Jeffrey Siger_Andreas Kaldis 02 (7 page)
“What are you doing?” shouted the man. “Who do you think you are?” This time he cursed Andreas aloud.
Andreas ignored him and kept opening drawers until he found what he wanted.
He dropped a pair of women’s shoes and a waitress’ apron on the counter. “Let me guess, you wear these when you want to express your feminine side.” Then he dropped a box of tampons and a lipstick beside them. “Dare I ask what do you do with these?”
The man was clenching and unclenching his fists.
“Now, why would a nice man like you lie about working alone? Could it be that she—” picking up the apron—“is illegal?” He patted the man on the shoulder. “So, once again you’re trying to steal from our government?”
A boy got up and headed toward the door. Kouros gestured for him to sit down.
“But I have a class.”
Kouros repeated the gesture and the boy sat down.
Andreas gave an I-have-your-ass now look to the owner. “Unless you want this place shut down and more problems than you can imagine, I want you to get everybody who works for you over here
now
. I want these two bastards” and slapped the envelope with the photograph across the man’s chest; then he leaned over and whispered in the man’s ear, “so I can get back to making some real money and you can continue doing whatever the hell it is you do.”
The owner was nervous and blurted out, “There’s only one girl, she works part time.”
Someone cleared a throat. “Officer.”
Andreas turned and smiled. “Yes, sir?”
It was the man at the rear table. “I may know those men after all.”
“Really?” Andreas’ sounded sincerely surprised, or at least he hoped he did.
“Yes, all this excitement must have jarred my memory. I seem to remember seeing them before.”
Andreas walked over and sat down at the man’s table. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t get your name.”
“Mavrakis. Demosthenes Mavrakis”
Andreas nodded, as if truly thankful for the man’s sudden recollection and utterly oblivious to his undoubted interest in stopping the owner from giving away information that could lead them to Anna. “So, who are they?”
“I don’t know their names, sir, I just saw them around the neighborhood.”
“Ever see them in here?”
“No, sir, they’re not the coffee shop type, if you know what I mean.” He smiled.
Andreas smiled back. “Yeah, sure. So, what do you mean by ‘around the neighborhood’?”
He suddenly looked uneasy, but in a way that made Andreas sense it was because that’s how he was expected to look and not because he actually was. “You know, the kind of places where students go to get
things
.”
“‘Things?’ What sorts of ‘things’?” He already knew the answer was drugs but sensed he better keep playing dumb.
Demosthenes rolled his eyes. “Come on, officer, you know what I’m talking about.”
Andreas smiled as if he suddenly saw the light. “Yeah, that fits with why we’re looking for these guys. So, how come you know so much about the neighborhood?”
“I go to school here.”
“You look a little old for the university.”
He shrugged. “It is what it is.”
Andreas smiled again. “Yeah, sure is. So, where can we find these guys?”
“I don’t know. I noticed them about a week ago and haven’t seen them in a couple of days. They weren’t the kind of guys I wanted to get to know.”
Andreas nodded. “Ever speak to them?”
“No.”
“Know anyone who spoke to them?”
He gestured no.
“So where and when did you first see them?” Before he could answer, Andreas put up his hand to stop him and said to Kouros, “Yianni, once you get their ID information, let them go.” There was a rush for the door.
“So, where were we?”
“You wanted to know where and when I first saw them.”
Andreas nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. Okay, just tell me everything you remember about them.”
They spent a half-hour together. Andreas never once tried to trip him up or show interest in anything other than the men in the photograph. He pressed him to remember every physical detail about them. Not because he needed that information, he already had it from the club’s videos, but he wanted to make sure Demosthenes wasn’t just saying he saw them. He described the two perfectly, as if he realized it was a test.
By his questions, Andreas let enough slip out for Demosthenes to piece together that someone in the Angel Club fingered the two as drug dealers. That way, anyone who knew the truth would think that whoever the cops were squeezing for busts at the club got a real break when two strangers turned up masquerading as club employees and spared the snitch the risk of turning in any of the club’s real dealers.
