The Oracle (41 page)

He went to the hotel they had been staying at, where he learned that Norman Shields had gone off that afternoon with a beautiful girl. From the porter’s description, it sounded just like Mireille.

All here. They’d all passed through here. But why? And where had they gone to? He went back to the motel and picked up his key at the front desk. There was already a message waiting for him: ‘He’s meeting Ari Malidis at eleven o’clock tonight at the excavation site, at the guest house where Malidis lives. He has already spotted Vlassos in town and is out of his mind. Don’t get it wrong this time.’

He went to knock at Vlassos’s room, and the sergeant came to the door in his underwear. ‘Thought I’d lie down for a few minutes, Captain. Something new?’

‘Listen. I’ve found out that our man is going to be at the guest quarters of the archaeological site down by the river at eleven o’clock tonight. It’s a good place, isolated. There’s a little church right nearby; I’ll be able to keep an eye on the place from there. I’ll wait until he goes in; it’s better that we do our business indoors. As soon as I’m ready to go in I’ll signal you with my walkie-talkie and you come in through the back. Got it?’

‘You bet. But why don’t you let me go in first? You promised you’d let me have first crack at him. You promised, remember?’

‘Of course I remember. And I want to take him alive, if I can. Before I send him off to hell I want to ask him a few things, and you’re the best person I know to get someone to sing. There’s an old abandoned sheep pen on the mountainside nearby. We’ll take him there so we won’t be disturbed.’

‘That’s the way I like it, Captain.’ He took out the case with his gear and started to inspect and to test the long-barrelled Beretta calibre 9 and the sharpshooter’s rifle with its infrared sights. He tossed it from one hand to the other, aimed to shoot, pretended to pull the trigger.

‘And the old man? What are we going to do with him?’

‘He’s alone and there will be no witnesses. Still, it’s best not to kill him if we can avoid it. We’ll tell him that we’re arresting Setti and have to interrogate him.’

Karamanlis began to check his gun as well, loading it with great care and precision.

‘One more thing, Vlassos.’

‘What?’

‘You have to be ready for the unexpected. This might even be a trap, you know, to lure us to where they want us. Someone else might show up – the guy who gave me this tip, actually. He’s about fifty, medium height. And he’s tough. The last time I saw him he was wearing a black leather jacket and a light-coloured sweater. If you see him, watch out. He could take you out before you have the chance to bat an eyelid.’

‘But didn’t you say he was the guy who saved my skin at Portolagos?’

‘He saved you, all right, but I don’t think it makes a difference. We don’t know anything about him. Not even his name. We can’t trust him. Just watch out, I’m telling you. Maybe it’ll all go smoothly, but you watch your ass.’

They left the motel separately, each with a walkie-talkie to stay in contact, Vlassos at ten, to stake himself out in a concealed spot from which he could keep an eye on the rear door of the guest house and the road from town, Karamanlis shortly afterwards, heading towards the deconsecrated church located on the hillside above the Oracle of the Dead. The entrance to the guest quarters was directly in front of him, at a short distance. Anyone who went in or out would be within range. It was chilly, but the breeze still carried the residual mildness of the late autumn day.

Suddenly, headlights illuminated the top of the little bell tower and Karamanlis saw a car descending alongside the church and stopping in front of the guest house. An elderly man got out: Aristotelis Malidis. Okay, so far so good. He looked at his watch: ten-thirty.

The old man held a wrapped bundle under his left arm, while he unlocked the door to the little house with his right and switched on the lights inside. He went through a second door and when he reappeared in the main room a few minutes later he was no longer carrying the bundle. He had a torch in his hand, which he switched off and put in a drawer. He sat down and turned on the TV.

Karamanlis didn’t lose sight of him for a second through his binoculars, and called Vlassos every few minutes to check on the situation.

At just a few minutes before eleven, another light slashed through the darkness, and a second car approached the guest house. Vlassos had seen it as well. ‘Is it him, boss? Is it him?’ he hissed over the walkie-talkie.

