Mykonos After Midnight (4 page)

He looked into her eyes, smiled, slid his hands up to around her throat and squeezed again, forcing her head underwater as he did.

Chapter Five

Andreas carefully avoided touching anything in the briefcase with his fingers. He used the eraser end of a pencil to push around among ledgers, recording tapes, DVDs, CDs, flash drives, photographs and dozens of sealed envelopes.

“What’s all this?” said Andreas?

“Like I said, the contents of Christos’ second safe.”

Andreas spoke through taut lips. “Why didn’t you mention any of this in your report?”

Tassos tapped his fingers along the open lid of the case, his face angry. “My friend, if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking…” He paused and gave a broad smile, “I completely understand why. But I assure you those days are behind me. Besides, if I were intent on, shall we say, an unofficial confiscation, the last cops I’d bring in on the deal would be The Lone Ranger and his sidekick.”

“I thought you didn’t like American western movies,” said Kouros.

Tassos shot the open palm equivalent of a middle finger in Kouros’ direction but kept his eyes on Andreas. “Do you get my point?”

Andreas’ face relaxed. “Okay, but what’s in there that’s so important you have us acting like spooks in a B movie.”

“Fair question. With the aid of a pair of latex gloves I saw enough in the ledgers to explain how Christos managed to keep so many of Greece’s major players and public officials on his side for decades.”

“If you’re saying you’ve found evidence of corruption, I’m shocked.” Andreas raised his hands as if surprised. “Greek government officials taking bribes? My, my, what is our country coming to?”

“No one’s going to care,” said Kouros. “All the world knows they’re goddamned crooks.”

“
Thinks
they’re crooks,” said Andreas. “But good luck on getting a prosecution. I spend more time trying to light fires under prosecutors than chasing bad guys.”

“Fellas, give me some credit. If this were just about payoffs we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Yes, the ledgers show a lot of bribes to a lot of important people, but bribes only guaranteed their loyalty until someone else offered the corrupt bastards more than Christos did.

“Christos’ real influence was what he had on virtually every politician and family in Greece that’s mattered over the last forty years. It’s all described in the ledgers. Enough toxic events and transactions to have them all by the balls.”

“Come on,” said Andreas. “You can’t be saying that every prominent person in Greece has something that serious to hide?”

“No, I’m not, but virtually all of them have at least some family member who does. And that’s all the leverage Christos needed. After all, he wasn’t asking to get away with murder or rob the National Gallery. All he wanted them to do was make sure he could run his club without complications or competition.”

“I wonder if that’s what drew all the movers and shakers to his club?” said Kouros.

Tassos nodded. “Because they knew if you wanted to be indiscreet, Christos’ place was where you could do your thing and get away with it.”

“As long as you protected him,” said Andreas.

“Smart guy,” said Kouros.

“Dead guy,” said Andreas.

“Some of his ‘friends,’” Tassos accented the word with finger quotes, “were pretty fucking kinky. Those folks preferred to use his house. From what I could make out from the ledgers, the Marquis de Sade would have been proud.”

“Do you think he was murdered because of what’s in the briefcase?” said Kouros.

“Don’t know, but my instincts tell me it’s a hell of a lot more likely he was killed because of what’s in there than because Christos’ girlfriend and her buddies botched a robbery.

“If I had to guess, I’d say he was supposed to die and the reason for his death is answered by something in the briefcase. As for just what that might be or how it all ties together,” Tassos gestured no with his head, “I don’t have a clue. But one thing I know for sure. If what’s described in that ledger ever gets out, it will bring on an international media shit storm like this country’s never seen before.”

“Terrific, just what we need. More international press stories screaming about our ‘national character.’” This time it was Kouros using finger quotes.

“Bad press might be the least of our worries if the blackmail value of what’s in there is as powerful as you say,” said Andreas.

Kouros smiled. “You mean like a tape recording of our prime minister lip-locked in an intimate cell phone conversation with his lover?”

“Joke all you want about that old bit of political gossip, but don’t underestimate what the right sort of pressure applied to a politician’s vulnerabilities can achieve in knowledgeable hands.” Andreas nodded at the case. “Did you find anything else interesting in there?”

“I only looked at the ledgers. Didn’t touch anything else.” He smiled. “I thought it best that I wait for you. But I assume it’s supporting proof for what’s in the ledgers, because next to each ledger entry are categories labeled, ‘dates,’ ‘times,’ ‘names,’ ‘places,’ and ‘storage media.’”

“Seems pretty well organized,” said Kouros.

“Looks like Christos recorded or at least made detailed notes of every conversation he ever had with someone of importance. Plus, I’ve a feeling there’s proof in there that people who should have known better did a lot of very stupid things in public at the end of a long night of partying.”

“Like I said, he was one smart guy. So, where do we go from here?” said Kouros.

