Santorini Caesars (19 page)

“Yes, one intended to put the needs of the people first.”

“I understand that, sir, but we're here to express our unanimous concern that what the Prime Minister proposes is catastrophic for the nation.”

“Catastrophic? That's a rather strong word, Colonel.”

“But accurate. To put our security in the hands of NATO is to put the knives of the Turks to our throats. Do you recall when the Turks shot down that Russian warplane on the pretext of it violating Turkish airspace? We all knew why they did it, to protect their colleagues making billions smuggling terrorist oil in from Syria. Their sanctimonious claims of protecting Turkish airspace were laughable. Their jets penetrate Greek airspace all the time, and they've attacked our borders by channeling hundreds of thousands of refugees across their country and into ours—again enriching their colleagues making billions trading in human misery. And what does NATO do, or has it ever done, to control Turkish aggression? Nothing.”

Prada, nodded. “I see your point, Colonel, but what is there that I can possibly do for you, or rather for our military?”

Retsos swallowed again. “You could convince the Prime Minister to change his mind.”

Prada smiled. “I thought that might be where this was headed. Gentlemen, I respect your opinions, but you are grossly ill-informed if you think I could possibly convince the Prime Minister to change what he intends to serve as a basic tenet of the party's economic recovery program.”

“Why not? We all know he's done it before. Indeed, several times.”

“And those shifts have cost him dearly in the lost loyalties of some of his most powerful political supporters.”

“So could pressing ahead with this badly misguided policy.”

Prada paused. “The Prime Minister's earlier policy reversals brought violent demonstrations back to our streets. I don't think he wants to risk adding to that.”

“The risk of
not
changing his policy is that he'll be adding Turkish soldiers to our streets.”

“I think you're getting carried away, Colonel.”

The two on the sofa looked decidedly uncomfortable.

“With all due respect, sir, I disagree. It's one thing to have domestic terrorists announcing a warning well ahead of time that a bomb will go off outside a specific symbolic building, and quite another to have Turks appropriating Greek territory because we're too weak to defend ourselves. And then there's FYROM and its ambitions toward us.”

Prada shrugged. “What can I say? The Prime Minister will not agree with you. Lord knows I've tried.”

“Then our nation is doomed. He must be stopped. You need to try again.”

Prada rose up out of his chair. “I think not. Gentlemen, I thank you for coming but I really must prepare for another appointment. Sorry I couldn't be of more help.”

“Thank you for your time, sir,” said the Navy captain.

“Yes, thank you,” said Philippos.

“I really wish you would reconsider,” said the colonel as Prada shepherded them toward the door.

“I know that you do, Colonel.” Prada patted him on the back. He opened the door. “Again, thank you all for coming.”

When the last man left the office, Prada closed the door, turned around, and smiled. “
Gotcha
.”

Chapter Eighteen

December sunsets in Athens came around five, so when Maggie walked into Andreas' rapidly darkening office, he assumed it was to say goodnight or suggest he turn on a light.

“You look like a ghoul sitting in front of that computer screen. For God's sake turn on a light.”

Andreas smiled. “I knew that's why you came in here. Just like my mother used to tell me: ‘Turn on a light before you go blind.'”

“You should listen to your mother, but did she also tell you what your playmates have been doing without you?”

“What are you taking about?”

“Prada met with Colonel Retsos, a Navy captain, and an Air Force group captain this afternoon at the ministry.”

“What? How could you know that?”

“Because I was doing what you'd asked me to do, chasing down potential police suspects in the girl's murder. I called a friend in personnel at the ministry. Her boss happens to have an office down the hall from the minister's, and when I told her I was looking for information on ‘military-grade marksmen' she asked what's with all the sudden military action. Which led me to ask what she was talking about.”

Maggie walked over to his desk and turned on a light.

“She said three officers had met earlier in the minister's office—”

“Babis' office?”

Maggie nodded.

“But I thought you said Prada met with them.”

“If you let me finish, you'll get the whole story.”

Andreas waved his hand. “Okay.”

“So, I asked her for the names of the officers. She said she didn't know but she'd try to find out from the minister's secretary, one my friend described as a real bitch when it came to sharing information about her boss.”

“Unlike some others?”

Maggie ignored him. “She called me back with the names. Apparently the secretary had come around to realizing it didn't pay to unnecessarily cross her co-workers. But just to let my friend know she wasn't telling tales out of school, she made a point of saying it wasn't a meeting involving her boss. Prada chose to meet there instead of using his own office, which by the way, is right across the hall from the minister's and has an even bigger bitch for a secretary.”

“Did the secretary tell your friend why Prada hadn't used his own office?”

