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Authors: Philip Kerr

BOOK: Hand of God
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‘I’ve been thinking more about what we were discussing with Dr Olga What’s-her-face,’ I said as we crossed the busy main road where another car was now depositing our new lawyer and her bag-carrier.

‘Christodoulakis,’ said Phil.

‘If the lawyers’ and doctors’ strikes last for any length of time,’ I said, ‘we’re going to need a plan of how to make the best of things here, in Athens. The longer we stay in Greece the bigger the problem we’re going to have keeping our lads in check.’

‘You’re the boss,’ said Phil. ‘Team discipline is down to you, Scott. Hand out a few fines. Kick a few backsides. Remind them that they’re diplomats for English football and all that crap.’

‘I don’t think that’s the right way to handle it,’ I said. ‘We may need to offer them a diversion. In case these bastard government ministers and police lieutenant generals prove to be as intransigent as the Chief Inspector I met last night. And I want your backing if I suggest it.’

Toby Westerman and Dr Christodoulakis joined us in front of the GADA building as I outlined my idea.

‘Of course we’ll need to get permission from UEFA. And perhaps Vik will have to put his hand in his pocket. From the look of this place they could use a couple of new turnstiles. But I was thinking that perhaps we could strike some sort of a deal with Panathinaikos to treat their ground as the home fixture for next week’s match.’

‘You mean us? Play in there?’ Phil laughed. ‘I hope they’ve all had their injections.’

‘Sure, why not? And we could even let the Greens have the gate. What’s the capacity of a place like this? Fifteen, twenty thousand? Looking at this place I bet they could use the money. The important point is that we know that, whatever happens, we’re going to have a return match against Olympiacos. I can keep the team all pointed the same direction: towards training sessions at Apilion, just like before; followed by a match here next Wednesday night.’

‘That might work,’ agreed Vik. ‘What do you think, Phil?’

He nodded. ‘If we’re stuck here for any length of time it might be our only chance of remaining in the Champions League. It might even assist us in building some local support on our side.’

‘I hope it doesn’t come to that,’ I said. ‘But we ought to have a plan, just in case we’re stuck here. And I’ll bet this culture and athletics minister will be just the person to help us make it happen. We should be ready to take advantage of his willingness to help while we have him. It might not be so easy to get hold of him again. He might go on strike. Or get voted out of government.’

‘Actually the minister is a she,’ said Dr Christodoulakis. ‘Dora Maximos. She was a famous athlete and then an even more famous singer.’

‘I get it,’ I said. ‘A bit like John Barnes.’

Phil laughed. ‘God, you’re a bastard, Scott.’

‘Yes, but that’s what I’m paid for, isn’t it?’

The GADA was an unremarkable office block with an entrance like a bomb shelter. Near this was a small white marble shrine to the many Greek policemen who’d fallen in the line of duty; Michael Winner might have appreciated it but no one in Greece did. According to Dr Christodoulakis, the police in Athens were much hated. Gathered outside the front door were several newsmen – some of them English – who appeared to have been tipped off about our meeting; like everything else in Greece, information had its price.

In the conference room on the top floor where we met them you could easily see the football pitch across the road. And it was clear from the many plastic shamrocks and green ashtrays we found about the room that there was little support here for Olympiacos and plenty for Panathinaikos. But how much support there was for us in government remained to be seen.

The Minister of Public Order and Citizen Protection, Konstantinos Miaoulis, took charge of the meeting and, apologising profusely for detaining us in his country, he assured us the investigation would proceed with all possible haste in what were extraordinarily difficult circumstances, by which I assumed he meant the plain fact of the country going to hell in a handcart.

Dr Christodoulakis answered him quietly but firmly. ‘Just to clarify the matter. It’s my understanding that my clients – by which I mean every one of the London City staff and players who were staying at the hotel on the night that this young woman met her death – are forbidden to leave the country until the following has occurred: first that they have been questioned by the police as to what they might know about this young woman and Bekim Develi’s involvement with her; and second that an autopsy shall have taken place to determine whether there is any forensic evidence linking her with anyone other than the late Bekim Develi.’

Chief Inspector Varouxis lit a cigarette and nodded. ‘That is correct.’

Like everywhere else in the EU Greece had banned smoking in indoor public spaces back in 2010, but that didn’t seem to matter at police headquarters.

