'Let me know what happens.'
'Will do. And Maggie, have a blue-and-white meet me at that dome-thing. I have fingerprints I want the lab to run STAT.' He hung up. 'Yianni, who do you think actually runs my office?'
'I'd need permission from Maggie to answer that.'
Andreas smiled again, and shook his head. 'Well, what do you think has Greece's number-one scandal- chasing TV personality all hot and bothered?'
Kouros' look turned serious. 'You don't think he somehow found out about, uh-'
'Last night?' Andreas shook his head no. 'Don't think so. Only if it were a set-up from the start would he be so pumped up so quickly. Besides, as important as I seem to you,' he smacked Kouros' shoulder, 'I'm not close to the sort of person his viewers are interested in watching screw up their lives. Certainly not enough to get this kind of personal attention from the Man himself.'
'So, what do you think it is?'
Andreas shrugged. 'Whatever it is, he's sure anxious to tell us. Maybe it has to do with where he's picked to meet?'
'Yeah, it seems a bit dramatic, even for him.'
'I think when referring to Marios he prefers that you spell 'him' with a capital H.'
Kouros grinned. 'Oh, yes, I forgot he's one of our modern gods.'
'All-knowing, all-powerful, gazing down upon us mere mortals from Mount TV, deciding who shall live, who shall die, and what bullshit gets the best ratings.'
'Wonder who he's after?'
'Well, if it isn't us, let's not give him a reason to change his mind, like by keeping him waiting. Step on it, we're already late.'
They parked where parking was 'strictly forbidden.' Cops always ignored those signs; it made them feel more like civilian Greek drivers in need of a parking space. Though in a hurry, they had to wait for the uniform cop to pick up Demosthenes' fingerprints. They stood by the curb and stared at three connected structures identified by a sign atop the middle one: HELLENIC COSMOS.
The futuristic Tholos, or dome in English, stood to the left and was by far the most dramatic architectural element of the 23,000-square-foot complex. It was a virtual-world sphere, created by civic-minded Athenians in the midst an old neighborhood of gas stations and commercial spaces badly in need of aesthetic attention. Here visitors experienced life amidst the commercial, political, cultural, and religious center of ancient Athens — the Agora — while sitting in a 130-seat theater 'losing all sense of time and space.' At least that's what a sign by the entrance read.
Andreas pointed to the sign as they passed it. 'Let's hope that happened to Marios.' They were twenty minutes late for what he expected to be a pissy, prima donna performance by the self-styled 'Voice of Greece.'
They entered through the front door closest to the theater. He said to meet him there. They didn't have to look for him. He was standing on the other side of the door looking at his watch. Short silver hair, bright blue eyes, a slim five-foot-six-inch frame, and an age falling somewhere between Greece's past and present generation of leaders, Marios seemed tense. Andreas took that to mean he was about to unload on them for keeping him waiting.
'Chief Kaldis?' It was the voice millions knew. 'I could tell it was you from where you parked.' It sounded like sarcasm, but might be a joke.
Andreas treated it as humor. 'You mean I don't look like my photograph?' Andreas smiled and extended his hand.
Marios did not smile but did shake hands. 'Yes, your minister was kind enough to fax me a photograph of you.'
And probably a copy of his official personnel file. This guy had access to practically everyone and everything he wanted. 'Sir, this is officer Kouros.'
They shook hands.
'I would have preferred meeting elsewhere,' he waved his hands, 'somewhere less public but… well… you'll see.' Marios pointed to a broad steel and glass staircase leading to a mezzanine lined with floor-to-ceiling windows. 'Let's go up there.'
The actual steps, thirty-five of them plus a landing halfway, seemed the only wood in the place. No question that steel, glass, and light were the principal design elements here and presented a decidedly modern contrast to what Andreas expected. Then again, Andreas didn't know what to expect.
Marios held Andreas' arm as they walked. He gestured toward Kouros with his head. 'What I have to say is very private and off the record.'
'Officer Kouros and I work together. If it's something involving police work he will know anyway.' He looked Marios straight in the eyes. 'If it involves something else, I'm not the person to talk to at the ministry.' If this was about making Andreas one of Marios' 'unofficial official' sources, they may as well have it out right now. It was guys like this who did in his father.
Marios stared back. 'I heard you're a hard-ass.' He let out a breath. 'Okay, have it your way, but if word about what I'm about to tell you gets out, there will be hell to pay for all of us.'
This guy sure knew how to sell. He's about to pump me for information and makes it sound like it's the other way around. 'I understand, sir, there will be no problem.'
Marios nodded. 'Fine, just so you know it.' He made no effort to make Andreas feel comfortable in 'his' presence, such as by saying, 'just call me Marios.'
At the mezzanine they turned left and entered a dark room lined with television monitors along the tops of the left and right walls. Marios said this was where visitors were told what was about to happen inside the dome.
'When do we learn?' asked Andreas.
'Soon.' Again, no smile. Marios led them inside the sphere.
Eight semicircular rows of airplane-style seats descended to the base of the sphere. The screen rose up from the floor in front of the bottom row and seemed to envelope everything but the seats themselves. Marios pointed to two seats, dead center, in the next-to-top row. Each seat arm contained controls allowing the audience to vote during the course of the video on the direction the presentation should take. A bit of democracy in action in the telling of the tale of its birthplace. But the three of them had the theater to themselves and there was no doubt in Andreas' mind that this would be all Marios' show.
Marios sat in a seat two rows below and directly in front of them. He turned sideways to face them. 'I want you to watch something, but before it starts you need some background.' He paused for a moment, as if collecting his thoughts. 'Well, we all know about the terrible tragedy that befell the Kostopoulos family.'
No beating around the bush for this guy, thought Andreas. Better be careful; there might be microphones hidden somewhere.
'And I'm sure you think I brought you here to pump you for information about that.'
Andreas was expressionless. 'Of course you would, but I assure you that's not why I brought you here. I don't want to know your thoughts. I want you to hear mine.'
Andreas knew better than to interrupt a rambler. Sooner or later they said something they shouldn't. But, then again, this guy's too experienced to make that sort of mistake. He's a better interrogator than most cops.
'You know about the siege the boy's father, a truly unlikable man, waged on one of Greece's oldest and most respected families for control of their newspaper?'
Andreas nodded.
'When was the last time you spoke to Zanni or Ginny Kostopoulos?'
'Yesterday, we…' Andreas caught himself. This guy's smooth, he thought. Almost got me into details of our interview with the family.
Marios didn't miss a beat. 'Of course, when you told them of their son's death.' He paused, as if waiting for Andreas to respond.
Andreas decided not to speak unless asked a specific question and, even then, not to volunteer an unnecessary word.
'Do you know what the family is doing today?'
It was a direct question. 'No.'