‘How the hell do I know if I can’t see him? But I think it must be. You stay ready to come in through the back, but make sure first that there’s no one anywhere around you.’

‘All right. I’ll wait for your signal.’

The car, a small Alfa Romeo with Italian plates, stopped with the driver’s door practically touching the front entrance. A man got out and slipped into the house. Karamanlis couldn’t even get a glimpse.

He put down his pistol and picked up the binoculars, looking through the window: he saw him for a second before the old man closed the blinds, and his inveterate policeman’s heart skipped a beat: it was him! Claudio Setti!

He was wearing an army jacket, his hair was dishevelled and he had a couple of days’ beard. It was him. The guy who had broken Roussos’s bones, dragging him by his heel with an ice hook, the one who had riddled Karagheorghis with a rain of stalactites, who had nailed Vlassos to the ground and half castrated him. The guy who ten years ago had left the Athens police station nearly dead in the trunk of a car, stuck in there with his girlfriend’s bloody, raped corpse. All these thoughts exploded in Captain Karamanlis’s mind and convinced him that there was not enough room in the world for both of them after all that had happened. What good would it do to capture or interrogate him? He screwed the silencer on to his gun barrel. He would kill him straight off, and the old guy too. He’d have plenty of time to get rid of their bodies.

‘Vlassos,’ he said softly into the walkie-talkie.

‘I’m here, Captain.’

‘He just walked in. It’s him, no doubt about it. Check your watch. When I give you the go-ahead you’ll have ten seconds to come through the back. I’ll go in the front. Is there anyone around?’

‘No, don’t worry. Not a soul.’

‘Good, no one on this side either. All right . . . Now!’

Karamanlis was up against the door in a few seconds; when his watch gave him the ten-seconds-up signal, he kicked the door wide open and burst in, gun levelled. He heard Vlassos smashing through the back door and yelling ‘No one move!’

Ari jumped and backed up to the wall, raising his hands above his head.

‘Where’s the kid?’ shouted Karamanlis. ‘Vlassos, fast, search this shithole and watch out for the other guy I told you about. He’s screwed us again, God damn him!’

Vlassos ran back through the door he’d come in, and a moment later they heard his agitated footsteps up the stairs, all over the second floor and then outside down at the archaeological site.

‘Where is he?’ insisted Karamanlis, pointing his pistol at the old man’s throat.

‘I don’t know,’ said Ari.

‘I’ll blow your brains out if you don’t answer. You have two seconds.’ He pulled the firing pin. ‘One . . .’

The roar of the Alfa Romeo exploded in the courtyard. The window glass and the walls were machine-gunned with a hail of stones flung up by the wheels of the car which shot off like a bullet down the road to Preveza.

Karamanlis released Ari and ran out as Vlassos dashed around the corner of the house. Karamanlis shot repeatedly at the car, but he hadn’t had time to take off the silencer and his range was not sufficient. When Vlassos started shooting with the rifle, the car was already behind a curve, and when it reappeared for a second slightly further on, he had no time even to take aim before it disappeared again.

‘Shit, shit, shit!’ howled Karamanlis, pounding his fist against the wall. Vlassos’s glance fell to his pistol: ‘Captain, why the silencer? You would have got him without the silencer.’

Karamanlis wheeled around in a rage: ‘It’s my fucking business why, all right! Shut the fuck up!’

They went back in and Vlassos lifted Ari up by the collar from the seat he’d fallen over on to: ‘This pretty boy will tell us where the kid went in his Alfa Romeo. Won’t you, gramps?’

‘Well?’ demanded Karamanlis. Ari shook his head. Karamanlis gestured towards Vlassos, who struck the old man with a strong back-handed blow. Ari fell to the ground, his mouth full of blood.

‘I’ll tear your balls off, you ugly slobbering old fucker, if you don’t tell me where he went,’ Vlassos yelled. Ari replied with a groan. Karamanlis nodded again, and Vlassos started beating the old man, hitting his stomach, his face, his groin.

