Andreas had heard Tassos’ views on that subject before and knew it was a waste of time to argue. “Any idea who the big man is?”
“None worth sharing. It might confuse your instincts.”
Zanni must be spinning out one new paranoid theory after another—and Tassos had to listen to them all. “Okay, I’ll take your word on that, but I expect you to tell me as soon as you think you have a lead. You’re still a cop, and this is a police investigation.” Andreas knew he might as well have said that last line in Chinese for all the effect it was likely to have on Tassos.
“You sound like your dad.”
Andreas took it as a compliment.
“I better head to the gate. I just want you to know we actually are on the same team, no matter how differently we look at the rules.”
“If only life were that easy.”
Tassos smiled and patted Andreas on the shoulder. “Anything else to tell me?”
“Just be careful. Like I said, these guys are kidnapping pros. The one in the photograph, Efisio, originally came out of the viscous Sardinian crews from the nineties.”
Tassos blanched. “My god. That’s where I’m headed, connecting through Milan to Cagliari in Sardinia. How could they know?”
“Know what?”
“Ginny Kostopoulos and the children are on a boat off Sardinia!”
***
It was early afternoon and still no word on the three hundred thousand. Demon was pissed. He left his apartment for a coffee at Exarchia Square but was in no mood to engage in the mindless political rhetoric that came with it. Not that they didn’t have a point; they just couldn’t stop making it over and over again. He left and went back to the same apartment. He didn’t dare go to another. He sensed he was being watched. None of that mattered.
As long as he got the money.
***
Tassos made the plane, but a lot of angry people were on board waiting for him. He’d delayed them a half-hour. That was how long it took to fill in Andreas on the purpose for his trip—to verify that appropriate security was in place for Ginny and the children—and to advise Zanni that events were moving quickly in an unanticipated direction. Tassos pressed Andreas for the name of the link, and Andreas insisted on knowing who headed the conspiracy operation. Andreas said he wouldn’t tell, and Tassos swore he didn’t know. They parted shaking hands and promising to let the other know “anything important.” Andreas only hoped it was good news, and soon.
He called Lila from the car, and they spoke for most of the way back to his office. Not about the case or even about each other, just about things. Little things, silly things. He liked the way she made him feel. He hoped he wouldn’t blow it.
“Got to go, I’m back at headquarters.”
“Will I see you tonight?”
“I’ll try.”
“That’s not the answer I wanted to hear.”
He laughed. “Okay, but I can’t promise when.”
“I don’t care when. Bye, kisses.”
The smile on his face held up until he saw Kouros sitting on his couch.
“Did you catch up with Tassos?”
Andreas sat behind his desk. “Yes, he’s off to Sardinia to meet Mrs. Kostopoulos and her kids on their boat. Can you believe it—Sardinia!”
“You think it’s a coincidence?”
“Don’t know, but if it isn’t, someone has a leak the size of the Korinth Canal. Remember that guy you tailed to the airport? From what Tassos said, he’s probably part of an Albanian mob working with locals out of the Angel Club.”
“That fits with what I have so far from the two who followed him when he landed. He headed straight for the Albanian border. They’re still with him but don’t have much to tell. Strangers there stick out like the Panathinaikos mascot at Olympiakos soccer practice. Can’t get too close.”
“Tell them not to take any chances.” He paused. “I think
others
will be dealing with that problem.”
“Others?” Kouros nodded with a grin. “I like that.”
He’s sounding more like Tassos every day, thought Andreas. “So, what’s up with Demosthenes?”
“Not sure, our guess is he’s waiting for someone to get a message to him, by e-mail.”
“Can we intercept?”
Kouros gestured no. “Wish we could.”
“Why do you think he’s waiting for an e-mail?”
“He hasn’t been on the phone as far as we can tell since he returned home last night. Don’t know if he’s been text messaging on his mobile, but we did pick up typing sounds right after he got in. Later there was a ‘ping,’ like the sound you get from your computer when there’s a message. Ten seconds later, we heard the only words from him since he got back: ‘Arrogant bastard.’”
“Sounds like he’s pretty pissed at somebody.”
“Anxious too. He only went out once, to one of those anarchist coffee shops by the square near his apartment. He didn’t stay long. Was back in less than thirty minutes.”
