Claudia's Big Break (25 page)

‘Ready?' said Soph after I'd taken a seat next to her.

‘Hit me.'

‘Okay. Basically it says here that you've messed up in the past.'

‘What a surprise!' I raised my uneven and sore eyebrows.

Sophie twitched in her seat. ‘It says that “although you have been fooled at times and have fooled yourself as well, there is still time to build for the future. The mistakes you have made will add up and ultimately make sense.”'

‘Jeez, I'm glad we cleared that up,' I said impatiently and looked at my watch — again. ‘That makes me feel
so
much better.' As if I needed reminding I'd made mistakes. Many of them.

‘Why don't you call him?' suggested Tara.

‘I have. His phone's diverted to messagebank.'

Later, after Levi had gone to bed and the three of us had shared leftover pizza, souvlakia and salad, I tried to recall exactly what Jack had said to me yesterday afternoon.

‘Are you sure you didn't get the time or the night mixed up?' Sophie asked.

‘We saw each other at lunchtime yesterday and he said he'd take me out to dinner tonight. Unless . . .'

‘Unless what?'

‘Unless that comment about the Greek Adonis really did piss him off. He was quite agitated yesterday.' I stared across the caldera and back at the homes and hotels built into the cliffs, their lights twinkling in the moonlight. ‘He's probably looking at me from one of those apartments right now,' I said, ‘laughing because he's got his revenge.'

‘The way your mind works, Claud!' said Tara.

‘What? A couple of hours ago you were convinced he'd kidnapped Levi.'

‘And I apologised. I was distraught. On the brink.'

‘Jack's okay,' Sophie said.

‘How would I know? I only met him a few days ago. He could be an axe murderer.'

I said goodnight and walked into the bathroom to scrub off my makeup. A masterpiece that had taken an hour to create took all of two minutes to destroy.

Patting my wrinkly face, I counted and named several new lines and two new moles (they could have been warts), then unhappily climbed the stairs to bed.

21

‘C
laudia, are you awake?'

‘Well, now I am,' I answered sleepily, trying to think of a good reason why Sophie would be banging on my door at such an ungodly hour.

‘You have to get up,' she bellowed through the walls. ‘Now!'

‘Why?' I rolled over and opened my eyes.

Sophie pushed open the door and peered in. ‘There's a Greek guy downstairs. Says his name is Con.'

Oh shit. ‘What time is it?'

‘Ten o'clock.'

Damn. Not as unreasonable a time as I'd first thought. Still, I had been sound asleep and dreaming about Ewan McGregor. ‘I'll be out in a sec.'

‘Could you hurry? He's creeping me out.'

I practically fell out of bed and quickly put on the black dress I'd thrown off in a huff the night before. I brushed my hair and wiped the sleep from my eyes, but it was a half-arsed effort. Then I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. Good God! I really needed to wash my face and brush my teeth, but first things first. Hand over the envelope and flash drive, get the papers signed and get rid of Con forever. Then I'd shower and clean my teeth. Good plan.

I reached under the bed, fumbled for my daypack, dragged it out and unzipped one of the side pockets. The yellow envelope was exactly where I'd put it the other day. A bit crumpled and covered in chocolate, but all contents in place. Clutching it with both hands, I walked downstairs.

He was standing out on the patio. It was Con all right.

Sophie met me in the doorway. ‘Here she is,' she sang in an artificially light voice.

‘Yes. Here I am.
Kalimera
, Con. Nice to see you again.'

‘
Kalimera,
you have the papers,
nai
?'

‘Right here.' I gave the envelope a pat. I wouldn't miss it at all. ‘Better late than never, hey?'

I smiled out across the ocean. The dawning of a new day and my duty was all but done. Sweet relief!

Con didn't acknowledge me as he snatched the envelope out of my hands, his eyes still veering off in all directions.

Ingrate.

I was waiting for a tiny word of thanks when, out of nowhere, Jack ran down the stairs and stopped in the middle of the patio.

