Mykonos After Midnight (15 page)

Chapter Twenty-one

Syros lay forty-five minutes due west of Mykonos by fast boat, in the north central region of the Cyclades. The island’s architecture varied from town to town, but was heavily influenced by romantic classicism and differed substantially from traditional Cycladic forms, as did the muted, slight peach cast to its capital city of Ermoupoli.

The Zodiac entered Syros’ harbor at Ermoupoli from the east, aiming toward a long concrete dock running in front of the customs house and port authority headquarters on the right side. Off to the left loomed shipyards that once were the busiest in Greece, but that was long ago. So, too, were the island’s modern glory days.

Phoenicians were the first known inhabitants of Syros, naming the island from their word for “wealth,” and later occupiers, pirates, and Syriots seeking precisely that same prize brought boom and bust times to the millennia that followed. Syros’ last great aristocratic run, as Greece’s nineteenth century ship building and repair center, ended at the close of that century with the opening of the Corinth Canal and the harbor and shipyards at Athens’ port city of Piraeus.

Syros still had its stunning neo-classical buildings, streets paved with marble, and opera house––some said the first in Greece––but there was no question the glory had faded. No more than four hundred of the island’s twenty-five thousand residents still worked in its shipyards and though known for agriculture, the island’s main role now was as the political center of the Cyclades.

Wacki pointed beyond the shipyards at the shell of a building all the way across the semicircular harbor. “That building is
Lazaretta.
It was built in the 1840s to quarantine anyone arriving by sea who might be carrying plague. Later it was used as a prison but hasn’t been in a hundred years. Maybe they’ll re-open it for Stamatos and his buddies. It’s probably the only prison in Greece with no one inside who wants a piece of them.” He laughed.

“Where does Stamatos live?” asked Sergey.

“On the sea on the other side of the island, about four miles outside of town. It’s a village called Kini. But he won’t be there. My people told me that if he’s not in his office at police headquarters up on that hill,” Wacki pointed at building on a bluff above and to the right of the customs house, “he’s usually in a taverna on a side street just off the harbor.”

They tied up in front of port authority headquarters and walked toward a line of cafe umbrellas, chairs, and tables perched off to the left along a narrow concrete apron between the sea and a two-lane harborfront road. Directly across the road were the tavernas, bars, and cafes servicing those who chose to sit outdoors by the sea. Waiters darted back and forth among the two-way traffic carrying trays filled with food, drink, and the remains of both.

They crossed at a small square, turned left and walked along the harbor road for a few blocks before turning right. Dead ahead and four blocks away was City Hall. It was by far the island’s most dominant building, a football field-size neoclassical beauty, sitting behind an even larger town square.

Wacki stopped at a seven-foot wide alley on the left. “Police headquarters used to be up by city hall until the government moved it onto that hill I pointed out from the harbor. But Stamatos still hangs out down here.”

They turned into the alley and walked about twenty yards before Wacki stopped. “That’s it. The next taverna on the left.”

It was a cozy looking place set off from the quiet, white and gray marble-paved street by a line of potted oleander and tamarind.

Sergey peeked through the leaves. Three old men sat drinking coffee at a table near the front watching two younger men at a table next to them play backgammon. Toward the rear, next to the kitchen, two men at a table were talking. One looked to be a cook. The other was Tassos.

Sergey took a deep breath. “Translate
exactly
what I say, word for word. And do precisely the same thing for whatever comes out of his cop mouth, no matter what it is, even a cough. Do you understand?”

Wacki nodded.

“I said, ‘
Do you understand
?’
”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good. Just translate.
Don’t think.
”

Sergey reached behind his head, pulled out the elastic band holding his hair in a bun, and shook his head. He ran his fingers quickly through his hair and headed for the entrance to the taverna.

***

Tassos’ eyes were fixed on Sergey from the moment he came through the taverna door headed straight at him. When Tassos saw Wacki he said, “Ah, sorry there, Sergey, didn’t recognize you with your hair down.”

Sergey said in English. “I would like to speak to you.”

“I don’t speak English very well.”

“That’s why Wacki is here.”

