Dig Two Graves: Revenge or Honor (8 page)

“No, not wrong Ceres. I just don’t know what to think. For the time being it looks like the two things are one and the same, wouldn’t you say?” AJ replied.

“You haven’t told me how my grandfather connects to this yet. The documents are circumstantial evidence, but of what I’m not sure.”

Ceres smiled broadly, and shook his head. “No Ajax, only one thing is important. You must regain your family’s honor. In doing this, you will learn who killed your father, and who is responsible for so much evil. I’ve tried several times to learn what happened to Lieutenant John, but failed. With your father, I saw an opportunity to succeed, but his death ended that hope. Now I turn to you.”

“Ceres, I don’t believe in evil, but I do want to know who killed my father,” AJ said, as he started the coffee. Tread carefully AJ, he thought. “I think his death is linked to his research, and the things my grandfather did. How about you?”

“I’m not sure Ajax, but I don’t believe in coincidence. How will you begin your search?”

“Well, I think I should go to Greece. I’m not sure other than that. If it was here in Miami or even in South American I would call one of my private investigators.”

“Call one of these people.”

“It’s not that simple. I don’t know anyone who works in Europe, and I don’t want my usual people to know about this
.
”
One of them could be involved with my father’s death
. AJ shuddered at the thought of his less than savory clientele catching wind of a fortune of this magnitude.

“Do you know someone who knows someone?”

AJ smacked his forehead. How could he be such a dud? Of course, he knew someone. AJ patted Ceres’ arm as he put a cup of coffee on the table in front of him. “Yes, my new-found genius of a friend, I do.”

It took three phone calls to reach Major Robert Echols at the Miami Dade Police Department. Echols, who commanded the department’s Antiterrorism Division, had contacts worldwide. AJ was looking for someone special, someone with Eastern European or Balkan connections but no direct government ties.

“I’m doing some genealogical research for a client,” AJ said. “I want someone with solid contacts.”

AJ gave his former client enough information to find the right person, without giving away the true goal. Echols owed AJ, who had helped the high-ranking Miami cop out of a string of compromising situations with no fallout, no publicity and most importantly, no bill. AJ liked to be owed favors.

When Echols called back three hours later, AJ was nearly set. He already had airline and hotel information for Greece. All he needed was the departure and arrival dates. He had arranged with his boss, Emiliano, to take some extended time off. He had opened a bank account in Athens and transferred a hefty sum for expenses. So when the phone rang AJ was mentally prepared to move forward.

“Hi AJ, this is Echols. I’ve got a couple contacts numbers for you, but AJ… This isn’t going to get back to anyone is it?” Echols said, more than a hint of tension in his voice.

“No Bob, I’m still your lawyer. You’re safe. Didn’t you see the movie The Firm? I’m a ship forever at sea with your secrets.”

“What? Well, ah, thanks.”

“Bob, the information?” AJ said, growing impatient.

“There are two firms recommended for issues in Eastern Europe. RMS Services is Romanian, headquartered in Bucharest. A couple former Securitate directors run it.”

“Securitate?” AJ asked.

“The old Ceausescu-era secret police, they’re very well connected and discrete. They work throughout the region. You didn’t say which country would be involved.”

“No, I didn’t,” AJ said. “That sounds too closely connected. I don’t want government interference,” Or governments knowing what I’m doing, AJ thought. “Give me the information Bob?” AJ wrote down the name and contact number. “Who else have you got?”

“The other one’s much smaller, but very trustworthy.”

“Bob, get on with it.” AJ was getting irritated. It shouldn’t be this difficult.

“Word is they are trustworthy.”

“OK, I get it, trustworthy. Who is it?”

“G. Donatella in Milan.”

“That’s all? No company name.”

“That’s it. G. Donatella, an address in Milan and phone number. They have close ties to Guardia di Finanza, the Italian economic crimes agency, and to Europol’s Criminal Intel Division.

AJ wanted something more specific to Greece, but didn’t want to give anything away, so he asked, “Any others Bob?”

“Well, my contact at Interpol mentioned a guy in Athens, but he says he’s not the most reliable,” Echols said.

AJ refrained from patting himself on the back. “Well, give me the information, and if the first two don’t work out, I can fall back on this guy. Who is it?” AJ said.

“Spiro Dranias, Athens.”

“OK, give me the contact info.”

