The Oracle (36 page)

‘Not that night. A couple of days later. That’s what we read in the papers,’ said Norman again.

There was no one along the road and Tassos’s tavern was half empty. A dog on a chain started to bark suddenly, and others from all the nearby houses started howling as well, filling the valley with fragile echoes. The host kicked the dog, who yelped in pain and lay down quietly. The other dogs quieted down as well, one by one. The distant sea was a slab of slate, but a cold, grey wind started to rise and invade the valley. The waiter brought their dinner and Tassos poured himself another glass.

‘I don’t know, I could have sworn I’d seen your friend around, but I couldn’t say when. Maybe I’m wrong. It will be the anniversary of the Polytechnic battle in a few days . . .’

‘Right,’ said Michel. ‘And I’ll have to go back to Grenoble soon. The school year will be starting.’

‘Do you know Aristotelis Malidis?’ asked Norman.

‘Old Ari? You bet.’

‘Where does he live?’

‘He has an apartment in Parga, but I think he’s renting it. He’s the custodian of the archaeological site at Ephira. You know, the Oracle of the Dead. He lives in the guest house and takes a few visitors around during the tourist season.’

When it was completely dark and starting to get quite cold, Norman and Michel paid for the meal and left for their hotel.

‘Did you hear what Tassos said about Claudio?’ asked Norman.

‘Yes, I did. And I can’t stand this uncertainty. I just can’t stand it any more.’

10 November, 8 p.m.

‘Michel. It’s Mireille, I’ve finally found you.’

‘Darling! It’s wonderful to hear your voice. I would have called you later this evening.’

‘It’s safer for me to call you.’

‘Where are you?’

‘At home. Senator Laroche has called several times; he says he hasn’t heard from you.’

‘That’s true. Tell him I’m very busy with this important research I’m doing and that I’ll call him as soon as I can. That should hold him off for a while, I hope.’

‘When are you coming back?’

‘Soon, I think.’

‘There’s so much I want to say, Michel, but I don’t like making love over the telephone. I’ve never been away from you for so long. I can’t understand what’s important enough to keep you away from me all this time.’

‘It’s been awful for me. I’m living in this strange dimension which I can’t even explain to myself. I think you’ll understand when I come back and tell you everything.’

‘What’s happening there right now?’

‘Nothing. Nothing’s happening. Everything is strangely motionless in this place: the birds don’t sing and they don’t fly. The sea itself is absolutely still.’

‘Come back to me. Now.’

‘Mireille, Mireille, I feel so close to you.’

‘So do I. That makes it worse.’

‘Don’t say that. I have to finish this research.’

‘Michel. Tell me what you’re looking for. It’s important. Maybe I can help, you know.’

‘It’s difficult . . . hard to say. I’m looking for a piece of my life and I’m looking for a lost friend. I’m looking—’

‘Who is this friend?’

‘His name was Claudio.’

‘An Italian? Why are you looking for him there?’

‘It seems that someone has seen him around here. There’s still hope . . .’

‘Michel, I’m not at home. I’m in Greece.’

‘You’re in Greece? Where?’

‘Wherever I can find an answer to my questions. Whatever you’re looking for concerns me as well, have you forgotten? I have to know too. I love you.’

‘Mireille. Please, go home.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you can’t follow me down this road. It’s too dangerous.’

‘What about your friend Norman?’

‘He was there when it all started. Go back home, Mireille, darling, do it for me.’

‘Silly. If you found me naked in your bed . . .’

‘Go home. Please. I’m . . . I’m about to consult the Oracle of the Dead and I don’t know . . . what the answer will be.’

‘No. I’m going to find you and pull you out of this.’

‘Mireille, I want you with me, but I’m at a point of no return. I can feel that something’s about to happen. Please go away.’

‘I don’t want to.’

