Assassins of Athens

The owner was nervous and blurted out, 'There's only one girl, she works part time.'

Someone cleared a throat. 'Officer.'

Andreas turned and smiled. 'Yes, sir?'

It was the man at the rear table. 'I may know those men after all.'

'Really?' Andreas' sounded sincerely surprised, or at least he hoped he did.

'Yes, all this excitement must have jarred my memory. I seem to remember seeing them before.'

Andreas walked over and sat down at the man's table. 'Sorry, sir, I didn't get your name.'

'Mavrakis. Demosthenes Mavrakis.'

Andreas nodded, as if truly thankful for the man's sudden recollection and utterly oblivious to his undoubted interest in stopping the owner from giving away information that could lead them to Anna. 'So, who are they?'

'I don't know their names, sir, I just saw them around the neighborhood.'

'Ever see them in here?'

'No, sir, they're not the coffee shop type, if you know what I mean.' He smiled.

Andreas smiled back. 'Yeah, sure. So, what do you mean by "around the neighborhood"?'

He suddenly looked uneasy, but in a way that made Andreas sense it was because that's how he was expected to look and not because he actually was. 'You know, the kind of places where students go to get things.'

'"Things?" What sorts of "things"?' He already knew the answer was drugs but sensed he better keep playing dumb.

Demosthenes rolled his eyes. 'Come on, officer, you know what I'm talking about.'

Andreas smiled as if he suddenly saw the light. 'Yeah, that fits with why we're looking for these guys. So, how come you know so much about the neighborhood?'

'I go to school here.'

'You look a little old for the university.'

He shrugged. 'It is what it is.'

Andreas smiled again. 'Yeah, sure is. So, where can we find these guys?'

'I don't know. I noticed them about a week ago and haven't seen them in a couple of days. They weren't the kind of guys I wanted to get to know.'

Andreas nodded. 'Ever speak to them?'

'No.'

'Know anyone who spoke to them?'

He gestured no.

'So where and when did you first see them?' Before he could answer, Andreas put up his hand to stop him and said to Kouros, 'Yianni, once you get their ID information, let them go.' There was a rush for the door.

'So, where were we?'

'You wanted to know where and when I first saw them.'

Andreas nodded. 'Yeah, that's right. Okay, just tell me everything you remember about them.'

They spent a half-hour together. Andreas never once tried to trip him up or show interest in anything other than the men in the photograph. He pressed him to remember every physical detail about them. Not because he needed that information, he already had it from the club's videos, but he wanted to make sure Demosthenes wasn't just saying he saw them. He described the two perfectly, as if he realized it was a test.

By his questions, Andreas let enough slip out for Demosthenes to piece together that someone in the Angel Club fingered the two as drug dealers. That way, anyone who knew the truth would think that whoever the cops were squeezing for busts at the club got a real break when two strangers turned up masquerading as club employees and spared the snitch the risk of turning in any of the club's real dealers.

In exchange, Demosthenes gave Andreas absolutely nothing of value. The places where he claimed to see them were all very public: a subway station, open park, and fast-food restaurant; each was extremely busy and notorious for drug trafficking. Even if what he said were true, and Andreas didn't believe him, there was little chance of finding them that way. All he'd really given them was a grand, old-time wild-goose chase; but Andreas sensed there was more to this guy than he was letting on, and he didn't want to risk spooking him until he knew what it was.

Maybe they'd get lucky and find something after they lifted his prints off the photograph. Demosthenes and Andreas were the only ones who touched it, and Andreas was careful. All Andreas was certain of was that Demosthenes didn't want cops finding Anna, but was that to protect her or the two gorillas? After all, she was illegal. From the way the owner looked at Demosthenes when Andreas said he was a cop, he might be part of the local protection racket paid by places like this to keep from being hassled. But he didn't seem the physical sort. Then, again, he was the first to give them anything on the gorillas. Maybe he's the one who connected them to Anna? What the hell, he'd give Anna a call, just to see what she knew about Demosthenes. Demosthenes watched the two cops leave. Then looked at the owner still standing behind the counter.

The owner spoke quickly. 'I'm sorry Demon, I didn't mean to involve you in this.'

Demon was what everyone called him. He motioned for the owner to come to his table, and the man hurried over as if summoned by a king from his throne. Perhaps he was, for no matter how busy the place might be, and though Demon rarely was there, no one sat at that table but Demon. Complete control over a single, small table in a twenty-foot by thirty-foot university coffee house might not seem like much to most, but it stood as an ever-present symbol to the Exarchia community of Demon's influence. But he wasn't a king; he was an anarchist. Or was he a communist? No one knew for sure, and Demon liked it that way.

'What did the cop say to you?'

'Nothing. They were crooked, looking for a payoff from drug dealers.'

'I see.' That's what he'd thought and why he sent them chasing after two guys who no longer existed. At least not in Greece.

'And what did he ask about Anna?' He doubted she was smart enough to link him to the two guys, but he couldn't risk the cops finding her. She might say something to get them making the connection.

'She never came up. Honest, Demon, he was only interested in a payoff.'

But could he be sure of that? Things often were not what they seemed. Himself for example. He was far older than he looked, far less educated than he put on, and if what he'd been told countless times were true, far brighter than practically anyone on the planet.

He stared at the owner. Demon had carefully kept to the shadows, quietly amassing power and secretly applying it in whatever measure he deemed necessary. Now this man, this inept man, had caused his name to fall into the hands of the police.

The owner bit at his lip and looked down at the floor, but he did not move from the spot where he stood. Demon did not show his anger. He still needed him. For over a decade Demon had been amassing an army of minds and wills from their most fertile source: children recently liberated from their parents, filled with ideals and burning to change a world their parents had so screwed up. His gift was not in knowing such ready converts existed. Politicians knew that for ages. It was in picking those who would do anything for a cause they believed in, and remain committed to him long after their university days were over.

And this coffee shop was where he found many of them.

Demon smiled. 'It was not your fault, you did the right thing.'

Whatever you wanted or needed to hear Demon told you. He had a knack for that and never worried about the truth. It was far too cumbersome a convention for his goals. Whether or not that made him a clinical sociopath was of no concern to Demon. He did what had to be done.

7

'So, Maggie, what's so important for you to call me four times in the last forty-five minutes?' He sounded nonchalant but, knowing Maggie was not an alarmist, expected hearing that life on earth as he knew it was over.