Sotiropoulos arrived half an hour later. He went around on a Harley Davidson and was drenched to the bone.
‘Time you woke up to the twenty-first century, old boy,’ he said indignantly. ‘Whoever heard of the Head of the Homicide Division not having a mobile phone?’
‘What would I use it for? So that the intended victim could call me to tell me he was about to be murdered?’
‘No, but so I could call you and cancel our meeting because of the rain.’
He hung his jacket over the back of the chair to dry and ordered a double whisky to warm himself up a little.
‘I watched your programme last night. I liked it.’
He turned to me and gave me an ironic look. ‘Really? From what I remember, I usually get on your nerves.’
‘Last night, you got on the others’ nerves and I thoroughly enjoyed it.’
He burst out laughing and took a gulp at his whisky. ‘That’s why I called you,’ he said, ‘because of the programme.’
I saw in his eyes that he was about to deliver a bombshell.
‘Do you remember that at one point the conversation turned to how well Favieros and Stefanakos knew each other?’
‘Yes, I remember.’
‘At exactly eleven, the programme was interrupted for a short news bulletin and adverts. Andreadis, one of the two opposition politicians, turned and said to the Minister: “How could they not have been on close terms given that they were doing business together?”’
As soon as I heard that, I knew my trip had been worth it despite the rain and the traffic. It was the first time I had had some indication that Favieros and Stefanakos were not just acquaintances or friends, but that they were actually involved in some business together. I didn’t know whether I should be glad or start to worry because now the situation might begin to get more complicated. I left the apportioning of gladness and worry for later and I asked Sotiropoulos:
‘Who was Stefanakos married to?’
‘Lilian Stathatos, have you heard of her?’ The name meant something to me but I couldn’t recall who she was. ‘She’s the daughter of Argyris Stathatos.’
As soon as I heard the father’s name, I remembered her straightaway. Argyris Stathatos had received favourable treatment from the Junta. He had managed to secure various permits, some legal, some illegal, in order to make himself into the leading hotel owner in Athens and the islands. He raked in money during the years of the Junta, but his hotels were built with interest-free loans and when the Junta fell, the banks began calling in the loans and Stathatos lost everything.
‘Is he still alive?’ I asked puzzled.
Sotiropoulos laughed. ‘God rest his soul! He died about ten years ago. At the height of his power, when he held sway during the Junta, his daughter was studying economics in London and presented herself as a revolutionary, against the Junta. She had cut off all relations with her father and told everyone she was studying with the little money that her grandmother had left her. You can believe it or not, anyhow the truth is that she lived very conservatively. When she returned to Greece, she started work as an executive in an advertising company and she and her father were eventually reconciled. Her father’s creditors didn’t want to have him put in prison because while he was still on the outside they had hopes of getting some of their money back by blackmailing him. On seeing her father’s demise, Lilian Stathatos understood that businesses requiring investment are a double-edged sword and you never know what might crop up. She was quick to foresee the future of TV ads and she set up her own company. It was at that time that she married Stefanakos, who was an up-and-coming young politician. She was very smart and quickly realised that the European Union had plenty of rich pickings for anyone who had their wits about them. And she was one of the first to open a consultancy bureau for European investment.’
What he told me left me speechless. ‘Do you keep files on everything?’ I asked him, thinking of Zissis.
‘No. I knew all about what happened during the period of the Junta. The rest I concluded from reading between the lines of what my guests said last night.’ He smiled as if recalling something. ‘Do you know what’s really funny? During the breaks, while they were all gossiping about Lilian Stathatos, the channel was broadcasting advertisements made by her company.’
‘So she still has the advertising company?’
‘Are you kidding? Everyone is dependent on Stathatos. She’s the one who decides what entertainment programmes the channel puts on the air. If there’s some programme or serial she doesn’t like, its adverts get cut.’
‘And what about the consultancy bureau?’
‘No idea. You’ll have to ask someone who works with Mediterranean Funding Programmes and the like. But compared to the advertising company, all that’s just peanuts.’
‘And what did Favieros have to do with all this?’
‘Do you expect me to do all your work for you?’ he said, taking another gulp at his whisky. ‘I’ve given you enough information to go on.’
‘At any rate, I don’t think Favieros went to Stathatos to advertise his construction company. I’ve never come across an advert for construction companies. As for his other business, most probably he wouldn’t want it advertised.’
Realising what I’d said I bit my tongue, but it was too late. Sotiropoulos cut straight to the chase.
‘You mean the real-estate agencies?’ He burst out laughing. ‘Horafas called me the moment you’d left his office to ask me if he was right to open up to you. I couldn’t understand why he was so worried.’
‘Because something doesn’t seem right to him, but he doesn’t know what it is.’
‘And what doesn’t seem right to him? Or are we about to start playing games again?’ he asked ironically.
We’d come too far for me to keep my cards to myself and I told him all that I’d found out about Favieros’s real-estate agencies. When I’d finished, he whistled in exclamation and then shook his head dejectedly.
‘You’ve no idea what you’re doing to me!’ he said. ‘A scoop like that and I have to keep it on ice because I’ve given you my word. Couldn’t I let slip something on the air? Just a few choice titbits?’
I ruled it out without discussion so he wouldn’t start trying to bargain with me. ‘Out of the question. We’ve already agreed. I’ll give you the whole exclusive story as soon as the case is closed.’
He suddenly turned to me with a worried look. ‘Does Ghikas know about all this?’
‘More or less.’
‘And who’s to guarantee that Ghikas won’t give the story to one of his own people first?’
‘He won’t’
He stared at me, holding his glass of whisky. ‘You must be walking around blindfolded. Where you are, in Security, every reporter has his own source. From your assistants to Yanoutsos and even higher. Do you think Ghikas, who’s got his sights set on making top dog, doesn’t have someone?’
‘That’s precisely why he won’t do it,’ I answered calmly. ‘Because he’s not crazy enough to reveal information from an unofficial source.’
My argument seemed to convince him because he emptied his glass. ‘Okay, I have to admit there’s some logic to that.’ Then he suddenly became aggressive again. ‘But if anything leaks out, I’m telling you I’ll put it all on the air.’
Outside, in the real air, only the wet curb indicated that it had been raining cats and dogs. Apart from that, the sky was crystal clear and the sun was shining. People were shut up in their offices and homes because of the rain and so I was in Aristokleous Street in less than fifteen minutes. But what was an advantage in terms of traffic was a disadvantage when it came to parking, because I couldn’t find a place anywhere and I circled the block for a good half an hour. After the umpteenth circle, I saw someone leaving and nipped into his space.
When I walked into the house, I heard the sound of the TV in the sitting room. I went in to say hello to Adriani but she wasn’t there. I found her ironing in the kitchen. She often did that: she did her chores listening to the TV in the background as a kind of radio substitute.
‘I’m surprised you’re not soaking wet,’ she said.
