The Dead Travel Fast (19 page)

“Why? Why should I trust you?”

“Because I lo …”

A tearing wind suddenly blew hot and gritty across the burnt land, lashing dirt and burnt debris into their faces. She pulled at him with renewed energy, stumbling through the hurricane across the excavation spoil heap onto the mound. The noise of the wind was so fierce they had to shout into each other’s faces.

“What do you want, Alekka, what’s down there causing all this?”

“Please Steve, get it for me. Please, you don’t understand what it can do.”

He looked into her face; her eyes were wet.

“Please, Steve get it, I know you know it’s there. I know you would recognise something that could never belong to this site.”

“Then why don’t you get it?”

“We can’t, we are not permitted; surely by now you have understood something about us.”

He knelt and fumbled beneath the burial urn in the loose soil where he knew from his earlier digging something lay hidden, something he didn’t want to touch. But as he groped around, he saw the fill was disturbed. Someone else had been here!

“There’s nothing here, it’s gone.”

There was a scream of loss and anger that split right through the noise of the storm; she towered above him dark hair blown across her face pummelling his shoulders with her fists in frustration. She was screaming something at him but he didn’t get it, couldn’t get it because in his mind he was back on the mound at Skendleby with Lisa, waiting for his death. Then he was up and running. She screamed after him.

“Steve, come back Steve, please, you don’t understand, Steve Steve Steeeeveeee …”

But he didn’t hear: he ran, mindless and terrified, into the storm.

Theodrakis stared at the new pictures on the incident room wall; they turned him sick. As a reflex he took a sip of coffee, it was stone cold and he felt bile rising in his throat. Kostandin had been right, this one was different. No flint knife, no surgical removal of certain bones, this was more like an orgiastic demonstration of the damage a human body could sustain. He felt for Lucca stuck in the morgue with these remains. There was nothing that connected with the other killings, but he knew with absolute conviction they were linked. Intuitively he recognised this as a perverted celebration: a message that said “job done”. So what happens next? He’d been asking himself that question ever since his first glimpse at the obscene images on the wall.

“Sir, Dr Lucca wants to speak to you.”

It took him some time to pull himself together sufficiently to understand the message.

“Sir, are you alright? Did you hear, Dr Lucca is on the phone, he says it’s urgent?”

Theodrakis blinked and focussed on the anxious face of the young cop speaking to him.

“Endaxi, I’ll take it in here and when you’ve put him through ask Syntagmatarchis Kostandin to join me.”

The young policeman hurried off and Theodrakis picked up the phone.

“Theodrakis, come …”

Lucca broke off and Theodrakis recognised the tone of someone who had reached his limit.

“Theodrakis, come quickly, I think I’m losing my mind; I can’t stay here anymore but you need to see this.”

“Hang on; I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

He let the phone fall onto the table as Kostandin shuffled in.

“Let me have your thoughts, Kostandin.”

“We’re fucked; simple as that. The island’s out of control, we haven’t the manpower to deal with the situation. The demonstrations are one step away from riots and the murders … the men can’t cope with them. We need help.”

He slumped onto the sofa and Theodrakis sat with him. Kostandin offered him a cigarette and they sat together exhausted, smoking under the no smoking sign. Kostandin gave a short laugh.

“You know, Theodrakis, when you came here everyone resented you and your superior Athenian attitude, but now it’s you we look to to get us out of all this, you’re our last hope.”

“Thanks, very touching, but we’re out of our depth, we need help.”

“Why not ring up one of your Athenian contacts, maybe they can send Xenarkis and the boys back to us.”

Theodrakis thought about it: he knew deep within himself the murders belonged to him in some way he couldn’t understand. But he couldn’t cope with the civil disobedience or lead the riot police. He didn’t have the skills for that. So he scrolled through the contacts on his phone and keyed the number of one of his father’s cronies at the ministry in Athens. He was surprised to get an immediate answer. It became clear the minister had mistaken his number for an eagerly awaited call and after a brief and terse exchange of pleasantries, Theodrakis put in his request. He received a shouted response to end the conversation.

“You don’t understand the situation here, Alexis, we’ve lost control we can’t help you. Athens is burning, Athens is fucking burning.”

Theodrakis turned to Kostandin.

“I think you could probably hear that: we’re on our own. Listen, Kostandin, I need you to look after the political stuff for
me, keep the lid on things as best you can. I need space to deal with the murders; I’ve got some ideas and I’m going to be following some leads you won’t find in police procedures. I need you to trust me, maybe if I can at least get some type of solution that people understand the island will calm down.”

Kostandin listened to this without expression then fished out the packet and offered Theodrakis a smoke, which he lit for him. All he said was,

“So your friends call you Alexis?”