Before I'd had time to say,
Nice of you to show up — fourteen
hours late,
Jack called out, ‘
Stamatiste!
'

He was, I noticed even in my confusion, wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt that magnificently showed off his biceps . . . or was it triceps. Anyway, one of those muscle groups. I was under pressure, I couldn't think straight. Whatever those beefy things were above Jack's elbows, they looked amazing. Jack was one hell of a strong guy. But enough of that. Something bizarre was going on in front of me. This wasn't the Jack I knew and had fantasised about. Who was this guy? And could someone tell me why he had Con in a bear hug and was twisting his arm?

I waited for the laugh. This was a joke, right?

‘Jack! What the hell —'

I stared as two men in uniform appeared on our patio.

Jack nodded to the men, then bent down to retrieve the envelope that had fallen out of Con's hand onto the floor. The taller one tilted his head to the side, executed a snazzy body manoeuvre and cuffed Con within the blink of an eye. The second one grabbed my arms and cuffed my wrists. It was over before I knew what was happening.

‘What's going on?' Sophie and Tara asked from the relative security of the front doorway.

Jack ignored their question. ‘I'll need your passport, Claudia.'

I was in shock. Couldn't speak. Didn't have a clue what was going on. Why was Jack, the engineer from Yackandandah, allowing these apes to cuff me?

‘Your passport?' His manner was detached, almost cold.

‘Upstairs,' I mumbled. ‘Do you mind telling me what's going on?'

Con was holding up his cuffed hands to Jack and the other men, who I gathered were police, showing all ten fingers and shouting in Greek, ‘
Ande ghamisu!'
, which basically meant, ‘Go fuck yourself!'

‘Hang on,' said Tara when she appeared again with my passport. ‘What's going on, Jack?'

Jack took the passport. ‘Let's go,' he said to the men and Con and I were marched up the stairs.

Sophie and Tara ran up behind us.

‘Stop a minute, Jack,' said Sophie, pulling at his shoulder. ‘Where are you taking her?'

‘Holding room at the airport. She'll be detained there until we get clearance to transfer her to Athens for formal prosecution.'

‘Pardon?' I said. Whatever this misunderstanding was, it was quickly escalating out of control. ‘I haven't done anything.'

‘Yeah, what's she done?' Tara asked.

‘Securities fraud, money laundering, stock manipulation,' Jack said, seemingly unfazed by the growing crowd of observers at the top of the stairs. ‘There's an extensive list.'

‘I thought you were an engineer,' I said.

‘Not quite.'

‘But I haven't done anything wrong. This is a mistake.'

‘We've been watching you for almost two weeks,' Jack said, his voice even and calm. ‘The game's over, honey.'

Honey? Honey?

‘You've been caught on tape handing over this envelope to Constantine Kafentsis here.' Jack pushed Con forward and held up the tattered yellow envelope as evidence. He glanced at the brown smudge.

‘Chocolate,' I offered.

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Can you deny that?'

‘No. But it will come off. It's only chocolate.'

‘We have to go,' said Jack coldly.

I was in shock. Expecting a goon from Greek
Candid Camera
to jump out at me and yell ‘Gotcha', at which point we could all fall about on the floor laughing hysterically.

But no, between the stony looks on the faces of the police, Con's pissed-off expression, the horror on Tara's face and Jack's indifference, I knew this wasn't a stunt.

‘Can I at least go to the bathroom and get a few things together?'

Jack shook his head. ‘Your friends can bring them to the airport once we've questioned you further.'

‘Further?' I shrieked in disbelief. This had to be one helluva mix-up. Why had Jack done this? Had he been following me the whole time? Who was he? And what about Con? And Marcus? ‘Jack, this is a mistake.'

Con and I were bundled into a tiny, squashy, sweaty Greek police car, in full view of the whole street. I could see Marcella holding Levi's tiny hand. Hadn't we caused her enough trouble? Dozens of locals and tourists had turned up to see what the commotion was about. As the police cars started slowly moving forward, the crowds stepped back and cleared a path. I watched them through the rear window as we drove away.

It was humiliating. And surreal — the cuffing, being crammed into the back seat of a police car and driven to the airport. I couldn't take it all in.

