Mykonos After Midnight (8 page)

It was a lifetime since she’d felt that way
. No, two child-lifetimes.

Teacher had tens of thousands of followers gladly willing to die to execute her orders and she truly loved them, but not with a mother’s love. Her love for them was born out of the camaraderie they shared as ignored and undervalued human beings united by a common lack of faith in governments and endless suffering at the hands of society’s empty promises. They were the disenchanted, the crazies, the betrayed, the outcasts, the exploited.

Teacher used the skills she’d developed as a trafficked child to harness their rage and focused it in violent attacks on those she presented as symbols of their oppression. She offered her followers a simple satisfaction for otherwise belittled lives: revenge.

It did not take long before prospective targets saw the wisdom in paying Teacher for protection from her followers’ ire. That’s when money started rolling in and Teacher’s life became infinitely more complicated.

The money was far more than necessary to care for her followers, and deciding what to do with it led to bankers, lawyers, and investment advisers. Teacher had become part of the very system her followers despised. But they saw her as different, for she brought them a better life; something no government had ever done. In exchange, they ruthlessly spread her methods of doing business across Eastern Europe, taking advantage of power vacuums that accompanied distracted, corrupt governments. And those who went to prison found new followers for her there. No opportunity was missed, and all knew her simple rule: Those loyal to her were lavishly rewarded and those not were mercilessly destroyed. Teacher had become the quintessential, multi-national corporate leader.

She smiled again as Sergey described how “Lefteris’ eyes popped wide open when I gave him our offer.”

She thought how very different things would have been had her sons lived to succeed to all that she’d achieved in her life.

Her smile vanished.
I never would have permitted them my life. They were gentle, open souls who loved, not harmed.

No. Her life demanded a very different sort of successor.

Chapter Eleven

In mid-afternoon Andreas received a call from Europol informing him that a man traveling as Sergey Tishchenko had arrived that morning in Greece on a flight into Athens’ Venizelos International Airport. They had no further details, except that the name matched that of a man the Greek police were looking for in connection with a murder investigation. Andreas thanked the agent for the information and gently put down the receiver before letting out a roar of curses at the ineptitude of Greek bureaucrats.

Maggie opened the door to his office. “Are you calling me?”

“Some goddamned idiot at immigration couldn’t spot a polar bear in a Santa Claus suit in August. But I bet the bastard’s damn good at finding a reason to wreck a tourist’s holiday. Can you believe it took
Europol
to tell me what’s in Greece’s immigration database? Had the asshole bothered to check the same alerts we’d given Europol we could have snatched the boyfriend at immigration.”

He slammed his hand on the desk. “Now he could be anywhere.” Andreas ran his hand across his face. “Have Yianni check the passenger list for every flight out of Athens today. Let’s see if he’s on one of those.”

“Will do, but he could have taken a boat and, as loose as ticket agents are on checking IDs before issuing a boat ticket, no telling what name he could have used.”

“Good point. But if this Sergey is our boyfriend, I don’t think he’s hiding if he flew into Greece using his real name. Check out the boats, too.”

“There are a lot of boats in Greece this time of year, some with thousands of passengers and crew, and not all their records are available on computers.”

Andreas picked up a pencil.

“Is this a tapping or breaking moment?”

Andreas smiled and began tapping the eraser end on his desk as he stared out the window. “Start with the boats leaving today for Mykonos. See if we get a match on a ticket issued in his name.”

“You don’t actually believe he’d be insane enough to go to Mykonos if he had anything to do with Christos’ murder?”

“I find it hard to believe that he’d come to Greece under any name at all, let alone his real one.”

“I know you’re the cop, not me, but even assuming he has no idea we have his girlfriend on video at the scene of Christos’ murder, wouldn’t he have to be a complete idiot not to realize that once his girlfriend turned up dead in the same Polish town where he lived, that she and he would be prime suspects in Christos’ murder if for no other reason than coincidence?”

“You’re absolutely right, and whether he’s sane, insane or an idiot, it’s precisely because of what you just said that all my instincts tell me that whatever reason was strong enough to bring him to Greece to face that risk must have something to do with Mykonos.”

