Jeffrey Siger_Andreas Kaldis 02 (12 page)
They arrived at the bar and parked up the street to wait for the place to open. Andreas wanted the undivided attention of the owner, unencumbered by the demands of a busy late-night crowd.
From outside, the place wasn’t large as bars go; no more than twelve feet wide at most, with just two small windows, one on each side of a single glossy black door that opened directly onto the street. The windows were done in an opaque, black and silver hand-cuff motif, leaving no doubt to the casual observer just what sort of place this was; even though no one could tell from the outside what actually was going on within
The Ramrod.
That name was announced in all white letters on both windows.
A man dressed in a business suit walked up to the door and went inside.
“Well, I guess it’s open for business. Time to move.” Andreas opened his car door.
Kouros was quiet as they walked toward the bar. He hadn’t spoken for quite a while.
When they got to the front door, Andreas put his hand on Kouros arm to stop him. “One thing, Yianni, I want you to keep whatever feelings you have about this sort of place in check. Do you understand?”
No answer.
“I said, ‘Do you understand?’”
Kouros exhaled. “Yes, Chief.”
“Good, let’s go in.”
Andreas went through the door first. There was no one inside, and it was not what he expected. A light-colored, well-worn wooden bar with a brass footrail ran for about twenty feet along the left wall. It stood in front of an even longer mirror reflecting three ascending rows of liquor bottles. Four faintly glowing casino-style lights in amber-colored glass hung equidistant over the bar. A dozen matching wooden stools lined the bar. The floor was dark, likely old marble, and there were no tables to be seen. This was where customers mingled. For sitting and other nonvertical activities they had to find someplace else.
At the back of the room were two doors. The one to the right was marked WC, the other unmarked, but if it led to the outside it should be marked with an exit sign. Just beyond the far end of the bar on the left was an open doorway leading to what looked to be a hallway. Andreas walked over and stared through the doorway. This place was bigger than it appeared from outside. There was a closed, unmarked door directly across from where he stood. The hallway ran for about thirty feet straight back to another door, this one marked
exit
. On the wall to the right was another unmarked door. From its location Andreas guessed it led to the same place as the unmarked door in the back of the bar room. Separate entrances for patrons trying to hook up discreetly with each other, perhaps. As for what went on once inside those doors—
“Excuse me, can I help you?” It was the voice of a man coming through the unmarked doorway next to the toilet.
Andreas turned and smiled. “I certainly hope so.”
Andreas could tell the man was checking them out. Only natural. Andreas was doing the same thing. Hard not to: the man’s appearance demanded attention. He was about fifty years old, five-foot-ten, stocky, but not fat, with a gleaming, bald head and jet-black handlebar mustache. He wore a silver velveteen shirt, embroidered in a white floral pattern set off by pearl buttons. A thick silver German cross on an even thicker silver chain hung around his neck. His pants were black leather, his shoes black Pumas with silver laces. This was a man in his element, and certainly not the man in the business suit, wherever he might be at the moment.
“Are you the owner?” Andreas asked.
“Who’s asking?” The guy knew how to be belligerent.
Andreas didn’t answer, just pulled his ID out from beneath his shirt and showed it to him. Kouros did the same.
“Okay, yeah, this is my place. Name’s Pericles. What can I do for you?” His tone hadn’t changed. Maybe that’s just the way he was.
“We’re here about the body in the dumpster.”
“I already told the cops everything I know.”
“Well, we just have a few more questions. Mind if we sit down?” Andreas gestured toward the bar.
Pericles grunted, “Go ahead.” Andreas hoped he might be more comfortable talking to them across a bar, something, from the looks of the place, he’d been doing for decades. The man walked behind the bar and stood in front of them. “Want something?”
“Just water would be fine, thanks,” said Andreas.
“And you?” He was looking at Kouros.
No answer.
He reached under the bar and handed Andreas a bottle of water. “A glass?”
“No, thanks, this is fine.”