AJ jotted down the information, and when he was sure he had all he needed, he said, “Thank you I appreciate the information, and Bob, forget we ever spoke. OK?”

Sounding relieved, Echols responded, “Spoke to who?”

“That’s right, Bob, you’re a ship forever at sea with my secrets.”

AJ had three names. The least attractive was in Athens but that was where he was headed. AJ typed the information into the note section into his iPhone and called Athens. He reached an answering machine where he left a message with his cell number asking Spiro Dranias to call immediately on matter of some urgency.

AJ immediately got on his laptop. He used a travel website to make business class reservations for Athens for the next day. He was surprised to find several airlines flew to Athens from Charlotte. He made early morning reservations for Miami, Charlotte, Athens. It would take twenty hours, but he would arrive in Athens at the start of the business day. With luck, he could meet with Dranias sometime that first day. AJ booked a room at the Athens Metro hotel, allegedly within walking distance to the Acropolis.

Ceres had watched all this activity with bemused, but silent patience. He watched AJ sit back, arms stretched across the back of the couch, satisfied everything he needed was in place. Ceres, who had enjoyed his front row seat to AJ’s flurry of activity, slowly stood, and as he left the room casually called over his shoulder, “Good luck finding out anything without your source of information,” Ceres said pointing at his own head.

AJ called out to him, “Wait, you want to go? I thought you said you didn’t travel well.”

The argument about going to Greece was brief. AJ gave in quickly since he didn’t want to alienate Ceres. He needed him. Their Miami-to-Charlotte flight was routine. Ceres liked the white high back rockers in the Charlotte airport’s main concourse, but he loved the US Air Club room. Snacks, tea, and seating seemed like home, but he was really taken by the quiet, the respite from the noisy concourses. Their three-hour layover gave the two men time to continue sizing each other up. AJ was able to switch seats to sit with Ceres for their flight to Athens. He figured if they were going to be in the air for sixteen hours he surely could learn something from the old man. Once they were airborne, Ceres began talking excitedly about returning to Greece. It had been ten years since his last trip. This one could be his last visit.

“I grew up in the hills of the north. It’s mountainous country, not many people. The Germans and some collaborators killed my family and burned my village. I went with the Andartes and met your grandfather. He helped me escape Greece. After the Germans left in December 1944, the different resistance groups fought each other until civil war broke out in 1946. I left before that, though. I came to America with only the clothes I was wearing, and the English I learned from your grandfather.”

“And that piece of gold you showed me,” AJ responded.

“Yes, I had that too. The brother of a man from my village took me in. His name was Andrew Papandreou. Mr. Andrew, as I called him, gave me a new life,” Ceres said.

“Where is he now?” AJ asked.

“He and his wife died years ago. They had three children. Two of them died, but I still write to Georgia, my last American sister. She is all the family I have left.”

“From the little you have told me, maybe we should consider each other family,” AJ said, his own family gone.

“I was beginning to feel that way about your father,” Ceres replied. “Perhaps we should.”

“Tell me about my grandfather and why you think there’s a connection to my father’s murder?” AJ said.

“It’s complicated Ajax. I don’t have the full … what is the term? I don’t have the full picture,” Ceres said.

AJ was impatient, as always, with the old Greek’s stalling.

What was he hiding? He squirmed in his seat like a six year old. Patience, he reminded himself, was an old ally. He would take his time, as he did in the courtroom. He needed to take his time.

“Andreas was curious about his father,” Ceres continued, “who he was, what he did in the war, what could have happened to him? He hunted for friends and relatives, searched through the National Archives in Washington, military records, and even church records, looking for answers – clues to what happened.”

“Clues? The safe deposit box didn’t have any clues,” AJ said.

“We shall see,” Ceres responded, still cautious about trusting the young man too soon. “I was with Lieutenant John, your grandfather, for several months during the war, but there were things I didn’t see. He was reported killed but …When he disappeared part of the ransom disappeared too. His men had no choice but to believe he had stolen it and abandoned them. But Ajax that is not the man I knew, even though I was just a small boy.”

“So what really happened?”

Ceres leaned back in his seat and gazed out the plane’s window. “Lieutenant John and his men stopped a train carrying the ransom, and some Jewish prisoners. They ambushed and killed the guards. They freed the prisoners and took the ransom. Lieutenant John planned to force the Germans to release all the Jews they held in the North. Your grandfather called it ransoming the ransom. He got a group of Greek traitors to help him and I think he trusted the wrong man.”