“In other words…”

Andreas smiled. “Humor me.”

***

Less than an hour later Maggie burst into Andreas’ office followed by Kouros. “We found our boy. He was on a Sea Jet that arrived on Mykonos around noon out of Rafina.”

“Makes sense,” said Andreas. “He probably took a taxi from Venizelos. It’s a closer port to the airport than Piraeus. Any idea where he’s staying on Mykonos?”

“I called Tassos,” said Kouros. “He’s making discreet inquiries. Sergey just arrived, and hotels don’t have to turn over information on new guests to the police until tonight.”

“Heaven forbid they were required to submit in real time by computer,” said Andreas.

“If he’s staying in a rented room rather than a hotel his name may never turn up,” said Kouros.

Andreas stood up. “Grab your toothbrush, Yianni. I’m betting Tassos will find him. But even if he doesn’t, we’ll comb the island until we do. Alert the coast guard and airport police that if they let this bastard off the island before I say he can leave I’ll have them all transferred to where there’s no more beaches, no more nightlife––”

“No more nookie,” said Kouros.

“In other words,” said Maggie, “you’ll cut their balls off.”

“Precisely. Including those who don’t have any.”

***

Andreas and Kouros just made the seven o’clock flight to Mykonos. No helicopter was available and even if one were, with all the economic cutbacks Andreas would need ministry-level approval to use it. It was a lot less hassle to fly commercial and, in this case, quicker. Tassos met them as they stepped off the stairs from the plane onto the tarmac.

Tassos pointed at an unmarked police car off to the left and walked toward it. “I found Sergey. He’s ensconced as a VIP in the best suite at the Asteria.”

“So much for trying to hide,” said Andreas.

“And rumors are flying all over the island that he’s a big-time Russian with lots of money to spend.”

“How the hell did those start?” said Kouros.

“My guess is from him,” said Tassos.

Tassos slid onto the driver’s seat, Andreas sat next to him, Kouros in the back. “Before we start to drive, I think we should decide where we’re headed with this guy. He’s not behaving like a suspect in a murder investigation. He hired one of the most connected pieces of nightlife scum on the island as his assistant and they’ve already met with the owner of the Asteria in what I understand was a command performance ordered by Sergey. At least that’s what I heard from the hotel concierge who tracked down the owner and set up the meeting at the urgent request of one very anxious Wacki.”

“Wacki? Is that jerk-off Sergey’s assistant?” said Kouros. “He’s been involved in every sort of dirty deal on the island, from hookers and drugs through election rigging.”

Andreas nodded. “Yeah, I know him. He’s everything you say and more. But he’s also clever enough to go where the money is.”

“So, how does a guy less than two months out of a Polish prison manage to show up acting like an anointed king?” said Kouros.

“Tassos is right. This isn’t adding up.”

“The part about coming to Mykonos fresh out of prison to make a score isn’t a new story,” said Tassos. “But with this guy it’s the other way around. He’s bringing serious money here. My guess is, unless he’s hit the lottery, the money’s not his.”

“Yianni, check out what Europol, Interpol, CIA, MI6, and anybody else has on Sergey. I want to know everything there is on this guy.”

“I assume that means we’re not paying him a visit tonight,” said Tassos.

Andreas nodded. “Not until I have a better idea of whom we’re dealing with. Just make sure the local cops are watching him like a hawk. I don’t want our boy taking a piss without us knowing about it.”

“Some of my guys from Syros are on him 24/7. There aren’t enough cops on Mykonos to do the job right.”

“Terrific,” said Andreas.

“So, where to?” said Kouros.

“Dinner. Tassos, you pick the place.”

“Ahh, the kind of police work I can sink my teeth into.”

Kouros groaned. Tassos smiled.

***

Tassos turned right out of the airport, drove down the hill, went straight through the south rotary, and a couple minutes later slowed to turn left at the road’s intersection with the old road by the bus station. In high season this was the most hectic intersection on the island, if not in all the Cyclades.