“One place we definitely won’t be going is to Spiros. At least not now,” said Andreas. “He’ll have an orgasm at the thought of how many favors he’ll be owed if he
handles
things right. The arrogant bastard will blame it all on a robbery gone sour, and with an easy conviction of the girlfriend and her accomplices, close the case without ever mentioning the contents of the second safe. Then he’ll spend the rest of his days reminding the rich and powerful that he was their savior.”

“Or worse,” said Tassos. “There’s enough blackmail material in here to make him a very, very rich man.”

“Let’s hope he’s not gone completely over to the dark side,” said Andreas. “But I get your point.”

“The eleventh commandment. Thou shalt not lead thy boss into temptation,” said Kouros.

“The first thing we need to do is find out exactly what’s in this massive pile of shit you so kindly dumped in our laps.”

“That’s going to take a lot of time and we can’t do it here. My friend will be back any minute.”

“Assuming you don’t mind turning the briefcase over to me, we can do it back in my office in Athens. At least I know that small part of police headquarters is secure.”

Tassos shut the lid, pressed the locks closed, scrambled the tumblers, and pushed the case across the table toward Andreas. “Done. This mess is now officially yours. Uhh, make that unofficially. By the way, the combination is Tassaki’s birthday.”

“Nice touch.”

“I did it in the hope that by the time his next birthday rolls around we might have some idea of what the hell’s going on here.”

“His birthday is almost a year away.”

“You’re right. That’s not enough time, I should have said––” Tassos reached for a police radio on his belt. “It’s vibrating.” He tinkered with a dial and brought the communicator up to his ear.

“What is it?” said Andreas.

“Three men just robbed the national bank on the ring road. They escaped on motorcycles.”

“Descriptions?” said Andreas.

“Foreigners.”

“That’s a big help,” said Kouros.

“All approximately six feet tall, Caucasian, muscular, each wearing jeans, long sleeve grey work shirts, light blue windbreakers, work boots and ski masks.”

“So, what’s the foreigner tie-in?” said Andreas.

“The one who did all the talking had an Eastern European accent.”

“What about the bikes?” said Kouros.

“All yellow, and fast. Probably stolen. They took off north in the direction of the new port.”

“They’ve probably hooked up with a fast boat and are on their way to who knows where by now,” said Kouros. “The only one with any chance of catching them now is the coast guard.”

“Don’t be so sure,” said Tassos. “Are you two Athenian desk jockeys up for a bit of old fashioned, down home police work?”

Andreas looked at Kouros, then back at Tassos. “Why not?” He picked up the briefcase and headed toward the door, “The Lone Ranger and Tonto are always up for a little adventure.”

***

What locals called the “ring” or “new” road was finished in the late 1990s and enclosed a much older inner road that marked the land-based perimeter of the old port area of Mykonos. Beyond the north and south edges of the original town the old road hugged the sea as it made its way north to the villages of Tourlos, San Stefanos, and Houlakia, and south to the village of Ornos. At a turnoff to Ornos Beach the old road split, continuing south to the area of Agios Ioannis of
Shirley Valentine
film fame, and west, past the island’s soccer stadium, to the steep rocky hills of Canalia peninsula, a modern construction miracle or a development curse, depending upon your point of view.

The new and old roads connected south of Mykonos town at Ornos, and north of the town at the sea midway between the old port and the new port in Tourlos. Between those two junctures, and out of sight of the old town, the new road ran up and down hills for approximately two miles in three unequal north, central, and south sections, separated by rotaries at the north and south ends of the central section.

At the north rotary a road to the west snaked down to meet the old road just above the town, along the way offering the island’s most spectacular views of the majestic old town below. The road east from the rotary passed by the Mykonos hospital, cultural center, and a gauntlet of businesses as it wound its way around brown-beige hills toward the town of Ano Mera three miles away at the heart of Mykonos’ agrarian roots.

At the south rotary, the road off to the west entered the old town in an area known as the bus station, and with an abrupt left, turned into a flagstone lane that narrowed down over a quarter mile until ending close by the six windmills symbolizing Mykonos. The road to the east led to the airport and police station. Professional and business services, notably banks, clustered around the south rotary, possibly in the belief that proximity to the police station might minimize robberies.

The new road was a godsend for those seeking relief from choking summer traffic along the old inner road, but to others it was the devil’s work in disguise. The new road offered easy access for armies of heavy construction equipment and building supplies streaming off of ships on their way to undeveloped parts of the island.

In less than two decades Mykonos went from being a quaint Greek island to a world-class summer playground with an international reputation for a free-wheeling 24/7 seasonal lifestyle and a vibrant tourist-driven economy. As for the traffic, some said it was worse than ever.

