The Green Lady (29 page)

‘That would be Akis Exarchos.'

‘Is he dependable?'

‘He's with the Ecologists for a Better Viotia. He lost his wife to cancer recently.' Xanthakos looked across the bay to the lights of the village. ‘Why don't we go and see if they're back? Alex shouldn't have tried to enter the plant by stealth.'

‘Em, I think there was someone else with them.' The Fat Man saw no reason not to include Lambis Bitsos in the equation – it would serve the nosy fucker right if he got charged with trespassing. Though that would mean Alex did too. He gave the cop the hack's name, all the same.

‘Bitsos? The guy on TV? What's he doing down here?'

‘You're asking me?'

Telemachos Xanthakos laughed. ‘All right, I should know what's going on in my own backyard.'

‘Especially since you're deputy commissioner. Why are you on your own? Doesn't your rank drive about with convoys of bully-boys?'

‘Not in Viotia. Turn your heap round and follow me.'

The Fat Man did as he was told, but slowly. He grabbed bites from the large sandwich he'd made earlier in the day as they drove along the water's edge. The lights of Paradheisos rose up the slope ahead. It looked like a kid's drawing of a pyramid, in layers of white, yellow and pink. Christ and the Holy Mother, where have I ended up, he asked himself. And what am I doing taking orders from a cop? This isn't paradise, it's the other place.

Angie Poulou was in the bath, the water so hot she could hardly breathe. Her assailant's face came out of the cloud of steam, then a hand. In the latter was the cut-throat razor with the ivory handle that Paschos had inherited from his father, though he never used it. At least the man who was orchestrating her death had allowed her to keep on her swimming costume. That made her feel less vulnerable, which in turn made her more determined to fight for her life. She would see Lia again, she'd do anything to ensure that.

‘Now,' the smooth-faced man said, still wearing his wide-brimmed hat. ‘You take the razor. You cut these veins here, in this direction.' He demonstrated, then raised the pistol. ‘Don't try to take a swipe at me.'

The threat was empty, Angie knew. Whoever was paying him – and she thought her husband was the most likely contender – wanted it to look like she'd been driven to suicide. She had no idea of his plans for Lia, should she still be alive. Whatever they were, he would find a way of attributing her death to their daughter's absence. Shooting her would make that harder to explain, though Paschos's contacts in the police would probably cover it up. But did the dead-eyed man with the pistol know all that?

‘What's Alex Mavros to you?' she asked, keeping her eyes off the razor.

‘Never mind. Take the blade.'

‘I can arrange a meeting. He'll come running when I ask him.'

‘Take the blade.' The voice had a harder edge, but it was still low, almost conversational.

‘I know his mother as well.' Angie's eyes met her killer's. ‘Would you like me to introduce you? I'm sure you'd enjoy that.'

‘You're a cold one.'

Angie smiled. ‘On the contrary, it's a sauna in here.'

‘Take the fucking blade!'

She let out a scream, then his other hand was on her mouth. He must have dropped the pistol. She bit down hard, feeling her expensive crowns shear through skin and muscle. She locked her jaws. The razor dropped from his other hand into the water and he hit her hard on the cheek repeatedly. She felt for the blade, knocking it away with her fingers the first time. Then she grasped the handle and whipped it out of the bath, striking him on the side of the head. He pulled away quickly, gasping in pain. Blood fountained horizontally before he jammed his hand against the wound. She felt her teeth move as he tried to wrench away his other hand. She slashed at him again, this time opening a wound higher on his head.

‘Fucking bitch!' he screamed, taking the hand off the wound and scrabbling for the pistol.

There was a dull crack as her crowns left her mouth, but by then she had located the pistol. She pulled herself out of the water and aimed the weapon at the bleeding man. He glared at her, then turned and left.

Angie Poulou looked down. Her shattered teeth were on the floor alongside her assailant's hat. There was a piece of his ear in the bloodied bathwater.

Kloutsis and one of his thugs pushed Mavros and Bitsos against the wall at the rear of the temple and searched them. Mobile phones, keys, watches and the journalist's camera and other equipment were taken. Mavros watched as the robed figures left, none of them casting a backward glance.