To the left, the old road stood lined on both sides with car and motorbike rental agencies clogging the already narrow two lanes down to one and a half with their rows of double and triple parked motorbikes and four-wheel ATVs. Pedestrians, finding no sidewalks, had no choice but to dodge and weave among the madness, ever alert for less than accommodating drivers coming at them from all directions.

Tassos sat stuck in the middle of his left turn between a Jeep facing him at a stop sign on his left and a phalanx of motorbikes parked on the right. He could have squeezed the unmarked car between the Jeep and the four wheelers but a big guy in a sleeveless t-shirt, sitting on a motorbike outside the first rental shop and chatting with the owner, blocked what was left of Tassos’ side of the road.

To make things worse, another turning car now blocked Tassos from behind and the intersection was in total gridlock. All because of the idiot on the motorbike. A third-year cadet out of the police academy was too busy flirting with a pretty tourist girl to do his job directing traffic.

“How the hell do these rental places get away with tying up this intersection with their shit?” said Tassos.

“They’re protected,” said Kouros.

“Not by me.” Tassos hit the horn but the guy on the bike ignored him. Tassos honked again. The guy still didn’t turn around, but flipped an open hand curse gesture over his shoulder at whoever was honking. Tassos, took his foot off the brake and allowed the car to coast forward until it nudged the rear wheel of the motorbike, sending driver and bike spilling lightly onto the road. The driver jumped up cursing and ran at Tassos’ window. He reached in awkwardly for Tassos’ throat.

Tassos grabbed the man’s wrist, pulled, grabbed the man’s elbow and pulled some more until the man’s head slammed into the top of the doorframe.

“Whoops, so sorry,” said Tassos allowing the man to pull away. Before the man could make another run at the car the cadet was at Tassos’ window yelling at him to get out. The owner of the rental agency was screaming to the cadet about what the “fat asshole” in the car had done to one of his motorbikes.

“Need help?” said Andreas.

“You must be kidding.” Tassos got out but didn’t say a word until the rental guy had finished his rant. The cadet asked for Tassos’ identification.

“You’re a newbie here, aren’t you?” said Tassos showing his badge to the cadet.

The cadet jerked to attention. “Please, sir, continue on. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

Now the owner started cursing Tassos
and
the cadet.

Tassos smiled at the owner as he said to the cadet, “I want you to call your sergeant and tell him I said to get his ass over here right away with enough trucks to confiscate all of this guy’s four-wheelers.”

Tassos pointed to a turn down the road. “All the way to there. And what the hell, while they’re at it, have them pick up his two-wheelers, too. They’re all illegally parked, and probably a hell of a lot more than his license authorizes him to rent.”

The rental owner was screaming at the top of his lungs with threats of what he’d do to the “fat man who thinks he’s a big shot” if the cadet weren’t there.

Tassos kept smiling as he walked over to the owner. He stuck his credentials in the owner’s face and said, “Do you want to go home or do you want to go to jail?”

The man didn’t say a word.

“I said, ‘Do you––’”

“Home.”

“Then shut the fuck up.” Tassos got back in the car and blew the rental owner a kiss.

“Very nicely done,” said Kouros. “I’ve had wet dreams about doing something like that to some of those assholes. They’re out of control.”

Tassos pulled away, smiling as he did at the man he’d knocked off the bike.

“You can get away with just about anything on this island if you pay the right people” said Kouros.

“Didn’t use to be that way,” said Tassos.

“Well, it sure seems that way today,” said Kouros.

“It isn’t quite that bad,” said Andreas.

“Probably only because the limit hasn’t been tested yet,” said Kouros.

Fifty yards past the intersection, where a ramp to the left led up to a classic Mykonian hotel, the craziness of the intersection turned into sea views and old stone walls overlooking the sandy cove of Megali Ammos at the bottom of the hill. At the near end of the cove sat one of the last, and certainly most enchanting, old time beach tavernas on the island.

“Perfect choice,” said Andreas. Tassos nestled the car up against a fence on the left side of the road. “But I don’t think you can open your door.”

“No problem, I’ll slide across and get out on your side.” Tassos looked at Kouros in the back seat. “What, no wisecracks?”

Kouros opened his door. “Not after I saw what you did to that guy on the motorcycle…old man.”