The Dead Travel Fast (10 page)

“I’ll carry on shall I, Syntagmatarchis? It’s just you and me now, I don’t think your men can hear us anymore. Let me tell you how I got the bones out, but you’ll have to work out for yourself why I had to take them.”

Then his voice seemed to change, the rough island accent disappeared to be replaced by a dry, well-spoken tone that sounded ancient to Theodrakis.

“It’s the old way always with the bones; they are where we started; they have to be kept hidden. It was hard to get them out, but it was as if someone else was doing it.”

Then there was a laugh and the voice mocked him.

“Do you really think, Syntagmatarchis Theodrakis, that this old wreck is capable of carrying out what he is describing? I’m afraid that’s all we have time for now, but look to hear from us again.”

There was a noise behind him as the door opened and a voice said,

“Christos, it’s cold in here, are you all right, sir?”

Theodrakis shook himself as if trying to wake up; the room gradually settled back to its usual equilibrium. Costas, next to him, was silently shaking and the young policeman guarding the door rushed outside. The old man cradled his face in his hands. He was quietly weeping and had started to smell again. The cop who had come in looked towards Theodrakis for assurance.

“Sir, what was going on in here?”

“Forget that; tell me what you interrupted us for.”

“Dr Lucca needs to see you urgently, Sir.”

“OK, but first fetch two men and get this suspect locked up in the strongest cell we have, and make sure every time anyone has to visit him he doesn’t go alone.”

Looking at the old man weeping he found it difficult to credit what had happened, but at the same time he believed it with a desperate certainty. Costas gripped his arm.

“I’m sorry boss, I let you down in there.”

“No, you didn’t, but don’t go round talking about this, OK? And make sure the old man stays locked up. I’m going to see Lucca but I’ll check in with you afterwards.”

This time, to his relief, he found Lucca not in the morgue but in the lab shifting through a pile of papers.

“Theodrakis, you look like you’ve seen a ghost, perhaps this time I should take you out for some rough brandy.”

Theodrakis smiled.

“You can’t even guess how much I’d like that, but there’s not time and I don’t think I’d be able to stop at one. So, just tell me what’s so urgent.”

“OK, but I don’t think you’re going to like it any more than I do. We only have definite evidence from one murder; Despina Karamanlis. But that’s not the bad part.”

He paused as if he didn’t want to continue. Theodrakis had a premonition that what he was about to hear would change his life. Everything froze for an instant but at the same time become elastic, Theodrakis felt not only could he hear the ticking of the clock on the wall but also sense every shift in its mechanism.

“The bad part is that the evidence we do have, and as you know in messy killings like these there tends to be a considerable amount of it, indicates very strongly that no two killings were done by the same person. I’ve asked them to double check for contamination but the evidence on your old man has been re-calibrated and it’s spot on; I’m sorry.”

Theodrakis said nothing so Lucca continued.

“I know it makes no sense. With so many messy killings you’d expect people noticing the state of the murderer and reporting stuff to us but there’s been nothing. I’m going to check again but if the tests stand, it would seem you’ve got the same unbelievable modus operandi but a different killer for each victim.”

Theodrakis wanted to be surprised but wasn’t. He felt victimised that all this had landed on his doorstep. He placed a hand on Lucca’s shoulder saying,

“Thanks. Double check to make certain and don’t breathe a word of this until you hear from me; we don’t want to make things worse by spreading panic. When you’re certain, call me.”

He walked back to the station where Kostandin met him at the front desk.

“What’s been going on? This place is full of rumours about your interrogation and the lads who were in with you aren’t fit for anything, even Costas.”

“I’m not sure, there are some things I need to check.”

“So what’s the line for the press? They’re still hanging around.”

“I know, I just had to walk through them. Tell them the usual stuff; you know how it goes, we need more time to question a suspect and have other lines of enquiry to follow up.”

“Do you know what you’re doing, Theodrakis?”

“I’m not sure, do you?”

Theodrakis needed to get away and think and not have to answer any more questions and then it came to him; he’d go across the island and find the waitress. Fed up of waiting for an answer, Kostandin pressed him.

