Crying Blue Murder (MIRA) Read online

  That little slut Nafsika had fitted the bill perfectly. He’d had his eye on her for years, looking out for her every September, watching as she grew taller and filled out, turned into a real looker. But he knew she was dirty inside, he could tell from the way she looked at men. She was hot for it even when she was a kid. Yes, Nafsika. This year he’d decided to hunt her, make a move on her. Hell, if she didn’t want to give it away, he could buy it from her—or beat it out of her. But the little bitch wouldn’t even look at him, it was like he didn’t exist. His family owned most of Trigono and he was just so much mule shit to her. That made him even more determined.

  So he’d watched them, Nafsika and that little shit Yiangos she hung around with, waited till Lefteris had gone to Syros. He knew they’d get up to something then, and he was right. They were off on the trata as soon as she got off work from the souvenir shop in the village. He’d prepared the Artemis earlier, was after them at a distance, keeping an eye on them with the powerful radar he’d had fitted last year. At first he wondered where they were going. He was sure they’d anchor somewhere so they could get down to it in peace—Yiangos was too scared of Lefteris to risk doing any damage to the boat by getting distracted when he was at sea. They went round the point of Oura at the island’s south-eastern corner and headed for the islet of Eschati, and that was when he realised what they were planning. There was a beach he himself had taken an Italian tart to a couple of years back. She’d complained about getting sand up her, but he hadn’t felt anything. Yes, that was where they were headed. He followed them, dropping back as soon as he rounded the cape, his heart beating fast. This was exciting, this was a lot of fun. He reckoned that if he caught them at it he’d be able to get himself into her too. Yiangos would be terrified of Lefteris finding out that he’d taken the trata all the way down there.

  But then it had got weird. The Sotiria had disappeared behind the low rise of Eschati and he gunned his engine, felt the kaïki leap forward as the Volvo’s thrust kicked in. His plan was to skirt the southern shore of the islet and come up on them unseen, catch them with their swimming costumes down. Just the thought of the bitch’s triangle of hair above her thighs was making him hard. But as he approached Eschati, engine revs cut to dampen the sound, he caught sight of another craft coming fast at him on the port beam—a speedboat, with a couple of swarthy guys in it, one of them standing up and holding on to the safety rail as they got closer. They were carving out a great arc, swinging round from the islet as if they were changing course, and he felt their eyes as they scoped him then veered away at an even sharper angle and headed back towards Ios. Shit, there went his plan. The speed king had made so much noise that the pair of lovebirds would definitely have been interrupted. Still, he kept going, bringing the Artemis round carefully and inching towards the stern of the trata.

  On the terrace in the wind, Aris wiped his brow as the recollection gripped him. The bright blue of the sea dancing around the small island had made him blink, struggle to focus, and then he’d seen them. But what the fuck was going on? Yiangos was up on a rock above the strip of sand, naked as the day he was born, looking out to the south with his hand shading his eyes. Aris saw the boy wave desperately at the speedboat, his face panic stricken. And Nafsika? She was in nothing but her skin too, her amazing tits pointing straight at him.

  She’d spotted him immediately and screamed words at Yiangos. ‘Ela, to thirio ein’ edho.’ Come, the beast is here. Reaching for her bikini bottom, pulling it on, one arm over her big brown nipples. Fuck. What did she mean calling him that? The beast? That was what the kids called him in the village when he caught them laughing. And Yiangos was scrambling down the cliff, heaving up his trunks when he hit the sand, glaring at him and shouting, something about how he’d scared them off— ‘You fat bastard…they won’t be back for days now…they’ll probably never be back. Christ and the Holy Mother, what a disaster…’

  Aris had opened up the engine—no need for stealth any more—held his position in the swell as the pair of them swam back to the Sotiria and scrambled on board. Yiangos was winching the anchor up, ignoring Nafsika’s insistent questions, pushing her away as he continued to shout at Aris, calling him every name he could think of, accusing him of ruining the business, didn’t he realise what he’d done, dirty pervert who only wanted to screw all the village’s girls… It went on, and Aris had felt the anger come down on him, the anger and the frustration. Christ, he’d seen the tart’s honey pot but he hadn’t got into it. The little bitch was staring at him like he was a pig wallowing in his own muck, and Yiangos was telling him what Lefteris would do to them all now— ‘You fucking lazy, arse-fucking, useless fat beast…’