In exchange, Demosthenes gave Andreas absolutely nothing of value. The places where he claimed to see them were all very public: a subway station, open park, and fast-food restaurant; each was extremely busy and notorious for drug trafficking. Even if what he said were true, and Andreas didn’t believe him, there was little chance of finding them that way. All he’d really given them was a grand, old-time wild goose chase; but Andreas sensed there was more to this guy than he was letting on, and he didn’t want to risk spooking him until he knew what it was.
Maybe they’d get lucky and find something after they lifted his prints off the photograph. Demosthenes and Andreas were the only ones who touched it, and Andreas was careful. All Andreas was certain of was that Demosthenes didn’t want cops finding Anna, but was that to protect her or the two gorillas? After all, she was illegal. From the way the owner looked at Demosthenes when Andreas said he was a cop, he might be part of the local protection racket paid by places like this to keep from being hassled. But he didn’t seem the physical sort. Then, again, he was the first to give them anything on the gorillas. Maybe he’s the one who connected them to Anna? What the hell, he’d give Anna a call, just to see what she knew about Demosthenes.
***
Demosthenes watched the two cops leave. Then looked at the owner still standing behind the counter.
The owner spoke quickly. “I’m sorry Demon, I didn’t mean to involve you in this.”
Demon was what everyone called him. He motioned for the owner to come to his table, and the man hurried over as if summoned by a king from his throne. Perhaps he was, for no matter how busy the place might be, and though Demon rarely was there, no one sat at that table but Demon. Complete control over a single, small table in a twenty-foot by thirty-foot university coffee house might not seem like much to most, but it stood as an ever-present symbol to the Exarchia community of Demon’s influence. But he wasn’t a king; he was an anarchist. Or was he a communist? No one knew for sure, and Demon liked it that way.
“What did the cop say to you?”
“Nothing. They were crooked, looking for a payoff from drug dealers.”
“I see.” That’s what he’d thought and why he sent them chasing after two guys who no longer existed. At least not in Greece.
“And what did he ask about Anna?” He doubted she was smart enough to link him to the two guys, but he couldn’t risk the cops finding her. She might say something to get them making the connection.
“She never came up. Honest, Demon, he was only interested in a payoff.”
But could he be sure of that? Things often were not what they seemed. Himself for example. He was far older than he looked, far less educated than he put on, and if what he’d been told countless times were true, far brighter than practically anyone on the planet.
He stared at the owner. Demon had carefully kept to the shadows, quietly amassing power and secretly applying it in whatever measure he deemed necessary. Now this man, this
inept
man, had caused his name to fall into the hands of the police.
The owner bit at his lip and looked down at the floor, but he did not move from the spot where he stood. Demon did not show his anger. He still needed him. For over a decade Demon had been amassing an army of minds and wills from their most fertile source: children recently liberated from their parents, filled with ideals and burning to change a world their parents had so screwed up. His gift was not in knowing such ready converts existed. Politicians knew that for ages. It was in picking those who would do
anything
for a cause they believed in, and remain committed to
him
long after their university days were over.
And this coffee shop was where he found many of them.
Demon smiled. “It was not your fault, you did the right thing.”
Whatever you wanted or needed to hear Demon told you. He had a knack for that and never worried about the truth. It was far too cumbersome a convention for his goals. Whether or not that made him a clinical sociopath was of no concern to Demon. He did what had to be done.
“So, Maggie, what’s so important for you to call me four times in the last forty-five minutes?” He sounded nonchalant but, knowing Maggie was not an alarmist, expected hearing that life on earth as he knew it was over.
“You’re pretty popular, Chief. Everyone’s calling for you, from the prime minister on down.”
Maybe it really was over. “We’re heading back to the office. Be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Better turn around and head the other way. You have an appointment in—” she paused, Andreas assumed to look at her watch, “ten minutes at the Tholos.”