“So, what are you going to do?”

“Adamidis wants me to pursue some leads on the other side; so you keep that old man locked up. Oh, and listen, there’s something about him that affects the men so make sure no one sees him on his own. I’ll let you know how I get on.”

He turned and walked out ignoring the shout of, “What do you mean affects the men?” from Kostandin. He left the building by the back to avoid any lurking journalists and found Costas still looking pale, smoking in the compound. As he walked past Costas asked,

“What happened in there, boss, what the fuck’s going on?”

Theodrakis called back over his shoulder,

“Truly the Devil is back amongst us.”

Steve examined his hands while waiting for Professor Andraki to find the map: his finger nails were torn and filthy and his palms scarred and calloused. It was twenty four hours since the fire had burned out but his hands still stung and his face felt raw. He had never been particularly frightened of fire before, but the past forty eight hours changed that. Changed it to such an extent that he feared he was being sucked back into the nightmare he’d inhabited in Skendleby.

The early morning call from Andraki had therefore come as a relief, or at least as a welcome distraction. Andraki hadn’t said much, just,

“I have had a request from Vassilis. He says that there is a major prehistoric site on his land that he fears may have been damaged in the fire; please call in to my office this morning.”

So by eleven, he was sitting in Andraki’s office at the University, and it was clear from his greeting Andraki wasn’t happy.

“Vassilis wants a field survey of the burnt area conducted, he wants it done immediately; as if we have the resources to throw at his least whim. He insisted that you lead the survey.”

Andraki couldn’t keep the exasperation out of his voice. Steve smelt drink on his breath; it was early to have started on the bottle. When he’d first arrived at the university there’d been no indication that Andraki had a drink problem; but now? He listened with interest, however, as the Professor continued.

“I am controller of archaeology here, but it appears that despite
that, what he says I obey and for more reasons than just his donations to the university. But I have said too much. I understand you are a friend of his and that woman who purports to be his daughter.”

He crossed himself, sat down at his desk and put his head in his hands. Steve sat and watched him in embarrassment while pondering what Andraki meant by purports to be his daughter. He didn’t have to wait too long as it was clear that Andraki wanted this meeting over as quickly as possible.

“I am sorry to have spoken like that, Doctor Watkins, my nerves are not good and I have been unwell of late. I hope you will not take what I just said seriously; I have only the greatest respect for Kirios Vassilis. Please do not.”

He came to a stop, unable to say what he wanted, but Steve understood.

“Don’t worry professor, I have no intention of mentioning any of this to him nor to his daughter.”

Andraki looked up and Steve saw the expression on his face;- it was a mixture of relief and something else, something disturbing that Steve didn’t want to think about. Andraki got up and moved across to a battered old map table.

“I have a large scale map of the area here for you and the names of three graduate students you can use.”

Eventually he found the map, spread it out on the table and they identified the most likely position to start the survey. Then he folded the map before handing it over along with the names of the students. Andraki slumped heavily back down into his chair and Steve stood up to leave. As he reached the door, Andraki spoke one last time.

“Doctor Watkins, thank you for your tact and understanding. I will see you in my office before you start tomorrow morning.”

There was a pause, but as Steve was turning the door handle,

“And, Doctor Watkins, you should be very careful.”

Steve turned round to ask him what he meant, but Andraki was already reaching in the top drawer of his desk for the bottle so he let himself out, closing the door behind him.

Outside he was blinded by the sunlight. When he’d located and put on his shades he saw it was a beautiful day, there was even
a faint breeze off the sea and, even better, this side of the mountain there was no smell of burning. The only hint that not many hours before a major disaster had been narrowly averted was the drone of helicopters across the other side, scouring the land for any indications of smoke.

People were going about their business as usual and the world didn’t seem so threatening. He stood for a moment outside the faculty door and decided that the survey could wait; he would wander down to one of the student bars on the town beach and have a beer watching the sea. He never got there; as soon as he walked out of the shadow of the university building he heard his name called.

“Stevie, Steveymou, over here.”