‘That’s enough, for now,’ said Karamanlis. ‘I want him to talk, not die.’ Ari struggled to sit up, back to the wall. ‘Well?’

‘You’ll never get him,’ he muttered.

‘That remains to be seen. You tell us where he’s headed if you want us to stop.’

‘Wouldn’t help. By now he has a different car, different documents. He’ll already have changed his clothes and the colour of his hair. You’ll never catch him. But he will get you . . .’ Vlassos raised his fist, but Karamanlis stopped him this time.

‘No, leave him alone. It won’t help.’

‘Let’s kill him now. This old bastard knows too much.’

‘He hasn’t said a thing. Why should he talk now? Right, old man?’

‘I haven’t said a word,’ said Ari, ‘but not out of fear. I’m just waiting for the day you’ll be punished. If there is any punishment that can match what you’ve done.’

‘Where is Claudio Setti?’ asked Karamanlis again.

‘Tomorrow night he’ll be in Turkey. Maybe by sea, maybe by land. See? You don’t stand a chance. You’ll never find him. But he will find you, when the time is right.’

‘We’ll see about that,’ said Karamanlis. He then turned to Vlassos: ‘Let’s get out of here.’ They left, slamming the door, and returned to their cars. Karamanlis was back in his motel room before midnight. He dropped on to the bed, his head aching. How could it have happened? He had watched him as he walked into the house and greeted the old man. A minute later he was no longer there. What had he come for? To get something? Or to leave something? Just to be seen? Or to fuck him over? Had someone warned him? And now how the hell would he find him? Blast it all! It was like having scabies and not being able to scratch.

‘How did it go, Captain Karamanlis?’ The voice sounded from the end of the room as the table lamp lit up, revealing the man sitting behind it.

Karamanlis started: ‘How did you get in?’

‘They let me in. Didn’t you say at the front desk that your TV wasn’t working?’

‘My TV? Oh, God damn you.’

‘Well?’

‘It went badly. Very badly. He got away and we have no idea where he’s headed. Turkey, maybe. And now if you would like to get the fuck out of here . . .’

‘The information I gave you was exact.’

‘The information you give me is always exact, but there always turns out to be some fuck-up.’

‘Because you are incompetent.’

‘Go to hell!’

‘Fine. But let me inform you that you will be taken off the previous homicides and the attempted homicide at Portolagos, and someone else will be taking over the investigation. You will probably be investigated yourself. Almost certainly. Some explanation must be found for all this. And you, Captain, are the best explanation. Once your head has fallen, the case will be closed, and everyone will be happy.’

‘I don’t believe you. Nothing will happen. You don’t count for anything.’

‘Optimism is a good quality. I hope that everything goes as well as you hope. Goodbye, Karamanlis,’ he said, walking towards the door.

‘Wait.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘No one cares about an old mastiff who’s lost his teeth, do they?’

‘Unfortunately.’

‘Even if he’s always served faithfully, risked his life . . .’

‘Isn’t it a pity.’

‘It’s a fucking world.’

‘It is.’

‘What card do I have left to play?’

‘Either kill Claudio Setti or turn yourself in and confess to everything.’

‘Why don’t you kill him, damn you?’

‘You are a fool, Karamanlis. Consider me the explicit but informal expression of the powers that be. The collaboration I offer you is already a great sign of our appreciation that you do not seem to understand. I cannot act personally for the simple reason that you are the one who has committed such a serious transgression without succeeding in preventing or suffocating the consequences. A good policeman can get away with anything, but he must be able to cover it up.’

‘Can I . . . can I still find him?’

‘There is one hope.’

‘What is it?’

‘His friend Michel Charrier is looking for him, and we have reason to believe that he may know where he is. He’s driving the blue Rover that you are familiar with, and he’s somewhere between here and Alexandroupolis. It shouldn’t be too difficult to locate him and follow him. Remember, even if you don’t find Setti, he will surely find you. But the choice of the battlefield may be important. Decisive, even. Goodnight, Karamanlis.’