at my level.' He spoke about his sister's children, Nikos, Mihalis, and Anna, as if they were his kids and how his life made it unlikely he'd be having a family of his own anytime soon. She said her own job kept her 'safe from that sort of thing, too.'
He wished the ride had taken longer. He liked hearing her voice. He liked talking to her.
But for now, he was left to talking to Kouros about the four names he just wrote on the marker board on the wall behind his desk. Andreas stared at the names. 'Okay, Giorgio, you're the muscle, but what's your connection to the Kostopoulos family, and Athens society?'
'Maybe it's the drugs?' said Kouros.
'Yeah, there's certainly drugs in that crowd, and if you're looking to find someone to do a murder he's the one to talk to.' Andreas hesitated. 'But suppose, just suppose, that there really is a lot more going on here than an isolated murder. I don't see bringing a notorious drug dealer onboard as a confidant in something so big-time and serious unless you're willing to be blackmailed for the rest of your life. Whoever's running this is too smart to take such a risk.'
'Maybe there's a middleman,' Kouros pointed to Marios' name, 'and he's the link to Giorgio?'
'Or it's the one who forced Marios to talk to us. Marios certainly is connected to both worlds. Everyone likes the press. Especially a press that can be discreet.'
'For a price.'
Andreas nodded. 'Linardos. What are you doing up there on my board? You've got a big name, big power, big money, and a big likely hate for Kostopoulos. But you also have an impeccable reputation.' He fluttered his lips as he let out a breath.
'And then there's Anna,' said Kouros.
'I can't imagine she's anymore than what she seems, but why was she chosen? Who picked her out of all the possible-' he was about to say hookers '-choices available?'
'It's a strange mix.'
Andreas got up, walked around his desk, and stared out the window. 'If this really is something bigger, where's the money coming from? This kind of muscle doesn't come cheap. And who's the son-of-a-bitch tying everything together? The money, the muscle, the messages. He might not be at the top of the pyramid, but he's sure as hell making it all happen for whoever is.'
'Which of our four do you think it is?' Kouros pointed at the board.
Andreas turned from the window, walked back to the wall, and picked up a marker. Touching a spot in front of Giorgio's name he said, 'This one,' then drew a huge question mark embracing all four names. 'Someone who links all of them together. And I don't think we've found him yet.'
'Or her.'
'Yes, or her.' Andreas looked at his watch. 'Let's take a ride over to Linardos' office, just drop in unannounced.' Andreas smiled. 'Who knows, maybe he forgot to tell his secretary he's back in town.'
'And, if he is, maybe we can ask him to join us for a drink at the Ramrod.'
'At the what?' asked Andreas.
'That gay bar. I guess it gets its name from the long, stiff rod used to pack gunpowder, wads, and balls into the end of an old musket.'
Andreas stared at him. 'You really could use some sensitivity training.'
Kouros shrugged.
Great, thought Andreas. Three ramrods to deal with: a ramrod bar, a ramrod-minded cop, and a ramrod-stiff Athenian patrician. This was going to be some afternoon.
11
'Mr Linardos, there are two gentlemen here to see you, sir.' It was his secretary calling through on the intercom.
'Do they have an appointment?'
'No, sir, and I told them you just arrived from London and are very busy, but they said it's very important.'
'Who are they?'
'Chief inspector Kaldis and officer Kouros of GADA.'
It was a full thirty seconds before he answered. 'Okay, I'll see them in five minutes.'
Andreas smiled at the woman. 'Thank you for being so helpful.' She had little choice. Before she knew who they were, she'd kept them waiting by her desk while she finished some tirade with a restaurant over how it 'dared' to deliver such a 'horrible lunch' to 'the Sarantis Linardos.' Andreas never would forget the look on her face when they identified themselves. Kouros actually had to cough to cover up a laugh.
Andreas guessed Linardos was using the five minutes to call his lawyers. But how could he explain to them why he was afraid even to find out what the police wanted? Besides, he always could cut off the interview at any time. There was nothing Andreas could do about that.
This guy's life was right out of one of Maggie's magazines. He was isolated from the day-to-day demands made of virtually everyone else on earth: valets to choose and lay out his clothes, cooks to prepare his meals, personal shoppers to obtain whatever product or service he desired, maids to launder and clean up after him, chauffeurs, private pilots, and sea-captains to whisk him door-to-door to anywhere he wanted, and assistants anxious to arrange it all. Andreas wondered if he had any idea of the efficient, ruthless nature of the oh-so-many predators lurking about in the real world. Or maybe he was one of them.
Andreas looked at his watch; four minutes had passed. He smiled at the secretary.
'Let me show you into Mr Linardos' office.' Obviously, she wanted nothing more to do with them.
Andreas always was amazed at how elegant an office could be. Then again, most cops were from the gypsy school of interior decorating: whatever worked and was portable was fine. From the paintings, sculptures, antique French furniture, inlaid woods, and Oriental carpets in this one, it looked nothing like a working office. More like a five-hundred-square-foot throne room for holding court.
When they entered the office, the king was not on his throne, at least not any they could see.
'Please, sit here.' The secretary pointed to a pair of matching, tapestry-covered chairs in front of an ornately carved, gold-trimmed desk. 'I'm sure Mr Linardos will be right with you.'
There was the sound of a flushing toilet. The secretary looked uncomfortable. 'That's okay, we'll wait for him here,' said Andreas facing the desk from the rear of the room.
The desk was in front of a bank of windows, with more windows running along the length of the wall to Andreas' right. Bookshelves lined the wall facing the desk. On the wall to Andreas' left, between the door through which they'd entered and another door on the same wall closer to the desk, were three paintings Andreas knew he should recognize. Conspicuously absent were photographs of the rich and famous. Then again, Linardos had no reason to impress a visitor with whom he knew. He knew everyone who mattered, and anyone coming here already knew that. The only photographs were of his family, and they stood in silver frames on a small table between his desk and the second door.
No one moved. They just waited for that second door to open. Two more minutes passed before it did.
'Sorry, gentlemen.' Sarantis Linardos nodded to his secretary who immediately turned and left, then he shook hands with both men, pointed for them to sit where his secretary had suggested, and went to sit across from them behind his desk.
'So, what can I do for you?' He was smiling and pleasant.
Andreas used his most official-sounding, courteous voice. 'Mr Linardos, I can't thank you enough for agreeing to see us unannounced. I apologize for such an intrusion, but we're hoping you might be able to help us with a rather delicate matter.'
'If I can, certainly.'
'Thank you.'
'I'm certain you're aware of the Kostopoulos murder.'
He nodded. 'Yes, I am. Terrible, terrible tragedy.'