He looked across the road and saw Alekka leaning against the side of the silver sports car. She was wearing a short summer dress and very high heels which emphasised her shapely, powerful legs. Steve forgot about the sun, the bar and the sea and crossed the road to join her.

“I find it hard to think that this is a coincidence.”

“Of course it is not, silly boy, but I think that you are not unhappy to see me, it has seemed such a long time since we were together.”

She reached her right hand out to take his in a handclasp and placed her other on the back of his neck and he felt the delicious coldness of her touch; she brushed his lips with hers, then disengaged and slid back into the driver’s seat. He watched this manoeuvre with interest as the already short dress receded up her thighs. She noticed him watching and laughed as she gathered her dark hair into a band. He climbed into the passenger seat and plugged in his seat belt, which he noticed she hadn’t bothered to do.

“So, how did you just happen to be parked here?”

“My father of course, but you must know that already I think. He knew you would be with poor little Andraki as he had instructed, and so sent me to fetch you.”

She must have noticed a look of disappointment spread across Steve’s face and added,

“But for me of course that was most wonderful thing, because
I wanted to see you and was beginning to wonder if you still liked me as you do not ring.”

“So we’re going to see your father then?”

“Of course, but after if you like we will have time together and there are things on the island I can show you.”

He was about to reply but the car accelerated away from the kerb with a screech of rubber and proceeded to bully its way out of the town. Steve shrank back into his seat and tried not to look. Shortly before midday, they reached the Vassilis estate and Alekka pulled up in the courtyard and turned towards him. She wore an expression Steve had not seen before: a mixture of concentration and concern, which he found difficult to interpret.

“I will take you to my father, he is in the garden near the chapel, and I think Father John may be with him.”

Steve was about to protest at this last detail but she stopped him.

“Steve, you do not yet understand all things about my father. He likes you of course, but not only because you save my step-brother Antonis; in fact, I am not sure you did anyone a favour when you did that. He likes you for other things as well; you have experiences that could be useful to us. I think it was not coincidence that brought you here. He will tell you things that the logic in your head will reject; but inside you they will seem true. Listen carefully, not only to my father but also to Father John, if he chooses to say anything. This is a difficult time, the island is in a bad moment and I think for you there will soon be danger; but not from those two. They need your help in some way that is not yet clear, but you travel the same road. When the talking is done I will come and collect you. Now follow me please.”

She turned and walked quickly away and he followed, but not even the view of her bottom undulating beneath the thin material of the dress lifted his new mood of disquiet. They found Vassilis sitting at a table in the shade of the grove by the chapel; Father John could be seen some yards away in the deeper shade at the glade’s heart. The table was set with a light lunch of fruit, cheese, bread and olives, a jug of water and a pitcher of wine.

Vassilis was dressed in a soft broad brimmed hat and what
looked like an old fashioned artist’s smock. Steve felt he wouldn’t have looked out of place knocking about Arles with Van Gogh and Gauguin in the nineteenth century. He didn’t look at Father John. Vassilis waved him to sit at the table.

“Please eat and drink what you like, Doctor Watkins, I commend the wine to you. It’s grown in small quantities from our own vines, you passed them on your way here, light yet fragrant; probably the only wine grown here worth drinking. Thank you for coming to visit at such short notice but I hope you will appreciate the rather more interesting, and suitable, task that I suggested Professor Andraki confer on you.”

Steve helped himself to food and wine; he knew despite the courteous words this was a power relationship: Vassilis commanded and people obeyed. Yet he was pleased to have the survey, the area had interested him since Alekka had first showed it to him, so he asked,

“I’m really grateful for the chance to investigate the area, but why did you choose me?”

“I think in your heart you know why.”

Vassilis smiled and patted Steve on the knee, then, as if conceding a great favour, said,

“But I will tell you all the same. In that ground there are things of great age: things you will feel are familiar to you because of your experience of one particular site. Yes, that’s right, the one you wish to forget. But no one can ever forget something like that, Doctor Watkins, can they? You thought you’d escaped didn’t you? A new life in the sun, but no one escapes what is intended. You must face what troubles you. I remember my good friend Michel De Montaigne saying, during a lively philosophical discussion about fear, that it is not the thing itself that is important or to be feared, it is what we make of it.”

