The Green Lady Page 26

  Lambis Bitsos motioned to him to hold his gun on the fisherman and then headed towards the back room. ‘Is that bitch friend of yours here? She’s one of them too.’

  ‘What?’ Lykos said, his voice breaking.

  The rear door was open.

  ‘Where is she?’ Bitsos asked the cadres.

  ‘She went to get some oregano from the garden,’ one of them said.

  ‘Oregano, my bollocks.’ The journalist went out into a dark yard. ‘Is there a light?’ he called, over his shoulder.

  The area was suddenly illuminated by a single bulb on the back wall of the building. There was a low wall beyond the rock garden and plant pots, but no sign of Angeliki.

  ‘Shit!’ Bitsos yelled.

  ‘Come inside,’ Lykos said, from the back door. ‘The man with the rifle might be out there.’

  The journo beat a rapid retreat and the door was secured behind him. His eyes fell on the statue of Demeter in the recess on the wall.

  ‘She’s been playing games with you, my friend,’ he said to the ecologist. ‘Maybe she does worship the goddess of fertility as well, but I saw her in robes before Hades and Persephone. She sacrificed a piglet to them.’

  Lykos took him by the arm and led him into the front room, where Akis was in a chair, the Fat Man behind him. ‘Tell me what happened.’

  Bitsos obliged, laying on his outrage over being left to rot. ‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘what are we doing here? We should be chasing the cow.’

  ‘There’s no point. I know where she’s gone.’

  ‘Really?’

  The young man looked down. ‘I had my suspicions about Angeliki, but—’

  ‘You let yourself be guided by your cock,’ Bitsos interrupted, with a grin. ‘Don’t worry, it happens to us all.’

  ‘Speak for yourself,’ Yiorgos muttered.

  Lykos looked at them one by one. ‘Anyway, I kept things from her.’

  ‘Like, for example, where the girl is.’

  The ecologist stared at Bitsos. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The girl from Paradheisos – what was her name? Ourania.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Of course.’

  The journalist was watching him carefully. ‘So where is she?’

  ‘At . . . at a friend of my family’s place.’

  ‘A friend of Tatiana Roubani too?’ the Fat Man asked. He didn’t know the Communist MP personally, but admired her full-blooded performances in parliament.

  The oldest of the cadres shook his head. ‘No, the man wasn’t a comrade. He seemed decent enough. Small farmer, salt of the earth.’

  ‘And you took her there for her own safety?’ Bitsos asked the ecologist.

  ‘That’s right. Even without the defections of Angeliki and Akis, I knew things were coming to a head. Your friend Alex made sure of that.’

  ‘What now?’ Yiorgos asked. ‘Can we eat?’

  ‘Why not?’

  Bitsos glared at Akis. ‘None for that tosser, though. They left us in a cage half way down the mountain without even a drop of water.’

  The leading cadre came forward with a rope. ‘I’ll tie him to his chair. Then you can feed him as much or as little as you like.’

  Bitsos and the Fat Man exchanged smiles for the first time.

  ‘Jesus, this really is an inferno,’ Mavros said, as he drove the 4x4 along the dry red track between lines of dust-covered tanks. Trucks laden with ore lumbered from the heaps at the rear to the smelting units, and the air was laden with fumes. The long rolling sheds were windowless, their corrugated sides layered with multicoloured residues. Chimneys spewed dirty smoke into the night air, blurring the lights that were strung from webs of cables.

  ‘How many shades of red can you get?’ Xanthakos asked.

  ‘Don’t know. However many, they’re all here.’ Mavros slowed as he approached what looked like an administration block. At least it had windows. There were several cars outside, but none was remotely up-market.

  ‘Time to go,’ the policeman said, as a security guard waved at them.

  Mavros raised a hand and accelerated away. ‘Do you think he saw our faces?’

  ‘We’ll find out at the exit. There are barriers.’

  ‘Oh, great.’

  Mavros drove on to an asphalt road and disengaged the four-wheel drive system. Nearby, rolls of aluminium were being lifted on to the large ship they had seen during the trip from Kypseli.

  ‘Car parks over there,’ he said, looking to the right. They were lit up. ‘Nothing that Paschos Poulos would put his Merc in.’

