The old man drove past the three and down toward the pier. He shouted greetings spiced with obscenities at his cousin unloading fish onto the far end out of a caique taking up practically the full length of the pier. The cousins exchanged waves as the old man backed his three-wheeler halfway onto the pier, getting it as close as he could against the wall. He slid across the seat and got out the passenger’s door. He noticed one of the three men up by the tavern watching him and asked his cousin who the three strangers were.
The fisherman shrugged. “Tourists, I guess.”
The old man kept talking to his cousin as he went to the back of his hauler, undid the tarp covering the two-foot high sideboards, and rolled it forward about a foot and a half. He began loading in fish from off the pier and, as he filled one section, he’d roll the tarp about a foot further toward the cab and load in more fish. He’d just about reached the rear of the cab when he heard the high whine of a fast boat sweeping into the cove from the open sea to the east, headed right for them and coming in quickly. The three strangers sprinted toward the pier. They squeezed past the hauler and old man, kicked through the fish still on the pier, and stood behind the hauler waving frantically at the boat.
The boat sidled up next to the pier facing into the cove and, as the first of the strangers leaped into it, the old man jumped into the caique. As the second stranger landed in the boat, two fish-covered men, one wielding a shotgun and the other an assault rifle, raised up from the hauler’s truck bed shouting at the captain to cut his engines.
The stranger with the backpack still stood on the pier. He pulled a gun from his jacket, firing as he did at the two in the hauler.
The man with the shotgun instantly fired back, partially separating the gunman’s head from his body and tumbling him backward off the pier and into the boat. His two companions in the boat jerked their hands above their heads but the captain ducked down, spun the wheel, and full-throttled the twin outboard engines in a dash back to open sea. A barrage of shotgun blasts and explosive automatic rifle rounds struck the engines, killing the boat dead in the water. The captain stood with his hands raised above his head.
By the time the three marked police cars made it to the pier, three live bad guys lay cuffed face-down on the concrete and the fast boat sat tied up alongside the caique with a dead bank robber still in it.
“Quite a mess you made here,” said Tassos pointing at the body in the boat.
“Better him than us.” Andreas gave a wave that included the old man and the fisherman. “I hope your friend with the hauler is okay.”
“Petros? He’s an old combat soldier. Loves a bit of action every once in a while. It was his idea for Yianni to use explosive rounds in the rifle. Said it’s what the coast guard uses on boat engines when someone tried to run from them.”
Petros smiled and cursed Tassos.
“I owe you one, my friend. You too.” Tassos nodded at the fisherman. “I’m glad you listened when your cousin told you it was time to duck.”
“What a cockamamie plan you came up with,” said Andreas brushing fish parts out of his hair.
“Hey, it worked. When I saw Petros coming down the road, it all hit me.”
“Next time you’re inspired with a plan,” said Kouros, “make sure you end up in the back with the fish.”
“I’d have gladly partaken in the fun, but as Petros pointed out, he couldn’t possibly hide me in the back of his truck, even covered with fish.”
“We could have dressed you like a whale,” said Kouros.
Tassos burst out laughing, hugged Kouros, and slapped Andreas on the back. “They’d have gotten away without your help. These guys have been robbing banks all over the Cyclades. First time on Mykonos though.”
“Are they local?” said Andreas.
“Don’t think so. One of my guys said they’re speaking Russian to each other.”
“Christ, don’t tell me the Russians are getting into the crime business in the Cyclades, too,” said Kouros.
“Why not? They go where the money is. Always have, always will,” said Tassos. “Plus they love to party here. Who knows, it just might turn into their new romp and rob paradise.”
“Catchy slogan. Maybe the Greek National Tourist Organization would like to borrow it?” said Kouros
Andreas shot him an open palm. “Do you think this crew had anything to do with Christos’ murder?”
Tassos gestured no. “I doubt it. But we’ll do whatever is necessary to make sure. He stared at the three on the ground. “And I mean whatever.”
Andreas rolled his eyes.
“What we need is a break,” said Kouros
“Europol is looking for the girl,” said Tassos. “When they find her they’ll watch her until she hooks up with her partners and arrest them all.”
“Sounds like the sort of plan I like,” said Kouros pulling a small fish out through the back of his shirt collar. “Let the other guys do it.”
Tassos winked at Andreas. “My, my, I think our little boy’s finally figured out this cop business.”
Andreas shook his head. “I better get Yianni out of here and back to Athens before he starts thinking like you.”
Tassos handed Andreas a set of car keys. “Leave the cruiser at the station. I’ve got a lot to do here. And don’t forget the briefcase in the trunk.”
“I was hoping you’d forget.”
“Not a chance. And while we’re on the subject of the briefcase, one more thing.”
“What’s that?” said Andreas.
Tassos smiled. “No exchanges, no returns.”
Chapter Seven
Andreas’ office sat on the fourth floor of Athens General Police Headquarters, next to a major hospital, across the street from the stadium of one of Greece’s two most popular soccer teams, and down the block from Greece’s Supreme Court. Better known as GADA, police headquarters lay at the heart of much of what affected the more than five million souls living in Athens. But Andreas’ office looked away from all of that and its two long windows didn’t offer much of a view. Andreas liked it that way. Fewer distractions. Besides, most of the time the blinds were closed. Too many prying eyes from up on high.
At the moment, his office looked like a clandestine peep show parlor. Andreas, Kouros, and Maggie sat huddled behind his desk staring at images flashing across a computer screen. It was compilation of film clips shot at different times and different locations.
“Jesus, Maggie, I’m embarrassed to be watching this stuff with you. It’s like watching porn with my mother.”
“Your mother would have better taste. Never saw so many naked, pot-bellied men in my life. In one place that is.” She smiled.
“Pot-bellied is generous,” said Kouros.
“We’re not all in our twenties,” said Maggie.
“Yeah, and neither are the girls. The oldest looks about eighteen,” said Andreas.
“I wonder if they knew Christos was filming them?”
“I’d say not,” said Maggie. “None of the men is trying to hold in his belly.
Andreas glanced at Maggie. “Women notice that sort of thing?”
She patted Andreas’ belly. “Don’t worry, Lila will tell you if it gets out of control.”
Andreas looked down and squeezed his belly. “It’s less than an inch.”
“Two, but like I said, ‘Lila will tell you.’”
“Uhh, folks, is that who I think it is making a grand appearance?” said Kouros.
A man in his fifties and a boy in his teens, alone in one of the bedrooms in Christos’ house. The scene progressed to its inevitable, predictable conclusion.
“Jesus. I can’t believe what I just saw,” said Kouros.
“And we still have more than half the videos to watch,” said Andreas.
“The photographs were bad enough, but these videos are…” Maggie shook her head. “I’m not a prude, guys. You know that. And I know men screw around, especially politicians, but what I’m seeing here is…”