Mykonos After Midnight (20 page)

Chapter Twenty-seven

Andreas sat behind his desk, watching Kouros read the transcript. He’d twice called out for Maggie, only to catch himself and get what he needed on his own. He didn’t want to think about what life in the office would be like if she never came back. Or Tassos.

Kouros looked up.

“So, what do you think?” said Andreas.

“Sounds like an educated caller. Not a run-of-the-mill hood.”

“Might not even be a hood. At least not of the traditional sort.”

“You mean it could be someone who does business with Teacher?”

Andreas nodded. “A politician, military, journalist, maybe even a cop. But educated.”

“How does the caller tie into Sergey?”

“I don’t think there is a connection between the caller and Sergey. If the caller had something to do with Christos’ murder or was tied in with Sergey or Teacher in whatever they have planned for Mykonos, why would it risk telling Tassos anything, no matterhow big a favor it owed Tassos’ Europol inspector friend? The caller would have to know that Tassos was looking for the information to go after Sergey.”

“I’d still like to know who the caller was.”

“Me too, but since the caller doesn’t seem to have anything to do with our problems, and we don’t have the manpower to allow us the luxury of satisfying our natural curiosity, let’s just accept the caller’s message for the gift that it was and go on from there.”

“And where precisely would ‘there’ be?” said Kouros.

“If we assume that Sergey’s financial backer and likely boss is Teacher, and it sure looks that she is, why is she involved in this hotel deal with Sergey? It seems such small potatoes for Teacher and her crowd. I don’t see a payday coming out of it anywhere close to what she must make everyday extorting drug dealers and sex traffickers. She must have something else in mind for the hotel. Something that made them so desperate for Christos’ files that they kidnapped and tortured a cop.”

“I see…. We’re back to where we started. Nowhere.”

Andreas tapped a pencil on his desk. “Wacki?”

“Not yet, but give me time.”

“Glad your sense of humor’s back.” He flipped the pencil at Kouros, who caught it in mid-air.

“If Teacher is as infamous with Eastern European bad guys as the caller said, I can’t imagine that Wacki doesn’t at least know about her.”

Kouros twirled the pencil between his fingers. “And from the way big-ego Wacki is playing seeing-eye dog for Sergey, my bet is he’s doing it because Teacher told him to.”

Andreas nodded. “Nothing else makes sense. I think it’s time we head back to Mykonos.”

“Are we still hiding out or am I free to till the soil?”

“I won’t ask what that means. But, yes, we’re done hiding out. After all, we’re national heroes.”

“Good, that should help with the tilling.”

Andreas smiled. “And I know the perfect hotel for national heroes.”

***

Sergey had spent thirty-six hours sunning, dining, drinking, dancing, and demonstrating to all of Mykonos his presence there. It was difficult to miss him and his entourage of three Asian, African, and Irish beauties. The women were almost as tall as he, and when clothed––as opposed to virtually naked on the most prominent beach on the island––they dressed in white linen accented by earrings, necklaces, and bracelets of solid gold.

They danced together in the style and form of proper ballet as Sergey undulated and swayed among them, dressed in skintight blue and white, his silver hair flowing freely about his face.

No one could take their eyes off him.

But, now, with the first news of Tassos’ rescue, Sergey had disappeared. No one, not even Wacki, had seen him for a day. He’d left firm instructions not to be disturbed by anyone, a not-unusual request to the hotel front desk from one who partied as hard as Sergey.

But Sergey had not slept. He kept running over in his mind how Andreas and Kouros could possibly have found Tassos.

There must have been a betrayal, he thought. There was always a betrayal. It was to be expected. That was why betrayal must be punished harshly and swiftly.

Wacki was the likely one. But he’d not known anything of the plan. He only knew of Sergey’s meeting with the Albanian. Perhaps now, with all the news, he’d guessed that was the purpose of the meeting. But he had no way of knowing before.

Sergey stared at the wall.

Unless the police came to Wacki after Stamatos disappeared and pressured him into talking about Sergey’s meeting with the Albanian. That would have given them the lead they needed to find the cop. He should look into that.