“This should be fun. Okay, guys, sit down.” Tassos looked at the other man at his table. “Could you excuse us, Niko?”

Niko got up and went into the kitchen.

“So, what can I do for you?” said Tassos.

Sergey leaned in and fixed his stare on Tassos’ eyes. “You have something I want.”

Wacki translated.

“Good choice. The coffee’s terrific here. Shall I call a waiter?”

Wacki translated.

“Don’t play games with me, I may be the only friend you have left in Greece.”

“Thanks to you no doubt.”

“Don’t blame the messenger. You’re the one who took what did not belong to you. Is it my fault that your police colleagues are prepared to ruin you and your two friends over something they’re not even certain exists?”

“But you’re certain.”

“Let us say I have more faith in you than do your comrades. I do not think you would have allowed things to go this far if there wasn’t something important in that briefcase.”

Sergey studied Tassos’ face for any change of expression as Wacki translated ‘briefcase.’ There was none.

“What briefcase?”

Sergey smiled. “The one you brought out onto the runway to meet your friends, Kaldis and Kouros, the morning after you found what you carried in that case.”

Tassos shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The same briefcase you and your friends spent an hour together with alone in the airport director’s office.”

Tassos shrugged again. “Is there a point to all this? Or are you just trying to impress me with how interested you are in my luggage? I can give you the name of the store where I bought it. It’s right around the corner from here.”

“I don’t think you realize just how valuable an asset you possess.”

Tassos smiled. “My girlfriend tells me the same thing all the time.”

Sergey kept staring. “I have a serious business proposition. One that will make your girlfriend even happier. It is the kind of offer that will set you for life.”

Tassos shook his head. “I hate those kinds of offers. The deal usually includes a dramatically shortened life span. In my experience people who make those sorts of offers don’t like having extra partners around once they get what they want.”

“I am talking about a one-time, up front payment.”

“My, my, you must really want whatever you think I have. After all, I could say that I had it, take your money, and never deliver.”

“You would not be so foolish as to do anything like that if you knew whose money you would be taking.”

Tassos threw his hands up in front of his face. “Whoa, you mean it’s not your money?”

“Does it matter? Your country is in ruins. Everyone is taking from anyone who will give. You should know that by now. If not, you must learn.”

“And I bet you have the perfect teacher in mind.” said Tassos.

Wacki’s face turned white, and he hesitated.

“What’s the matter, Wacki, don’t you know the English word? It’s ‘
teacher
.’” Tassos said his emphasized word in English.

Sergey switched his stare to Wacki. “What is he saying? And why are you talking about Teacher?”

Wacki swallowed. “He said, ‘And I bet you have the perfect teacher in mind.’”

Sergey quickly refocused on Tassos. “You and your countrymen must learn to accommodate a new world order. Greece no longer has the unconditional support of the West. It must now look to the East for help. My purpose in coming here is to do great good for the people of Mykonos, to help them through difficult financial times such as they’ve not experienced in decades.”

“Save your speech for the mayor, Sergey. Even if I were interested, I don’t have what you want. And I have no idea where it is, assuming it even exists.”

“I am so sorry you feel that way. Things will only get worse. You do know that, don’t you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sergey looked away. “You and your friends are outcasts. You’re dirty cops. And once the media is done with you, no one will do you any favors. Even your friend here will make you pay for coffee. And when you come to me later begging to make a deal, the price will be much less.”

Tassos nodded and stared down at his coffee cup. “I lied before.”

Sergey refixed his stare on Tassos. “How so?”

“The coffee’s not that good. I won’t miss it.” He looked up and smiled at Sergey.

Sergey stood up from the table. “I swear on my mother that you will.” He turned and stormed toward the door.

“Hey!” Tassos yelled to Wacki as he hurried to catch up with Sergey. “Tell your boss I didn’t know he had a mother. But I’m sure she must be very proud.”

***

Sergey said not a word as he marched from the taverna toward the boat. Wacki kept trying to get him to speak.

“I don’t think he meant our Teacher. I was just startled when he used the word. I mean, how could he possibly know about Teacher? Who would have told him?”

Sergey glanced at Wacki. “For your sake, pray that you’re right.”

