The Collectors Book Five (The Collectors Series 5) (8 page)

              “So what is your uncle asking?”

              Andreas lowered his head. “It’s my fault. I exaggerated your escapades in China and Libya and he believes you and Bear are the men to find the train, his last chance so to speak. If you went to my village, carried out a cursory search, and found nothing, that would be the end. I’ll pay whatever it costs.”

              Petros stood and walked to the large map of Greece on the far wall. “Where’s your village?”

              Andreas joined him and pointed. “There’s a valley in the mountains where the resistance lived during the war. The Germans destroyed many communities including ours. When the Russian army liberated my country, the decision to stay where we were was unanimous. The government built roads and connected power lines. As a child I loved it.”

              Petros shrugged. “Let me have a chat with Maria. She wasn’t happy when Bear stuck his head in the way of a bullet. If she says I can go, I’ll talk to Bear but I know his answer. Because I’m bored, you get five days on the house, after, it’s one thousand a day plus costs. If what you say is correct I’ll be finished in three.”

              “When will you know?”

              “I’ll ring you later.”

              Petros turned his head as a uniformed police officer entered the bistro. Tall, with an athletic build, he placed both hands on the counter and smiled at Andreas. “I believe a couple of young men gave you some trouble this morning.”

              “You mean those two who went for a swim. You’d better get them to a hospital for jabs. There’re dead rats and dogs floating in there.”

              The officer’s eyes lit up. “Their statement says you and a blond-haired customer beat them up, stripped and threw them in the water.”

              “Why would they lie?” asked Petros.

              A smile formed on his lips. “I’ve no idea, sir, but as information decides what we might charge them with, I thought I’d better visit and check it out. Those two need putting away.”

              “It’s a warm day. Maybe they thought it a good idea,” said Petros.

              “You might be right, sir. Oh, the rubbish bin outside, I suggest you shift it elsewhere. My colleagues will be visiting to take a statement later.”

***

Petros sipped his coffee and studied Maria as she piled one brick on top of another for Alysa who took great pleasure in knocking them over.

              His coffee finished, he placed the mug in the sink. “How would a few weeks in Cyprus suit you, Alysa, and mama?”

              Before she had a chance to answer Alysa repeated, “name, name, name.”

              Maria rearranged the bricks to spell ALYSA.

              She pointed to Charlie. “My name.”

              Charlie, a full grown Alsatian, glanced at her, barked and rested his head on his cushion.

              Alysa grabbed the five bricks, sat on the floor in front of Charlie and proceeded to spell out her name. When she finished she shouted, “Name”

              “She’s growing; next year she’ll be going to school,” said Maria.

              “You haven’t answered my question.”

              “If it’s a collection the answer’s no.”

              “It’s more of a favour to Andreas. We could all fly to Larnaca. I need at most three days. After, we can do the family bit.”

              “Tell me more and I’ll think about it.”

              Petros reiterated the story as told by Andreas. “Maria, I love you and Alysa but my property business is managed by Andreas. My father and my brothers complete repairs almost before the tenant puts the phone down. I’ve cruised from Teddington lock up to the shallow end of the Thames half a dozen times. I need something more.”

              “What you’re saying is your family is not enough.”

              A look of shock filled his face. “No I’m not, and if it were true I wouldn’t be asking, I’d have gone.”

              She pulled him close. “Twenty-four-seven is not easy. I realise you need more in your life but collecting is what you do. I knew your business when I met and married you but as this is a good deed for Andreas, you can go but you’ll visit the family in Cyprus when you return from Greece. How many days did you say?”

              “I promised five but reckon three at most.”

              “Are you taking Bear?”

              “I’d like to but...”

              “I’ll have a word with Jocelyn.”

              “I knew I married you for a reason.” He kissed her full on the lips.

              “Papa. Name,” said Alysa.

              He selected six bricks and placed them in order between Alysa and Charlie. “My name.”

              She brushed them away. “Not Alysa.”

              “Dog, fancy a walk along the river?”

              “Not Dog, Yarlie. Me walk along the river with Yarlie.”

              Petros turned to Maria. “Want to come?”

              “Might as well. The fresh air may tire madam.”

              Alysa stood on a stool and opened the main door. “There’s a first,” said Maria.

              Charlie and Alysa raced across the garden to the water’s edge. Hand in hand, Petros and Maria followed.

***

At eleven the next morning, Petros pressed Bear’s bell push. The door opened and Bear’s frame almost filled the narrow hallway as he leant against the wall.

              “You’re late. I expected you an hour ago. You don’t have to worry, Maria phoned Jocelyn and explained your trip to Greece when you left this morning”

              “I need your help. It’s a favour for Andreas. He wants us to put a ghost to bed.”

              Bear took a deep breath. “Come in. Coffee?”

              “Please.”

              Bear filled two cups from the bubbling percolator and placed them on the kitchen table.

              “How can I help?”

              “The same as you always do. Be there to pull me out of the shit.”

              Bear leaned forwards, his elbows on the table. “I know you better than you know yourself. You’re bored and stubborn enough to go it alone. I gather we might be clambering over mountains. We’ll need the proper gear.”

              “A map of the area would be useful. Climbing equipment, we’ll buy in Thessalonica. You don’t happen to have blonde Bob’s phone number?”