‘This way to the underworld, snoopers,' Kloutsis said, taking one of the burning brands from the wall and pushing Mavros into the tunnel. His sidekick also took a light and drove Bitsos after them.

‘You're making a mistake,' Mavros said. ‘Both of us are well known. We'll be missed.'

‘Not by us you won't,' the heavily built man said, swinging the brand at Mavros.

‘I'm a television personality,' Bitsos said.

‘Not down here you're not.'

‘The police in Viotia know where we are,' Mavros said, the damp mineral air sticking in his throat.

Kloutsis laughed. ‘The police in Viotia do what we tell them. Now fucking shut up.'

After five minutes of descent, the flames showed a frame with bars ahead.

‘The miners used to keep their dynamite here,' the other thug said. ‘Got anything explosive to say?'

Mavros and Bitsos watched as a rusty key was put in the lock and the door squealed open.

‘Thought not.'

They were pushed inside and the door slammed after them. The key was turned and removed.

‘Have a nice death,' Kloutsis said, as he and his colleague started the walk back up to the surface. It wasn't long before the lights disappeared completely.

‘Fuck,' said Bitsos.

‘I rather doubt it,' Mavros replied, crawling away from the bars. His head soon banged into a rough wall of rock. ‘No, you're right,' he said. ‘Fuck.'

‘I'm scared of the dark,' the journalist moaned.

Mavros moved closer to him. ‘I think that may be at least part of the point.'

The Fat Man followed the lanky cop's car round the seafront in Paradheisos and towards the faint lights of Kypseli. He was now officially worried, mainly because Alex wasn't answering his phone but also since he'd never trusted a policeman further than he could throw him – and he'd thrown plenty over the years on demonstrations. What option did he have, though? Xanthakos seemed concerned and, surprisingly, was prepared to do something. Whether it would get them any further was another story.

The vehicle ahead stopped in the village's small seaside square. Yiorgos drew up next to him and got out. He looked around anxiously, aware that the Son had been there. Where was the fucker now? Xanthakos had gone over to an unlit building and was knocking on the door.

‘Ecologists for a Better Viotia,' the Fat Man read. ‘This is the group Alex was with. Where are they?'

The deputy commissioner stepped back and scanned the upper storey. ‘I don't know. Maybe they all went across the bay.' He turned to the harbour. ‘There isn't much we can do except wait. We should move the cars out of sight.'

They did so and then sat on the bench by the pier.

‘Why are you doing this?' Yiorgos asked. ‘Shouldn't you be back at home with your giraffe-like wife and kids?'

Xanthakos laughed. ‘I'm not married.' He glanced at his companion. ‘Nor am I likely to be.'

The Fat Man's eyes opened wider. He edged away.

‘Don't worry, it isn't catching.'

‘Better not be. Next you'll be telling me you voted for the Party at the last elections.'

The deputy commissioner grunted. ‘I did, actually. Not that it's done much good. I hoped they would mount more of an opposition to the Olympics.'

Yiorgos shook his head. ‘You're too idealistic for a cop. Anyway, why should workers give up the chance of unlimited overtime with premium wages?'

‘The way I heard it, most of the work at the venues was done by immigrants being paid well below the minimum.'

‘And most of the profits went into the pockets of rich fuckers like the one who owns the HMC plant.'

Xanthakos nodded. ‘It's the way of the world. What do you expect me to do about it?'

The Fat Man glared at him. ‘Catch the thieving shitheads, for a start.' He took a deep breath and coughed. ‘If this pollution isn't illegal, I don't know what is. Why isn't Paschos Poulos behind bars?'

‘Do you want the official reason or the real one?'

‘I know the official one – he hasn't done anything wrong and, besides, cops aren't responsible for factory inspections. The real one?'

‘Is that the HMC, one of Greece's largest companies, provides a large number of jobs in Viotia.' He raised a finger towards Paradheisos. ‘Over two thousand people live there. It would be deserted in weeks if the plant was shut down.'

‘I'm not saying it should be shut down – neither is the Party. But the emissions should be controlled. People are dying.'

Telemachos Xanthakos hung his head. ‘I know. Now maybe you understand why I'm here.'

‘How noble.'

