She answered in Russian. “Speak Russian, your Greek needs a lot of work.”
He looked at his watch.
“Don’t worry, you won’t miss your boat.”
“‘Your boat?’ Aren’t you coming with me?”
“I have no interest in visiting Mykonos. That’s why I have you. I’ve made arrangements with friends. There will be people there to assist you with whatever you might need. And since your Greek is not yet good enough to transact the business that must be conducted, I have arranged for you to have a personal assistant who will be available to you twenty-four hours a day.”
My keeper, he thought. “A he or a she?”
“Don’t be cute, Sergey. This is serious business. If we don’t take advantage of this opportunity quickly others will. We must establish ourselves on the island, now. No time for childish silliness.”
“I know. I’m the one who brought the opportunity to you.”
“People bring me opportunities all the time. I am well known in Eastern European prisons.”
Legend would be the more appropriate word, he thought. If you had a big score and needed help to make it happen, the prison grapevine said, “Go to Teacher.”
“What you brought to me was a gamble. I have no need to gamble. But I am making an exception. Because I see promise in you. On Mykonos you are to act as if I do not exist. Everyone is to believe that you are the boss, that you are responsible to no one. There is only one person who will know the truth.”
She reached across the table with her right hand and patted his. With her left hand she removed her sunglasses and stared into Sergey’s eyes. “You. Do not forget that. Ever.”
Sergey forced his most relaxed smiled. “Don’t worry, Teacher, I shall forever be your student.”
“Good, then we shall never have a problem.” She put her sunglasses back on and nodded toward the port. “You better hurry, your boat is about to sail.”
***
Teacher didn’t move from the table. She watched the catamaran maneuver away from the pier, make a deliberate 180-degree turn, and sail out of sight.
I shouldn’t be involved in this. The man’s an arrogant sociopath. Thinks he can con anyone. He probably thinks I’m attracted to him.
Then again, she was. But not in the way he thought. She looked down and studied her empty coffee cup. Perhaps growing older had her fixating on things out of a past that never was…at least not for long.
She thought she knew better than to imagine things differently than they were.
“Obviously not,” she said aloud in Greek as she pushed herself up from the table and walked out the door without paying for her coffee. A burly man at an adjoining table wearing a gray tee-shirt, blue jeans, and a large black fanny pack immediately stood and followed her out the door, dropping a twenty euro note on her table as he passed by.
An all-black Range Rover pulled up to the curb in front of the taverna and the burly man pulled opened the rear door. As soon as Teacher stepped inside he closed the door and jumped in front next to the driver. The SUV moved quickly away from the curb.
“Back to the airport. And call ahead to make sure the plane is ready.” She slid her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose to where she could stare over them through the deeply tinted windows. She saw tired commercial buildings filled with FOR RENT signs lining cramped, working-class streets. Other signs proclaimed, GREECE IS FOR GREEKS, offering free food to those who could prove their Greek lineage. Such ethnic hatred she’d seen before. It had fueled much of her success, driving the threatened into her arms. A lot was at play in Greece at the moment.
She smiled.Which is why a sociopath is perfect for what I have in mind.
***
At the north end of Mykonos’ old harbor a concrete pier jutted two-hundred yards out to sea. Close to shore the pier offered stern-first, long-term docking for large private yachts with the appropriate connections, and its far end provided parallel docking facilities for commercial catamarans loading and unloading passengers. Locals referred to the pier as “the old port.” Between the pier and the old town was a parking lot used by Mykonians with special parking privileges and buses shuttling cruise boat passengers to and from ships anchored in the new port one mile away. To the north, on the other side of the pier, was the town’s brand new municipal parking lot, most often used only by those who could not find more convenient illegal parking elsewhere.
Sergey was one of the first off the catamaran. He carried only a small backpack slung over one shoulder. Teacher told him there would be new clothes waiting for him on Mykonos and that he should bring nothing from his past. Even his conviction would be expunged. It would be a new beginning.
He walked along the pier between the boat and a stone wall toward a crowd of people waiting just beyond the end of the pier. He had no idea who would be meeting him. As he entered the crowd, someone tapped him on the shoulder from behind.
“Sergey?”
He turned toward the voice and saw a pockmarked sallow face, narrow angular nose, misaligned teeth, and greasy, gray-brown mid-length hair. Rat immediately came to mind. “Yes?”
The man flashed a toothy smile in a way undoubtedly thought by the man to be charming, but which only exaggerated his resemblance to a rodent. He was a head shorter than Sergey, gangly, and dressed in colors intended to draw attention.
Like a pimp, thought Sergey.
“Our mutual friend told me to take care of you. Follow me.” He turned and walked toward a silver Mercedes taxi parked on the pier next to a private yacht. The man had spoken in Russian but not introduced himself, not offered to take Sergey’s bag, nor said “please.”
“Boy, take my bag.”
The man froze. He turned his head and glared at Sergey. “I’m not your boy.”
Sergey walked over, wrapped an arm around the man’s shoulders, and smiled. “If you prefer being called my ‘bitch,’ that’s okay with me, too. But start showing some respect to your boss.” With that he swung the backpack off his shoulder and whipped it around into the man’s belly. “Your choice.”
The man caught the backpack before it fell to the ground. “I take my orders from Teacher.”
“On this island I’m your boss, and if you don’t like it, I suggest you leave it now. On that boat.” Sergey nodded toward the catamaran.
The rodent’s eyelids twitched wildly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.” He held the backpack in his left hand and put out his right to shake Sergey’s hand. “The name is Wacki.”
“Wacki?”
“Yes, I know, sounds strange but it’s a nickname I’ve had all my life. I think it suits me.”
“I’m sure,” said Sergey reaching out to shake Wacki’s hand. “Speak Greek. I need the practice.”
“Fine. I understand you speak some English.”
“I speak a lot of English, plus Russian and Polish.”
“Good, the English will come in handy until your Greek improves. But, of course, I will always be there if you need me.”
“Of course.”
“Do you prefer that I call you Sergey or something else?” He gave another toothy smile.
“‘Boss’ will be fine.”
Wacki looked surprised, but quickly walked to the taxi, opened the rear door and motioned to Sergey. “If you please, Boss.”
As Sergey got into the taxi he said, “I assume you prefer I call you Wacki.”
As opposed to bitch, boy.
***
A big attraction of Mykonos for the monied crowd was that with the right connections you could achieve virtually anything. But money alone wouldn’t get you what you wanted. You needed juice. The island’s powers-that-be could shut down anything and anyone if they weren’t pleased. Courts offered little help if you hoped for relief within a decade, and even a judicial victory was likely only the first of many battles. The island powers had voting constituencies to satisfy, many of whom were members of large families whose support they needed to stay in power. If you didn’t know whose toes you were stepping on-or how to dance around them-you were in for a nightmare of promises, compromising payments, and disappointments.