  So he’d waited until they were under way, waited till he could target them clear of the rocks around Eschati, then put the Volvo into maximum revs and drove straight at them, only veering to port as the bow neared the trata. He was intending to scare them by going close, but he felt the shock as his centre planks hit them amidships, throwing the pair of them back on to the nets that were heaped on the stern in readiness for the new fishing season. And then his wave had rocked the Sotiria and they were both flipped overboard, their feet and hands caught in the nets, their wide eyes locked on his for long seconds before they were wrenched under the surface of the dazzling blue water and dragged away towards Vathy inlet and the islands that shielded it. By the time he caught up with the trata and got a line on to her, by the time he engaged the winches to haul up the net, Nafsika and Yiangos were lifeless. But still he was raging, the veins in his neck knotted and his head pounding. So he’d pulled off their swimming costumes and gazed at the girl’s secret place, taken in the boy’s limp cock, till he felt the fever subside. Then he wrapped them up in the net and dropped them back in the water.

  Aris had looked around and seen that the sea was empty in all directions. He steered east and headed away at full speed, leaving them to roll about in their underwater shroud. Good riddance. He felt no regret. The peasants, calling him ‘the beast’. That would fucking teach them. It was only as he rounded Oura that he understood why Yiangos had been so enraged. Yes, now it all fell into place—the speedboat and the deserted island far from prying eyes. Christ, that was what Lefteris was up to—running the dope that Rinus supplied from the Bar Astrapi, the dope that Dhimitra and Christ knows how many others of Trigono’s wealthy residents used. And the not-so-wealthy local kids, for all he knew. Yes, he’d seen the fisherman in the bar occasionally, as laconic and threatening as ever, but with a small smile at the corner of his mouth. He’d seen Yiangos talking to Rinus like they were conspirators. And all he’d wanted was some of Nafsika’s juice. Fuck the drugs, though. That was one business he’d never got involved in back in New York. He’d seen what it did to the guys who ran it. He knew he didn’t have the balls for it, not even on Trigono—especially not if Lefteris was behind it. He’d asked Dhimitra if she knew what the fisherman was up to, but she’d told him to keep out of it and concentrate on securing his inheritance. He sometimes wondered if there was something going on between his stepmother and Lefteris. She’d probably like a bit of island rough trade.

  He stood up and stepped heavily across the tiles of the terrace. Lefteris. What was the psycho up to? He’d seen him up on the hills when he and Mitsos were bringing Eleni to the tower. Christ. Maybe he was in the dig. He’d been seen on the slopes above it more than once recently by the watchmen. Had he heard about the finds and decided to look for more pieces for himself? That fucker was capable of anything. He wasn’t frightened of the old man. Aris was sure the fisherman suspected what had happened to Yiangos and was waiting to extract payment for his son’s death. But if he could catch him trespassing, bring Lefteris back to his father as a trophy before he could make his move, then maybe, just maybe, he would be trusted again. That might stop the old man dragging him over the coals for what he’d done to the family fortune with his gambling, threatening to cut him off without a cent. Yes, it was worth a try, even thou
gh Lefteris wasn’t a man to cross. But the gorilla Mitsos would help— Mitsos would put the squeeze on the fisherman.

  He headed downstairs, noticing that the doors to the gallery were still closed. Mitsos was waiting at the bottom of the stairs and he told him to shift himself, they had work to do. A few minutes later the Jeep was on its way up the road towards the track leading to the dig.

  Mavros glanced at Rinus and then at Rena. They looked like a ghost had risen up in front of them.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he asked, turning as he heard a shout from Norm. He raised an arm to keep the rest of the party at the wall.

  The Dutchman’s mouth was still open, his face white. ‘They were here,’ he said haltingly. ‘I…I swear they were. They were lying—’

  ‘Lying like you?’ Rena interrupted. ‘Have you been taking that poison you sell?’ The widow was clenching her fists. ‘That poison you’ve ruined the village with?’

  Rinus was shaking his head. ‘No,’ he said in a weak voice. He looked away. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is that why you came up here?’ Mavros asked quietly, stepping closer.

