Tassos' face tightened, but he still made no eye contact.
'Seems they thought he was involved with stolen antiquities, but the investigation ended when the real dealers were found by a certain Inspector Stamatos. Two Albanians, both died trying to escape — from some caves on Delos.'
Tassos kept looking away.
Andreas struggled to keep his voice down but did nothing to hide the simmering rage of a blood betrayal burning in his eyes. 'You miserable bastard. You knew he was taking her to Delos all along.'
Tassos met Andreas' glare with a look of remorse such as Andreas had never seen before and never wanted to see again. 'I swear on the graves of my wife and son I had no idea. Our deal was he'd stay off Delos — and I never knew there was a church to Saint Kiriake there. That night on Delos, I tracked him over by the caves to where the secret tunnels run into Mount Kynthos, but there was no sign of him or the girl. I didn't know where they were until you told me about the Temple of Isis. Then I knew.' He dropped his eyes to his hands. He seemed on the verge of tears.
'That's why you killed him. To keep your little arrangement quiet.' Andreas was struggling to regain his composure.
Tassos said nothing. His eyes didn't move.
'Isn't it?' Andreas pushed the words out between clenched teeth.
Without lifting his head Tassos answered. 'Six years ago I caught him and the two others red-handed at the caves on Delos. They'd been digging artifacts out of the tunnels. He offered me a deal. He'd make me his partner and promised no more digging on Delos or dealing with Europeans. Nothing to let Interpol think the old ring still operated.'
'Did your deal include killing the two Albanians?' Andreas' voice seethed with anger.
'I didn't kill them. I just said I did. No idea what happened to them. Their bodies were never found.' His voice was emotionless.
Sounds familiar, thought Andreas.
Tassos looked up. 'What's so bad?' he asked. 'Mykonians plundered Delos for centuries. Stolen artifacts are all over — and under — Mykonos. Our deal was simple: he'd find them in the mines or wherever and sell them to his Asian, Middle Eastern, and American contacts. Just keep away from Delos, and no customers from Interpol countries.'
He wasn't even trying to hide the truth.
'His work required a lot of traveling — or so he said. I never thought anything of it for him to be away for days at a time. When I saw the bridge, I remembered he'd told me he'd built something like that to keep the curious away from where he was digging.' He paused. 'I never went into the mines. That was all his thing.' He looked down again. 'I just covered for him.'
Silence.
Tassos looked up and stared directly at Andreas. 'Do you think if I thought he was killing those women I'd have covered up for him?'
Andreas said nothing. He wasn't looking at Tassos. He was thinking of his father — and how one betrayal begets another.
'Do you?' There was genuine pain in Tassos' voice.
Andreas looked at him. 'No.'
A shroud seemed to lift from Tassos. He reached across the table and squeezed Andreas' forearm. 'Thank you.'
'But I'm not sure where that gets us with everything else.' Andreas found it easier now to sound professional.
Tassos shrugged. 'Oh, I don't care about that. Do whatever you feel you should. I just wanted to be sure you didn't think I'd let that bastard kill them.' His anger flared only on the last words.
Andreas looked surprised. 'You really don't care?'
'No, why should I?' he said, sounding utterly nonchalant. 'You sound like your dad. And I really did like him. When I joined the force, I worked at the prison on Yaros.' He gestured toward an island between Syros and Tinos. 'It was where the Junta kept its more prominent political prisoners, ones who later rose to power.' He smiled. 'I always was nice to them, and they've always been nice to me.'
Tassos called for the check. 'The worst I've done is make black money from someone dealing in stolen antiquities and killed a very bad man. Making that sort of money isn't something anyone's likely to come after me for, and as for killing him…' he gave a dismissive wave of his hand. 'Besides, first they have to prove it — then convince someone to prosecute. I know the prosecutors — that's not going to happen. No one wants the story to come out. No one. Worst case, some internal disciplinary proceeding costs me my pension. But, thanks to you know who, I really don't need it anymore.'
Andreas' head was pounding. Not from anger, from this rush of reality.
Tassos paid the bill and they both stood up. 'Andreas, I really like you, so do what you think best for your conscience. I'll be fine. I'm like a Mykonian: I'm used to living in a bordello — filled with police.' He smiled, gave Andreas a hug, and left.
Andreas sat back down at the table and watched Tassos cross the street and disappear around a corner. He looked down at what remained of his coffee, then up at the sky. To that bright blue, cloudless Aegean sky he said aloud, 'I don't know, Dad, I just don't know.'
All he knew for sure was that a South African jeweler from Mykonos — reported in Athens as missing by his wife and girlfriend — was dead. Or so he hoped.