He looked back at Kouros. “You want a glass to share your buddy’s water?”
Again Kouros said nothing, but his facial expression tightened. The man didn’t seem to notice, or maybe just didn’t care.
“So, like I said, what can I do for you?”
“I was wondering if you noticed anything strange or out of the ordinary that night.” No need to tell him which night. The guy knew what this was about.
He smiled. “Strange and out of the ordinary happen here every night.”
Andreas laughed. “Okay, but you know what I mean.”
“No, it was just a typical Saturday night. No rowdies, no problems.”
“Any strangers?”
“Sure, it’s the nature of the place.”
“What about when you were closing up? Anything different? Anybody come in, look around, and leave?”
“That happens all the time, too. I don’t even notice anymore, except when they yell something. It’s mostly kids who do that, just before they run out. Usually on some dare that if they hassle gays it proves their manhood. You know the type.” He looked at Kouros.
Andreas looked down at the bottle of water and drummed his fingers on the bar thinking, this guy’s picked up on Kouros’ vibe and is into busting his balls. Better get out of here. He’s got nothing to tell us anyway. He turned to Kouros. “Anything to add?”
Kouros was tight-lipped and gestured no.
Andreas stood up and pulled a card out of his pocket. “Well, thanks for your time, sir, and if you think of anything, please give me a call.”
“No problem.” He stared at the card. “Hey, you know, come to think of it, there was one guy. But he didn’t just come in and leave. He sat here for about two hours.”
“Was that unusual?” asked Andreas.
“Not really, he just sat quietly on that stool,” he pointed to the one closest to the front door, “sipping a Coke and not talking to anybody. Once in a while he’d make a phone call on his mobile.”
“Then why him?”
“Well, it was late and I wanted to close up, but I had two regulars at the bar and this guy.” He pointed again to the bar stool by the door. “They wouldn’t leave.”
“What about back there?” Andreas pointed to the unmarked door next to the one for the toilet.
Pericles hesitated. “No one was in there. Besides,” he grinned, “all we have to do to empty out that place is slowly turn up its lights. Anyway, my guy took out the garbage, mopped the floors, and I started turning out the lights in here. Finally, the two regulars got up to leave.”
Andreas interrupted him. “What about the other guy?”
“That’s the strange part. He hadn’t talked to anyone all night, but when the two headed toward the back door he ran after them and dragged them back in from the hallway as if they were old friends, saying ‘Let’s have another drink on me.’ I was pissed. I wanted to close, but he gave me a hundred euro tip, so I stayed open another half-hour. He seemed an okay guy. Interesting, too.”
“What did he talk about?”
“That’s what made him interesting, he had a real knack for getting everyone to talk about themselves without giving away a thing about himself. I overheard everything they said. I had nothing left to do but listen, and all I heard were stories my regulars had repeated a hundred times before. But that guy made them think it was the very first time they told them, and that he genuinely was interested in every single word.”
“Sounds like a guy trying to get laid.” It was Kouros.
“My god, you can speak.” Pericles smiled. “Yes, I suppose it does, but if you ask me, this wasn’t a guy looking for that. At least not in here, anyway.”
“He was straight?” Andreas didn’t sound surprised.
“In my professional opinion, yes.” He smiled.
“How can you be sure?”
“Ahh, he speaks a second time.” Pericles smiled at Kouros.
Andreas touched Kouros’ elbow to remind him to keep his cool.
Pericles looked at Andreas. “I have great
gaydar
. I can tell who is straight and—” he shifted his look to Kouros, “who’s in the closet.”
Kouros didn’t budge. He just stared at Pericles, blew him a kiss and said, “In your wettest, wildest dreams, old man.”
The two glared at each other.
“Cool it, both of you. Yianni, this is Pericles’ place, show some respect, and Pericles, stay serious, this is a murder investigation.” The glaring didn’t stop.
Andreas figured it was only a matter of seconds before World War III broke out.
“Yianni, wait in the car.” His voice was sharp.