Vassilis paused to beam with pleasure at this memory.

“So, you have been brought here to see if you can be more successful second time round. And yes, you did hear correctly, before you ask. I arranged the job for you on Samos. But even I did not foresee that you would save the life of Antonis; such is the way in which the gods play with us, is it not?”

He paused to pour himself a glass of wine and favour Steve with what was intended as a reassuring smile before moving on.

“I know you understand far more of this than you let on, Doctor Watkins, but I fear I might be pushing you a little too quickly so let me ask you a more prosaic and therefore less troubling question. What do you know of the history of this island? No, please do not attempt to answer, the question was rhetorical.”

Ignoring his own wine glass, he poured another glass for Steve. Father John, although still deep in shade, had moved closer as if to hear better, and this disturbed Steve more than the teasing yet somehow threatening nature of Vassilis’s conversation. There was something about the bloodless priest that made him shudder, yet was familiar. Vassilis began again.

“I do not mean the classical history concerning Polycrates, Pythagoras or Alcibiades and the Athenian fleet; nor the famous Romans who holidayed here. Although it is true the island troubled them, particularly Alcibiades, no, I mean the pattern of abandonment that was established. You know that for periods the island was completely deserted, that all its occupants fled in terror, and you will know then from your research the many different reasons that are trotted out for each period of exile. None of them, although each one is true up to a point, tell the real story. Nor is it true that the island was totally abandoned; Father John and I and our bloodline never left.”

As he said the word bloodline he had turned his head with the suggestion of a smile towards the priest who, Steve noted to his alarm, moved closer as Vassilis spoke.

“No, there is one very ancient common factor that explains all the evacuations, although at different times it manifested itself through different symptoms, rather like a contagion mutating with each infestation. But you have to be able to see things differently to understand the real causality, as my friend Montaigne so elegantly expounded in his discourse.”

He again paused to favour Steve with his thick-lipped smile.

“We understand, Doctor Watkins, that what appears to the common herd as a random yet deadly mixture of murder, fire, economic ruin and public disorder is in fact merely the first deadly
symptoms of something older and infinitely more threatening. I think you are beginning to understand why you are here, and why I want you to excavate that feature which we have watched over through the ages. You, the man who excavated, albeit foolishly, Skendleby; does it surprise you that we know about that when you thought it was a secret? Well,
mutatis mutandis
, as they say.”

Steve asked,

“You want me to excavate a feature because you think something there is making all this happen?”

“Exactly, ridiculous isn’t it. Who would believe such nonsense? Still, the police have no idea and they too have brought someone onto the island to investigate for them. Do you know that the local peasants believe the Devil has returned to walk amongst us, the socialists believe the bankers have caused it, the Greens that it is a particularly vicious local strain of global warming? And there is even a sect in the USA, also represented here, that believe that after they have been evacuated to Heaven the world will burn, probably sometime in October. So with all that going on, it won’t do any damage if you conduct a minor excavation on my land, will it?”

Steve shook his head.

“I think, Doctor Watkins, that you will know what it is when you see it. But I see Father John desires a word.”

The priest was very close now, shrouded only by the shade of the immediately overhanging trees. Steve tried not to look into the blistered white face as the priest spoke in thin dry tones.

“Peter Heylyn, a seventeenth century divine once told me ‘things have a secret inclination to change the one into the other and to make Pythagorical transmigration (as it were) into each other’s being’. You might find that useful.”

He finished the sentence with a dry cough as if the strain on his vocal chords had been too severe and turned away, merging into the sylvan gloom. Vassilis watched him fade with a smile then said to Steve,

“I wouldn’t be so alarmed by the good Father, it cost him considerable effort to tell you that. I think that one day, when you need him, you will recognise him for the friend he is. Now, as we have discussed weighty matters for so long and I am sure that you
are tired, I will go to attend to other concerns and leave you here to relax; Alekka will then return to collect you. I have, as ever, enjoyed your company. I will see you again in the very near future.”