Andreas nodded. “I think you’re right. And my guess is as soon as he gets whatever he’s waiting for he’s off like a rabbit. I want to be ready for him this time.” He pointed a finger at Kouros. “No more excuses or stories about disappearing hat tricks.”
Kouros stood up. “Understood.” He left.
Andreas wanted to go back to thinking about Lila. But that would have to wait.
***
Demon finally got what he wanted. Almost.
If you still need a printer, try Kolonaki. Might have availability.
He couldn’t believe the Old Man was making him put on a dog and pony show. Maybe the anarchists at the square had a point: “We all work for ‘the Man’ no matter how independent we think we are.”
Demon walked up the hill to Kolonaki mumbling a lyric from Bob Dylan’s Sixties’ anthem: “The times they are a-changin.” He made no effort to conceal where he was headed. As far as he was concerned, anyone following him was welcome to know. His revolutionary and drug-dealing constituents valued Demon’s connections with the Athens power elite. If anyone else were interested, good luck at using whatever they thought they found. The rich could take care of themselves. And the Old Man was very, very rich.
On a side street just off Kolonaki Square, Demon paused outside an elegant old mansion that looked to be a museum. It could have been, but wasn’t. It was home to the Kolonaki Club, Athens most exclusive private club. No one but members and their guests were allowed inside. Ever.
Demon’s name was on a list of expected visitors, and immediately he was shown upstairs to a private room. He was surprised to see that the Old Man was not alone.
“Hello, Demosthenes, do you know my old friend, Sarantis Linardos?”
“Of course I do, everyone knows the publisher of
The Athenian
. An honor to meet you, sir.”
The Old Man patted Demon on the back and pointed him to the center of three well-padded and broken-in leather armchairs. The room was furnished in heavy mahogany furniture, bookshelves lined with tracts from another era, Oriental rugs, ornate silver and bronze fixtures, and wealth. Demon did not miss the point of picking this place for the meeting: we have it, you don’t.
“Demosthenes is Thanassis Mavrakis’ grandson.”
Linardos nodded and smiled as if he didn’t already know that. A subtle way of making Demon feel he actually might belong here. They sat in a row, like see-no-, hear-no-, and speak-no-evil monkeys.
“Sarantis, Demosthenes says he is in need of a considerable sum of money in order to resolve a rather messy and unexpected situation involving a family I know you’re familiar with.”
Why the charade? The Old Man certainly told him all this before. No way Linardos didn’t know what was coming.
The Old Man looked straight at Linardos. “I thought it would be helpful for our discussion if you understood a bit more of what’s involved.” He gestured to Demon to speak.
Linardos looked as if he wished he were anywhere but here.
“I’m not sure what there’s left to tell you, because I don’t know what you were told. So, let me cut to the point.” He turned to face the Old Man. “Oh, by the way, do you think anyone might be eavesdropping or taping us?”
The effect wasn’t lost on Linardos, who said, “Why? What are you planning to tell me?”
“Just the truth? Do you want to hear it?”
“Now, now, Demosthenes, behave.” It was the Old Man.
“You called this meeting, and I’ve asked a question. Is it safe to talk or not?”
“You’re the one who needs the money.” The smile on the Old Man’s face was not pleasant.
“And you’re the ones likely to die if I don’t get it.”
Linardos bolted up in his chair. “I don’t take kindly to threats, young man!”
Demon pointed at his chest. “From me? No way. I’m talking about the dead serious threat the two of you face from the man whose son recently turned up murdered in a dumpster.” Linardos looked as if Demon had just stabbed him. Demon paused to let his words sink in deeper. “My question, although possibly moot by now, remains the same. Is it safe to talk in here?”
The Old Man gestured yes. “The entire club is swept for listening devices every week, ever since that scandal involving the tapping of our government ministers’ phones. One can’t be too careful these days.”
“Good. So, what more do you want to hear, other than that if you don’t give me three hundred thousand euros, Zanni Kostopoulos will find and kill you.”
“Kostopoulos doesn’t know about us.” It was the Old Man.
“If you want to take that bet, fine. Not my problem.”
“Of course it’s your problem. You’re as much a target as any of us.”
