire car’s air con wasn’t up to much.

  Again, the lawyer’s wife turned south towards the centre. Were they heading back to Professor Phis’s place? Yiorgos wondered. If so, he wasn’t going to find out much from street level. The traffic heading into Athens was lighter than that going to the various Games venues in the outskirts. It wasn’t long before they were approaching the turn to the old man’s place. Maria Bekakou kept to the centre lane, eventually moving to the right when they came to the junction with Alexandhras Avenue. The Fat Man began to wonder if he was being led by the nose when the target turned left after the supreme court building and worked her way down the narrow streets, passing the one on which his house was located. Then she drove up the side of the low hill of Strefi and found a parking place. Yiorgos went past her and mounted the pavement. Alex’s client could pay the parking fine.

  The woman was dressed in loose white blouse and trousers and she’d taken a sunhat from the car. She set off up the path, looking neither left nor right. The Fat Man approached from the other side, using the trees to shelter him from her view. What the hell was she doing up here? No one in their right mind would come to this junkie-haunted, dog shit-encrusted lump of rock for a morning constitutional, especially when they lived in a leafy suburb. She must be meeting someone but, again, why here? He lowered his bulk behind a bush and watched as Maria Bekakou stood at the summit looking up at the higher hill of Lykavittos, one foot on the retaining wall. The doves churred and the crickets scraped, but no one else arrived. Even the dopeheads had gone elsewhere to shoot up.

  Then he heard a rustle behind him. Before he could turn, he took a heavy blow on his back. He swung round, right arm raised, and took another hit, this one above the elbow. There were three of them, one with the length of wood that had made contact with his body and the others with wicked-looking knives, one curved like an old-fashioned yataghan. Their clothes were street-life chic – ill-fitting T-shirts, faded denims and incongruously new trainers. Yiorgos knew they were immigrants, probably illegal, but he couldn’t tell where from. Besides, he had other priorities. Such as staying alive.

  Mavros bought some bread from a run-down bakery and took it to the ecologists’ office. The three of them ate it with honey from the last of the local hives, Akis having gone to his place to sleep. After they’d finished the tea from mountain herbs that Angeliki had brewed, Mavros looked across the table at the activists.

  ‘You should consider getting out of here,’ he said. ‘At least until things calm down.’

  ‘But this is what we’ve been working for,’ Lykos said enthusiastically. ‘The HMC is taking the group so seriously that it’s hired a thug to shoot at us.’

  ‘Look, if he’s who I think he is, he’ll be coming back. He’s an animal.’

  Angeliki gave him a sharp glance. ‘He turned up not long after you did, Alex. Is there a connection?’

  There might well be. Mavros decided to open up a bit – after all, the young couple’s lives were at risk. ‘All right. I think there’s a paedophile ring operating down here. That slimeball Bekakos may be at the top of it, but Akis said there were others involved. Is there anything else you can tell me?’ He remembered that Ourania had met Lia at a workshop. ‘Are you aware of any other victims?’

  The pair exchanged a look.

  ‘You want us to give you information, but you don’t give us anything in return?’ Angeliki said, with open hostility.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like telling us what you’re really doing here.’

  Gloves off, thought Mavros. ‘Ourania told me you took Lia Poulou to one of your meetings in Paradheisos.’

  ‘Lia Poulou?’ Lykos said, puzzled. ‘You mean Paschos Poulos’s daughter?’

  Mavros showed them the photograph he’d got from his client.

  ‘No,’ Angeliki said, ‘that’s a girl who turned up at one of our meetings a few months ago. I think her name was Lia. But she had a different surname, I’m sure of it.’ She peered at the photograph. ‘You’re saying she’s that bastard Poulos’s kid?’

  ‘A hundred per cent guaranteed.’

  ‘What was she doing down here?’ Lykos asked. ‘I remember, she met us outside, saying she was new to our work and wanted us to introduce her to the others.’

  ‘The bitch was spying,’ Angeliki said, spittle flying.

  ‘She’s fourteen,’ Mavros said. “Not even Poulos would put his daughter up to that.’

  ‘I’m surprised you get by in your work with that level of naivety,’ the young woman said scathingly.

  Mavros looked at Lykos.

  ‘I don’t think she was spying, my love,’ he said, touching Angeliki’s hand. ‘It’s not as if we do anything except basic education at those sessions.’

  ‘What happened at the end?’ Mavros asked.

  ‘She came outside with us,’ the young man replied. ‘We were in the nursery school near the centre. She walked down the street, turned on to the main square and that was the last we
saw of her.’

  Mavros held his gaze on him, then switched it to Angeliki. Neither of them had seemed disingenuous in what they said. He was about to tell them what had happened to Lia when his phone rang.

  ‘This is Xanthakos. Are you in Kypseli?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Meet me on the road to Paradheisos. I’ll spare your blushes by not driving up to the ecologists’ place.’

  ‘Decent of you.’ Mavros closed his phone and got up. ‘I have to meet someone. Got any plans for the day?’

  Lykos looked down. ‘We might have.’

  ‘Well, good luck with them. I’ll be back in the evening, if not before. Akis has invited me out on his boat.’

  From the looks on their faces, it was clear they didn’t know about the idea to catch up with Rovertos Bekakos in the HMC plant. It would be better if Akis and he were on their own.

  The deputy commissioner’s car was parked behind a stand of bamboo.

  ‘Morning,’ Mavros said, as he got out of the Citroen. ‘Any sign of the pickup?’

  ‘Nothing. And the mystery gunman?’

  ‘Ditto. I think he’ll be holed up somewhere in the vicinity. Or maybe he waited until you raised the checkpoints this morning.’

  ‘He could have taken the road to the west last night. The Fokidha officers didn’t get there as quickly as they might have.’

  ‘Believe that if you want. Listen, there’s something you need to know.’ Mavros ran through Ourania’s story about Bekakos, without mentioning her name – he realised that he didn’t even know her surname.

  Xanthakos was shocked. ‘And you’ve got this on disk?’

  ‘I have. But you can’t use it to arrest Bekakos. The girl’s terrified her father will be fired and her mother will lose her shop – and that they’ll be homeless.’

  ‘I can find the guys who were beating you up and interrogate them.’

  ‘If you want to waste your time. Even if they give you Bekakos’s name, it doesn’t link him to the girl.’

  ‘I thought you’d want to see them behind bars.’

  Mavros shrugged. ‘There’ll be plenty more where they came from. No, Telemache, we need more if we’re going to nail the fucker. I’m working on that.’