  ‘Same on this side. Let’s get out of here.’

  ‘Done.’ Mavros slowed as he approached the checkpoint. He was prepared to floor it, but the guard nodded and raised the barrier before they got to it.

  ‘That was exciting,’ Xanthakos said.

  Mavros glanced at him. ‘You haven’t even broken into a sweat.’

  ‘Years of training.’

  They laughed.

  ‘You realise it won’t be long till they start wondering where Kloutsis and his sidekicks are,’ Mavros said. ‘And then they’ll remember this car leaving the plant.’

  ‘Won’t matter,’ the deputy commissioner said. ‘As long as I make some high profile arrests.’

  ‘That’s the next objective.’

  ‘What are you planning on doing? Going straight to the pink house and barging in? There will be security there too.’

  Mavros nodded. ‘But we have two aces up our sleeves. Make a call, please.’

  He dictated the Fat Man’s number and took the phone. ‘Hey, we’re out. You?’

  ‘Eating.’

  ‘I can hear that. Control your gluttony for a few moments and listen. If Poulos and the others are still in Paradheisos, I know where they’ll be. Telemachos and I are heading to the town. We’ll meet you on the Kypseli side. There’s a line of trees. Akis knows it.’

  ‘What, we’re bringing that traitor?’

  ‘Bind and gag him. He might come in handy later. Lykos and a couple of the cadres should stay with Ourania. Did Angeliki show up?’

  ‘Yes, but she ran before we could grab her. As for Ourania, Lykos took her to some family friend, so all the big boys are free.’

  ‘OK, split up into as many vehicles as you can. We might have to block roads.’ He looked at the clock on the dashboard. ‘See you at 04.00 hours.’

  Yiorgos laughed. ‘Roger, control. Over and out.’

  ‘We have more aces than I thought,’ Mavros said, telling the policeman about the cadres.

  ‘’I’m not happy about Mrs Poulou’s potential involvement,’ Xanthakos said. ‘She could be in danger. We don’t know where the Son is.’

  ‘True. On the other hand, she might be able to incriminate her husband. Listen, Telemache, she knows things she hasn’t told me yet. If you really want to nail the VIPs, you’ll need all the help you can get.’

  ‘All right,’ the deputy commissioner said, after a pause. ‘But we keep her away from firearms.’

  ‘Agreed.’

  A few minutes later, as they approached the outskirts of Paradheisos, Xanthakos’s phone rang.

  It was Angie Poulou. She had left Dhistomo and was heading for Paradheisos at speed.

  The Son floored the accelerator as soon as he joined the national highway. There wasn’t much traffic in the early hours and he made good time to the Thiva exit. After that, he was forced to take some chances overtaking and used the horn more than he’d have liked, but he kept up a decent speed. There wasn’t much of a moon, but he could make out the mountain masses on his left and ahead. They reminded him of the town he had grown up in. Kastoria was near the Albanian border and the mountains were covered in snow throughout the winter. There was a lake too, where he had spent much of his childhood fishing. Inevitably that made him think of the Father.

  What would the old bastard have said about this case? Would he have even taken it in the first place? He had worked for a single major crime family for decades and
more than once he’d said that loyalty engendered trust. There was more to that than most of his crazy ideas. The Son had been surprised when he’d been contacted by Kriaras, as well as shocked that his whereabouts had been made available to the brigadier. Then again, as his Bulgarian instructor had told him, never trust a Bulgarian. The individual who had divulged the Son’s location was now beneath the earth. Although his instincts had told him not to meet the intermediary who crossed the border, he decided to hear him out, not least because he held a gun on the minion throughout their conversation. In the end, what had swayed him wasn’t the money – he had already earned enough as a gun for hire in the Balkans to keep him for years. It was the Greek passport and other documents providing him with a new identity. Now he could take on jobs beyond the Balkans. He could become the new Carlos.

  Swerving past a slow-moving pickup near Livadheia, the Son thought about his homeland. He had no illusions about it, unlike the Father. He knew the politicians were rotten – puppets dancing to the tune of the traditional vested interests – and the common people as thick as the fertile earth of Viotia. They had been conned into wasting their money on state-controlled gambling, throwing their savings away on the deregulated Stock Exchange, and taking on multiple credit cards and loans for houses and cars. Even worse, the overwhelming majority supported the vast white elephant that was the Olympic Games. In the years to come, they would come to regret all of that. There was a reason the rich were rich: because the poor were stupid.

