Crying Blue Murder (MIRA) (17 page)

Feigning incomprehension, Mavros watched as the muscle-bound guard loped away with a grin on his face. He turned to Eleni. ‘So what was this place? There don’t seem to be any buildings or fortifications.’

Without a word she went to the excavated area and ducked down under the cover. Mavros followed, moving his feet down a flight of uneven steps till he found himself on the floor of a wide trench. The heat under the plastic was intense.

‘Christ,’ he gasped. ‘How do you work down here?’

‘At this time of day I don’t,’ Eleni replied drily. ‘I get up early in the morning.’

For a second he wondered how she managed that after nights drinking in the Bar Astrapi, then he was distracted by the head-high stone wall in front of him. Although it was irregular, the large blocks had been fitted with obvious skill. In the centre of them was a narrow space, the heavy lintel showing that it was a doorway.

‘You asked what this place was,’ the archaeologist said, her eyes off him and concentrating on the wall. ‘This is the entrance to a series of Bronze Age grave chambers.’

Mavros leaned forward, breathing in the musty, mineral air. Nothing was visible in the gloom beyond the doorway. ‘My God,’ he said in a low voice. ‘It’s incredible. Have you been digging inside?’

‘Yes,’ Eleni replied. ‘It is indeed incredible. The hill of Vigla is full of natural caves and man-made tunnels, most cut by miners in the early 1900s but some by Trigono’s prehistoric inhabitants. In recent weeks I have made some major finds. It is potentially the most important site in the whole of the Cyclades—in the whole of Greece, as far as I’m concerned.’ She looked at him seriously. ‘And you are one of the few outsiders to be allowed into the site. You must promise me to tell no one about what you see.’

Mavros gave her the pledge she demanded without hesitation, his heart beating fast. He’d have liked to have known why she’d chosen him to be the first witness of her work, but the look in her eye put him off. Not for the first time, the island had taken him completely by surprise.

T
HE
darkness that enveloped them was intense, an impenetrable shroud. Then there was an explosion of bright yellow light.

‘Don’t worry,’ Eleni said. ‘You’ll soon get used to it.’

Mavros peered into the illuminated passage, vaguely aware of the sound of a generator on the surface. ‘How far does this tunnel go?’

The archaeologist handed him a hard hat and jammed one over her thick curls. ‘We’ve penetrated about twenty-five metres. Come on, I’ll show you.’ She gave him a sharp look. ‘Don’t touch anything, all right?’

Mavros raised his hands. ‘Don’t worry. I’m terrified I’ll bring the whole place down around me.’

Eleni laughed ironically. ‘I don’t know, Alex,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘Motorbikes, enclosed spaces—what aren’t you frightened of?’

He swallowed a riposte and moved off after her. She stopped a few metres into the passage and pointed to the left.

‘This is the first chamber,’ she said, standing back to let him approach the red-and-white tape that barred the entrance.

Mavros bent down and looked into the shoulder-high opening in the rock. When he saw what was laid out on the level floor he took a deep breath.

‘You’re not scared of bones as well, are you?’ the archaeologist asked.

Kneeling down, Mavros took in the well-preserved remains. The torso was a jumble of ribs and arm bones, the arms having apparently been folded across the chest, but the legs were straight and separate. The head lay on its right side, the lower jaw hanging loose. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I’m not scared of bones.’

‘They are of primary importance, the human remains in these chambers,’ Eleni said. ‘In other Cycladic sites, the dead are on their sides, their knees drawn up to their chins. Here the people took advantage of the natural rock formations and laid the bodies out straight, their knees only slightly bent. Like the Cycladic figurines.’

Mavros looked up and saw a series of empty niches, some of them as large as half a metre, in the wall above the skull. ‘Did you find things in those holes?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ the archaeologist replied. ‘Oh, yes.’ She was kneeling beside him now and he could smell the sweat on her. ‘There were many grave goods.’

‘So where are they? In the National Museum in Athens?’

She glanced at him and stood up quickly. ‘Don’t you want to see the rest of the site?’ she asked.

He followed her down the passage, the air getting cooler and mustier as they went. There were three more chambers in the rock, each containing a single body. The last one was only partially excavated, the top of the cranium protruding from a layer of gritty earth. There was a box of tools by the entrance.

‘This is where I’m working now,’ Eleni said. She turned to her right and pointed to the last light. Beyond it there was a wall of rock. ‘We haven’t got any farther but the geologist told us there’s a network of natural passages that has been blocked by rockfalls over the centuries. When we’ve finished here we’ll clear a way through. I’m sure there are more grave chambers.’ She moved towards the exit.

‘You didn’t answer my question,’ Mavros said. ‘There’s nothing but bones in the chambers. What happened to the grave goods you found?’

Eleni ducked under the lintel and into the outer trench. It was too hot to stay there for long. Back on the surface, blinking in the sun, she wiped her hands on her shirt and looked at Mavros doubtfully. ‘I don’t know why I showed you the dig. I know nothing about you. Are you really a writer? Oh God, don’t tell me you’re an antiquities dealer.’

