The Silver Stain

but he did gather up three mobile phones, as well as a cardboard folder from a worn briefcase.

‘All right, you piece of shit,’ he said, sitting down beside Roufos. ‘Start talking, first about Rudolf Kersten’s coin collection.’

‘What about it?’

Mavros slapped him on the cheek. He didn’t usually treat people like that, but he’d had dealings with the antiquities dealer in the past and he knew how devious he was.

‘You’ve been trying to steal it.’

‘You can’t prove that,’ Roufos muttered, head down to avoid more blows.

Mavros laughed. ‘I don’t have to. I just have to go on hitting you till you come clean. Toss over those keys, will you, Niki?’ He caught them and threaded them through his fingers, then ran the metallic tips along the dealer’s balding head. ‘You sent Oskar Mesner to steal some coins in order to scare the Kerstens, after getting David Waggoner to case the building.’

‘I don’t know any Oskar Mesner,’ Roufos said sullenly.

‘Liar,’ Mavros said, pressing the keys harder into his skull.

‘All right, I admit I used him,’ the dealer said. ‘What of it? You and your heavy took the coins back.’

‘So then you got in touch with Kersten and got him to agree to sell you half the collection.’

Tryfon Roufos raised his head and stared at Mavros. ‘How do you know that?’

‘Never mind.’ He opened the folder and started flicking through papers. ‘Oh, what’s this? A draft bill of sale for two-hundred-and-sixty coins, description as per addendum “A”, price four hundred thousand euros. Interesting. What are they really worth?’

‘What? I don’t know. It depends on specific market considerations and-’

‘Bullshit. You must have a sum in mind, a calculating snake like you.’ He drew the key points towards Roufos’s left eye.

‘I. . oh, all right. . at least a million.’ The dealer’s chin fell to his chest again.

‘A decent profit even in your dirty line. Then again, you could have the whole collection, couldn’t you?’

The dealer stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Mrs Kersten is all on her own. No doubt you could bribe the security staff.’ Mavros wasn’t worried about putting Hildegard in danger because he trusted Renzo Capaldi to look after her. Telling Roufos that the collection had been removed would have guaranteed her safety, but he wanted to see how the dealer responded to the temptation.

‘Or you could use Oskar Mesner to slither his way in and sweet talk his grandmother.’

Roufos was clearly trying to work out where Mavros was trying to go with this angle of attack, but he wasn’t allowed any more time.

‘David Waggoner. What’s the nature of your business with him?’

‘Waggoner?’ the dealer asked, making more of a mess of pronouncing the name than was necessary. ‘Who’s he?’

‘I saw you with him the other night in Tou Philippou, you lying shit.’ Mavros edged the longest key closer to Roufos’s eye. With a rapid movement, he dug the point into the side of his forehead. He heard Cara’s intake of breath, though Niki didn’t seem to be disturbed. ‘Last time. What are you scheming with Waggoner about?’

‘I. . we. . we have some interests in. . in Kornaria.’

Mavros laughed. ‘What a surprise! They wouldn’t by any chance be illegal interests, would they? I seem to remember you deal in Byzantine icons. They wouldn’t be being packed up with drugs shipments to the US, would they?’

Roufos’s failure to answer confirmed Mavros had hit the spot.

‘And Minoan remains?’ he added. ‘There aren’t so many at this end of Crete.’

‘A. . a few,’ the dealer confirmed.

‘Chania is built over a Minoan city called Kydhonia,’ Cara said, prompting a raised eyebrow from Niki.

‘Quite,’ said Mavros. ‘So you reckoned that scaring me off would give you a free run to infinite riches.’ He leaned closer. ‘Big mistake.’

‘You won’t leave the Great Island alive,’ Roufos said, closing his eyes as the keys moved closer. ‘The Kornariates have already beaten your driver into a coma. It’s only a matter of time till they catch up with you.’

‘Now that’s helpful,’ Mavros said. ‘You’ve moved the conversation on to my next topic. Why was Maria Kondos kidnapped?’

‘Maria who?’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, I mean Maria Kondoyanni. Daughter of Michael “the Bat”, that well known Florida mobster who I’m sure you’ve had dealings with.’

‘Haven’t,’ Roufos whispered.

‘Now I come to think of it, you’ve probably had dealings with Eugene Tzannetakis too.’

‘Who?’ The antiquities dealer’s voice was almost inaudible.

‘You heard. As it happens, he’s the father of Luke Tzannetakis, also known as Luke Jannet, director of Cara here’s movie.’ Mavros moved the key up to Roufos’s right eye and pressed it against the closed lid.

‘All right!’ the dealer squealed. ‘I’ve sent shipments to them both in containers, along with the drugs.’

There was a loud knock at the door.

Cara was up quickly and on her way to look through the spyhole. She stepped back with a wide smile on her face. ‘Speak of the devil,’ she said, in a loud whisper.

‘Jannet?’ Mavros returned. ‘Is he on his own?’

‘Looks like it.’

‘Let him in.’

Cara undid the chain and lock, then pulled the door open. As Jannet entered, a slack smile on his face, she kneed him hard in the groin. He went down on one knee, then gradually hauled himself up.

‘What the fuck was that for, bitch?’ he asked, pulling a pistol from above his backside and pointing it in her face.

‘Behind the sofa!’ Mavros yelled at Niki, heaving Roufos up and using him as a shield.

Stalemate.

David Waggoner stood on the terrace of his house to the west of Kornaria and watched the last of the sun ebb away from the mountainsides into the distant sea. He had seen the same sight in his twenties, when his group of andartes came down from the high caves to stock up on supplies. There was always a glendi, a feast with sheep being killed and roasted, and barrels of wine broached. Scouts were posted on the almost impassable tracks, but the Germans knew better than to send patrols up there, especially at night. He took a sip of the raki that had been distilled from the stems of his own vines and tried to set what was left of his life in order.

The former SOE man knew that he’d made several mistakes recently. The first of those was trusting Tryfon Roufos. Contacts in Athens had told him that the antiquities dealer was a snake with only his own interests at heart, but the temptation to prise Rudolf Kersten’s precious coins from him was overwhelming. And the truth was that the coins should have been sent to Egypt by submarine and never fallen into the German’s hands after the war. He thought about the lies he had written in his memoirs. Why had he accused the EAM man known as Kanellos of betraying them? With hindsight, the reason didn’t make him proud, but he had always been headstrong. The idea of admitting in public that one of his own men had been a traitor was abhorrent, even though he had personally put a bullet in the bastard’s head and made sure his wife and children were driven from the village. He was an uncle of the Kondoyannis who was now in jail in Florida.

Waggoner shook his head to dislodge those images. His second mistake had been to underestimate Alex Mavros. The same Athenian contacts had told him to be careful — the investigator had a reputation for doggedness. That was why he had approached the long-haired, unshaven man in Kersten’s hotel and told him not to trust the German. That scheme had backfired spectacularly. Now Mavros was trying to find out what happened to Kersten, even though the local authorities had been bribed to declare his death suicide. The reach of Kornaria was long and well established.

‘You are worried, my friend.’

The Englishman looked down and saw the mayor, Dhrakakis, standing beneath the terrace. ‘Good evening to you, Vasili,’ he replied. ‘Worried, no. Concerned, of course.’