“I had nothing to do with this!” said Linardos.
Demon spoke as if he’d not heard Linardos. “I don’t have as much to lose. Only my life.” He pointed to each of them. “But the two of you—” he waved his hand in the air. “When Kostopoulos is done with you, you’ll not only be dead, your names will be synonymous with terrorists who murder children. The shame to your families will be eternal. Sandblasters will be working overtime erasing your names from every plaque, every monument, every building…” Demon stopped. He liked his argument but thought he might be overselling. Either they’d bite or they wouldn’t.
Linardos slouched in the chair, put a hand up to his face, and stared at the floor.
The Old Man answered. “What makes you think he’d ever find out about us?”
He’d bitten. “What makes you think he wouldn’t? This is Greece. Everything’s for sale, and everyone wants to see the big ones fall. Are you telling me you can’t think of at least one person who, if given the chance, wouldn’t bring you down?”
“Like you for instance?”
Demon smiled at the Old Man. “I’m probably one of the few who wouldn’t, for a couple reasons. As cavalier as I sounded before about dying, I’d prefer not to die, and bringing you down takes me with you. I need you too much. Almost as much as you need me.”
“You’re rather arrogant today, Demosthenes,” said the Old Man.
“No, the word you’re looking for is ‘realistic.’”
Linardos drew in a deep breath, dropped his hand to his lap, and sat up in the chair. “What is it you want, money?”
The Old Man put up his hand. “Sarantis, that is not what drives Demosthenes. He has a far nobler calling.” There was no sarcasm in his voice, but Demon knew it was there.
Linardos stared at the Old Man. “And what ‘nobler calling’ justified murdering a boy?”
The Old Man pointed to Demon. “Tell him.”
So, that’s the deal, Demon thought. The Old Man set this up so I could pitch Athens’ most influential publisher into joining the Old Man’s crusade while he sat back seemingly above it all. That’s the carrot. If I pull it off, I get the three hundred thousand.
But Demon saw things differently. This was the opportunity he’d been waiting for to do some recruiting of his own. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” There was no sarcasm in Demon’s voice. “The Kostopoulos problem stems from an effort to keep the wrong element from accumulating power in our country. I’m certain I don’t have to tell you who they are.”
He looked for a nod from Linardos but received none. “No matter, you know who I mean. They’re the ones you continuously talk about at your dinner parties and study with veiled disdain and envy at all those events you simply
must
attend with
them
. You wish they weren’t there, except you need them—if you want their money to hold the damn event. Now do you know whom I’m talking about?”
Demon didn’t bother to check for a nod. “Wouldn’t life be easier if we could go back to the good old days where only the
right
families had the money?” Now, the sarcasm was clear. “Don’t act as if you’re somehow free of guilt for what we did on your behalf. The boy was murdered. We’re all responsible. We all must live with it.” He stared at the Old Man. “But we cannot continue with these ways of yours.”
The Old Man looked angry. “We need order and must do whatever is required to achieve it. The Kostopoulos boy’s death was necessary. You know that.”
“Yes, but your vigilante method of returning us to the old days isn’t working and never will. You can’t keep up this potsherd banishment bullshit to achieve your dream. It’s now more like terrorism than patriotism and you’re running out of patsies who run when you say run. You’re left to going after people with balls and the ability to fight back. Things only will get worse if you keep this up.” Demon shrugged. “Sorry to tell you, but your plan’s
kaput
.”
Linardos stared at the Old Man. “What is he talking about?”
Demon answered. “
I
am talking about this.” He pointed at both men. “
You
and your families are not going to make it. No, not because of Kostopoulos. I can take care of him if you let me, but because you’re dinosaurs, unwilling or unable to adapt.”
“I’ve heard enough.” It was the Old Man.
“Don’t think so.” Demon didn’t budge from his seat. He looked straight at Linardos. “What this country needs is leadership, not more terrorists. How many Greeks love their country? Answer, all of them. How many love their form of government? Answer, most of them. How many love their politicians. Answer, none of them; not even their mistresses can stand them. Why is that? Do I really have to tell you?
Because they’re all alike.
Name one who ever has gone to prison for corruption? The people have no faith in their politicians and have given up on finding better ones. What I want to give them is hope.”