Mavros returned her gaze. ‘An antiquities dealer?’ he repeated, the sallow features of Deniz Ozal flashing before him. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘You wouldn’t be the first we’ve had snooping around the site,’ she replied, heading for the gate. ‘You seem to be very interested in the artefacts we’ve found.’

‘I’m not a dealer,’ he said, catching her up. ‘Or a smuggler, or anything else like that. I told you. I tell stories and I have an interest in all kinds of human culture, that’s all.’

The archaeologist didn’t look convinced. ‘All right,’ she said after a long pause. ‘I’ll take your word for it.’ She unlocked the gate. ‘What you have to understand is that this land belongs to Panos Theocharis.’ She raised an arm towards the north. ‘The Paliopyrgos estate is down there and all of the hills are his too. The family had mines on Vigla from the beginning of the twentieth century.’

Mavros took the water bottle from his bag and offered it to her. ‘And Theocharis runs a museum dedicated to funerary art,’ he said as she was drinking. ‘What are you saying, Eleni? That the artefacts are his?’

She looked past him. ‘Mitso?’ she shouted. ‘I’m finished for now.’

There was a muffled grunt of acknowledgement from the tent.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I don’t let him in the site when I’m here. He’s an animal.’ She glanced at Mavros. ‘Of course the artefacts aren’t Theocharis’s. They belong to the state. This is an official excavation, you know. Although Theocharis is funding it, I work for the Ministry of Culture.’

‘I see,’ Mavros said, looking around the enclosure. There were none of the signs normally seen at sites indicating the name of the ephor in charge or the responsible ministry directorate, only a series of warnings to keep out in several languages. He had the feeling that Eleni wasn’t being straight with him. But if the dig was illicit, why had she taken him to see it?

‘Would you like something more interesting to drink?’ the archaeologist asked. ‘And something to eat?’

Mavros wiped the sweat from his brow. ‘That sounds like a good idea. Shall we go to the village?’

‘Not necessary,’ she said, moving towards the motorbike. ‘I have everything we need in my house.’

The ride down the track to the Paliopyrgos estate didn’t take more than five minutes, but Mavros had his heart in his mouth all the way. He felt like he’d had his arms wrapped around Eleni for hours by the time she stopped outside a high metal gate. It would have been better suited to a government minister’s residence in Athens than a quiet Aegean island. Eleni pulled out a remote control and activated the mechanism. Then she drove into the estate and the extent of Theocharis’s wealth became apparent. Despite the chronic water shortage in the Cyclades, Paliopyrgos was an oasis of luxuriant growth. The high wall was lined on the inside by privet and pine, while the open ground had been cleared and tilled to give the orchards of vines, citrus and fig trees the opportunity for maximum growth. As she swung the motorbike off the main asphalt road towards a single-storey white house, Mavros saw the great stone curve of the tower and the complex of buildings that surrounded it. He couldn’t help being impressed. His father and the Fat Man would have hated it.

‘This is where I live,’ Eleni said, swinging her leg over the seat after he’d dismounted.

‘Not bad,’ Mavros said, eyeing the simple but expansive house. There were blue wooden railings and shutters opening on to a series of small terraces. The ubiquitous bougainvillaea was weighing down pergolas, its purple-pink flowers and green leaves contrasting with the limestone wash on the walls.

‘Come on in,’ Eleni said, looking into his eyes and taking his hand. ‘I’ve got something for you.’

At first Mavros thought he was going to see some grave goods from the dig, but when he was led into a cool bedroom, a mosquito net parted over a double bed, he realised she had something else in mind.

‘Em, Eleni,’ he said. ‘I…’

She raised a finger to her lips. ‘Shhh. You got a tour of the site. Now you have to pay.’ She finished undoing the buttons of her shirt and opened it to display large breasts with firm brown nipples. Her hand was on the buckle of his belt before he could move. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said with a soft smile. ‘I’m sure a beautiful man like you is already involved. This means nothing more than what it means now.’

Mavros spent a few seconds trying to make sense of the words. It was only after Eleni’s hand squeezed the swelling in his groin that he thought of Niki.

‘For God’s sake, hurry up, Mikkel,’ Barbara Hoeg said, her restless eyes turning on him. ‘If I’d known you were going to go so slowly I’d have driven myself.’

‘What’s the rush?’ her husband asked, trying to sound cheerful. ‘It’s a beautiful day, most of the tourists have left and we’re going to have a good lunch in the port.’

Barbara looked away, her lower lip between her teeth. ‘I would like to get to Faros before the post office closes, if you don’t mind.’ She was running her hand up and down her forearm.

Mikkel glanced at her as he overtook a tractor. ‘Are you all right, my love? You seem uptight.’

‘Yes, I am uptight, if it’s any concern of yours,’ she said, her voice hoarse. ‘Now just park the bloody car and let me out.’ She didn’t wait till he had stopped outside the Bar Astrapi to open her door. ‘I’ll see you at the restaurant in half an hour.’ She didn’t bother to close the door, moving away at a rapid pace.