“She didn't bother to ask, but the secretary volunteered that the minister was out most days dealing with the demonstrations.”

“Ah, yes, the daily demonstrations over Penelope's murder. From all reports Babis is handling them in his usual, inimitably inept fashion. At least they've kept him busy enough to stay off my back.”

Andreas leaned back in his chair. “Thinking back to our brief stint in that office, I think I may have an answer to why Prada used the minister's office.”

“Do you wish to share?”

“The ministry is paranoid about listening devices and sweeps all high-level offices regularly. In the case of Prada, my guess is he definitely wouldn't want what goes on in his office recorded.”

“So what's that got to do with any of this?”

Andreas smiled. “Now it's my turn to say, ‘hold your horses.'”

Maggie rolled her eyes.

“But Spiros, our former minister, was more paranoid about someone claiming he'd said things he hadn't—”

“How's he doing, by the way?”

“Fine, he's moved to Tripoli and is living in his ancestral family home. Lila and I visited him for the day a couple of weeks back. So far so good on the medical front. And his wife stayed in Athens.”

“Which is probably why he's doing better.”

Andreas waved his hand in the air. “Anyway, Spiros installed an elaborate system in his office to record whatever was said.”

“Are you old enough to remember what happened to an American President who did the same thing?”

“No, but hopefully it was bad and the same thing will happen to Prada.”

“You think he used the minister's office to record the conversation?”

Andreas nodded. “That's my guess. Babis certainly knows about the system, and I'd be surprised if Prada didn't. It's not on all the time, so he would have had to activate it.” Andreas smiled. “And that's where we may have a shot at finding out what went on in that meeting.”

“How's that?”

“I never used the system, and made it clear that no one else could use it during my time as minister. As a precaution against unauthorized use, I arranged with a technician in operations to put in a secure backup that made a duplicate recording anytime the system activated. That way I could access the backup to see who'd disobeyed my orders.”

“Ever catch anyone?”

“No one ever tried.”

“Do you think the new minister knows about the backup?”

“I never told him. And if no one told the techie about a change in operational rules, there just might be a duplicate copy of today's little get-together waiting to be heard.”

“I can't believe you'd be so lucky.”

“It's worth a try.” Andreas stood up. “Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to see a man about a recording.”

“Music to your ears, I hope.”

“For sure.” Andreas headed toward the door.

“So, do you want to hear about the other thing?”

Andreas stopped and faced her. “What other thing?”

“That figures.” She shook her head. “What you've had Yianni and me working on all day.”

“You have an answer?”

“Sort of. On the police side, there were about a half-dozen possibles, but three were eliminated on the basis of comparing their descriptions to the images caught on video, one had a recent knee replacement operation making it impossible for him to do the running, and the other two are no longer in Greece.”

“Where are they?”

“In the United States. Astoria and Pittsburgh.”

“Any chance they came back to Greece for the hit?”

“Don't know yet. We'll check with immigration but they could have come in through a Schengen Agreement country, which would have allowed them to pass into Greece without going through our passport control. But as long as they travelled under their own names we'll be able to find out where and when they first entered a Schengen country.”

“If nothing turns up, we'll have to verify whether they were in the U.S. when the assassination went down. That's going to take time. Anything on potential military candidates?”

“Yianni is still working on that. But your hunch is looking stronger. They just might be imported killers.”

“As fun as it is to be right, I wish I understood what it all meant. Nothing adds up.”

Maggie nodded. “There's a big picture we're missing.”

“Yeah…a cinematic eureka moment would do quite nicely,” said Andreas turning to head toward the door. “So, cross your fingers and pray I find that techie and he can get us the soundtrack.”

***

Andreas didn't get to the ministry until after six and didn't expect to find his techie connection there at that hour. Public employees had earned a reputation for working as little as possible, and being gone by dark fit the job description for all but the most dedicated non-managerial types.

Andreas had to start somewhere, though, and so he went to the ministry building in the hopes that someone still there might know where to find the man after hours.

The guard in the lobby desk recognized Andreas and took the opportunity to say how much he missed him, and how different things were since he'd left. “Nobody at the top seems to know what they're doing.”

Andreas could have said that he'd heard that same complaint from old-timers in several ministries, but instead said, “I hear you, friend. Wish I had an answer.”

“Get rid of the fools who are ruining our country.”

Andreas agreed, but didn't want to say so because he knew he'd be quoted by this guy at least a hundred times. On the other hand, he needed the man's help at finding the techie, and so he settled on saying, “Amen, brother, amen.”

The guard nodded.