  Rena laughed humourlessly. ‘He doesn’t only come here to get—how do you say it?—high? He has an arrangement with Dinos the goatherd.’ She shook her head. ‘I saw them once. Dinos was on top, Rinus was underneath like a she-goat.’ She raised her shoulders. ‘I don’t care. If that’s what makes them happy…’ Her face hardened. ‘But if you have given drugs to that poor boy, I will cut off your archidhia. If you have any balls.’

  Mavros put a hand on her arm. ‘We have other priorities now, Rena.’ He looked back at the Dutchman. ‘You definitely saw Gretchen and Mikkel here?’

  He nodded, eyes still lowered.

  ‘Okay,’ Mavros said. ‘I believe you. Either they came back from the dead and managed to untie themselves—in which case we would probably have met them coming down—or someone moved them.’ He started walking quickly towards the wall. ‘Come on,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘There are a lot of caves and mine workings to check.’

  ‘What about down there?’ Rinus asked, pointing towards the inlet of Vathy below.

  ‘It’s a long way to carry two bodies,’ Mavros replied, vaulting the stone dyke. He had remembered where he’d been before he heard the scream from the ridge. ‘We’ll try the caves first. I found one earlier that didn’t smell too healthy.’ He glanced at Rena, but she kept her eyes off him as she cleared the wall. Did she know the place he meant?

  After explaining to the British trio what had happened, Mavros led the group to the scree slope above the valley by the concealed cave.

  ‘What, down there?’ Trace said, her voice shrill. ‘I’ll break my ankles.’

  ‘Come on, girl,’ Jane encouraged. ‘Think how many pounds you’ll lose from this walk.’

  Norm was nodding, his shaven head glistening with sweat despite the northerly wind. ‘Yeah, and just think how good the beers’ll taste when we get back to the village.’

  Trace didn’t look convinced, but she started down the slope after Rena, her arms extended. As he moved after them, Mavros caught the flash of a metallic surface to the east. He wasn’t sure, but he reckoned it was the Theocharis Jeep. Who was inside it and where was it heading? To the dig? Perhaps Eleni had finally persuaded Aris to help her look for him. No, it was hours since he’d been knocked out in the cave. What had happened to her?

  After an extended bout of slipping and squealing, they reached the enclosed ground where Lance had been found.

  ‘What is this place we’re going to?’ Jane asked, panting for breath.

  ‘A cave I found earlier,’ Mavros said. ‘You don’t all have to come into it. In fact, it would be better if the rest of you looked inside any other openings near by.’

  Rena frowned at him. ‘I don’t think so, Alex,’ she said. ‘It will be safer if we all keep together.’

  Mavros tried to penetrate her thoughts but her face was giving nothing away. Could he trust her? He decided he could and nodded, moving towards the narrow entrance. He took the torch out of his bag and turned it on.

  ‘There isn’t much room,’ he warned. ‘I’ll tell you when to follow.’

  Rena stepped forward. ‘I’m coming with you,’ she said. She glanced at Rinus and then at Norm. ‘Make sure this person does not run away.’

  Mavros saw the Englishman nod, then he squeezed himself between the rocks and moved into the zigzag passage. Even before he entered the side of the hill, the smell made him gag.

  ‘What is that?’ he gasped.

  ‘Dead meat,’ Rena said from behind him.

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ Mavros said.

  Then they were into a larger space, the torch beam illuminating rough stone and a sandy floor. Sure enough, there was the splayed body of a goat against the far wall, its ribcage cracked apart and the cavity cleaned out.

  Mavros squatted down. ‘Someone cut this with a blade,’ he said, nodding at the smooth surfaces where the pelt had been opened.

  Rena was to his left, her head back, sniffing the rank air. ‘There is more,’ she said. ‘Something worse.’

  He stood next to her and shone the light in her face. ‘Tell me the truth, Rena,’ he said. ‘Have you ever been in here before?’

  She shook her head. ‘Never,’ she said, pushing the torch down. ‘I told you. I don’t like caves.’