Kouros looked at Andreas.
“I said,
wait in the car
.” It was in the unmistakable tone of an order.
Kouros gave a hard look at Pericles, slid off the stool, and left.
Andreas decided not to ask any more questions until things cooled down a bit. After a few minutes, Pericles began wiping the top of the bar.
“Ever see the guy any other time?”
“No.”
“Happen to get a name?”
He exhaled and put the rag under the bar. “It was Niko or something, but I’m sure it wasn’t real. Most don’t use real ones in here.”
“Do you remember what he looked like?”
Pericles shut his eyes. “He was about five and half feet tall, slim. Dark hair, dark eyes, and light skin. He was in his thirties, I’d say, but tried to look younger. Don’t we all.” He opened his eyes.
“What do you mean ‘tried to look younger’?”
“He wore jeans and a tee shirt like kids do, and his hair was long, like a college student’s.”
“Anything else?”
Pericles shut his eyes for a few seconds and opened them. “Yes. He had a beard. Well, not really a beard, I think it’s called a chin strip.”
“A what?”
“One of those thin little things that run from here to here.” He pinched his fingers together just below the center of his lower lip and drew them down to the bottom of his chin. “You might say it was a very gay-looking beard.” He smiled.
Andreas smiled back. “Anything else?”
“No. As soon as he got a phone call he was out of here.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“Thanks,” said Andreas.
Pericles smiled. “I want to say thanks, too.” He put his right hand across the bar.
Andreas nodded, shook the man’s hand, and left—to deal with Kouros.
***
The car was rocking from Andreas’ anger. He was shouting, shaking his fists, and pounding on the dash. The bottom line: no matter how much Andreas liked him and respected his abilities, if Kouros couldn’t control himself and keep his personal feelings in check, he couldn’t work for Andreas. It made him too easy to manipulate. Andreas couldn’t have made it clearer had he tattooed his words inside Kouros’ eyelids, undoubtedly a far more pleasant experience than the one Kouros was enduring at the moment.
“This is your last chance!
Do you understand me?
”
Kouros’ chin hadn’t left his chest since Andreas slammed the car door and started in on him. “Yes, sir.” It was said in about as meek a voice as Andreas could imagine coming from someone Kouros’ size.
“Good, then let’s never talk about this subject again.”
Andreas, drew in a deep breath, exhaled and told Kouros to drive to headquarters.
Kouros didn’t say a word. The silence was uncomfortable. Andreas tried breaking the tension by filling him in on what Pericles had said after Kouros left the bar.
“Chief.” His voice was tentative.
“Yes.”
“That guy at the bar, the one who, uhh, didn’t belong.”
“Yes.” Andreas wondered where this was headed.
“Doesn’t he sound familiar?”
“Not particularly.”
“At the coffee shop, where Anna worked, the guy at that back table who said he saw the two who killed the boy. You asked me before to speak to her about him, and I planned on doing that first thing tomorrow. The description of the guy in the bar sounds just like him.”
But for their recent conversation, Andreas would have kissed him. “Damn it, Yianni, you’re right!” He’d been so angry at Kouros, he’d missed it.
“Want to head over to that coffee shop and try to find him?”
Andreas shook his head no. “Not yet. I want to find out who we’re dealing with first.”
“I have the information from his ID and prints back in the office.”
“Good, because if he was in that bar…”
“He was the lookout.”
“Explains the phone calls and why he stopped those two from going out the back door. The gorillas must have been in the middle of dumping the body.”
“That last phone call had to be the all-clear, telling him to leave! I’ll get someone to pull his phone records. Maybe we’ll get lucky and come up with something.”
Andreas was happy to hear excitement back in Kouros’ voice. He turned his head slightly toward him. “Good thinking, Yianni.”
“Thanks, Chief.”
Andreas noticed a bit of a smile.
Andreas looked at his watch. It was after midnight and, from what they’d pieced together so far, the story of Demosthenes Mavrakis could have been written by Charles Dickens. At least the part about his early years.
