The Green Lady (33 page)

‘Mr Mavros,' Angie Poulou lisped, the noise of a car engine in the background. ‘Thank God. I was beginning to think you had disappeared into thin air like Lia.'

‘Are you all right?' Mavros asked.

‘A man attacked me.'

‘What? Who? Where?'

‘You're confusing me. It happened in my home. I think . . . I think Paschos put him up to it.'

‘What happened?'

‘I managed to see him off. I lost a lot of teeth, that's why I can't talk properly.'

‘Describe your assailant.'

‘A big man, not old, probably late twenties. Short blonde hair. Very self-assured. He tried to make it look as if I slashed my wrists in the bath. I . . . I cut off part of his ear.'

‘Christ. Are you on the way to hospital?

‘No, I'm coming to Paradheisos. I want to confront Paschos. I'm sure he knows where Lia is.'

‘We need to do that together. Where are you?'

‘Just past Thiva.'

‘All right, I'm with a policeman I trust. Call this number when you've gone through Dhistomo. We'll arrange a meet.' Mavros had a thought. ‘Where does your husband usually stay when he's down here?'

‘There's a guest house in the pink sector for senior management – at the far end of Isiodhou Street.'

‘I've been wanting to ask you something. Did Lia often come down to Paradheisos?'

‘Several times in the winter and early spring.' Angie Poulou paused. ‘With Paschos. She said she was doing a geography project. Oh, God.'

‘What is it?'

‘I have a terrible feeling about . . . about my husband and . . . and Lia.'

Mavros confirmed the arrangements, extracting a promise from his client that she wouldn't act alone. He turned to Xanthakos.

‘I think I know where they are.' He gazed down at the infernal nightscape, and then glanced into the temple. ‘Screw the devil. We're in Hades' kingdom and we have to get out.'

The policeman laughed harshly. ‘You know how many people managed that in the myths? Persephone doesn't count as she was a goddess.'

‘Em, Heracles.'

‘Semi-divine.'

‘Orpheus.'

‘Ditto.'

‘I know,' Mavros said, taking out the key he'd removed from Kloutsis and heading to the 4x4, ‘Theseus.'

‘True,' Xanthakos said. ‘But he had to leave his friend Peirithoos behind for eternity.'

‘Great,' Mavros said, as he started the engine. ‘We'll toss for it.'

The policeman raised an eyebrow and laughed, but not for long.

T
he Fat Man was less than impressed. Not only had he scraped his knees several times on the way back to the boat, but a wind got up and he'd been drenched frequently by sea water on the voyage to Kypseli. Fortunately, the fight seemed to have gone out of Akis Exarchos and he sat glumly at the tiller. Then again, Bitsos was pointing a pistol at the fisherman's belly. When they passed the mole and Akis cut the engine revs, Yiorgos raised his own pistol, aware that the approach to the pier would be the fisherman's last opportunity to put one over them in his natural element. As it happened, Akis drew alongside smoothly and slipped a rope round a bollard compliantly enough.

Bitsos looked across the square to the lights in the ecologists' office. ‘They're back,' he said, swallowing a laugh as the Fat Man made an unsteady landing. He poked the pistol into the fisherman's back. ‘Come on, you. Time to tell your friends you're a rat.'

The trio walked to the office. The shutters were closed, although lines of light came through the gaps in the slats.

‘They'll be on edge about the Son,' Bitsos said. ‘You'd better make friendly noises to the Party cadres.'

Yiorgos nodded and knocked on the door, identifying himself with a line from
Das Capital
. ‘Akis is with us, too,' he added.

There was a rattle of bolts and the door opened. Lykos stood back to allow them entry, a long knife in one hand. One of the black-clad Communists was with him, holding a length of wood.

‘That smells good,' the journalist said, glancing at the Fat Man, who was also sniffing the air.

‘Where's Alex?' Lykos asked, on his guard when he saw the gun in the fisherman's back. ‘What's going on?'

‘Your friend here sold us out,' Bitsos said. ‘He took the HMC's money. As a result, Mavros and I were imprisoned underground and left to die.'

Another of the cadres appeared from the back room. He glanced at the new arrivals suspiciously. ‘The food's ready,' he said.

Lykos went toe to toe with Akis. ‘You took their stinking money? Get the fuck out of here.'

‘No,' Yiorgos said. ‘Not until Alex comes back safe and sound.'

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.