  He nodded. ‘All right. Let’s see over there. Some of these caves have hidden sections…yes, there’s another passage here. It’s low, keep your head down.’ He dropped to his knees and moved through, suddenly feeling vulnerable—another blow to the head would probably finish him. But he managed to clear the passage and pull himself into an inner chamber, gagging as an even more miasmic stench hit his nostrils. Then he shone the torch back to help Rena. As she was pulling herself upright he swung the light round. And felt his eyelids shoot apart at the scene of horror.

  ‘What the—’ He broke off when he heard Rena’s cry of disgust, then looked again, bracing himself as he ran his eyes across the wide cave. To his right a blackened corpse lay against the rock face, the teeth forming a ghastly smile in the beam. Despite the advanced state of decay it was instantly recognisable as human. Beyond it was a tripod supporting a video camera. Near by there was a pile of cardboard squares with large red letters. The top one said ‘One week’. Looking to his left, Mavros saw two more bodies, one male and one female, both naked, their upper extremities drenched in blood and their wrists and ankles roped to rings in the wall. Gretchen and Mikkel. He bent his head, pinching his nose to get a few gulps of odourless air, but the mephitic stench had infected his taste buds. It was as he was about to go to the captives that he heard the noise, a faint, panting plea from the dark end of the cave. The hairs on his neck rose.

  ‘What was that?’ Rena asked hoarsely. ‘What was that, Alex?’

  Mavros picked his way over the floor, at first trying to avoid the bones and the damp patches, but giving up as he got closer and the torch revealed another naked form. This one was filthy, the limbs misshapen by the ropes that were confining them. It was a woman—he could see breasts beneath an arm placed over them in an incongruous attempt at modesty. She was gasping, the breath catching in her throat and her eyes wide in terror.

  ‘It’s all right,’ he said, leaning over her and taking in pitifully shrunken limbs and loose skin. ‘We’ll help you. We’re going to get you out.’ He bent closer and realised that the sound he was now hearing was crazed laughter.

  ‘Too…too…late,’ he made out. ‘Drink…water…’

  He turned to Rena, noticing that her eyes were damp. ‘She needs water,’ he said. ‘In my bag. I left it in the other cave.’

  But the widow wasn’t listening to him. She was already on her knees by the woman, hands scrabbling at the ropes on the deeply scored wrists. ‘Liz?’ she said. ‘Is it you, Liz?’

  ‘You know her?’ Mavros asked, looking more closely and realising he had seen the captive woman before, in
the photographs kept by Rena and Eleni. ‘This is Liz? Elizabeth Clifton?’

  Rena nodded, her eyes brimming with tears, as the bound woman mouthed a word of affirmation and made another choked demand.

  ‘I’ll get the water,’ Mavros said, turning away. ‘You keep the torch.’ Bending over Gretchen and Mikkel, he felt for pulse and breath. Both were alive. He stepped carefully over them and slipped through into the outer chamber.

  It was as he entered it that he heard the screams from outside. They quickly got louder, closer, and then, in the increasing gloom, he realised that other people had come into the cave.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he shouted. ‘Who’s there?’

  The screams were dampened and a cigarette lighter flared. In its faint glow he made out Rinus and the two Englishwomen, all three faces taut with terror.

  ‘It’s Lefteris,’ Rinus said in an empty voice. ‘Lefteris forced us in.’

  There was a scraping noise in the narrow entrance tunnel, then a dull thud. It was followed by another one, farther out.

  ‘It’s Lefteris,’ Rinus repeated. ‘The madman’s blocking the way out with boulders.’ He shook his head then took his thumb off the lighter, plunging the cave into total darkness. The faint glow of daylight that Mavros had seen when he crawled through was now gone. ‘This is where it ends,’ the Dutchman said. Trace was on her knees, sobbing.

  ‘Where’s Norm?’ Mavros asked in a low voice.

  Jane looked up from where she was tending her friend. ‘I can’t believe it. Out of the blue the bastard attacked him, put him down. If I get my hands on him…’

  ‘Lefteris hit him with a piece of metal,’ Rinus said. ‘A length of piping, I think.’

  Mavros scrambled across the cave floor, his fingernails filling with grit. He pushed against the blockage in the entrance, feeling it move slightly before it knocked against the boulder behind. There was no further movement. He was aware of a light flow of air against his cheek, but it was doing nothing to improve the foul atmosphere.