He was an only child. His mother and her brother were the only children of a wealthy, old-line Greek ship-owning family. Demosthenes’ father died when he was ten and his mother never remarried. Instead, when her own mother died a year later, Demosthenes and his mother moved in with her father to one of Athens’ wealthy northern suburbs. That was when Demosthenes began attending Athens Academy and adopted his grandfather’s surname, Mavrakis. His school records showed that he flourished there, but never finished. He withdrew two years before graduation. No reason was given for his sudden departure, and he finished his studies in Athens public schools.
Based on his subsequent extraordinary performance on Greece’s nationwide university entrance examinations, Demosthenes was admitted to his first choice of universities. That was almost a dozen years ago, and still he’d not graduated, but certainly not because of any lack of brainpower. His IQ tested in the genius range.
“The guy doesn’t want to be part of the real world” was Kouros’ take on him.
“Don’t be so quick to lump him in with all those student-types you can’t stand who don’t want to graduate. It clouds your judgment.”
Prejudices can do that
was a phrase Andreas thought to add, but didn’t.
“But why hang out with kids if you’re not insecure about facing the real world?”
“Like I said, let’s not dismiss him so easily as ‘just like everyone else.’ It gives him an edge.”
Kouros paused. “He could be using it for cover, blend into that life and never be noticed.”
Andreas nodded. “So, let’s assume his reason is unique and there’s a lot more to this guy than we know. Like, why his sudden withdrawal from Athens Academy and the move with his mother away from his grandfather’s mansion in the suburbs to a rented apartment in central Athens?”
“Lack of money?”
“Sounds like it. But why?”
Kouros shuffled through some papers on his lap. He picked one up. “It says here that the grandfather died in January of the same year he left school and moved out with his mother.”
“Yeah, but her father was loaded, and there had to be an inheritance.”
Kouros shrugged.
Andreas drummed his fingers on his desk. He looked at his watch. “Do you think it’s too late to call her?”
“Who?”
“Lila Vardi.”
“Why call her?”
“She’s the only one I know who might know something.” He picked up the phone and called.
“Hello.” The voice was stiff and formal.
“Lila?”
“Yes.” Her voice sounded a bit more tentative.
“Hi, it’s Andreas Kaldis. I hope it’s not too late to call.”
Her voice came alive. “No, not at all. Like I said, feel free to call any time. What’s up?”
“Uh, I’m here in my office with officer Kouros and we thought there’s something you might be able to help us with.”
“Is it about our case?”
He avoided answering her question directly. “I have no reason to think so yet, just checking out every possible lead. We’re hoping you can tell us about the Mavrakis family. Let me put you on the speaker.”
“Which one?” Her voice came across on the loudspeaker even perkier than before.
“Thanassis. We were wondering what happened to his family after he died.”
She laughed. “Boy, you sure come up with the juicy ones. You’re talking mega-society gossip here.”
“But there was nothing in the papers.”
“Wouldn’t be, most truly private
high society
family scandals don’t get press coverage unless a family member, or lawyer, wants to make it public.” She’d mocked the words she emphasized.
“So, what happened?”
“I don’t know the family that well. Thanassis and his wife were friends of my parents, and their children were much older than I. In fact, I think the daughter had a son a few years younger than I am.”
Andreas looked at Kouros. “What’s his name?”
“Demosthenes, I think. Don’t know him, not sure I ever met him. Terrible what happened to him and his mother, though.”
Andreas didn’t say anything, just waited for her to continue.
“Thanassis was a very successful ship owner, and like many old timers hid what he owned behind a lot of companies. Probably didn’t even have his name on the stock certificates showing who ultimately owned the assets. That was common among that crowd.”
“So no one could find someone to blame if anything went wrong?” asked Andreas.