Theodrakis stood up and to their mutual surprise, they shook hands.

“But this time you have to keep me posted on what’s happening and where you are. Agreed … Alexis?”

Theodrakis ignored Konstantin’s grin and headed for the door but as he was through it Kostandin called him back.

“Oh, I forgot, an Englishman’s been trying to get hold of you, says it’s important. Got a strange name, Jillais or something.”

“Thanks, text me his number, keep things as calm as you can.”

Outside, although most of the demonstrators had dispersed, the mood was still tense and he could see a couple of overturned cars by the dock that were still burning. He walked quickly to the police morgue, trying to ignore the insults shouted at him.

Inside the morgue was worse. Under the bright strip lighting of the sterile laboratory, Lucca sat huddled in a chair, in the corner furthest away from the travesty of a corpse on the slab. The floor was scattered with liquids, instruments and, Theodrakis noted with distaste, body parts. It looked like some maniac had been at work, which he reflected was precisely what it was. Lucca seemed to be conducting some type of discourse with himself but showed no sign of having noticed Theodrakis’s presence.

He stood by the door for some time deciding what to do; he felt sorry for Lucca, whom he’d come to respect and like for his perseverance and courage in sticking to his grim and soul destroying work. He was a decent man and this was breaking him. But he needed information, so after a few moments he walked across the room, avoiding looking at the ruined thing on the slab, and placed his hands on Lucca’s shoulders. To his surprise Lucca spoke to him.

“Coffee and rough brandy won’t do it this time, Theodrakis; I’m
finished here. I’m going home to my family while I still have one and we’re getting off this island. Tonight, if there’s a boat for Italy.”

Theodrakis said nothing, just gently massaged the shaking shoulders under his palms until Lucca continued.

“This is the last report you’ll get from me, and when I finish talking I’m going to walk out and leave all this shit forever.

“That thing over there was once a human being: it’s been ripped to pieces, torn apart by the bare hands of someone or something. This is nothing like the others; I think this was done for enjoyment. That corpse was a man, and a strongly built one.”

He paused to get his breath.

“This one left no evidence, no prints and no trace of bodily fluids or any of the evidence you’d expect from something so bloody and messy. I’m sure there’s no evidence here, unlike with the others. That fisherman under the cover on the other slab for instance, he drowned himself, left a note and his prints and DNA all over the girl in the river.”

He stood up, looked at Theodrakis for the first time then avoiding the slab followed the wall to the door. Theodrakis didn’t try to stop him, he guessed if Lucca had anything left to say he’d do it in his own time; he was right. Lucca stopped at the door and turned back to him.

“I think the others: Andraki, the fisherman, the mad man in the cells and, presumably there are others. Well, they were just surrogates, a type of murderer by proxy. But the abomination that did this last one; I think that’s the real thing, and it feels powerful enough to do it for itself now. I’ve thought about that all day. Take care, Theodrakis, you’re not just drifting through the underworld, you’re headed straight into Hell.”

Lucca walked out of the door, leaving Theodrakis standing by the chair in a room that resembled the antechamber of Hell. He felt lonely more than anything else; Lucca had been the only one he could talk to. But he was glad that he was getting out, he was too sensitive for this. He walked out of the morgue leaving the lights on and the door open.

Outside on the street, he was too preoccupied to notice the small group of elderly men outside a cafe who made the sign of the evil eye at him or the woman who spat on his coat. It was
only after he’d walked blindly through the town for several minutes that he remembered the message from the Englishman. He checked his messages, saw that the number had been texted and called it up. He thought that at the very least the conversation would divert him from what he’d just seen.

The phone rang several times and Theodrakis was about to give up when suddenly there was an answer.

“Hello, who’s there?”

“Theodrakis; are you the English man who came to visit the archaeologist?”

“Yes.”

“What do you want?”

“Look, I’ve got a bag full of bones, human bones I think, they come from the site Steve Watkins was looking at. I thought you should know.”

“Where are they?”

Theodrakis couldn’t believe it; out of nowhere one of the main pieces of the jigsaw had fallen into place. He was clenching his fist in triumph when the voice at the other end answered.

“I’ve hidden them, they’re buried.”

“Can you get them to me today?”

“Yeah, but later, I’m in Drakei now, I can get them about five.”

“Good, ring me then, oh and where is Dr Watkins?”

“I don’t know, he didn’t come back last night; I hoped you might know.”

“Listen: don’t mention this to anyone, anyone at all. Get to the bones as soon as you can and when you have them, ring me on this number and be very, very careful.”