Perhaps the men the Albanian used were simply inept and made a mistake that betrayed their location. No matter, it was still betrayal. Failure was betrayal, and it had to be punished.

Teacher would want that.

He nodded.

Thankfully, I did not fail. My plan was right. It was those charged with carrying it out who had failed.

Indeed, his plan had eliminated a false lead. Stamatos did not talk because he did not have the files. But now Sergey was certain who did: Stamatos’ two cop colleagues, Kaldis and Kouros.

Yes, we are closer to our goal because of my plan.

But he would not seek praise from Teacher by informing her of his success just yet. He would wait until he had the files. It should not be difficult. Kaldis and the other cop saw what happened to their friend. They would not want to risk similar fates for themselves. Or their families.

But Sergey knew he must hurry. He couldn’t afford to have Teacher become impatient for results.

***

Teacher had not heard from Sergey in two days. No matter, she wanted him to show initiative, learn to function on his own. Besides, she’d heard from Wacki and knew what was happening, even if Wacki hadn’t quite figured it out correctly.

Wacki first called to say Sergey was partying with hookers 24/7, as wildly as a profligate tourist liberated from the prohibitions of his homeland.

That worried her.

Wacki’s most recent call was about the kidnapping and rescue of the cop, and of a one-on-one meeting Wacki had arranged for Sergey with the Albanian whose people had been killed and captured in the rescue.

She was no longer worried. Sergey’s wildly visible behavior was his obvious alibi for the kidnapping. Everyone knew where he was every moment of that time.Yes, there were details Sergey had neglected to mention to her, but that was understandable and not as if he had lied to her. After all, children did strive to please their Teacher.

In her world one learned to deal with surprises, adversity, and police. This mess was of Sergey’s own making. It would serve as a test of his capacity to overcome far more brutal challenges yet to come if they were to succeed on Mykonos. And if they failed, she had no risk or exposure beyond an amount of money less than what she generated in a day on just the interest on her bank accounts.

But failure was not an option. There was far too much more at stake than her investment.

Teacher hadn’t told Sergey what first captured her interest in his proposal, and doubted even now that he realized the full potential of what he’d stumbled upon. Since antiquity, East and West met in Greece to engineer fortunes later made together in other lands. American presidents meeting Saudi princes on Greek-owned yachts and British and Russian leaders sharing unobserved pilgrimages to isolated Greek locales were but modern celebrated examples of a long tradition of highly profitable international intrigues. That relaxed style of doing business remained as integral to the fabric of Greek life today as it was to the ancients.

It did not matter to Teacher’s plans whether Greece stayed in the EU or not, because Mykonos would prosper on or off the euro and the country would remain unstable long enough for her to establish and consolidate her presence on the island. Nor did it matter if the hate-mongering, anti-immigrant element in parliament rose to greater power. She knew that sort well; they attacked the weak and defenseless, not the organized and ruthless. Besides, if necessary, it would be no problem to purchase their cooperation.

In her plans for Mykonos, Teacher saw the opportunity for expanding her influence far beyond the Eastern block. The murdered club owner, Christos Vasilakis, had the right idea: Once you had the rich and powerful living out their fantasies under your roof you owned them forever, as long as your demands were manageable. Mykonos was the perfect venue for creating such a magical draw, because major players from around the world already flocked there each summer looking to party, many open to irresistible temptations of the sort Teacher knew would soon have them using their influence to help her reach out across the world.

Things would be different in those new lands. There she’d leave behind her old practices and preach a different message, one of love, understanding, and forgiveness. Many others had done the same: Left behind their dark dealings with the devil that had amassed them fortunes and moved on to build golden bridges to heaven through good works. Mykonos was Teacher’s chance at redemption, at reuniting with her slain children in heaven.

And all that she hoped for would come to pass if Sergey simply did as he’d promised.

He dare not disappoint me.

***

The room clerk wasn’t sure he’d understood the request. “We want a room up against that Russian bastard’s ass.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t understand.”