“Say, maybe you can help me, I've got a sticky technical problem and was trying to hook up with one of the technicians here who'd helped me out before. It's sort of urgent and I don't know how to find him at this hour. I thought someone here might be able to steer me in the right direction.”

“Who are you looking for?”

“He's young, slim build, five-nine or so, brown goatee, always wearing a different band's tee-shirt—”

“That's Maxie. “He's crazy about his bands.”

Andreas nodded, “Do you know where I can find him?”

The guard sidled up to Andreas. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Sure,” said Andreas, having absolutely no idea what was coming.

“He's a good, hardworking kid, but in order to support his pensioner mother he works several nights a week as a substitute deejay at a disco, the midnight to seven a.m. shift.”

“When does he sleep?”

“That's just the point. He lives about an hour from here and the disco is about as far away from here in the opposite direction.”

Andreas shook his head. “Poor kid.”

“That's what I thought, so I let him sleep in our break room. There's a cot in there and no one's ever around to disturb him.”

“You mean he's here in the building now?”

The guard nodded, and pointed to a battered gray metal door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. “It's one flight down. You can't miss it.”

“Thank you,” said Andreas.

“No problem. We're all in this mess together.”

Andreas smiled and gave him a thumbs-up as he headed across the cloudy marble floor toward the door.

The door opened onto a landing between equivalently battered metal handrail staircases leading up and down. The paint looked gray, but it could have been green at one point. Even the graffiti complaints etched along the way were dull and colorless. He took the down staircase and at the bottom stopped at a door marked NO ADMITTANCE.

He knocked. No answer. He knocked again. Still no answer. “Maxie, it's Andreas Kaldis, I need to speak with you.”

Andreas heard someone shuffling around inside. The door opened slightly, but enough for Andreas to make out Maxie's face.

“Minister? What are you doing here? Have I done something wrong?”

Andreas didn't correct Maxie's use of his former title. “Everything's cool, Maxie. I just need your help with something, and it's rather urgent.”

The door opened wider. “It's a mess in here.”

“No problem, we can talk standing here.”

“Okay.”

Andreas fixed his eyes on Maxie's. “Do you remember that backup recording system I had you install so I could tell if any unauthorized person used my office?”

For an instant all Andreas saw was a big blank stare, and then a smile broke across Maxie's face. “Oh, yeah. Man, I forgot all about it.”

“Do you know if it's still working?”

“I've never checked, but it's simple enough to find out.”

“It is?”

“Sure. I made it that way, since I knew you weren't into the tech side of things.” He turned and disappeared for a moment before coming back holding an iPod.

Is this kid stoned
, wondered Andreas. “So, can you check for me?”

“I'd love to help you, man, but I really need to get some sleep.”

Andreas held his temper. “It's really important.”

Maxie held out the iPod. “I understand, but so's my sleep. You'll just have to listen to it yourself.”

Andreas stared at the iPod. “What's this?”

“It's what you asked me for. On it are all the recordings made in your office. I set it up as your backup storage. It's really a hard drive but, as I said, knowing you're not into the tech side of things, I figured giving it to you as an iPod would make it simple for you to figure out.”

“You mean all I have to do is play it?”

“Use it the same as any other iPod.” He smiled. “Or have your kid show you how to use it.”

“Don't you want it back?”

“Nah, it's an old model, and the ministry paid for it. The only things on it are your recordings.”

“Don't you want to keep a copy?”

Maxie smiled. “Whatever's on it is already copied,” he pointed above his head, “up to my Apple iCloud account.”

Andreas decided it best he leave now, rather than stay and demonstrate the true depth of his ignorance. “Thanks, Maxie. Sorry to have bothered you, but you were a big help.”

Maxie gave a quick wave as he said, “Bye,” and shut the door.

Andreas stared at the iPod, wondering what might be on it. That's when he decided to call Francesco and tell him to be in the office first thing in the morning for a rush job. No way Andreas was going to trust himself to fool around with this device.

Though the thought did cross his mind to ask Tassaki to play it for him.

***

Sappho traced her finger along Petro's jawline. “You really do look like an ancient Spartan warrior.”

“And precisely how old would that make me?”

“Old enough to have developed a better sense of humor.”

Petro rolled onto his side and stared straight into her eyes. “I hope it never stops raining.”

She pressed her head forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Then we better book our tickets on the ark.”

He smiled.

“When do you have to go back to Athens?”

“I can't leave until that guy gets here.”

“I don't understand why he can't just call and tell you what to do.”

“He has to make arrangements with a third party, and that he can only do in person.”

“It all sounds very mysterious to me, but hey, it's keeping you here so I'm not complaining.”

“Me either.”