Ceres’ voice trailed away, and, lost in sad memories, he turned to stare out into the darkness. Overcome by exhaustion and sadness, he fell silent, and then into a fitful sleep.

AJ waited until Ceres began to snore then took out his iPhone. He added to the copious notes he had made previously and wracked his brain for any crumb he could recall Ceres had left.

When they landed in Athens, AJ turned on his cell phone. He had a message from Spiro Dranias. AJ punched the recall button, and the phone at the other end answered on the third ring.

“Yassou, Dranias Investigations.”

“Mr. Dranias, I left you a message. Are you available?

“Ναί, ah yes. You would prefer English, to speak?”

“Yes, English would be best. Are you available?”

“For what sort of work are you looking?”

“We should meet to discuss that. I am just arriving in Athens. Can we meet this afternoon? I am at the Metro Hotel.”

“Ah, the Metro, yes, we can meet there if you like. Would three o’clock be convenient, in the bar?”

“Yes the bar, fine.”

“Very good,” Dranias said, as AJ hit end.

“That was foolish Ajax,” Ceres scolded. “You should not have told that man where we are staying. He could arrange to rob us, or worse. At best, since it’s a tourist hotel, now he will charge you more. Greece is different from America. You must be more careful.”

“Ok, but geez, lighten up. Don’t be so paranoid,” AJ replied, trying to hide his annoyance. He didn’t like the old man bossing him around. “He has no way of knowing what I want, and I’m only going to give him a list of names,” AJ continued. “There’s one other thing. Please call me AJ. My father and even my mother only called me Ajax when they were angry with me.”

The taxi ride to the hotel was a white-knuckle experience. Traffic, speed, screaming drivers, and the ancient vehicle’s groans and rattles conspired to keep AJ’s heart in his throat throughout the forty-minute ride. Ceres, on the other hand, took in the sense of the city, asking the driver a constant stream of questions in Greek.

When the taxi arrived at the hotel, AJ leapt out, unable to stand the terrifying vehicle a moment longer. When he looked up at the hotel and he was disappointed to see a tired, seven-story building. Ranks of AC wall units jutted from the stucco, their condensation staining nearly every visible surface. Battered balconies on each level hinted at one for each room.

AJ was never so glad to arrive at such uninviting place. Only the rose-colored bougainvillea reaching to the roof prevented the place from being the incarnation of some wicked witch’s castle. The huge colorful plant’s hot honeysuckle scent was overpowering. 

While AJ assessed the hotel’s architecture, Ceres was cementing his relationship with their driver. They parted with a big backslapping hug, and Ceres joined AJ in the frontcourt.

“What do you see?” Ceres said.

“Oh nothing, I was just giving you more time with your new buddy. What was that all about?”

“What was what about?” Ceres replied, a puzzled look on his face.

“You and the driver.”

“Tinos Ganis, his name is Tinos, from Rhodes. He was giving me advice about seeing the city, the best way to get to the north, offering some advice, things like that. He says this hotel is overpriced, but the service and the rooms are good. He gave me his phone number. He will drive us if we need him.”

“Well, I’m glad you got the scoop. You could have told me what you were talking about,” AJ said without trying to hide his annoyance. “I thought you might be planning to dump me.”

“Dump you? What are you talking about? I am sorry I didn’t include you, but you don’t need to get angry. I didn’t mean to leave you out. It won’t happen again. I was just … just excited to speak my own language again.”

“I didn’t like that ride that’s all. We should work on our communication,” AJ said, pointing back and forth between the two of them. “Shall we go in?”

“Yes,” said Ceres as they collected their two small bags, and went in.

A few minutes later, they entered their seventh-floor room. The hotel’s weathered, forlorn exterior had worried AJ, but the inside was a complete surprise. Their room was spacious, bright, and very clean. Wood floors throughout the suite gleamed from constant loving care. There were two double beds on opposite sides of the room, a seating area, a large bathroom with both a tub and a shower, and a massive walk-in closet. Large floor-to-ceiling glass doors, framed by crisp lace curtains, led to one of the expansive balconies. From the chairs set out on the terracotta balcony, they had a commanding view of the city. It was impressive. The huge Metropolitan Cathedral was just three blocks to the west and the Acropolis was visible in the haze to the south.