The deputy commissioner looked up at him. ‘You're a hard person to like, you know that?'

‘If Alex comes back safely, I might lighten up.'

Xanthakos flicked the button on his holster. ‘Maybe this is him now.'

The lights of a small boat were approaching, the engine sounding above the rippling waves.

‘Let's withdraw into the bushes,' the policeman said. ‘I don't trust the man at the tiller.'

Yiorgos rubbed his eyes and made out a figure in yellow waterproofs. ‘Is he on his own?'

‘Let's see. Alex may be taking cover from the spray.'

They watched as the fishing boat came closer, the engine revs dropping as it passed the breakwater and drew alongside the pier. The man in yellow manoeuvred skilfully with one foot on the tiller, lassoing a rope over a bollard and then killing the engine.

‘Now!' Xanthakos whispered. ‘You cut round to the right.' He watched the big man go and then stepped out of the darkness.

‘Catch anything worthwhile?' he called, walking quickly towards the boat, service weapon behind his back.

‘Who's that?' called the sailor.

‘Deputy Commissioner Xanthakos, Mr Exarcho. Tell me, what happened to your passengers?' He ducked as a large revolver appeared in the fisherman's hand and a shot rang out. He brought his pistol to bear and loosed off a pair of shots, but the bobbing of the boat didn't help his aim.

Akis Exarchos was on land now, a harpoon glinting in his other hand. He saw where the policeman had gone and raised the gun again. That was when the Fat Man hit him, smothering him with a tackle a linebacker would have been proud of. The revolver skittered across the wooden pier and fell into the water. Two sharp thuds of Akis's other hand on the decking made him release the fish spear. He gasped as his chest began to collapse under the assailant's weight. The muzzle of the deputy commissioner's pistol appeared at the side of his head.

‘OK, you'd better get off him,' Xanthakos said. ‘We need him unflattened.'

Yiorgos rolled away. ‘You all right?' he asked the policeman.

‘Yes. Let's get this madman over to the bench.'

They took Akis under the arms and dragged him over, sitting him down with the pistol against his head.

‘Where's Alex?' the Fat Man demanded, grabbing the fisherman's throat. ‘Alex Mavros – what have you done with him?'

Akis Exarchos tried bravado. ‘I don't know what you're talking about.'

Yiorgos grabbed him by the arms and shook him like a marionette.

‘All right . . . all right . . . I took them . . . to the plant.'

‘Them?' Xanthakos asked.

‘That journalist . . . was with him . . .'

‘What did you do with them over there?' the Fat Man demanded, continuing the shaking.

‘Not . . . not me . . . the faithful . . .'

Yiorgos stopped. ‘Who?'

The fisherman repeated the words, his head down.

‘You mean Epameinondhas Phis, Maria Bekakou—'

Akis's head jerked up. ‘How do you . . .?' The words trailed away.

‘Have you got enough fuel to go back?' the deputy commissioner demanded.

The fisherman nodded. ‘I need to fill the tank.'

‘Right, here's what you're going to do,' Xanthakos continued. ‘You take us to where you landed with the others and then you show us where they are.'

‘I don't know where they were taken,' Akis said, avoiding their eyes.

‘Then you'll find out from the so-called faithful,' the policeman said, pressing the muzzle hard against his captive's cheek. ‘Or I'll put a bullet in your brain.'

The Fat Man glanced at him. ‘Steady, Mr Cop,' he said, but he was impressed.

‘Check the boat for anything this piece of shit could use against us, will you?'

Yiorgos went over and dumped poles, knives and hooks overboard.

‘Thanks a lot,' the fisherman said, after he'd been marched to the boat, carrying fuel cans. ‘I don't know if she'll take your weight.'

The Fat Man grinned. ‘In that case, I'll take you down with me.'

The fuel was transferred and the engine started. In minutes they were out in the darkness of the bay, heading for the infernal lights of the HMC plant.

‘Are they going to leave us here?' Bitsos asked, his voice rasping. ‘I'm dying of thirst already.

‘I'd say the former is a distinct possibility,' Mavros replied. His throat felt like it was covered in thorns. ‘We know too much.'

‘Speak for yourself. I'm struggling to understand how this all hangs together.'