blouse, looked at him uncertainly. ‘To tell you the truth, I’m not sure,’ she replied, beckoning him to join her and pointing to the tray of drinks on the table. ‘Give me a vodka tonic, will you? Two of the former to one of the latter, a single rock.’
Mavros obliged and poured himself a shot of Wild Turkey.
‘The doctor. . how do you pronounce his name?’
‘Stavrakakis,’ he said, raising his glass.
‘Cheers, and thanks, Alex. I really appreciate what you’ve done. Anyway, the doctor says the tests are all clear. She hasn’t sustained any head or internal injuries. She hasn’t been raped or anything like that.’
‘Great.’
‘Yeah, but she’s obviously suffered some pretty major psychological damage.’
‘She still isn’t talking? Not even to you?’
Cara Parks looked down. ‘No. I’m just back from the clinic. She turned her head to the wall. The last person I saw do that was my grandfather. He’d had chemotherapy too many times and he wanted it all to end.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Mavros watched her eyes. ‘Do you know anything about Kornaria, the village she escaped from?’
‘Only what you told me earlier.’ The reply was quick. ‘Why? Is it a nest of perverts as well as being Dopeville, Crete?’
‘Not that I know of. Stavrakakis seems like a competent type. I’m sure they’ll have English-speaking shrinks on hand.’
Cara nodded. ‘They do. But-’
There was the sound of voices in the hall. Luke Jannet came in unsteadily, followed by Alice Quincy and Rosie Yellenberg. Presumably the gorilla had admitted them.
‘Two little love birds. . how does that song go?’ the director said, heading for the drinks tray.
Alice and Rosie exchanged a glance and shook their heads.
‘So, Mavros,’ Jannet said, raising a highball glass full of Glenfiddich, ‘whatcha think of the airplanes?’
‘They were cool. Glad I wasn’t on the ground when the 109s’ bullets were real.’
The director laughed. ‘That’s what the old Brit said.’
‘Waggoner? He was wounded during the battle.’
‘Is that right? I heard he took plenty of Krauts out later.’
Mavros sipped his drink. ‘Still, making a film’s not the same as being in a war.’
There was a prolonged silence, broken by Cara Parks.
‘Luke, Maria’s still not talking.’
‘I heard that from Rosie. She’ll come round.’ Jannet’s face tightened. ‘You telling me you’re not going to show up tomorrow? Jesus, Cara, it’s the fucking massacre scene.’
Rosie Yellenberg, who had confined herself to a small glass of red wine, intervened. ‘I’ve spoken to Cara, Luke. She will be on set tomorrow.’
‘Well, thank Christ for that,’ the director said, emptying his glass. ‘Come on, we’re all going into Chania. There’s a restaurant on the harbour-front that does ace lobster.’
Mavros glanced at Cara.
‘I want to talk to Alex,’ the actress said. ‘We’ll find you later.’
Jannet raised an eye and grinned. ‘OK, you two do what ya gotta do. Come on, ladies. I get the feeling we’re cramping their style.’
‘Asshole,’ Cara said, after the trio had left.
Mavros raised his shoulders. ‘I’ve worked for worse.’
The actress held her glass out. ‘Same again, bartender. Have a refill yourself.’
‘Thank you, ma’am.’
She laughed and then a shadow fell over her face.
‘Maria will be OK,’ Mavros said, ‘I’m sure of that.’
‘How can you be sure?’ Cara demanded. ‘You aren’t a fucking brain doctor.’
‘Em, no, I’m not,’ he replied, taken aback by her venom.
‘Oh, shit.’ She bent forward, resting her forehead on her upper arm, and started to sob.
Mavros put her refilled glass on the table. He considered comforting her by word or touch, but decided against it. She was, in effect, his client, and besides, there was something he didn’t fully trust about her — he couldn’t always clearly see the line between her acting persona and her real one.
Cara sat up after a few minutes and wiped her face with a tissue. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just. . I rely on Maria so much. I can’t function without her.’
‘Can I ask a personal question?’
She took a pull of her drink. ‘As long as the answer won’t appear in some showbiz rag.’
He smiled. ‘I take client confidentiality seriously.’
‘Shoot.’
‘Were there any problems between you and Maria before she left?’
Cara stared at him. ‘Problems? What do you mean?’
He was almost convinced, but he needed to be sure. ‘The young man who was killed by your car back in LA. You were driving, weren’t you?’
The surprise on the actress’s face was genuine, but was that because the question was out of the blue or because the accusation was well founded, Mavros wondered. For a time, it looked as if she was summoning up the strength to bawl him out, but then her shoulders slumped.
‘How did you know?’ she asked hoarsely.
‘I didn’t, till now.’ He sipped Wild Turkey. ‘But I had my suspicions when we spoke about it before.’
‘Like you say, client confidentiality. You can’t tell anyone.’
He nodded. ‘Wasn’t thinking of doing so. But I would like to get to the bottom of the case I was hired to handle. Was Maria kidnapped or did she go to Kornaria willingly? What happened to her when she was there? Why isn’t she talking, even to you?’
Cara stood up quickly. ‘I can’t answer any of those questions. Come on, I need some fresh air.’
‘The front in Chania is pollution-free.’
‘Screw that,’ she said, picking up a denim jacket from the chair opposite. ‘I’ve had enough of Luke and Rosie and the crowd. There’s a bar here down by the sea. Come with me?’
The look on her face was that of a little girl asking her father to accompany her. Mavros thought about their ages — she was twenty-four and he was forty-one. At a stretch, he could be her father.
He decided against holding her hand.
From
In the days that followed the slaughter at Galatsi, everything passed in a blur — perhaps because of my head wound, but more likely because my spirit, my soul, whatever you might call it, was trying to withdraw into a safer, more childlike world.
I must have collapsed, because I came round in what had been an enemy hospital encampment, the British flags in shreds and the swastika on its white and red background flapping in the strong wind.
Although my head was aching, I picked up information from the men around me. Some were silent — either in exhausted sleep or drug-induced oblivion — but others were chattering excitedly.
‘The Tommies are running,’ one wheezed, his chest completely covered in bloodstained bandages. ‘Our fly boys will pick them off on the road south.’
Another one spat noisily. ‘The New Zealanders fought well. I wouldn’t like to face those Maoris again.’
‘They did a lot of bayonet work,’ a loudmouth at the end of the open tent said. ‘But we did more with our MG34s. The crows are eating the black bastards now.’
‘And the peasants who cut our boys up,’ said the first man. ‘Savages! One of them stuck a fork in my friend Willi’s neck.’
‘I hope you executed him on the spot, Private.’
There was a brief silence as the men realized who had spoken. I recognized Captain Blatter’s voice immediately.
‘Yes, sir! Except it was an old woman, sir, and I took her head off with my MP40.’