              “That rascal’s flying helicopters for the oil and gas rigs.”

              “Make contact. We might need a pilot in a rush.”

              “When are we leaving?”

              “I’m giving a talk to the sixth form at my old school next week but I’ll let you know soonest.”

              “In truth, I’m bored to death doing nothing. At least this is something.”

              “You and me both.” He stood. “Stay where you are. I’ll let myself out.”

              Bear followed to the door. “Blue skies for a week, must be summer.”

              Petros gazed at the clear sky, excited by the prospect locating a missing train. As a favour to Andreas, Maria’s approval would drag him out of a rut. He strolled towards Tower Hill underground station with a spring in his step.

              He checked the time. With the sun on his face, he chose to walk the three miles to Stanfords Map Shop in Covent Garden. Maps of Greece seemed plentiful but in the end, he required an assistant to find a detailed map showing the topography of northern Greece.

              On the train home, he studied the location pointed out by Andreas. The absence of a railway line surprised him but he noted the many roads.

***

“Bear phoned,” said Maria as he closed the main door. “He wants you to call him back.”

              He punched a memory button on his mobile.

              “Blonde Bob’s not flying for the next couple of weeks, maybe more. The air safety people have grounded their machines. Something to do with gearbox problems.”

              “That’s good news for us. Contact Charles Haskell and ask if he can arrange a chopper from Thessalonica. We’ll supply the pilot.”

              “It’ll be an arm and a leg job.”

              “I know but it means we can be in and out in a couple of days. I’ll charge it to expenses. My accountant can make it tax deductable or something. Whatever, it’s better than walking for four days with a pack on your back.”

              “You’re getting old.”

              “Older and wiser. I have the money; why not use it to our advantage.”

              “Can’t disagree. Oh, blonde Bob says whatever the job, seven-fifty a day plus expenses. I said I’d be in touch.”

***

Petros arrived at his old school and parked his ancient BMW in the playground, pausing as he did to study the once familiar scene. A sign in bold black letters directed him to the administration office.

              Mary White stopped staring at the screen of her word processor and lifted her gaze. She smiled. “Petros Kyriades, the headmaster’s in the library with the sixth form. You’d better hurry, in two minutes you’ll be late.”

              He chuckled before saying as he walked away. “Don’t think I’ll get detention.”

              Wearing blue jeans, a white shirt with no tie and an Armani black blazer, he opened the door to the library and strolled in. “Good morning, Headmaster, Ladies and Gentlemen.”

              Headmaster Georgiadis Stamati stood. “May I introduce Mr Petros Kyriades, a former pupil of our school. As an entrepreneur, I invited him to speak on the problems of running and operating a property empire.”

              “Thank you, Headmaster.” He took the one empty chair, turned it round, sat and leant on the back. “To begin with my advice to you all is simple. Other than hard work, planning and living a balanced life, ignore everything adults tell you. The world I lived in is not the same as the one you are about to enter and so the lessons are different. What I will do is answer any questions you wish to ask.”

              For a few seconds the room became silent.

              A young man with cropped black hair stood. “Mr Kyriades, can you explain how you entered the property business?”

              Petros grinned. “I had a stroke of luck, made some money and invested it in a couple of apartments. From that day, any money I made I put into property.”

              A young curvaceous girl wearing a tight white blouse, short skirt, stood and smiled. “Mr Kyriades, rumour has it you were thrown out of the army and became a mercenary. Is it true?”

              Georgiadis jumped from his chair. “Miss Biros, your question will not be answered by our guest.”

                 “I have no problem with the question, Headmaster. Young lady, it’s no secret I was once in the regular army. I made a mistake, resigned my commission to save any embarrassment. I loved the excitement of army life and believed the same existed as a mercenary. I was wrong, it’s tough and the pension plan is lousy. My first and only mission became a total disaster but one good thing came out of it, I met my best friend and sort of adopted a baby girl.”

              Another boy, his face covered in acne stood. “Mr Kyriades, why was the mission a disaster?”

              Petros turned to Georgiadis. “I’m happy to tell the story, Headmaster.”

              Georgiadis nodded.

              “I’ll keep it short. At the end of our patrol, we, that is, the officers and troops, expected to return to base in the comfort of a Hercules. Unfortunately, we walked straight into a trap planned by the guerrillas whose political objective was to overthrow the government.

              “I rested my men in the shade of a dry ravine a good distance from the runway. This actually saved our lives. The guerrillas attacked the rest of the force, but we were far enough away to evade capture. When the assault ended, my men decided enough was enough and chose to return to their own villages. On checking our map, my sergeant and I needed to walk four hundred miles to reach safety.”

              A hand shot in the air.

              “You have a question?”

              “Sir, what happened to the survivors of the attack at the airstrip?”

              “There weren’t any. With the Angolan border four hundred miles away all we had to do was stroll through forests, swamps and negotiate a few hills at night.”

              “Sir,” said a fair-haired, overweight boy. “Why at night?”

              “Think about it.” He paused for a few moments. “Walking in the sun will dehydrate you fast. Unless you drink plenty of water, you’ll die. All we had between us was two water bottles, so we rested during the heat of the day and searched for water holes at dawn and dusk along with the animals.