“At the what? And why did you schedule an appointment without clearing it with me?” His voice was sharper than he intended.
She didn’t seem bothered. “I didn’t schedule it for you. The prime minister’s office did. Tholos is a virtual reality theater inside a big dome, looks like a planetarium. The show starts with the burning of Athens by the Persians and focuses on life in the Agora during Athens’ classical period. Makes you feel like you’re living back in the fifth century BC. It’s on Pireos Street.”
“What the fuck’s going on—sorry, Maggie, I didn’t mean that for you.”
She laughed. “Don’t worry. I was wondering the same thing.”
“Can’t seem to get out of that neighborhood.” Andreas gestured for Kouros to turn the car around and head in the opposite direction.
“No, Chief, it’s in the Tavros section, on the other side of town from Omonia, at 254 Pireos.”
“Who am I meeting?”
“That superbitch from the prime minister’s office wouldn’t tell me, just said to tell you to ‘be there,’ but if I had to guess, I think I know who it is.”
He’d learned to trust her instincts. “So, tell me already.”
“Marios Tzoli.”
“Shit.”
“Thought you’d like that. He called me twice, insisting he must speak to you—”
“Personally called?”
“Yes, and I told him I couldn’t reach you. Then I got a call from the office of the minister of public order telling me you must call Marios immediately. I told them the same thing, I couldn’t reach you.”
That minister was his boss. “Let me guess. Then came the call from the prime minister?”
“Five minutes later.”
“Boy, he really must be owed some favors.”
“Shall I tell you some of them?” said Maggie giggling.
“Not on the telephone, my love.” Andreas smiled.
“Let me know what happens.”
“Will do. And Maggie, have a blue-and-white meet me at that dome-thing. I have fingerprints I want the lab to run STAT.” He hung up. “Yianni, who do you think actually runs my office?”
“I’d need permission from Maggie to answer that.”
Andreas smiled again, and shook his head. “Well, what do you think has Greece’s number-one scandal-chasing TV personality all hot and bothered?”
Kouros’ look turned serious. “You don’t think he somehow found out about, uh—”
“Last night?” Andreas shook his head no. “Don’t think so. Only if it were a set-up from the start would he be so pumped up so quickly. Besides, as important as I seem to you,” he smacked Kouros’ shoulder, “I’m not close to the sort of person his viewers are interested in watching screw up their lives. Certainly not enough to get this kind of personal attention from
the Man
himself.”
“So, what do you think it is?”
Andreas shrugged. “Whatever it is, he’s sure anxious to tell us. Maybe it has to do with where he’s picked to meet?”
“Yeah, it seems a bit dramatic, even for him.”
“I think when referring to Marios he prefers that you spell ‘him’ with a capital H.”
Kouros grinned. “Oh, yes, I forgot he’s one of our modern gods.”
“All-knowing, all-powerful, gazing down upon us mere mortals from Mount TV, deciding who shall live, who shall die, and what bullshit gets the best ratings.”
“Wonder who he’s after?”
“Well, if it isn’t us, let’s not give him a reason to change his mind, like by keeping him waiting. Step on it, we’re already late.”
They parked where parking was “strictly forbidden.” Cops always ignored those signs; it made them feel more like civilian Greek drivers in need of a parking space. Though in a hurry, they had to wait for the uniform cop to pick up Demosthenes’ fingerprints. They stood by the curb and stared at three connected structures identified by a sign atop the middle one: HELLENIC COSMOS.
The futuristic Tholos, or
dome
in English, stood to the left and was by far the most dramatic architectural element of the 23,000-square-foot complex. It was a virtual-world sphere, created by civic-minded Athenians in the midst an old neighborhood of gas stations and commercial spaces badly in need of aesthetic attention. Here visitors experienced life amidst the commercial, political, cultural, and religious center of ancient Athens—the Agora—while sitting in a 130-seat theater “losing all sense of time and space.” At least that’s what a sign by the entrance read.