  As he headed towards Dhistomo turn, the Son considered his instructions. As usual, the details had been left to him – he wouldn’t work any other way. Even the pomegranate seeds, a bag of which he had in a cooler pack in the boot of the Fiat, had cramped his style. But he was puzzled by the change in policy. Until now, the murders he’d committed were given minimal coverage because of the Games. The kind of carnage he’d been authorised to carry out before the next break of day couldn’t be kept from the media. People were being hung out to dry – they would be used as scapegoats after their deaths. It amused him that Alex Mavros was on the list. He had his own plans for the private dick. If his employer didn’t like them, he could suck on the barrel of his Glock.

  Mother Demeter, protectress of earth and fields, come to us now, we beseech you. Like your Persephone, I am a lost daughter, though I am no longer a maiden. I lie here beneath your images, hands and wrist bound, mouth taped, the life inside me swelling. Surely you cannot leave us to die in this underground place. Surely you will not let them sacrifice our young lives. Green Lady, give us back the light of day and the kiss of the wind. We are the embodiment of fertility. Save us.

  And save the other girl who was placed beside us some time ago, I cannot tell how long. In the seconds of light, I saw her face. Despite the tape over her mouth, I think I know her. I met her in Paradheisos, we worked together on something. I cannot remember her name, but there was the same sadness in her eyes that I saw in my own later. Include her in your act of salvation, I beg you. We were maidens once.

  Great Demeter, I too have a mother. Allow me to see her again. I must tell her what is happening inside me – it was a mistake to keep it hidden from her until it was too late. My poor mother. Does she think I am dead or the victim of some vanished killer? Maybe it would be better if she did.

  Green Lady, save us. Bring us, all three, back from Hades’ realm.

  Mavros and Xanthakos got to the rendezvous point to find Angie Poulou standing by her car. She moved out of their headlights.

  ‘Good to see you,’ Mavros said, shaking her hand.

  In reply she opened her mouth.

  ‘Jesus Christ! That bastard! Have you seen a doctor?’

  ‘Dentist, more like,’ she lisped. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘You’ve got some pretty nasty bruises too. Does your head hurt?’

  ‘No.’ She gripped his arm. ‘My husband knows where Lia is, I’m sure of it. We have to get him to talk.’

  Mavros looked over his shoulder and introduced the deputy commissioner. ‘As you see, we must follow the law.’

  ‘Vehicles approaching from the west,’ Xanthakos said, hand on his pistol grip.

  ‘Duck behind your car,’ Mavros said, leading Angie out of sight. ‘These should be our backup, but I’m not taking any chances.’

  The cars slowed and then turned into the area behind the trees. There were four of them – Lykos’s VW van, Bitsos’s hire car, the Fat Man’s Peugeot and the cadres’ black van. The lights were doused and doors started opening.

  More introductions were made. The young Communists were less than comfortable with the policeman’s presence, but they stood their ground. Two were carrying fish spears, the others thick wooden clubs. Akis Exarchos stood to the side, his arms tied behind his back and a strip of masking tape over his mouth.

  ‘So,’ asked Cadre One, ‘who’s in charge of this joint operation?’

  Xanthakos nodded to Mavros.

  ‘All right,’ the latter said. ‘There are several priorities. One, we find out where Mrs Poulou’s fourteen-year-old daughter Lia is. If she’s in the target house, she must be protected.’ He glanced at the leading cadre. ‘You and another of your men can take that on.’

  The Communist nodded.

  ‘Two, the deputy commissioner gets the chance to arrest Tryfon Roufos, the fugitive antiquities dealer. Paschos Poulos, the Bekakos couple, Professor Epameinondhas Phis and Angeliki –’ He turned to Lykos – ‘if she’s there, will also be arrested, initially for conspiracy to imprison Bitsos and me. They were all present at the Hades temple above the HMC plant.’

  Lambis Bitsos stepped over to the fisherman. ‘You can arrest this piece of shit on the same charge right now, Deputy Commissioner.’

