horses,' but caught a glimpse of three in his rearview mirror and backed up to make the turn. This road ran straight up a mountain, was all dirt, narrower and much steeper than the other. So steep, in fact, that at the crest of the hill he was tempted to get out to make sure the road actually ran down the other side, but he took his chances and kept going.
There it was, huge and obvious. More a compound than a house, it sat on a bluff by the bottom of the hill about a hundred yards above a small, private cove. Andreas could make out three buildings, all of natural stone, and two enormous swimming pools. The entire property was circled by two concentric stonewalls, five yards apart. The space between them was filled with green — trees, bushes, and flowers. It looked so inviting, but he'd bet anyone who made it uninvited over the first wasn't likely to make it over the second.
A military-style Zodiac drifted in the cove. Two men sitting on the gunnels scrambled to the wheel when his car came over the top of the hill. He heard the engines start up. They weren't the only ones moving. Two men leaning against a black Hummer halfway down the road reached inside for what Andreas guessed were weapons. A flash of reflected light off the roof of the main building meant he must be in some sharpshooter's sights. Another black Hummer and two more men stood down by the main gate. And those were the ones he could see. Kostopoulos must have an army with him.
Andreas put the Jimny in first gear and let the gearbox brake the SUV down the hill. The whining of the transmission made the car sound out of control. The two men by the first Hummer scrambled to put it between them and the roaring Jimny. Andreas' improvised David and Goliath confrontation of off-road vehicles ended when one of the men put a grenade launcher across the hood of the Hummer and started aiming at the Jimny. Andreas had the answer to his question, what am I dealing with here? He slammed on the brakes and the Jimny slid to a stop about thirty feet from the Hummer. Andreas turned off the engine, opened the door and stepped out.
'Halt, don't move.' The words were Greek, the accent wasn't.
'And a good morning to you, too, sir.' But Andreas didn't move.
'What business do you have here?' The same man spoke.
'I've come to see Mr Kostopoulos.'
'He's not here.' The talker seemed the one in charge.
Andreas smiled. 'Didn't your mother ever tell you it's not nice to lie to a policeman?' He pointed to the ID around his neck.
The man waved for Andreas to walk to him. He was about forty, but four inches taller and had thirty pounds more muscle than Andreas. He looked at the ID, keeping an eye on Andreas' hands as he did. 'He's still not here.'
Andreas guessed the accent was from somewhere in the Balkans. 'I admire Mr Kostopoulos' concern for his garden.'
'What are you talking about?'
Andreas gestured toward the house and the boat. 'All this artillery and professional military talent, just to keep the goats away.'
The man didn't speak, just stared at Andreas' eyes.
Andreas smiled. 'Serbia, right?'
'Why don't you leave now, sir?'
The man didn't lose his cool, a real professional. 'Can't do that, major. I'm guessing that was your rank.'
'You'll have to leave, sir. This is private property.'
It wasn't, but this wasn't the place or the guy with which to debate the legal niceties.
Andreas shook his head. 'I'm afraid I'll have to call this in. I think you need more help here. Those goats look pretty mean. They might attack any minute.' He pointed to three scraggly-looking brown-to-black ones nibbling at thyme and savory a hundred yards up the hill. 'Nope, it's my duty to see you have all the help you need. What do you think, are a dozen local cops and a port police boat in that cove sufficient? Trouble is, I'll probably have to use some of them for crowd control, what with all the attention that much police presence out here is going to generate. Hope the media cooperate. Hate how nosey they can get, don't you?'
The major gestured to the other man to keep an eye on Andreas, went over to the Hummer and began speaking on a walkie-talkie, in Serbian.
A minute later he was back. 'Drive down to the gate. The man there will speak to you.'
'Thank you.'
The major nodded. Andreas liked his style.
The man waiting for him was the same one who'd met him at the door of the Kostopoulos home in Athens. The two men from the second Hummer stood behind him.
'My name is Alex. Good afternoon, Chief Kaldis.'
'Good afternoon.'
'I'm afraid Mr Kostopoulos will not see you. He received your message but said to tell you, 'Do as you must.''' The tone was courteous, but final.
Andreas looked behind Alex until he saw what he wanted. 'Excuse me for a moment.' As he brushed past him, the two men blocked his way. Andreas smiled and pointed to a potted plant ten feet behind them. 'Just going over there.'
The two looked at Alex. He shrugged okay.
'Thanks.' Andreas walked over, picked up the plant, held it up to eye level, and dropped it to the stone floor. The pot shattered into pieces. None of the men moved; they stared at Andreas as if he were crazy. Andreas took out his felt-tip pen, picked up a piece of broken pottery, wrote three words, and handed it back to Alex. 'Give this to him. I'll wait for a reply.'
Three minutes later Alex was back. 'Mr Kostopoulos will see you now.' It was a beautiful day, and magnificent terraces surrounded the house, but a maid showed Andreas into what he assumed was an office. Every window was closed and covered by heavy drapes; the only light came from electric bulbs, and faint ones at that. Kostopoulos was sitting in an overstuffed paisley-patterned chair, but the light was too dim to make out any color. He pointed for Andreas to sit on one next to his.
'How did you find out?' The voice was flat and cold. It had none of the charm from their last meeting.
'Does it matter?'
'Are you one of them?'
Andreas was surprised at the question, but then realized it was an obvious one. He shook his head and said, 'No.'
Zanni shrugged. 'As you said, 'Does it matter?'' He put the piece of pottery from Andreas on the table between them. Andreas hadn't noticed he'd been holding it. 'Ginny, Alexandra, Georgia. Why did you write the names of my wife and daughters?'
'Sorry, but it was the only way to get your attention. And yes, before you ask, their lives are in danger. Yours too.'
He nodded. 'I'm sure. That's why I have very professional help.'
'I noticed. What about your wife and children?'
He let out a breath. 'My wife took the children out of Greece to where she says no one ever will be able to find them. Won't even tell me where she is. Keeps moving around. All I can do is see that they have the same sort of protection I have, and I've done that.'
'Do you think she can keep hiding like that?'
He looked down at his hands. 'It's not what I think that matters.'
'Why haven't you left?'
'I don't know, maybe it's ego. Certainly anger.' He pulled himself out of his chair, walked over to drapes covering a window, and drew them open. Light filled the room. 'Those cowardly bastards killed my son and I'm not going to let them get away with it. Period. End of story.'
He was angry. 'All this bullshit about protecting Greece from the 'wrong kind of people' is just that. Bullshit. It's all about one thing, money. Fuck their talk of principles. These altruistic revolutionary bastards want me to give them everything I've built for thirty cents on the dollar.'
Finally, a motive Andreas could understand, and one that explained what held muscle like Giorgio's interest: big money.
Zanni stared out the window. 'I received a piece of pottery with my family name written on it, together with