Andreas pointed to the sign as they passed it. “Let’s hope that happened to Marios.” They were twenty minutes late for what he expected to be a pissy,
prima donna
performance by the self-styled “Voice of Greece.”
They entered through the front door closest to the theater. He said to meet him there. They didn’t have to look for him. He was standing on the other side of the door looking at his watch. Short silver hair, bright blue eyes, a slim five-foot-six-inch frame, and an age falling somewhere between Greece’s past and present generation of leaders, Marios seemed tense. Andreas took that to mean he was about to unload on them for keeping him waiting.
“Chief Kaldis?” It was the voice millions knew. “I could tell it was you from where you parked.” It sounded like sarcasm, but might be a joke.
Andreas treated it as humor. “You mean I don’t look like my photograph?” Andreas smiled and extended his hand.
Marios did not smile but did shake hands. “Yes, your minister was kind enough to fax me a photograph of you.”
And probably a copy of his official personnel file. This guy had access to practically everyone and everything he wanted. “Sir, this is officer Kouros.”
They shook hands.
“I would have preferred meeting elsewhere,” he waved his hands, “somewhere less public but…well…you’ll see.” Marios pointed to a broad steel and glass staircase leading to a mezzanine lined with floor-to-ceiling windows. “Let’s go up there.”
The actual steps, thirty-five of them plus a landing halfway, seemed the only wood in the place. No question that steel, glass, and light were the principal design elements here and presented a decidedly modern contrast to what Andreas expected. Then again, Andreas didn’t know what to expect.
Marios held Andreas’ arm as they walked. He gestured toward Kouros with his head. “What I have to say is very private and off the record.”
“Officer Kouros and I work together. If it’s something involving police work he will know anyway.” He looked Marios straight in the eyes. “If it involves something else, I’m not the person to talk to at the ministry.” If this was about making Andreas one of Marios’ “unofficial official” sources, they may as well have it out right now. It was guys like this who did in his father.
Marios stared back. “I heard you’re a hard-ass.” He let out a breath. “Okay, have it your way, but if word about what I’m about to tell you gets out, there will be hell to pay for all of us.”
This guy sure knew how to sell. He’s about to pump me for information and makes it sound like it’s the other way around. “I understand, sir, there will be no problem.”
Marios nodded. “Fine, just so you know it.” He made no effort to make Andreas feel comfortable in “his” presence, such as by saying, “just call me Marios.”
At the mezzanine they turned left and entered a dark room lined with television monitors along the tops of the left and right walls. Marios said this was where visitors were told what was about to happen inside the dome.
“When do we learn?” asked Andreas.
“Soon.” Again, no smile. Marios led them inside the sphere.
Eight semicircular rows of airplane-style seats descended to the base of the sphere. The screen rose up from the floor in front of the bottom row and seemed to envelope everything but the seats themselves. Marios pointed to two seats, dead center, in the next-to-top row. Each seat arm contained controls allowing the audience to vote during the course of the video on the direction the presentation should take. A bit of democracy in action in the telling of the tale of its birthplace. But the three of them had the theater to themselves and there was no doubt in Andreas’ mind that this would be all Marios’ show.
Marios sat in a seat two rows below and directly in front of them. He turned sideways to face them. “I want you to watch something, but before it starts you need some background.” He paused for a moment, as if collecting his thoughts. “Well, we all know about the terrible tragedy that befell the Kostopoulos family.”
No beating around the bush for this guy, thought Andreas. Better be careful; there might be microphones hidden somewhere.
“And I’m sure you think I brought you here to pump you for information about that.”
Andreas was expressionless.
“Of course you would, but I assure you that’s not why I brought you here. I don’t want to know your thoughts. I want you to hear mine.”
Andreas knew better than to interrupt a rambler. Sooner or later they said something they shouldn’t. But, then again, this guy’s too experienced to make that sort of mistake. He’s a better interrogator than most cops.