“I said, ‘We want a room up against that Russian bastard’s ass.’”

Andreas raised his hand. “What my colleague means is that we would like a room adjoining Mr. Tishchenko’s.’”

“Sorry, sir, but there is none available.”

“Does that mean they’re all occupied or just ‘not available?’” said Andreas.

The clerk forced a smile. “It means just what I said. Now if you’ll excuse me there are guests behind you waiting to check in.”

“No reason to show attitude, fella,” said Andreas.

“I’m not. I’m answering your question. Now, please,” and he waved for the couple behind Andreas to step forward.

Andreas looked at the couple. They were in their sixties and appeared American. Andreas spoke in English. “We’re going to be a while here. Perhaps several hours. Why don’t you come back later?”

The clerk raised his voice. “How dare you speak to guests of our hotel like that. If you don’t leave immediately I shall call the police.”

Andreas smiled. “You’re new on the island, aren’t you?” He pulled out his badge.

The clerk glared at Andreas. “Those rooms are reserved for special guests of the owner. I cannot do anything without his permission.”

“Then get it. We’re not budging until we have the room.”

The clerk placed a call and explained the situation to the person on the other end of the line. You could hear screaming through the phone. The clerk handed the phone to Andreas. “He wants to speak to you.”

Andreas took the phone. “Hello there.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are coming into my hotel and trying to strong-arm a room out of my clerk? I’ll have your fucking badge.”

“I love it when you talk dirty, Lefteris. I’m looking forward to many more such moments over the next several days as I watch you match invoices against every good and service purchased by every guest of your hotel and restaurants over the past year. Who knows where we’ll go from there?”

A decided pause came from the other end of the line. “Who is this?”

“You don’t recognize me? I’m hurt. It’s Andreas.”

“Kaldis?”

“In the flesh.”

“Why didn’t you tell me it was you in the first place? Of course you can have the room. As my guest.”

“No need for that.”

“Why of course, you’re a national hero.”

“So, you heard?”

“How could I not? Terrible thing. How’s Tassos?”

“Better,” he lied.

“I’ll pray for him.”

“Thanks. So, what have you heard about who did the kidnapping?”

“Only what’s on the news.”

“Lefteris,
mou
. Don’t con me. It doesn’t become you.”

“I’m not.”

“I’m sure. But why don’t you come over for a coffee anyway?”

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

“Fine. I’ll come by after you’re set up in your room.”

“Sounds good. Here, I’ll give you back to your clerk.”

Andreas handed the phone to the clerk. Screaming began immediately and ended abruptly. The clerk handed Andreas a key. “Sorry, sir, may I help you with your bags?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Andreas turned to the couple behind him. “Sorry about that.”

The man said, “No problem. We haven’t had this much excitement since leaving Pittsburgh. Just wish we understood what was happening.”

“Me too.”

***

Andreas and Kouros sat at a table by the hotel pool, watching tourists stream into town along the harborfront road.

“Where do they all come from?” said Kouros.

“Take your pick. I count two enormous, three huge, and two large cruise boats anchored between here and the new port.”

“There must be more buses than motorbikes on the road into town from the new port.”

Andreas nodded. “And all headed this way loaded with tourists expecting Mykonos to live up to its reputation as the place to visit for wildly sensual experiences.”

Kouros shook his head. “It’s hard to imagine where they expect to find one in the few hours they’re in port. Most won’t even make it to a beach. It’s all about wandering through the town in herds.”

“Too bad they don’t spend money here. They’re told on the boats that ‘Mykonos is expensive,’ and so they shy away from purchasing anything but the most touristic trinkets. And with all their onboard food and drink for free, it’s the rare cruise boat tourist who buys more than a coffee in town.”

“Sounds like a huge potential market to exploit,” said Kouros.

“Yeah, but if someone figures out how to do it, a dozen others will knock off the concept immediately, killing the idea for everyone. One frozen yogurt shop today, a half dozen more tomorrow.”

“I guess the trick is to come up with something that will attract tourist money but can’t be imitated.”