Assassins of Athens

All of that required distracting the masses from their plight or, where life was not so bad, from the disparity of so much power in the hands of so few. Hate and fear always seemed to work. 'Just find the right scapegoat… and run with it.' Different ethnicities — 'find a way to justify to Greeks that it's bad for the Turks and you're home free;' different styles of worship, even within the same faith — 'look a few countries east of here for daily, bloody examples of that;' race — 'name a Western country, make that any racially or tribally mixed place in the world, free of those tensions;' political differences — 'though significant ones are hard to find today among organized parties;' class distinctions — 'my family is better than yours because… fill in the blank;' and, in a pinch, fans of a rival sports team — 'no example necessary, GO OLYMPIAKOS OR GO PANATHINAIKOS. The bottom line goaclass="underline" keep the focus off of us. Whoever us may be.'

Andreas had seen Marios perform enough times on TV to know he was building up to his point and that there'd be no hurrying him along.

'Hitler's rise to power in the 1930s should leave no doubt in anyone's mind that even the world's most advanced civilization can, under the right circumstances, allow a mind-boggling many to suffer for the goals of a few… and a miserable few at that.

'Since 9/11 much of the world's focus has been on threats of foreign terror, but in the long term what we face from within is likely to be far more menacing and difficult to control, absent a Stalinist-like will.' He paused and looked at Andreas. 'I'm not suggesting a return to the Regime of the Colonels, or anything of the sort. I'm just making my point.'

Andreas took that as Marios' way of saying he knew all about his father's service to the dictatorship and what followed. What Andreas couldn't tell was whether the remark was intended as some sort of threat or just to show that he knew his facts.

'The United States will never forget 9/11 or Pearl Harbor. And it better never forget Oklahoma City — Americans killing Americans for the sake of terror.'

Andreas adjusted his position in his seat.

Marios gave him a quick, sharp look. 'Am I losing my audience?' He paused, no doubt for effect, then continued. 'Okay, here's my point. We all know about 17 November.'

What Greek didn't? It was the name taken by Greece's most notorious homegrown terrorist organization from the final day of the 1973 student uprising at the Athens Polytechnic University credited with launching Greece's return to democracry in 1974.

'Ever wonder how 17 November managed to operate undetected for almost thirty years, assassinating over twenty prominent people in more than one hundred attacks — starting with the assassination of the CIA's section chief in Athens?

'And I'm not just talking about their attacks on US military personnel, Turkish and British diplomats. Their primary targets were prominent members of Greece's establishment. A member of parliament, a publisher, a banker, a businessman, a ship owner, a prosecutor, police. The list goes on and on. And they got away with it for almost thirty years.'

He paused, and spread his arms. 'That is, until June 2002, when a miracle happened and a botched bombing unraveled the entire organization. By December 2003, 17 November's leadership was captured, convicted, and sentenced away. Just in time for Greece's hosting of the 2004 Olympics.'

Greeks see a conspiracy in the number of raisins in a cereal box, Andreas thought.

'I know, you probably heard that before, but that doesn't mean you should dismiss it. As much as we would like to forget our past, in it there is a basis for true concern as to the lengths some might go to retain or regain power.'

Another reference to the regime his father served.

'And there are signs of new, at least seemingly new, groups trying to pick up where 17 November left off-' he rolled his left hand out in front of him to finish his sentence without saying the obvious words aloud, now that the Olympics are over.

He was right about new groups forming. Isolated bombings with manifestoes were back. Hopefully not for long.

'The trouble with groups on the fringe is you're never quite sure which fringe they're on. You may think you do by their targets and words, but not always. For example, the declared aim of 17 November was to discredit and humiliate the establishment and the US government, not to disrupt Greek society as a whole. At least that's what they said. Yet in the thirty years of 17 November terror, Greece's establishment not only expanded, it thrived. And with every death came a profit of some sort to someone.'

Andreas had enough. 'Okay, I get it, we've got a great left-wing, or is it right-wing, conspiracy going on out there. Carrying out clandestine acts on behalf of unnamed powers. Assuming there's any truth to all this, what does it have to do with the Kostopoulos kid ending up in a dumpster?' He probably could have been more diplomatic.

'I don't know.'

Is this guy jerking my chain?

Marios continued. 'Over the past several years quite a few foreign-born but Greek families who achieved great wealth in Greece suddenly moved away, selling everything.'

Andreas' patience was nearly at its end. 'So?'

'And none would ever say why they left so suddenly.'

Andreas drummed his fingers on the seat between them.

'But there was a pattern to three of those families, one I admit I never saw until the Kostopoulos boy's death.'

Finally, something relevant. Please.

'In each case a family member died unexpectedly.'

This time Andreas gestured, so?

'And within a day after each death, the rest of the family left Greece. Never to return.'

The thought sat in the air, as if no one dared go after it.

The first thing Andreas could think of to say was, 'Why did you decide to tell me this?'

'I was told to. But I only agreed after I was convinced you're a man to be trusted. And the one man in Greece possibly dumb enough to risk doing something about it.'

He wasn't sure if that was meant as a threat or a compliment. 'Who told you that?'

'A friend.'

'Yours or mine?'

'Does it matter?'

Andreas couldn't imagine what sort of friend would drop him into the middle of such a goddamned mess. Then again, he'd already waded in on his own; so possibly it was a warning to watch where he stepped. Or to back off. Either way, he was better off knowing.

'Any suggestions on where to go from here?'

Marios handed him an envelope that was sitting on the seat next to him. 'Inside is all the information I have on the other three families. I also included the name and phone number of a friend who's tied into Athens society. I think she might be able to help you.'

'Does she know about this?'

Marios gestured no. 'But she's smart, so be careful what you say if you don't want her to figure it out.'

They shook hands, exchanged perfunctory smiles, and said goodbye in the theater. Marios didn't walk them out, probably to avoid being seen with Andreas any more than he already had been. Andreas couldn't blame him. He wouldn't want to be seen with himself, knowing what he knew now.

8

'Ever see any of those old-time American Laurel and Hardy movies?'

'You mean the ones with the tall, skinny guy and the short, fat one?'

Andreas nodded yes. They were standing outside Tholos next to their car, engaged in the ubiquitous self-destructive Greek ritual of cigarette smoking. Andreas knew it was bad for him, but he only smoked when stressed. Or so he told himself. 'One always was complaining about the messes the other kept getting them into.'

Kouros smiled and nodded.

Andreas stretched and yawned. 'Marios really was unhappy about talking to us.'