“You know about the siege the boy’s father, a truly unlikable man, waged on one of Greece’s oldest and most respected families for control of their newspaper?”
Andreas nodded.
“When was the last time you spoke to Zanni or Ginny Kostopoulos?”
“Yesterday, we…” Andreas caught himself. This guy’s smooth, he thought. Almost got me into details of our interview with the family.
Marios didn’t miss a beat. “Of course, when you told them of their son’s death.” He paused, as if waiting for Andreas to respond.
Andreas decided not to speak unless asked a specific question and, even then, not to volunteer an unnecessary word.
“Do you know what the family is doing today?”
It was a direct question. “No.”
“No reason why you should. Would you be surprised if I told you they put up for sale all the real property they own in Greece?”
Andreas gave no response.
“Or that an investment banker was engaged to sell all Kostopoulos family business interests in Greece?”
Still no response.
“And that Mrs. Kostopoulos and the children left Greece, first thing this morning?”
Silence.
“Under heavily armed guard?”
Andreas started to fidget in his seat.
“And, my guess is, once the boy’s body is released, burial will be outside of Greece. So they need never return.”
Andreas couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “I have no idea why you’re telling me this, or if any of it is true.”
Marios shrugged. “Frankly, I don’t want to be here telling you
any
of this. And, on a personal level, I don’t give a rat’s ass whether you think I’m crazy or not. But when you leave here and check out what I told you,…” he allowed his words to drift off. He turned away from them and pressed a button. The lights faded down and images began filling the dome. The journey to Athens of another time had begun.
It was a fascinating experience, with great special effects, but what held Andreas’ interest was one simple question:
What the fuck was going on?
Kouros kept giving him looks along the same line. They were up to 416 BC, in the time of the Athenian democracy, and thirty-five minutes into the forty-minute presentation.
“This is the part for you to concentrate on.” They were the first words Marios had said since the show began.
The presenter’s voice picked up with, “
Ostrakizmos
was a procedure conducted by secret ballot for the protection of Athenian democracy. Once a year, citizens of Athens decided whether to hold a vote ostracizing one of their fellow citizens. If a sufficient number of Athenians wanted to conduct an ostracism, the person banished could be anyone the voters agreed was dangerous to Athens and democracy. Reasons for ostracizing were
- the citizen had conservative views characteristic of dictatorship ideas;
- the citizen was dishonest in business dealings;
- the citizen misled people for personal purposes; or
- the citizen was rich and bragged.
“Anyone determined to be such a danger was banished from Athens for ten years and required to leave the city within ten days.”
Marios pressed a button, the presentation stopped, and the lights went on. “So, what do you think?”
Lunatic was the first thing that came to mind. “Interesting,” was the word Andreas uttered.
“I see, you don’t agree. But I’m sure you understand the point and, yes, there could be other explanations for why the family left so quickly.”
Like simple, unmitigated grief, thought Andreas.
“Of course, in those times it was only a ten-year banishment of the individual from Athens, not his entire family from Greece for life.” He waved his hand in the air. “But, times change, procedures evolve, and everything in life can’t be a perfect fit.”
Andreas hoped his loss of patience wasn’t showing. “Sir, you’re a smart guy; we all know that. You’re also damn good at what you do; we all know that, too. What we don’t know is,
where the hell you’re headed with this?
”
Marios was unfazed. “For those who didn’t accept the ostracism, the penalty was death.”
Andreas already guessed that. The founders of democracy were notoriously direct in their punishments, even among peers. “But, with all due respect, sir, it’s one hell of a stretch to suggest that this…this ‘ostracism,’” he pointed at the screen, “was behind the boy’s murder.” He knew his frustration was showing.
“What if there were proof linking what you just saw to the death of the Kostopoulos boy?”
Andreas wondered if his minister had any idea how off-the-wall this guy was. “I don’t know what to say, sir. If you have evidence, of course we’ll look into it and—”