Wacki nodded, shut up, and concentrated on trying to keep in step with Sergey.

As they neared the boat Sergey said, “I want you to set up a meeting for me as soon as I get back to Mykonos. It has to be an out-of-the-way place where no one will see us.”

“Sure, who are we meeting?”

“
We’re
not meeting anyone. Just me and whoever heads the Albanian mob on Mykonos. I want a one-on-one, no witnesses meeting. Understand?”

Wacki swallowed hard. And prayed the meeting wouldn’t be about him.

***

“I hope you boys are enjoying your holiday,” said Tassos.

“I think Yianni is beginning to find life as a suntan lotion tester appealing.”

“Not a bad choice considering our current alternatives.”

“Where are you calling from?”

“Syros. I just had a wonderful chat with Sergey and Wacki.”

“Where?”

“They paid me a surprise visit while I was having coffee at my friend Niko’s place.”

“What did they want?”

“To make me a very rich man.”

“Just you?”

“I’m sure he’d be willing to expand the crowd. Son of a bitch really wants those files. Someone must have spotted us at the airport with the briefcase and Sergey figured out what was inside. He even threatened me.”

“I didn’t know he spoke Greek well enough to do that.”

“Wacki translated for him. Did a pretty good job too. Only one screwup so far as I could tell, and from the way he looked and Sergey reacted, it might have meant something.”

“What was it?”

“Sergey was saying how I should learn to play along, and I tried pulling his chain by saying he probably knew the ‘perfect teacher.’ When I said ‘teacher’ Wacki practically choked. He didn’t translate the word, and I thought he didn’t know it in English. I did, so I said it in English. That set Sergey off on Wacki about why I was talking about ‘teacher.’ I know enough English to tell Sergey was talking about ‘teacher’ as if teacher were a person.”

“Who’s ‘teacher?’”

“I don’t know, I was hoping you might.”

“Not a clue.”

“No problem, I have a friend at Europol I can run it by. I’ll give him a call when we hang up. He might know something.”

“We sure could use a break.”

“And soon. I hate being off the job. First time in more than––”

“I know a hundred years.”

“Sure feels like it at times. Take care. I’ve got to get back to my coffee commitments. I’m a busy man these days.
Yiasou
.”

Andreas put down the phone. It was the house phone, so unlikely to be tapped as no one other than Tassos, Lila, and Maggie knew he was there. Or so he hoped.

Time to join Yianni for some fun in the sun, he thought. Andreas hadn’t been a cop for anywhere near as long as Tassos, but he knew one thing for sure: Enjoy the downtime when you could, because the monsters lurking out there would be back soon enough.

***

Sergey stopped on a dirt path that wound east away from the windmills along a ledge overlooking the water. He stood behind the other government-built hotel in town, a modernism gem designed by legendary Greek architect Aris Konstantinidis, and looked west at a small church sitting on a rise above the sea, just below and southeast of the windmills. Wacki had picked it as the place for Sergey’s one-on-one meeting with the Albanian, assuring Sergey the church would be empty and only tourists came that way at this time of day.

Besides, the Albanian was not comfortable meeting with what he called “a Russian with big ideas” at a deserted spot. Sergey couldn’t blame him. Life often ended abruptly in his line of work. No reason to take chances.

But now that the meeting was over and they’d reached an understanding, things should work smoothly from here on out. Each had something the other needed.

Everything was falling into place. Too bad for those cops. They’d had their chance.

***

When not at home or in his office at police headquarters, Tassos always parked his car at Syros’ city hall in spaces reserved for government officials. Suspended or not he wasn’t about to change his routine. Besides, no one would dare stop him and he didn’t give a damn about whatever bullshit the media might say about him, assuming any had the balls to come to Syros and confront him.

It was close to midnight, and Tassos’ plans for coffee only and an early night had turned into
ouzo
,
tsipouro
, and whiskey with friends. He generally didn’t drink much, but he was pissed off and Maggie wasn’t around to keep him in line. He’d spoken to his Europol contact who promised to check if they had anything on a “teacher” character and get right back to him. That was hours ago. He’d better press him first thing in the morning.