Many saw a golden lining in all the changes. They were the ones who believed that regardless of what might happen to the rest of Greece, Mykonos’ jet set international reputation would continue to bring prosperity to their island. It did not matter what part the devil might have played in creating their modern paradise, for as the world knew, all were welcome to do their thing on Mykonos.

Except for bank robbers.

Chapter Six

Tassos turned left out of the airport onto a narrow road headed east.

“The new road is to the right,” said Kouros.

“I thought I’d take the scenic route.”

The road twisted east for a quarter mile until meeting up with a ten foot high chain link fence topped with razor wire marking the perimeter of the airport. From there the road and fence ran due east together for another quarter mile before turning sharply north for a half mile run parallel to the runway. Off to the right, roads led off to Agrari and Super Paradise beaches, and fields edged away from the side of the road onto steep hillsides filled with homes offering spectacular views to some of the island’s most celebrated seasonal residents.

Halfway down the runway the road turned abruptly right and into a half mile-long series of S curves and straightaways. Tassos barely slowed down as he popped the police car out onto the main road headed east toward Ano Mera.

“And before you say it, Yianni, yes I know this isn’t the way to the port.” Tassos tapped a screen on the console of the police cruiser. “I’m following this.”

“What’s that?” said Kouros leaning over the front seat.

“Modern police legwork,” said Tassos. “Each of the bank’s money drawers contains a packet of money capable of transmitting a signal. Cashiers know to turn it over when there’s a robbery.”

“I thought the ministry’s cutbacks killed that project?” said Andreas.

“They did,” said Tassos. “But bankers on Mykonos thought that with less than twenty full-time cops spread out over three shifts during most of the year and only an additional fifty third-year police academy cadets assigned to help them out during tourist season, it might be good business to get together and fund the idea on their own. The technology is basically what’s used to locate a missing iPhone.”

Andreas shook his head and looked out the window. “We’ve got wolves descending on Greece in packs and all the government gives us to fight them are slingshots.”

“And the bad guys know it,” said Kouros. “The bastards have taken over parts of Athens.”

“Hard to imagine that Greece once had the lowest crime rate in the EU,” said Tassos.

“It’s become so bad in some neighborhoods that vigilante groups are offering protection,” said Kouros.

“For the price of your vote,” said Tassos.

“It’s working. Those neo-Nazi bastards are now in parliament,” said Kouros.

“Let’s not get into that political rats’ nest,” said Andreas. “We’ve three armed bank robbers to find before they get off the island.”

“No problem,” said Kouros. “Besides, they’re a lot easier to catch than the miserable cocksuckers who steal us blind with campaign promises and a pen.”

Andreas spun his right hand in the air.

Tassos pointed at the screen. “The money’s stopped. Can’t tell if the bad guys are with it. It’s on the south shore between Kalifati and Kalo Livadi beaches, at the foot of two hills the locals call the ‘mounds of Aphrodite.’”

“I know the place,” said Kouros. “It’s on an isolated peninsula about a quarter mile off the highway. The only way in by land is along a flat dirt road across a wide open space. Anyone coming is visible the whole time.”

“So much for the element of surprise,” said Andreas.

“It gets worse. The road turns east at the base of the first mound and runs between a gauntlet of one-story buildings on both sides. Mainly private homes, rooms to rent, and a couple of fish tavernas. Everything is owned by one family that likes its isolation.”

“The perfect setting for a major shootout,” said Andreas.

“They must plan on getting away by boat,” said Tassos.

“Makes sense,” said Kouros. “Just past the second taverna is a turn off to the left that brings you down to a cove behind the taverna. There’s a tiny concrete pier with its far end and west side open to the sea. It’s barely long enough for two small fishing boats to tie up alongside. Fishermen use it to unload their catch.”

“Sounds like a boat’s in their plan,” said Andreas.

“What’s ours?” said Kouros.

Andreas smiled. “The usual.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“Improvise?” said Tassos.

Andreas nodded. “And pray.”

***

The distinctive, green three-wheel hauler with an extended truck bed hadn’t seen a repair shop in decades. But its owner knew how to keep the tiny thing’s 1300cc engine running. Those Mazda three-wheelers, with their generally oversized drivers crammed into tiny cabs up front, were once a staple of transport around the old port, but modern times and methods had made that form of hauler virtually extinct.

But this three-wheeler and the old man in the driver’s seat with the steel gray fisherman’s mustache, Greek fisherman’s hat, and denim work shirt, were familiar figures in these parts. Everyday he’d drive his unmuffled hauler in along the same dirt road to pick up fish off his cousin’s boat for delivery to nearby tavernas and hotels.

The old man noticed the three men in windbreakers standing by the first building on the left at the end of the dirt road. When he reached them he saw three yellow motorcycles tucked inside a shed on the far side of the building. The old man didn’t recognize the men, but nodded to them. Two nodded back, the third kept yelling into a cell phone. He wasn’t speaking Greek and wore a backpack.

