'Why do you come to me?' he said, annoyed. 'Why the hell did I have to go and tell you about the files I keep for personal use. You have your own files, you have the Security Service-'
'Information Agency,' I interrupted. 'That's what it's called now. The Information Agency.'
'All right, Information Agency. Same difference ... What business is it of mine? I'm not one of your agents and I'm not a squealer that you can blackmail into giving you information.'
'He's a former leftist,' I said undeterred, because each time we dug up the same skeletons and rattled the same bones. 'Like you.'
'I know who he is,' he replied in a disdainful tone, though I couldn't tell if the disdain was directed at me or at Pylarinos. 'Except that I'm not a former leftist, I'm just retired.'
'But he is a former leftist. Because now he's gone over to the other side. In the last fifteen years, he's made barrels of money. And money that comes so easily is usually dirty money.'
I saw him break into that wry smile of his, the one he produced when he knew he was going to come out on top. 'When was it you graduated from the academy?'
'Sixty-eight.'
He shook his head. 'They taught you to hate all leftists, to hunt them down like bandits. They told you that they'd make commies of you all.... But what they didn't teach you is how leftists think, what methods they use, what tricks they devise. You know nothing about all that'
He remained silent, thinking. I knew him now, and I knew he was deciding what to tell me and what to keep from me.
'Pylarinos is a swine who's brought a lot of people down. But dirty money is like fire to him and he's too clever to touch it. He's involved in other rackets.'
We stared at each other. That had stayed with us since Bouboulinas Street. When I gave him a few backhanders in front of the others, we'd exchange a conspiratorial look because we knew that that was the way it had to be if we were going to have our heads free of worry. The same thing was happening now. In the past I wouldn't explain anything. Now he was the one who wouldn't explain; he waited for me to understand.
'Have you heard of Yanna Karayoryi?'
'That she was murdered? I read it in the papers'
'It's quite possible that Pylarinos was somehow involved in her murder.'
'And why have you come to me?' he said, annoyed at my persistence. 'You have a whole intelligence agency. Start looking if you want to get to the bottom of it.'
'If I had something concrete, I could take out a warrant for his arrest. But I don't and I can't start investigating him because I'll have all the bigwigs on my back, from the chief of security to the minister, and my hands will be tied.'
'You can be sure of that,' he said with a sudden outburst of sincerity. He let out a deep sigh and shook his head. 'I never believed that we'd get into power. But if you'd told me when we first met that I was rotting in the cells so that Pylarinos's kind could get rich, I'd have spit in your face.'
'Karayoryi had a huge file on him. That's what put a flea in my ear. She was evidently investigating him for some shady business, but she didn't find any incriminating evidence. The only explanation is that he's involved in illegal dealings. That's why I came to you.'
He looked at me for a while, but now there was a glint in his eye. Illegal dealings had become second nature to him, and as soon as he heard the magic words, he was ready to go to work.
'Look what you're doing to me,' he said. 'I was about to paint the house because the damp is killing me. Now I'm going to have to leave it and start rushing around.'
I got up. 'When shall I call for an update?'
'I'll call you.'
'You still don't have a phone? I can understand you not wanting a TV, but a phone?'
'Don't get me started. I've been waiting two years for one. And I need one. The way that your buddies have screwed me, if anything were to happen to me, the neighbors would find me from the stench.'
I looked at him in silence. What could I say? But he read my look and was annoyed because he didn't like to be pitied. He made a joke of it.
'Look at me,' he said. 'Investigating former leftists. If I were a businessman, at least I could say that I was expanding my activities.'
Outside, a raging wind blew and the drizzle had turned into sleet. The wind had blown over the lemon plant. I stooped to pick it up. Only ten days before we'd been under a sweltering heat, and now we were shivering with the cold. God-awful weather.
CHAPTER 28
Flexible = 1. able to be bent easily without breaking, pliable. 2. adaptable or variable. 3. able to be persuaded easily, tractable. Interesting word. Now, which sense best suited Ghikas, and which one best suited me? Ghikas was fairly easy. He bent easily when it came to the minister and Delopoulos, or when he was dealing with the media. And in the end, he'd have us all bending to their wishes. Me, I was more in the adaptable and variable category.
It was almost seven-thirty by the time I got home. The TV was on full blast, but Adriani wasn't in the living room; she was preparing something in the kitchen. She'd often do that. When she had something to do in the kitchen, she'd turn up the sound so that she could at least hear her soap and not miss what was happening. I lay on the bed and breathed a sigh of relief. The pressures of the day together with three hours behind the wheel had left me exhausted. I lay down to relax a bit, using my chest as a lectern for Liddell & Scott.
Soon it was five to nine, but I wasn't in the mood to listen to the news. What they had to say about Kolakoglou I already knew, and what I knew about Pylarinos they didn't know, so I could have a night off. The only thing I'd eaten all day was half a croissant, and I was absolutely famished. I got up to see what Adriani was preparing in the kitchen. As I went through the living room, I saw her in her armchair, watching the news.
The kitchen table was adorned with a dish of stuffed tomatoes. I immediately got the message. It was Adriani's way of telling me it was time to make up. This had stayed with us since our very first quarrel. We were newlyweds then and not speaking to each other was something we'd taken to heart. But we kept it up to test each other's limits. Until, one day, Adriani made me stuffed tomatoes. She knew that I had a particular weakness for them, but she'd never made them for me before. As soon as I'd seen them, I'd melted. 'They're great, better even than my mother's!' I told her. It was a lie. My mother's were much tastier, but on the one hand I was looking for an opportunity to speak to her, and, on the other, we'd only been married for six months and I hadn't had my hands around her for a whole three days. It had been the same ever since. Whenever she wanted us to make up, she made me stuffed tomatoes. I told her how tasty they were, and it broke the ice. Except that now I didn't have to lie about it. She really did make them better than my mother.
'This time, you've outdone yourself. They're great,' I told her.
She turned from the TV and smiled at me. 'Did you eat?' I asked.
'I just took a mouthful to try them, but I was waiting for you to come and eat.'
She switched off the TV and followed me into the kitchen. She served me, put one tomato on her own plate, and sat down facing me. In the light, I could see that her eyes were all red and swollen.
'What's wrong?' I asked her, concerned.
'Nothing.'
'What do you mean, nothing! You've been crying!'
'I got upset last night. I heard those two idiots on the news, then I saw you leaving all agitated, and I realized it was something serious. And this morning I woke up racked with worry.'
'There's no need to worry. They did put me on the spot, that's all, but then they were forced to backpedal.'
She didn't seem reassured by what I said. She kept on looking at me distraught till she finally blurted out the secret. 'Katerina's not coming home for Christmas. She called today to tell me.'
?„ «WY•
'She wants to study over the break'
'And she made up her mind, just like that? The last time I spoke to her on the phone, she was certainly coming.'