I tried catching Con's eye by coughing and sighing loudly. No such luck. He wouldn't look at me. Even when I asked him if he knew what was going on, he remained silent. He pretended not to understand what I was saying. Instead, he sweated profusely and continued staring out the window.

Turning my attention to the police in the front seat, I tried pleading my case. ‘Excuse me? There's been a terrible mistake.' They ignored me too. I needed to talk to Marcus. He'd sort this mess out quick smart.

And Jack? What the hell was his story? He'd climbed into the other car. It seemed he'd engineered the whole thing. Jack the engineer! I'd known he wasn't to be trusted from the first time I saw him wearing that absurd hat at Brisbane airport.

What if I was locked up for years and no one knew where I'd been taken? What if Greece was one of those countries where nobody received a fair trial? I was delirious with worry. I'd never met anyone who'd been arrested in Greece before. What if no one listened to me and I was thrown in jail with murderers and rapists? What if I was carted away and none of my family or friends ever heard from me again because I'd been sold into the slave trade or prostitution?

My scrambled brain was running at a hundred miles an hour. And my vivid imagination was inventing worst-case scenarios much quicker than I could process them. I started to feel dizzy and sick.

The car finally stopped in a space reserved for emergency and police vehicles outside Santorini airport. Jack jumped out of the car next to me and spoke with several ground staff. They tilted their heads towards me. Jack motioned to the police in the front seat of the car I was sitting in. They opened their doors, got out and opened the two back doors. One held me; the other guarded Con. It was mortifying. Moments later, I was frogmarched towards automatic sliding doors by a short rotund police officer carrying a gun in his holster.

Once inside the airport, Con was led in one direction and I was escorted the opposite way, along several dark crowded passageways. As I was being led, other tourists, locals and airport workers stopped to look at my cuffs, then at me. No one smiled. People turned away embarrassed as soon as I attempted eye contact. My heart was pounding.
I'm innocent
, I wanted to yell.

‘Drugs,' I overheard one say.

‘Yeah, drugs,' another agreed.

They were tourists like me. Like I used to be before this nightmare began.

After that, I walked with my head bowed, staring at the floor, barely managing one foot in front of the other.

Finally, we stopped in front of a nondescript grey door. The officer fumbled with his massive keyring until he found the right key and unlocked the door. He motioned for me to enter. Once inside, he closed the door behind me. I heard the click of a lock and listened at the door until his footsteps faded.

Where was Jack? Why had he left me and when was he going to come and sort this mess out? I would be almost willing to overlook the whole fracas if, when he arrived, he admitted it was all a misunderstanding. A big mistake. Sure, I'd be shitty. After all, being handcuffed and driven away by police on your vacation was no picnic. However, after some serious grovelling I could forgive him.

So I waited . . . and waited. But Jack didn't come. No one did.

There was a minuscule window to the outside world, but it was opaque and I couldn't see through it. And the window had bars. Vertical and horizontal.

I walked over to the door, tapped it and called out, ‘
Kalimera?
Hello? Is anybody there?' Timidly at first. Much louder by the fourth time. By the sixth attempt, I was screaming at the top of my lungs. No response. No noise. It was eerily quiet and very hot.

22

I
was alone. Alone and handcuffed. Locked in a room no bigger than Tara's bathroom back home. Speaking of which, I really needed to use the toilet, but this room didn't appear to have an en suite. There was a small table upon which sat a chipped tumbler and a pottery jug of what I assumed was water. The room was a drab grey colour. The walls, concrete floor and ancient furniture consisting of a melamine table and two steel chairs — all grey.

The only other item was an earthenware pot. It reminded me of the wee pot my old nanna used to place on the floor by her bed at night. Surely they didn't expect me to use that.

I was freaking out. Panicked, I sat on one of the chairs, put my cuffed hands on the table and rested my head in them. I was alone in a foreign country, about to be charged with God knows what. I sat silently for a long while, in a kind of trance, focusing my attention on a black scuff mark on the grey wall.

Finally, I heard some movement on the other side of the door and a key turning. Jack and a female guard walked in. At least, I assumed the round butterball with big black hair was a guard. Unsurprisingly, she was wearing a dull grey uniform consisting of ill-fitting pants and a plain long-sleeved shirt.