  ‘That doesn’t matter for the time being,’ Mavros said. ‘Take the tape from his mouth. He may be able to help us.’

  Cadre Three obliged.

  ‘Well, Aki?’ Mavros said. ‘For a start, do you know where the people we want might be?’

  The fisherman shook his head. ‘I only made my deal with Bekakos yesterday, on the phone. I don’t know where the fucker is.’

  ‘Having second thoughts?’ Bitsos said sardonically. ‘Too late for that.’

  ‘Be quiet, Lambi,’ Mavros said. He caught Lykos’s gaze in the light from the single street lamp on the roadside. ‘How about you? Any idea where they might be?’

  The young man raised his head in the negative gesture. ‘Angeliki probably knows, but she never told me.’

  ‘All right,’ Mavros said, with a slack smile. ‘Fortunately we have another source of information.’ He beckoned Angie Poulou forward.

  ‘There’s a house my husband and Rovertos Bekakos often use.’

  There were sharp intakes of breath around the group as she spoke, revealing the damage to her mouth.

  ‘Who did that to you?’ Lykos asked. ‘Your husband?’

  ‘No, the man he hired to kill me.’

  There were more looks of amazement.

  ‘I can understand you might think I’m the enemy,’ Angie continued, in fluent Greek. ‘But, believe me, I’m not. I want my daughter. To find her, I’ll support you any way I can.’

  Telemachos Xanthakos took out a map of Paradheisos and spread it over the bonnet of the HMC 4x4. ‘Isiodhou Street is here.’ He pointed to the highest road in the pink section of the town. ‘As you can see, it’s a dead end. The house we want is the last one. We need to block both the entrance to the street itself and this perpendicular side street, Omirou. I think it would also be a good idea if someone took the 4x4 up the line of trees here in case any of them make a run for it out the back.’

  ‘What about security?’ Bitsos asked. ‘There are bound to be more scumbags like the ones we tied up above the HMC plant. And they’ll be armed.’

  Trust Lambis to bring up the biggest problem, Mavros thought. ‘Well, I see clubs, I see fish spears and I see—’

  ‘Pistols,’ the Fat Man said.

  Mavros
noted who was in possession of a firearm – himself, Xanthakos, Yiorgos and Bitsos. None of the cadres were carrying.

  ‘All right, whoever goes up the back should have a pistol,’ he said, looking at the black-clad young men. ‘Any of you done firearms training?’

  Cadre Two nodded, giving no more away.

  ‘OK,’ Mavros said, ‘you’re in the vehicle at the far end of Isiodhou Street, armed. Yiorgo, you take another vehicle and block the side street.’ If his friend was disappointed about not taking part in the assault on the house, he didn’t show it. ‘Cadre Three, armed, in the 4x4 up there.’ He looked round the rest of the group: Cadres 1 and 4, both carrying harpoons and clubs, Xanthakos, Bitsos – in charge of Akis, Lykos with his long knife, Angie Poulou, unarmed, and himself. He assigned positions to each, keeping his client with him.

  Then Mavros checked the time. 04.25. As they moved to the vehicles, he had a thought he didn’t share. He had no idea where the Son was or what he was planning to do. Screw the Uncertainty Principle.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Tryfon Roufos lay back on the bed and let the girl crawl over him. She had been reluctant at first – they always were – but the trinkets, perfume and money had brought her round. He’d been doing this for decades and he knew exactly how to handle them, girls and boys. This one was pasty-faced and slightly overweight – a typical product of the workers in the white houses – but her breasts were minimally developed and that was the way he liked them.

  ‘Use your tongue,’ he said irritably, ‘not your teeth.’

  As she began to get some rhythm going, Roufos found himself thinking about the last year: the escape from Crete, facilitated by his contacts within the police and government; the suite in the house in Kifissia afforded him by Rovertos Bekakos and his wife – long-time comrades in both illicit antiquities trading and forbidden love; his ongoing trading activities, now enhanced by the finds from the Hades temple; and his participation in Hades and Persephone worship. He didn’t really care about the last, but it had been worth killing a piglet and wasting good wine on the libation to see Alex Mavros confined to the underworld. The investigator had nearly been the finish of him in Crete, but he didn’t have the instinct of the true transgressor – he should have killed Roufos when he could.