some press clippings and a message telling me to read what happened to other families who didn't leave Greece within ten days. Then I got a call from someone offering to buy all of my assets in Greece. I told him to fuck himself. Every day he called, I wouldn't take the call and he'd leave a message asking if I'd reconsidered his offer. After the tenth day his calls stopped. Then my son…' His voice trailed off and the room was silent except for the sound of wind at the window. 'The day after… his death… the same person called. I took it this time and again he asked if I'd reconsidered. I told him I had, and we've been negotiating ever since.'
'Negotiating?' Andreas was surprised.
'Until I find them. Then they'll get paid. All of them.' His voice had a bitter edge that left no doubt what he had in mind.
Andreas thought to say something like, don't take the law into your own hands, but knew it would sound stupid. Instead he said, 'Do me a favor, if you find them let me know. I don't want to waste my time chasing dead bodies.'
Zanni smiled. 'Are you taping this?'
'Yeah, right.' Andreas got up and walked over to him. 'Listen Mr Kostopoulos, I'd probably be doing the same thing if I were in your shoes, but don't underestimate these people. Think about your family.'
'You sound like one of them.' His voice wasn't angry.
'Maybe I do, but not for their reasons. They know you're here, and with their resources-'
'How do they know I'm here? I came here in a small boat, and at night.' Now Zanni sounded surprised.
'Mr Kostopoulos, you're on Mykonos. It's a small island. What did you expect?' No need to tell him more. 'And I'm sure they'll find your wife and kids, too, no matter where they are.'
Zanni shook his head. 'You don't know my wife.'
Andreas wasn't sure what that meant, but it was clear that part of the conversation was going nowhere. 'Any idea of who's involved?'
He paused. 'Not yet, but I expect to soon. I have people working on it.'
Great, thought Andreas, more people running around asking questions. It's turning into a regular three-ring circus of an investigation. Can't wait for the clowns to join in. Probably already have. 'Any chance of telling me what you have so far?'
Zanni just smiled.
'What about the one you're negotiating with?'
'Uses a voice scrambler, and we can't track him. We've tried.'
Andreas nodded. 'Just be careful. Like I said, they know you're here, and I'm certain they'll go after your family.'
Zanni nodded but Andreas doubted he'd said anything to change the man's mind. A few minutes later Andreas was on his way back to town, but he made a point of exchanging goodbye nods with the major. Andreas wanted to stay on that guy's good side.
16
The underground Omonia metro station came into being as part of Greece's show of pride at the 2004 Olympic Games. Omonia's orange-wall underground station for the old electrikos train still operated, but the new metro connected Omonia to the rest of Athens in a way that it hadn't for years, except in the memories of old- timers. Omonia once was Athens' central square and remained the home of thriving, vibrant, daytime markets and well-known hotels, but now it was referred to as Immigrant Square, and most Greeks shied away from the area. Still, the metro made commuting much easier for the mix of peoples who now lived there or had business there.
Demon walked to the station. It was only a few blocks from the university, and he wanted time to think. He had a plan; it just required a bit of ingenuity and he'd supply that. He'd leave the muscle to the guy he was meeting. He bought a ticket at the kiosk in the square by the entrance and followed the rush hour crowd into the station and down onto the platform. It was five minutes to five. His contact should be here any minute. Demon walked to the far end, leaned against a pillar, and waited.
'What's so important?' It was a voice behind him. Demon didn't turn around, just turned his head so that he was looking at the pillar as he spoke.
'He's still in the country.'
'So?'
Demon didn't like the tone, but kept his own in check. 'He was supposed to leave. That was the point of the message.'
'The point of the message was to get him to pay.'
Demon felt his anger rising, but kept it out of his voice. 'Yes, but also to get him to leave.'
'That's not our concern.'
'Of course it is. My people, the ones who select the ones whose assets you get to purchase, don't want him here. You profit when they're happy. And they're not happy.'
The man's tone didn't change. 'We do all the dirty work. That's why we get to buy the assets. If they don't like the arrangements, tell them to find someone else to do their persuading.'
'Is that the message you want me to pass on? Do you really want to start a war with these people?' The man didn't know who they were, just that they were among the most powerful in Greece.
The man hesitated before answering. 'Tell them we're not going to do anything to him now. He's negotiating with us.' The man sounded like he was talking through clenched teeth.
Demon's face tightened but his voice didn't show it. 'He must be taught a lesson. Now.'
'We're talking about a lot of money here and a lot of complicated asset transfers. Do I have to remind you why we never killed the one who had to sign the papers? Once he's dead it's in the hands of Greek probate courts, and we get nothing. We're not going to blow a once-in-a-lifetime payday because your…' he paused, obviously grasping for a noncurse word, 'people are pissed that this guy's showing some balls. Tell your people we'll take care of him in good time. But not now.'
Demon knew this was going nowhere. But he couldn't let the Old Man down. There was too much at stake for him. He must give the Old Man what he wanted; Kostopoulos out of Greece. He needed to find other muscle. That was a very dangerous risk to take. He'd been working with this mob for years; since its early drug-dealing days in Exarchia. If they ever found out he'd gone behind their back… He walked away from the pillar without saying another word. It wouldn't have mattered if he had; the other man already had left. Andreas' drive back to the old harbor covered five miles and five thousand years. The granite-strewn mountainside above the Kostopoulos house probably looked much the same to whatever gods once played there; nothing but nature on that slope. Aside from the Hummer, of course. On the other side, back down along the way he came, were signs of the presence of humanity: stone walls and huts of an agrarian past out of antiquity; a magnificent, seventh-century fortified conical hill, the Palaiokastro, built by invaders trying to protect themselves from a similar fate; the graceful, eighteenth- century Palaiokastro convent nestled on a hillside above Panormos Bay; and the outskirts of the once quaint farming village of Ano Mera, where a two-lane paved road connected to modern Mykonos and all its cruise ships, hotels, mega-million-euro private villas, and legendary nightlife.
But all Andreas wanted was coffee in the old port. When he reached the entrance to the town harbor, a rookie cop sitting next to a guardhouse put up his hand to stop the Jimny. During tourist season, only taxis and authorized vehicles were allowed into town. Unless, of course, you were local or had a good story. Andreas showed his ID and the rookie jumped up and waved him on with a salute. Andreas had planned on making a big entrance, but that was a little much.
He drove along a stone-slab road beside a tiny beach at the northern edge of the crescent-shaped harbor into the taxi square and parked next to a port police SUV. He didn't walk ten steps before locals started yelling, 'Andreas, Andreas.'
For over an hour he bounced from taverna to taverna hearing stories and complaints covering everything from the plight of fishing, undeserved parking tickets, and age-old property disputes to the predicted end of the world as we knew it, caused, of course, by the political party in power. Andreas just kept nodding agreement, expressing
