pick up the bayonet.
‘Who’s there?’ she called, getting to her feet.
The door slid open and a large figure slipped into the dimly lit area. As it came closer, she saw who it was.
‘Mr Capaldi? What are you doing?’ she said, then caught sight of the silenced pistol the security manager was pointing at her. She moved the hand holding the bayonet behind her back.
‘The coins,’ the Italian said. ‘Tell me where they are.’
‘How dare you? Get out of here now!’
The spit of the shot was scarcely audible. She crashed to the ground, a searing pain in her lower leg. In a second, Capaldi was beside her, his lips near hers.
‘Be quiet, you German bitch, or I’ll put a round in your thigh.’ He grinned. ‘Which will quickly be fatal. The coins — where are they? I want the keys and combination numbers.’
‘Did. . did Roufos put you up to this?’ Hildegard asked, blinking as the pain flared even more.
‘You are still sharp. But not sharp enough to see something more important.’ The look on his face changed and Hildegard realized that he was going to kill her. That thought brought enlightenment.
‘You. . you killed Rudi.’
‘Ah, that was a mistake. Mr Roufos told me to put as much pressure as I could on your husband to hand over the collection. Unfortunately, your husband’s neck snapped like a twig.’ The Italian showed no sign of regret. ‘Stringing him up got the cops off our back.’
‘Go to hell, Capaldi.’ Hildegard bit her lip and swung the bayonet round as hard as she could. The point slipped into the soft flesh of her attacker’s lower back. He gasped and then toppled forward on to the rug beside her. He stopped breathing soon afterwards.
Hildegard Kersten saw the slick of his blood join with that pumping from her leg wound. The heat was disappearing from her body and she slipped away from consciousness, happy that her mind was filled with the glinting snow peaks of the mountains she had looked up at for so many years.
Mavros had a bad feeling about Hildegard Kersten’s call. He rang the Heavenly Blue and asked for the widow, but heard she had told reception that no calls should be put through. Then he asked for Renzo Capaldi, only to hear, after a while on hold, that he couldn’t be located. That made him even more worried.
‘Listen, this is Alex Mavros, the investigator. I think Mrs Kersten is in danger. Break the door down to her apartment if she doesn’t answer. Do it now!’
There was a muffled conversation and then he was asked to stay on the line. Shortly afterwards he heard screams and his stomach somersaulted. Eventually one of the staff came back on.
‘Thank God you called, Mr Mavro,’ the man said, shocked. ‘Mrs Kersten has been shot in the leg and Mr Capaldi is. . is dead. It looks like she stabbed him.’
‘Don’t touch anything in the apartment, do you hear? Call an ambulance and then the police. I can’t come to the hotel now.’
‘The ambulance is already on its way.’
‘Good. If she’s conscious, tell her I expect to see her tomorrow.’ He rang off.
‘Expect to see who?’ Cara asked.
Mavros ran his hand through his hair. ‘What?’ he said distractedly, then told her what had happened.
He had been a major idiot. Waggoner and Oskar hadn’t been the only people the scheming Roufos had put up to laying hands on Kersten’s coin collection. And Mavros had entrusted the widow’s safety to the former elite soldier. He could only hope he hadn’t been too late. Then he had another thought. He had seen Renzo Capaldi on the massacre set, but had paid no attention as he assumed he’d been escorting Rudolf Kersten. Now he wondered if Capaldi had actually killed the old man. If so, had he been acting on Roufos’s orders? He made another call to Nikos Kriaras in Athens, asking him to ensure that the antiquities dealer was picked up when the night boat docked in Piraeus, even though he was pretty sure Tryfon Roufos would never crack under interrogation.
‘Jesus freakin’ Christ,’ Cara said, standing up rapidly.
Eleni Tsifaki had appeared, wearing a camouflage jacket and trousers, with belts full of shotgun shells crisscrossing her chest and a large hunting knife in her belt.
‘Come with me, Cara,’ Mikis’s mother said. ‘I have the same for you.’
Mavros sat with his chin in his hands before he was joined by Haris.
‘It’s time for you to check your equipment, Alex,’ he said. ‘The advance teams have already set out.’
‘Are you sure there’s no other way of doing this?’
The Cretan raised his broad shoulders. ‘Kornaria has been a cancer in this island for too long. Besides, they won’t hand over your woman or the other one, even if the man who calls himself Jannet is returned to them. I know how Dhrakakis works.’
Mavros thought for a few moments. ‘What about Waggoner?’
‘Ach, Waggoner. My father told me he was a fierce fighter in the war, but men like him often do not do so well in peacetime. I don’t know if he’s involved in the drug trade, but he’s had his snout in many other dirty deals over the years.’
‘He told me he has some things that belonged to my father, and that he’ll only give them to me if I don’t go to the village.’
Haris sat down beside him. ‘Alex
Not that Spyros, as a good communist, thought he had one of those, at least not currently residing in heaven. Mavros nodded. ‘You’re right. Let’s do it.’
He followed Haris into the depths of the old building.
TWENTY-FOUR
Luke Jannet was removed from his makeshift cell, allowed to use the toilet with the guard present and then handcuffed by his unplastered wrist to the same solid Cretan.
Mavros, wearing a loose green cotton combat jacket, came up to the pair.
‘Guess what?’ he said. ‘We’re taking you to Kornaria to swap you for my other half and Maria Kondos.’
‘Are you fuckin’ kidding?’ the director said, his eyes wide. ‘I don’t want to go anywhere near that place.’
‘Really? And there I was, thinking you were their new best friend.’
‘Yeah, well, that depended on me bringing a large amount of cash to the table.’ He glared at Mavros. ‘Cash I’d have got if you’d let Roufos do his job.’
Mavros held his gaze. ‘So you were going to take the proceeds of the coin collection. In return for what? Cutting Roufos in on the drug trafficking?’
‘The two things go together — in the same containers, I mean. It’s a perfect fit.’
‘A perfect fit that’s about to get too tight for comfort.’ Mavros laughed. ‘Don’t worry, they’re very hospitable up there. Or so Maria Kondos didn’t say.’ He turned on his heel and left the American moaning. Suddenly that stopped. He looked over his shoulder and saw that the guard had placed his very large fist in front of Jannet’s face as a warning. Scene over.
His phone rang shortly afterwards.
‘Oh, he lives and breathes,’ the Fat Man said, with heavy irony. ‘I’ve been trying you for hours. You turned yourself into a telephone exchange?’
‘Busy-busy, Yiorgo. About to go into action.’
‘Cinematic or vendetta?’
‘Primarily the latter.’
There was a pause. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’
‘Very. Niki’s been kidnapped. I’ve got plenty of help, but so have the opposition.’
‘Those drug-producing tossers?’
‘Correct. If. . if I don’t get out of this alive, you’ll have to tell my family.’
‘What? Alex, you’re hereby banned from doing anything dangerous, you hear?’ The Fat Man’s voice had gone