‘Mireille. There’s a stain in my past, and I have to work my way out of it. Alone. Even if it’s the last thing I do. It’s something that causes me deep pain. And incredible shame. Something I have the right to keep to myself.’ Mireille fell silent, humiliated. ‘I’m sorry,’ said Michel. ‘I didn’t want to hurt you. When I can explain it all, you’ll understand.’

‘Michel, strange things are happening on 17 Dionysìou Street. I think I’ve found the man who printed that study of Harvatis’s that you’re interested in.’

Michel was speechless: ‘How could you know . . .’

‘I read some notes you left on your desk in Grenoble, and I’m following a good lead here in Athens. Are you still sure you don’t want to see me?’

‘Mireille, you are playing with fire. But if you want to come, come.’

‘I will, as soon as I’ve solved a little problem. I’ll call you soon. In the meantime, don’t worry about me. I know how to take care of myself. You’re the one I’m worried about. If something should happen to you, it wouldn’t be easy to find a stand-in . . . in my heart, Michel, in my mind, in my eyes . . . in my bed.’

Mireille hung up without imagining that her conversation with Michel would be relayed to Captain Karamanlis in a few minutes’ time, right down to the smallest detail. She went to sit at her desk and started looking at the notes she’d taken from Michel’s papers in his study in Grenoble, piecing them together with the information she’d got in Athens. She realized that there were many odd elements in Norman and Michel’s trip to Greece, but she still couldn’t manage to get at the heart of the whole thing. If only she could get behind that shutter on Dionysiou Street . . .

The doorman buzzed up: ‘A visitor for you in the lobby, miss.’ It was Mr Zolotas.

‘I’m so happy to see you!’ said Mireille.

‘So am I, miss.’

‘Any news?’

‘No, unfortunately. I looked up that licence plate. It’s registered to a leasing company whose general headquarters are in Beirut. They have a branch here in Athens, on Odòs Dimokritou, but that licence plate number comes out of Beirut. Here in Athens they have no idea who the car dealer or leaseholder is. As for the property registry, I hope to have an answer for you tomorrow.’

‘Thank you, Mr Zolotas. You’ve been wonderful. Can I offer you something to drink?’

‘Coffee would be good. They make excellent espresso here.’

Mireille ordered coffee for her guest and a glass of water for herself.

‘How did it go with Karamanlis?’ asked Zolotas.

‘He really wants that licence plate number, but I didn’t give it to him. I did find out that, most probably, Professor Harvatis was carrying a very precious find with him that night, an ancient gold vase from Ephira. Karamanlis himself told me that it disappeared that same night without leaving a trace. I somehow have the impression that it was connected with Professor Harvatis’s death.’

‘That could be,’ nodded Zolotas. ‘That was an unfortunate night for many of us. Well, it’s a bit late, my dear. I think I’ll be going to bed. If you need me again, please call. I’d be delighted to help you.’

‘I will,’ promised Mireille. ‘Goodnight, Mr Zolotas.’

Mireille went back to her room, turned on the radio, and sifted through all the papers she had on her desk. She’d put a photo of Michel on the mirror and she lifted her eyes to look at him. He felt like her guardian angel. The phone rang again: ‘Miss, I’m the waiter from Milos’s Bar: the black Mercedes is parked on Dionysìou Street.’

‘Thank you,’ said Mireille. ‘I’ll be right there. Please don’t let him out of your sight!’

‘Don’t worry,’ said the waiter. ‘I’ll be here for at least a couple more hours.’

Mireille looked out of the window: the sky was black and there wasn’t a star to be seen. It was windy and looked like rain. She pulled on the only heavy sweater she’d brought with her, threw her leather jacket over her shoulders and left.

A minute later Pavlos Karamanlis learned from headquarters that Mireille was heading towards Dionysìou Street because someone had told her that a black Mercedes was parked there, probably the same one he was looking for. ‘Post two undercover cars at the beginning and end of the street to keep an eye on the vehicle without being seen. I’ll be there in ten minutes.’