‘Given that the pathologists at the Laiko General Hospital are on strike,’ argued Dr Christodoulakis, ‘would it not be fairer if the return of the whole team to Athens from London was secured with the payment of bail, this sum to be set by a judge in chambers? That way the team might fulfil its own contractual arrangements which its continued detention in Greece could seriously damage, thus leaving the Greek government open to a civil action in the courts.’

Konstantinos Miaoulis was a fit-looking man, with a military bearing, and while he may not have resembled a politician, he certainly sounded like one: ‘I disagree. It’s the government’s opinion that to bring so many people back to Greece would prove enormously difficult. Suppose that one of the City team players is sold to another club before the transfer season closes? What guarantees could London City give the Greek government that they could make such an individual return? We take the pragmatic view that it’s better to try and resolve this matter now, while everyone is here to assist the police. It’s to be hoped that the strikes in the courts and among our medical profession will end very soon, enabling Chief Inspector’s investigations to proceed with all possible speed.’

‘Might I remind you,’ said Toby Westerman, ‘that as a signatory to the Schengen Agreement, the Greek government is technically in breach of its obligation not to observe
any
border or passport controls between this country and other member countries. Strictly speaking, the team don’t need anyone’s permission to leave the country. Legally, they’re within their rights just to go to the airport and leave.’

‘I wouldn’t put that to the test if I were you,’ said the Police Lieutenant General. ‘The United Kingdom is not a signatory to the Schengen Agreement. The British government’s complicity in the practice of extraordinary rendition hardly gives its representatives the right to lecture Greece on proper legal procedures.’

‘On behalf of the British government,’ Toby Westerman said, ‘I protest the decision of the Greek police to detain the London City team, in the strongest possible terms’; but after that he remained silent for the rest of the meeting, which we all took to mean that the British government intended to do nothing.

‘With the permission of Mr Manson, Mr Hobday and Mr Sokolnikov,’ said Varouxis, ‘I should like to question the players and playing staff at the earliest opportunity. And take their fingerprints.’

‘Very well,’ Dr Christodoulakis agreed. ‘However, I must insist that the police keep us fully informed of any and all developments in this case, as soon as possible.’

‘Of course,’ said Varouxis. ‘I should also like to take possession of Mr Develi’s mobile phone, and any computers he might have. To help us identify the dead girl.’

These were still in Bekim’s kitbag, now safely back in my room, but I wasn’t in a hurry to hand these over.

‘No, that won’t be possible,’ I said, ‘but I’ll be happy to let you have sight of them in my presence. Although, I don’t think his laptop or phone will help you. I had a look at them myself last night when I got back to the hotel. I can assure you that the only calls he made and received on his mobile were to his girlfriend, Alex.’ This was true; Bekim hadn’t called anyone other than Alex. Nor had he sent or received any emails from anyone in Greece either and I explained this to the police. ‘I even checked what websites he browsed. I was searching for escort agencies he might have looked at. But I drew a blank there as well. I should say you’d be better off seeing what calls came through the hotel switchboard. Or perhaps having a look at the PCs in the business centre.’

‘Did you check those, too?’ There was a note of sarcasm in the Chief Inspector’s voice.

‘No,’ I said. ‘Although I would have done if I’d thought of it at the time.’

Varouxis sighed irritably and lit another cigarette. By now I wanted one myself. My normal rule of just one fag a week was beginning to weigh rather heavily on me.

‘This is a murder investigation, Mr Manson,’ he said, stiffly. ‘I’m well within my rights to force you to hand them over.’

‘I understand that, Chief Inspector. However, there may be confidential information on those devices. We shall need to check this first. For the sake of his family. Perhaps you’ve seen the news? His girlfriend is in hospital. She took an overdose of cocaine and is now in a coma.’

‘I’m afraid that is not acceptable, Mr Manson.’

‘Then I suggest you get a court order,’ I said. ‘Perhaps at the same hearing we can petition the judge to leave the country. That is, if you can find a judge.’

Varouxis looked at Lieutenant General Zouranis as if seeking further guidance.

‘I could order your arrest for this,’ said Zouranis. ‘I wouldn’t need a judge for that. Obstructing the police is a serious offence.’

‘I don’t think Mr Manson is obstructing your investigation,’ said Dr Christodoulakis. ‘He didn’t say he wouldn’t let you see Mr Develi’s electronic devices. Only that he wanted to be there when you did it.’

