'You did the right thing,' I heard a voice beside me say. I turned around and saw Sotiropoulos. 'You know that I don't particularly like you, nor do I particularly trust you. But this time, I have to take my hat off to you. The poor schmuck has already paid in prison, and unjustly; he shouldn't have to pay with his life, too.'
I again felt the deprivation of an ex-smoker dying for a drag. 'I don't have time for your games, Sotiropoulos,' I said, furiously. 'And as for liking and trust, the feeling's mutual.'
Before I'd finished with Sotiropoulos, I saw Petratos coming toward me. 'Are you going to let him get away?' He was huffing and puffing.
'What other choice do I have after you've made such a mess of it?'
'Just as well I thought of bringing his mother, and everything got sorted out,' said Sotiropoulos, looking provocatively at Petratos.
I nodded to one of the officers. 'Get these two gentlemen out of here!' They exchanged a look and walked off in opposite directions.
One by one, the policemen came out of the hotel. The sergeant was the last out. 'No one's left inside,' he said to the officer.
I put the bullhorn to my mouth again. 'Kolakoglou! They're all gone! You can come down now!'
Kolakoglou leaned over and looked, to make sure I was telling the truth. He began moving backward, still with the gun to his head.
The officer and I stood and waited without speaking. Before long, Kolakoglou appeared at the entrance to the hotel. He was still holding the gun to his head.
'Don't go near him! Let him go!' I shouted to our men through the bullhorn.
Kolakoglou had his back to the wall of the hotel and was looking all around him. He began moving along the wall, turned onto Nirvana Street, and vanished. The policemen were all looking at me. They were evidently waiting for me to make the first move. I did nothing. I remained where I was.
CHAPTER 30
On the way back, the driver of the patrol car changed his route. He turned off of lakovaton Street and drove down Patission Street.
'You tell them that the person you're after frequents a certain bar, and it doesn't occur to them to make inquiries at the nearby hotels,' Thanassis said. 'The lousiest reporter is better at his job.' He was looking at me through the rearview mirror.
'That's what you get when you organize the investigation by phone from your office instead of supervising it personally,' I said, and he shut up. I held back on 'You're a moron,' because I didn't want to embarrass him in front of the driver, his subordinate.
I wondered if I'd done the right thing with Kolakoglou, or if I'd let my belief that he was innocent run away with me. But what else could I have done? After all, there was one positive thing to come out of all that business. It proved that Kolakoglou either didn't have a circle of friends to hide him or that he'd exhausted his limits and had been forced to stay in a hotel under a false name. So now we knew where to look and we'd be able to find him more easily. The only problem was Ghikas. Once again, I'd failed to inform him. I'd done what I'd thought best and I didn't know how he would take it.
The whole way to the traffic light on Alexandras Avenue Thanassis said not a word. 'Do you want me to tell you now about Petratos?' he said as we were passing the Pedio to Areos Park.
'Go on.' I preferred him to tell me then, because it was almost noon and I'd be up to my neck in the office. Not to mention that I had to report to Ghikas.
'I found someone who saw a black Renegade parked two streets down from Kostarakou's place.'
'What time?'
'At six-thirty. He's a lawyer and he was going back to his office. He parked in front of the Renegade.'
'Did he notice the license number?'
'No.'
'Ask in the building where Petratos lives if anyone noticed the Renegade missing from the garage after around five.'
'I already did. One of the tenants was in the garage just before six and is certain that Petratos's car wasn't there.' He was congratulating himself for making up for his blunder with Kolakoglou.
'You see how far you get when you ride hard?' I said patronizingly. He took it as a sign of reconciliation and smiled in relief.
I went straight to see Ghikas. If I delayed, it would only make things worse. He listened to me without interrupting even once.
'Are you sure they went to the hotel without notifying us first?' he said at the end.
'Yes. They didn't inform us or the local police station.'
'Are there any witnesses to confirm that?'
'The hotel owner, who called the station. And the police officers who found them there.'
'You did right to let him go,' he said, obviously pleased. 'Now they won't dare say another word about Kolakoglou. We lost him because of them.' He looked at me and smiled. 'Yesterday, you were surprised that I contacted Delopoulos right away. He used the information, wanted to move behind our backs, and made a mess of it. That's what it means to be flexible. You throw him the cheese, he goes to bite it, and he falls into the trap.'
I smiled at him. If I was lucky and Ghikas was to remain another couple of years in that position, then with all the tricks I was picking up from him, I'd be certain to get a promotion.
'So that's the good news. Now for the bad news,' he said. 'I received the handwriting report. We drew a blank. It's not Petratos's.'
On the one hand, it rankled me. On the other, though, I was thankful that my intuition always led me to keep something up my sleeve. 'I told you yesterday that would probably be the result. It doesn't mean a great deal, in any case.' And I gave him the latest on Petratos's Renegade.
Things had taken a downturn with the negative report on the handwriting, and he was weighing how he was going to deal with it. 'Leave it to me,' he said eventually. 'I'll sort it out and I'll let you know. Meanwhile, find out all you can about Pylarinos.'
'I'm like a cat on hot bricks, that's why I'm moving slowly,' I said, to show him that I was following his advice. 'In a couple of days, I'll have something.'
I wasn't at all surprised that the usual throng wasn't in the hall. They were all at their studios, editing their videocassettes and sound recordings for the day's big story. The same story all around and each of them with an exclusive report.
On my desk I found the photographs from Karayoryi's film.
In the first one, Pylarinos was holding up his drink, smiling, as if wanting to toast me. It was only natural that he was in good spirits, as he was partying in a nightclub with three others. Two of them were obviously foreigners, Germans, Belgians, Dutch, I'd no way of knowing-at any rate, they looked like northern Europeans. The other one was lank and surly. He was wearing gold-rimmed glasses, a dark suit, his hair was brushed back and stuck down. He didn't look to me like a businessman. More like the director of a ministerial department or of some public organization. While Pylarinos and the man next to him were plainly enjoying themselves, this one had a constipated smile, as if he were smiling out of obligation. There was something about his face that was familiar to me, but I couldn't remember where I'd seen it before. Sitting beside him was the last member of the group, a hefty, round- faced man with swollen cheeks. His hair was combed over his forehead. It seemed as if they'd put him beside the other one because he had the same reluctant smile. I'd bet money that those two weren't having any fun at all. Below right, the camera had recorded the date: 11/ 14/1990. Fine, so on November 14, 1990, four men were partying at the Diogenes Club. One of them was Pylarinos, the second one reminded me of some one, and the other two were foreign and unknown to me. What was special about it? Was it the photograph, or the date, or a combination of the two? I couldn't come up with an answer and I continued.
In the next photograph, the two with the sour smiles were in a cafeteria at a table beside the window. The photograph was taken from outside in the street and I couldn't make out their expressions because the glass was reflecting the light. The date at the bottom right was 11 / 17/1990. Three days after the Diogenes picture, the odd couple from the group had met to talk without the others. Why were these two meetings so important that Karayoryi had gone to the trouble of getting them on film?