The waiter had cleared off the last two tables and served a couple of coffees when he went back to the window to check out the car. There was still someone sitting in the driver’s seat, he could make him out against the light. What was he doing in there all alone at eleven o’clock at night? The waiter noticed a big antenna on the roof and saw that the man was holding something to his ear. Could he be making a phone call?

C
LAUDIO
S
ETTI
’
S
VOICE
crackled, distorted by electrical discharges over the line: a strong storm was brewing up somewhere. ‘Commander, it’s Claudio, can you hear me?’

‘I hear you. Where are you, son?’

‘Metsovon. I’ll be going to Preveza. Is our appointment at the Cimmerian promontory still on?’

‘It is. Although I can’t move from here yet.’

‘But I need to see you. Where are you now?’

‘I’m in Athens. I’m calling from the car phone. Listen, you have to go see Ari in Ephira. Tell him he has to take the vase to the place we’ve agreed upon. He’ll get the usual signal by phone. Tell him that I thank him for everything he’s done for me. This is the last thing I will ever ask him. The last. And you be careful: there are people around who know you. Do you understand what I’m saying? Only go out at night, and after you’ve made sure there’s no one around.’

‘But Commander, why did you have me come here?’

‘I told you. People are gathering. You have to lure them away. Away to a place where there’s no one and nothing they can count on. Where no one will look for you afterwards. Are you up to it?’

‘Will you be here?’

‘I’ll be there, and everything will go fine. This is important, son, and it’s the last thing I’ll be asking of you. We’ll settle up with Karamanlis and the others, at the right place and time. I’ll explain everything to you once . . .’ his voice faded off.

‘Commander? Commander, I can’t hear you any longer. Are you still there?’

‘Yes, son, but I have to leave you. There’s something suspicious going on here, I’m afraid . . .’

‘Are you in danger?’

‘It’s not easy to trap me, but someone’s trying. Please, do as I’ve asked.’

‘I will, but be careful. Are you sure you don’t need me? I can be in Athens in just three hours

‘No, I’ll get out of this one myself. Ari will give you the next appointment. I have to go now, I’ve got myself to worry about.’

‘As you wish. Let me know what happens.’

M
IREILLE DECIDED TO
park at a distance so she wouldn’t be seen. She walked down the shadowy, tree-lined road which led to Dionysìou Street. Before crossing the intersection she stopped, having noticed a car which was just pulling over. A man got out and walked past the street corner, craning his neck towards the black Mercedes parked a couple of hundred metres further up the street. Other men materialized from the darkness to join him; he seemed to be giving them instructions.

Mireille got closer, and as he turned his head she recognized him: it was Captain Karamanlis. She saw him take a radio receiver from his car and continue to give instructions: was he setting a trap for the man in the Mercedes?

Mireille turned back, ran around the block to reach another side street that led into Dionysìou Street and found herself practically straight across the road from where the Mercedes was parked. She leaned forward and looked both to her right and to her left: she could see the men taking position; or at least, that’s what they seemed to be doing. She raised her eyes and could even see someone poised up on the roof.

She thought of the man who had posed for that disturbing mask. His proud features and high forehead. She thought of Karamanlis’s hypocritical voice and cold hands, and her instinct told her which side she had to take. She’d run towards the Mercedes and drag him over to the side street she was on; there were a lot of low houses with terraces he could use to easily escape over the rooftops of the city. But as she was gathering her courage to do so, she saw two cars roar up on either side of the street, blocking it off completely. They screeched to a stop, and the men who vaulted out surrounded the Mercedes in no time. Mireille flattened herself against the shadowy wall.

Karamanlis approached the driver’s side with a torch in hand and put out his hand to open the door, but pulled back angrily. There was no one in the car. It was completely empty. ‘That’s not possible,’ he said. ‘I saw him, you all saw him!’

‘You’re right, Captain,’ agreed one of the men, drawing closer. ‘We saw him too.’