Mikkel got out and followed her down the track after picking up the shopping bag. Now that the season had ended the shops closed in the afternoon, so he would have to buy the few things they needed before lunch. By the time he was halfway down the street leading to the square, Barbara was under the shade of the mulberry tree. But instead of turning right towards the post office, she kept on going and disappeared up the lane that ran past the old castle walls.

A sourness rising in his throat, Mikkel walked past the supermarket and followed her into the
kastro
. It was as he suspected— she had gone to Rinus’s flat. Oh God. He’d thought it was over between Barbara and the Dutchman. She’d been going with him for a few months last year when she couldn’t find anyone with a more rugged body, but lately she’d seemed to use the bar to drink in rather than as a trysting-place. He should have known better. Then he remembered the conversation that Rinus had initiated from his balcony with Alex, the guy they’d picked up in the car yesterday. He’d been up on the walls above the barman’s flat.

Mikkel went round the back, past the raised stone-covered mound containing the village’s water cistern. He climbed the steps and moved cautiously towards the edge where Alex had been, making sure that his shadow didn’t fall on the balcony. Then he leaned forward and listened.

‘…got time for a quick one?’ Rinus’s voice was playful. ‘Like we used to have in the old days when the fool was doing the shopping?’

‘No.’ Barbara’s voice was firm, making Mikkel sigh with relief. ‘What are we going to do about the tourist?’

‘Alex is all right,’ the Dutchman said blandly. ‘So what if he’s a friend of Rosa?’

There was a pause. ‘Rosa was a friend of yours too, wasn’t she, Rinus?’ Barbara sounded breathless. ‘And you saw her leave Trigono, didn’t you?’ Her voice hardened even more. ‘You saw her leave.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I saw her leave. Satisfied?’

There was the sound of a slap. Mikkel gave up trying to work out what Barbara meant about Rosa Ozal and smiled.

‘No, I’m not fucking satisfied,’ Barbara shouted. ‘You know I’m not.’ Her voice dropped and became almost inaudible.

There was a sudden noise behind Mikkel. He turned to see an old woman in black heaving herself up the steps, a basket of washing in her hands. A line had been strung between the branches of the large fig tree that had put roots down into the main village cistern.

‘
Kali mera
,’ she said with a toothless grin as she recognised Mikkel.

He nodded to her, not wanting to speak, then went quickly down to ground level. If Barbara caught him eavesdropping, his life wouldn’t be worth a bean. Then he remembered the way she and the skinny Dutchman had talked about him. His life was already worthless.

Mavros woke up and tried to get his bearings. In his dream a scaly creature with folded bat wings and needle-sharp teeth had been working its way up his legs. Just before it reached his crotch, it looked up and snarled at him. Under the matted locks Niki’s features were instantly recognisable.

Mavros lay flat and took in the mosquito net that was moving in the breeze from the slatted shutters. He was on his own in the guest room. He’d just managed to fend Eleni off before his cock betrayed him. She had taken the rejection of her advances with a bitter laugh and pointed him to the room next to hers before retiring to her bed. He’d thought about setting off back to the village on foot, but the stifling heat had put him off. It seemed that Rena was right. Eleni did have a penchant for making advances to people she shouldn’t, although as an unattached foreigner he was fair game. Not for the first time in his life he cursed the brown mark in his left eye. He reckoned the archaeologist had noticed it and been attracted by its weirdness. Or maybe she was just open about her desires. He wondered who else might have passed through her bedroom.

Mavros sat up slowly and slipped out between the flaps of the net. Through the partially open door he could see Eleni fast asleep on her front. Not bothering to dress, he walked towards the bathroom then changed direction. He was feeling guilty, embarrassed that he had almost let Niki down despite the shaky nature of his relationship with her, and he was looking for a way to distract himself. This was the perfect time to take a look at Eleni’s house. The photo of the dig that he’d found up the chimney in his room—Rosa Ozal’s former room—was nagging him.

He went into the living room. The far end of it was obviously the archaeologist’s work area, with a wide rustic table covered in papers and books. There were also cardboard boxes full of plastic bags containing finds. A cursory glance at them revealed nothing spectacular. There were pieces of rock and shards of pottery, but nothing of obvious value— certainly no marble statuettes or gold jewellery. Then he saw a black photograph album on the first shelf above the table.

Glancing over his shoulder and registering the regular sound of Eleni’s breathing, Mavros opened the pages. There were some shots of Eleni at work—he recognised the site on Vigla at different stages of the dig—but most were social shots. The ones on the last pages showed Eleni with a fair- haired, strikingly attractive but stern woman he didn’t recognise. There were shots in restaurants, shots on beaches, shots in the sea. There were also a couple taken in the Bar Astrapi. Two things struck Mavros about the photographs. The first was that Eleni and the unknown woman were definitely attached; in several cases they were holding hands and there were three shots of them kissing. Maybe that explained why she hadn’t reacted much when her seduction of him had failed. And the second thought he had was that someone else had been on hand in the various locations to point the camera, someone who, judging by the intimate poses, knew the two women well.