‘Correct,’ I said. ‘How about this afternoon at three o’clock? We’re currently using the royal suite at the Grande Bretagne Hotel as our office.’

Now Lieutenant General Zouranis looked at his minister for guidance; the minister nodded.

‘Very well,’ said Lieutenant General Zouranis. ‘It shall be done as you have suggested.’ He looked at Varouxis who shrugged his own compliance.

‘In an attempt to help you identify the dead girl, Mr Sokolnikov intends to offer a reward for any information that leads to an arrest,’ said Dr Christodoulakis.

‘Good idea,’ said General Zouranis.

Dr Christodoulakis looked at me and shrugged as if she too had done all she could. Recognising that we were stuck in Athens until further notice, I tossed onto the table my idea about playing the home leg of our draw with Olympiacos at the Apostolos Nikolaidis Stadium, which Dora Maximos, the Minister of Culture and Athletics, took up with alacrity.

‘That is also a good idea,’ she said.

‘Yes and no,’ said the Minister of Public Order and Citizen Protection. ‘It’s fair to say that by playing your home leg across the road you’ll be perceived to have made yourselves the allies of Panathinaikos. You will have put yourself into the middle of the two eternal enemies, with all that this entails. It’s a match that will require some very careful policing.’

‘If they can handle it,’ said the Police Lieutenant General, ‘so can we.’

23

‘Christ,’ said Phil when he and I and Vik had got rid of the embassy guy and our lawyer and were back to the Grande Bretagne Hotel. ‘You were a bit leery with that Chief Inspector, Scott. I’d forgotten how much you dislike the police.’

‘Actually, I don’t mind Varouxis all that much. He’s only doing his job. But then so am I. Looking after my players, dead or alive, is what this job is about. At least, that’s the way I see it. And while I don’t see Varouxis taking cash from a tabloid, I can’t say the same for any of the people who work for him. If you’re a Greek cop a bit of extra money would come in handy, I bet. Premier League footballer scores home and away and everywhere in between. That’s the kind of story the English papers would love to run.’

‘All the same,’ said Phil, ‘I still think you were a bit sharp with him.’

‘As a matter of fact, Phil,’ said Vik, ‘it was me who told Scott to deny the cops access to Bekim’s iPhone and his laptop until I’ve seen if he had any emails from me. You see, a few months ago Bekim bought some property in Knightsbridge on my behalf I’d rather no one knew about.’

‘Sorry,’ said Phil. ‘I didn’t realise.’

‘As soon as Pete Scriven has brought them over from the team hotel in Vouliagmeni I intend to erase anything there that might connect me with the Knightsbridge deal. With Scott watching, of course. I wouldn’t like either of you to think I’m up to no good here.’

‘Of course not,’ said Phil.

‘The thing is, though,’ added Vik, ‘Scott is right. Bekim always did like escort girls a little too much for his own good. It’s probably best we try to keep a lid on that as well, if we can.’

Phil shrugged. ‘All right. I get that, too. But what I don’t get is why the cops are making such a fuss about this. I should have thought that getting murdered was an occupational hazard for a prostitute. I mean, that’s the risk you run when you go with a man you’ve never met before, isn’t it?’

‘That’s no reason to write her off, Phil,’ said Vik. ‘She was a human being, after all.’

‘I wasn’t writing her off so much as making a comment on the Greek police. Why are they taking the death of one little tart so seriously? There are thousands of tarts in this city. Since the recession hit Greece back in 2009, it’s about the only growth profession there’s been in this bloody country.’

‘It sounds a lot like you’re writing her off,’ said Vik. ‘Look, Phil, she might have been a prostitute but murder is murder and the death of a prostitute creates its own peculiar, not to say lurid, sensation. Dropping a beautiful girl in the harbour with a weight tied around her feet is just the sort of dramatic detail than the newspapers love.’

‘I don’t think she was a prostitute,’ I said. ‘More like a high-class escort. It’s splitting hairs perhaps but I think that’s something different from a common prostitute. Bekim may have been many things, but he was extremely picky when it came to women. My guess is that she was expensive and probably quite picky herself. For a girl like that I should think the chances of a client bumping her off are quite slim, really. All of which means she ought to be easier to identify.’

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