“Or find to pay taxes. Especially inheritance taxes.” She paused. “I’m trying to remember the gossip. It was so long ago. I know the son worked with his father and that the daughter and her mother did not get along. The brother was the mother’s favorite. When the mother died, I believe the father asked his daughter and her son to move in with him. They lived near my grandmother’s summer home in Ekali. That’s when the brother had a huge fight with his father, accused him of betraying his mother’s memory. The father gave the son an ultimatum. Accept his responsibilities to his sister or leave the business.
“The brother became a new man overnight. Doted on his sister and her son, even started calling him his ‘other son.’ I think he had two younger ones of his own. Everything seemed perfect. But the moment the father died, the brother reverted to his old self. As I heard the story, after Thanassis threatened to put him out of the business, his son spent virtually every waking moment showing his father what a wonderful son and brother he was. Ultimately, he convinced his father that the best way to save taxes for the family was to transfer ownership of everything to him on his promise to ‘take care of his sister and nephew.’”
“I think I see what’s coming. And the father believed him?”
“Well, the father didn’t have all his wits about him in his final years, but that sort of arrangement was something many Greek families with hidden assets followed. What happened here was the exception to the rule. Regrettably, not that rare an exception but, still, an exception.
“The difference here was the intensity of the brother’s ruthlessness, as if he didn’t care what anyone else in the world thought of him. This wasn’t only about stealing his sister’s inheritance, he wanted her to suffer and did all he could to inflict punishment. Literally forced her and her son out of their father’s home just as fast as his lawyers could get it done.”
“Why didn’t she go to court?” It was Kouros.
“I don’t know. Some said it was her nature. She was a very timid, depressed woman. Death or betrayal had cost her everyone in her life who mattered.”
“Except for her son.” It was Andreas.
“Yes, I don’t know what happened to him.”
“What happened to her?”
“Friends of her parents were appalled at the brother’s behavior. They paid her rent on a small apartment in some modest building in downtown Athens and found her a job in a government ministry. She worked there until the tragedy to her brother.”
“What tragedy?” Andreas voice seemed to jump an octave.
“The explosion that blinded him. I thought you knew, and that’s why you were calling.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“But I don’t think it’s related. He comes from a very old Greek family. Not like the others. Though he did move away. But you can’t blame him.”
Andreas didn’t want to show his impatience. “Uh, Lila, could you tell us what you’re talking about?”
She giggled. “Whoops, it’s late and I had a glass of wine. Sorry for rambling. No, as a matter of fact the story had a happy ending.”
Andreas rolled his right hand at the phone in a hurry-up-already gesture. Kouros smiled.
“I guess it shows how a near-death experience can show you the value of family. After the brother was released from the hospital he moved to Geneva and brought his sister to live with him. As far as I know, they’re still living in Switzerland.”
“When did all this happen?”
“A bit after the capture of the 17 November terrorists.”
“Huh?” It was Kouros again.
“Don’t you remember when a group claiming to carry on the ‘revolutionary mission of our 17 November brothers’ bombed a small, private family church in Ekali? No one could stop talking about it. I still cringe when I think about it. It was his family’s church. It was his mother’s name day, and he went alone into the church behind his father’s house, actually his house then, to light a candle and say a prayer. The bomb went off when he leaned over and kissed the icon next to his mother’s wall crypt. It was a miracle he was only blinded.
“I can’t image what sort of human could commit such an outrageous sacrilege.”
Andreas looked at Kouros. “Someone very bitter and angry.”
“But still, in a church, planting a bomb behind an icon?”
Andreas rubbed his eyes. “Ever hear anything more about the family?”
“No, that’s all I remember. Did it help?”
“Sure did. I’m really sorry I bothered you so late, but you helped a lot. Thanks.” His voice sounded burdened with other thoughts.
“Andreas—” she paused.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing. Just call me tomorrow. If you have the chance.”
Kouros gestured if he should leave. Andreas gestured no.
“Absolutely. Promise. Good night. And thanks again, Lila.”
“Good night. Kisses. And good night, officer Kouros.”
“Good night, Mrs. Vardi.” The line went dead. “Sounds like a nice lady.” Kouros actually sounded sincere.