He pocketed the phone and headed for the hospital. In a side ward, guarded by two very uneasy looking cops, he found Professor Andraki. Before he entered the room one of the cops grunted,

“Rather you than me going in there, boss, but at least he’s quiet today.”

The other cop laughed but Theodrakis could see he didn’t really find it funny. Inside the room, despite the brightness of the day, it was dark, something that the closed thin curtains didn’t account for. Andraki was hunched up on a bed most of his face covered in bandages. Theodrakis was relieved; he hadn’t wanted
to see what he’d done to Andraki’s eye with the pen. The other eye was closed and Andraki didn’t appear to be conscious. So it came as a surprise when he began to speak.

“Listen to what I tell you, policeman, they have left me for a moment but could return at any time so I will be quick. I was led to the discoveries, I understand that now: I was their instrument. The sites were not looted. I stole what they required, but they needed fresh bone, living bone. I did the first killing: the one you’ve not found yet and Samarakis, but of course you know that. I tried to resist but when you meet them you will know that’s not possible. They need the bones; find Watkins.”

He sat up and the bandages slipped, giving Theodrakis a glimpse of what he’d done to the eye. He didn’t have long to look as the expression on Andraki’s face changed; he was staring horrified at something hovering above him. He tried to make the sign of the cross, failed and looked at Theodrakis as he struggled to speak. He managed one word,

“Vassilis …”

Then his face melted into a picture of agony, and before Theodrakis could reach out to him he slumped back. Theodrakis shouted for a doctor. One of the cops came into the room then quickly backed out; he followed.

“Look, I know you’re too scared to go back in there but stay at the door. Ring Syntagmatarchis Kostandin and tell him what’s happened here, wait for his orders.”

Theodrakis called up a squad car and directed it to the Vassilis estate. It seemed he was expected; the gates to the compound were open and the aged maid was waiting to usher him into the presence of Vassilis on the terrace. For Theodrakis the day had been one shock after another and for a time he sat, silent, opposite his host who wordlessly studied him. The maid brought a drink for Theodrakis, but this time there was no pretence of Vassilis drinking.

“Tell me what you have discovered, Theodrakis, and please do not leave anything out as I fear events are beginning to move with alarming rapidity.”

“I think I’ve found some of the bones harvested from the unfortunate victims of the killings. It would appear that your
protégé archaeologist was hiding them. Now why would he do that, I wonder?”

“It is enough that we have the bones, I don’t think you can fully appreciate the consequences if we had not.”

“I think you should also know, Kirios Vassilis, that I fear that Andraki has died of a seizure brought on by his state of mind.”

“I know you do not believe that, is there more?”

“Yes, we have a new type of murder: frenzied and inhuman, I’ve never seen anything like it. One final thing, I interviewed your son in the cells, he is disturbed but there is no evidence and the men don’t like having him in there so we had to let him out.”

“I think it would have been better for him and for us if you had kept him in custody.”

“Oh, I almost forgot, before he was taken over, Andraki said your name, I think he was trying to warn me. Have I anything to fear from you?”

“From me, yes; if you crossed me, Theodrakis, you would have everything to fear and nothing could save you.”

There was a silence and they sat across the table like poker players approaching the endgame. Theodrakis felt his nerves begin to prickle. He was operating so far outside his experience that he began to question his own reason. He picked up the glass of wine and drained it in one; Vassilis refilled it for him.

“Drink that too, it will settle your nerves. You will need nerve when you have heard what I have to tell you. I ask that you believe what I am going to say, I will not even attempt to explain what I am or for how long I have been it. But I know that you realise what you are facing is beyond your understanding. Just believe that if you do what I ask of you, then you will have acted correctly and your world will owe you a debt that neither you nor it will ever understand.”

The effect of the second glass settled Theodrakis sufficiently for him to recognise he had no other choice. He fumbled in his pocket for a cigarette and as he was lighting it, he noticed it was growing dark. Ten minutes ago the sun had dazzled. Now the air was still and clouds were amassing, there was the feeling of a storm gathering. Far below, the blue sea was a bruised and leaden
hue. He looked back to Vassilis and was struck how the heavy features of his face resembled a mask.

“Endaxi, I’m listening.”

Vassilis smiled indulgently then began.

“There are things we need to fear, things the local peasants, stupid as they are, understand better than cosmopolitan cynics like you. Although they have no idea what it is that really threatens them, they are right to fear it. The things they fear gather strength, these are the things you are hunting. For millennia they have been kept in check. But last year, something that should never have been found was released by thoughtless English archaeologists. A thing we had watched and kept imprisoned over the ages. No, don’t raise your eyebrows like that; better to think of the bodies you have just seen.