“Look,” AJ said, admiring the view from the balcony. “I can’t believe it, I can see the Parthenon,” he said, pointing to the haze-shrouded plateau as Ceres strolled out to join him.

“Actually, the Acropolis is the name of that flat mount you see. The Parthenon is the temple on top. You can’t quite see it yet through the mist. People sometimes use the names Acropolis and Parthenon interchangeably, which isn’t quite right.”

“Whatever you call it, this is what I always imagined Athens would be like,” AJ said.

Ceres retreated into their room, took the bed closest to the glass doors, and began unpacking. He had just begun when he turned and saw AJ holding two magazines and the barrel for his .45.

“You brought those on the airplane? You must be crazy to bring a gun through security.”

“I didn’t bring it through, you did. The rest of it’s in your bag,” AJ said, with a smirk.

Ceres dug through his clothes to find the slide, trigger assembly, and frame wrapped in his underwear. He glared at AJ.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said. “You want me to trust you and you do this? We definitely need to work on our communication,” Ceres said, throwing the gun components onto AJ’s bed. “What, no bullets?”

“Maybe your friend Tino can help with that,” AJ said, as he began to assemble his grandfather’s .45.

“It is Tinos. Tino is an Italian name,” Ceres said. “Do not put me at risk again.”

Both men, trying to ward off jet lag, took a short nap before their meeting. Later, as AJ emerged from the bathroom, Ceres took him by the arm and said, “We must be very careful from this point on, my friend. We can really only trust each other. Please be selective in what you tell this man Dranias.”

“You’re right, of course. I was thinking about the meeting. Dranias doesn’t know I am traveling with someone. You could find another table nearby to watch and listen. When he leaves, you could follow him. He doesn’t know you and you blend in here better than I do,” AJ suggested.

“That’s a sound idea. I’ll come in right after you. What will you do while I’m gone?” Ceres said.

“I’ll come up here and wait for you,” AJ responded. “Shall we go?”

“See that you’re here when I return Ajax,” Ceres replied.

“Trust issues Ceres?” AJ replied, with a toothy smile.

The hotel bar was more in line with AJ’s first impression of the hotel, dark, dingy, and claustrophobic. The smell of stale beer and mold reminded him of his fraternity house. He took a seat at a high top table near the bar and waved to the bartender, who was chatting with two women at the end of the bar. He came over and said,

“Yassou.”

“Do you speak English?” AJ asked.

“Yes.”

“You are open?”

“Yes, but only for the bar. No food until five.”

“What cognac or brandy do you have?”

“We have Metaxa, Remy Martin, Courvoisier, Napoleon and some local ones too. All very good, sir.”

“Bring me one of the local ones then. Nothing too sweet,” AJ said.

“Very good, sir. You are American, a guest of the hotel. Perhaps I could get you something else?” he said, nodding at the two women at the end of the bar.

Hotel bars, the same round the world, AJ thought. “Not now, but maybe later,” AJ said.

As the bartender walked away, Ceres came in and took a seat at the bar within easy earshot. He didn’t look at his young friend but instead shot a smile at the two prostitutes.

When the bartender came over, Ceres said something in Greek to which the bartender responded with a polite nod. After he had served Ceres’ drink, the bartender turned on the radio. Raucous bouzouki music filled the empty bar. Ceres stared into his drink. He wouldn’t hear this conversation, he thought. All he could do was watch AJ at the table behind him in the mirror over the bar.

A man appeared in the bar’s door and made a beeline for AJ. Spiros Dranias was dark complected, medium build and height with dark hair and eyes. He had what for AJ would be a three-day beard growth, but was probably only his three o’clock shadow. He wore light colored slacks and a short-sleeved shirt, both rumpled. The shirt showed dark stains under the arms. His most notable descriptor, though, was his tic. His head moved slowly from side to side in a little downward arc. Like a little dog in the rear window of a car, his head never stopped. AJ, fear gathering in his gut, gathered himself and decided immediately he was comfortable dealing with this man. He’d seen his type many times before. He had file drawers filled with their criminal defense records back in Miami.

“You are the man who called?” Dranias said.

“I’m the very same, John Jones from New York. You are Mr. Dranias?” AJ said, raising his voice to be heard over the music and standing to shake the man’s sweaty hand. Never trust a man with a damp handshake, AJ recalled his father saying.