“She is; very nice.” He let out a deep breath. “What the hell do we have going on here? I feel like mice being run through a labyrinth.”
“At least there’s no Minotaur chasing us.”
“But wait, there’s still time.” Andreas fluttered his lips. “That guy was blinded intentionally. If they’d wanted to kill him in such a confined space it would have been easy. The tricky part was just blinding him. These people knew what they were doing.”
“You think it’s the same ones who killed the Kostopoulos kid?”
“Not sure, but I’d bet my left nut Demosthenes was behind that church bombing. Revenge on a betraying surrogate father for all the harm done to his mother. Can’t say I don’t see why the kid might have wanted to kill the bastard, if the uncle’s anything like he sounds, but this is…is—”
“Sick?”
Andreas nodded. “Yeah, as in sicko-genius. Instead of just killing his uncle and watching all that money pass on to his cousins, our guy figured out a way to torture the man for life and still get him to take care of the sister he despised.”
“Think he’s behind the whole thing?”
“Seems too young to me for that, but who knows. One thing’s for sure, he has the right connections and is our only link to them, whoever
they
are. I want 24/7 surveillance on this guy ASAP. But nothing that might let him know we’re on to him. He’s too smart and runs with too dangerous a crowd.”
“I’ll get it up and running first thing tomorrow.”
“And be careful, I don’t want him recognizing you from that coffee shop, even though he was studying me, not you.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll get Maggie to lend me her invisibility cloak, the one she uses to find out everything going on in this building.”
Andreas leaned forward and pointed a finger at Kouros. “You know, that would explain a lot.”
Kouros smiled and stretched. “Looks like we finally have something to grab onto, Chief.”
Andreas leaned back in his chair and yawned. “Yeah, let’s just hope it’s not that Minotaur’s balls.”
***
His routine was simple: he had none. He lived by that rule. Never could tell where he’d be. Certainly never when he said, unless he was ordered and then always early. How early depended on what he felt the situation required. Routine to him was a weakness, the Achilles’ heel of the strong. The only time he was precisely where he was supposed to be was when the habits of a target required split-second timing, and that exception proved his rule: targets died because of their routines.
Demon was a very angry young man those first few years at university. Bitter at the world in general and at his uncle in particular, he didn’t realize just how easily one could be manipulated: ponderous thoughts subtly argued out to logical extremes by gifted talkers, patiently reinforcing each point with references to classic literature, ancient history, and modern events were exactly what young, rebellious minds found important when trying to validate their new independence from family and home. That was what made them so vulnerable to those seeking to focus their outrage at the world in general on “Greece’s class system” in particular, and channel undirected anger into violence. For most, their seductions required not much more than that, carried out amid drinks, drugs, supportive friends, and willing lovers applauding their every argument and thesis.
But for Demon it was different. Yes, he enjoyed and participated in the Exarchia revolutionary scene, but his reach was far greater than the bounds of any single group or philosophy. He was a creature born of the unique us-against-the-Man rapprochement achieved in that community among the ideologues of revolution and the city’s unholy criminal underbelly, and he moved effortlessly through those different worlds.
In that environment, it felt natural for him to talk among his like-minded comrades of how revenge might be had on his capitalist pig of an uncle; but never did he expect things to go so far that his words would become actions. He wasn’t even there when it happened; but they told him how his description of the house, the church, and his uncle’s routine gave them what they needed, and his words the inspiration to come together to make his plan work. He threw up for days, agonizing over how he’d possibly become part of this, made it all happen. Then he was told his moment was here: there was a message only he could deliver. To his uncle, in person, and at once.
In a heavily guarded hospital room, in the presence of his aunt and cousins, a dutiful, concerned nephew calmly whispered into his uncle’s ear, “Take care of my mother or your children and wife are next,” then kissed him on the forehead and smiled. Not a word was returned, not a gesture made; only a nurse moved, looking for what triggered the heart monitor alarm.