The old man drove past the three and down toward the pier. He shouted greetings spiced with obscenities at his cousin unloading fish onto the far end out of a
caique
taking up practically the full length of the pier. The cousins exchanged waves as the old man backed his three-wheeler halfway onto the pier, getting it as close as he could against the wall. He slid across the seat and got out the passenger’s door. He noticed one of the three men up by the tavern watching him and asked his cousin who the three strangers were.

The fisherman shrugged. “Tourists, I guess.”

The old man kept talking to his cousin as he went to the back of his hauler, undid the tarp covering the two-foot high sideboards, and rolled it forward about a foot and a half. He began loading in fish from off the pier and, as he filled one section, he’d roll the tarp about a foot further toward the cab and load in more fish. He’d just about reached the rear of the cab when he heard the high whine of a fast boat sweeping into the cove from the open sea to the east, headed right for them and coming in quickly. The three strangers sprinted toward the pier. They squeezed past the hauler and old man, kicked through the fish still on the pier, and stood behind the hauler waving frantically at the boat.

The boat sidled up next to the pier facing into the cove and, as the first of the strangers leaped into it, the old man jumped into the
caique
. As the second stranger landed in the boat, two fish-covered men, one wielding a shotgun and the other an assault rifle, raised up from the hauler’s truck bed shouting at the captain to cut his engines.

The stranger with the backpack still stood on the pier. He pulled a gun from his jacket, firing as he did at the two in the hauler.

The man with the shotgun instantly fired back, partially separating the gunman’s head from his body and tumbling him backward off the pier and into the boat. His two companions in the boat jerked their hands above their heads but the captain ducked down, spun the wheel, and full-throttled the twin outboard engines in a dash back to open sea. A barrage of shotgun blasts and explosive automatic rifle rounds struck the engines, killing the boat dead in the water. The captain stood with his hands raised above his head.

By the time the three marked police cars made it to the pier, three live bad guys lay cuffed face-down on the concrete and the fast boat sat tied up alongside the
caique
with a dead bank robber still in it.

“Quite a mess you made here,” said Tassos pointing at the body in the boat.

“Better him than us.” Andreas gave a wave that included the old man and the fisherman. “I hope your friend with the hauler is okay.”

“Petros? He’s an old combat soldier. Loves a bit of action every once in a while. It was his idea for Yianni to use explosive rounds in the rifle. Said it’s what the coast guard uses on boat engines when someone tried to run from them.”

Petros smiled and cursed Tassos.

“I owe you one, my friend. You too.” Tassos nodded at the fisherman. “I’m glad you listened when your cousin told you it was time to duck.”

“What a cockamamie plan you came up with,” said Andreas brushing fish parts out of his hair.

“Hey, it worked. When I saw Petros coming down the road, it all hit me.”

“Next time you’re inspired with a plan,” said Kouros, “make sure you end up in the back with the fish.”

“I’d have gladly partaken in the fun, but as Petros pointed out, he couldn’t possibly hide me in the back of his truck, even covered with fish.”

“We could have dressed you like a whale,” said Kouros.

Tassos burst out laughing, hugged Kouros, and slapped Andreas on the back. “They’d have gotten away without your help. These guys have been robbing banks all over the Cyclades. First time on Mykonos though.”

“Are they local?” said Andreas.

“Don’t think so. One of my guys said they’re speaking Russian to each other.”

“Christ, don’t tell me the Russians are getting into the crime business in the Cyclades, too,” said Kouros.

“Why not? They go where the money is. Always have, always will,” said Tassos. “Plus they love to party here. Who knows, it just might turn into their new romp and rob paradise.”

“Catchy slogan. Maybe the Greek National Tourist Organization would like to borrow it?” said Kouros

Andreas shot him an open palm. “Do you think this crew had anything to do with Christos’ murder?”

Tassos gestured no. “I doubt it. But we’ll do whatever is necessary to make sure. He stared at the three on the ground. “And I mean
whatever
.”

Andreas rolled his eyes.

“What we need is a break,” said Kouros

“Europol is looking for the girl,” said Tassos. “When they find her they’ll watch her until she hooks up with her partners and arrest them all.”

“Sounds like the sort of plan I like,” said Kouros pulling a small fish out through the back of his shirt collar. “Let the other guys do it.”

Tassos winked at Andreas. “My, my, I think our little boy’s finally figured out this cop business.”

Andreas shook his head. “I better get Yianni out of here and back to Athens before he starts thinking like you.”

Tassos handed Andreas a set of car keys. “Leave the cruiser at the station. I’ve got a lot to do here. And don’t forget the briefcase in the trunk.”

“I was hoping you’d forget.”

“Not a chance. And while we’re on the subject of the briefcase, one more thing.”

“What’s that?” said Andreas.

Tassos smiled. “No exchanges, no returns.”