Like most post-war, government-funded hotels, the Asteria had been built at one of the best locations in its community. The entrance stood along the broad flagstone road walked by virtually everyone coming into the old town off a boat or from a car parked in one of old port’s municipal lots. During tourist season, except for those in taxis or locals on business requiring a vehicle in town, everyone had to pass by the Asteria on foot.
A seven-foot high, whitewashed stone wall separated the hotel grounds from the road. Across the road sat a tiny beach used largely by cruise boat visitors sunning themselves during the day, and by cats and dogs for doing their thing at night. Rarely did one see a local on that beach…except in amorous pursuit of a tourist.
Sergey had a suite on the hotel’s top floor overlooking an acre of well-maintained gardens, a poolside dining area, and the old harbor. It was the best room the Asteria had to offer, yet compared to what else was available on the island, Wacki thought the accommodations spartan. But he dared not question Teacher’s judgment.
Sergey stood with his back to Wacki, looking out the window as he spoke. “I want to meet the owner of this hotel.”
“You mean the Mykonian who has the lease?”
“Yes. What’s his name?”
“Lefteris, but he’s not in town as much as he used to be. He leaves the operation of the hotel to his son. Would you like to speak to the son?”
“No. I want to speak to the owner.”
“Okay. Let me find him and see when he’s available.”
“Where does he live?”
“Out by the lighthouse on the northwest tip of the island.”
“I want to see him now.”
“He might not be home. He could be anywhere. If there’s something wrong with the room let me know and I’ll get it fixed without bothering Lefteris.”
“The room is fine. Just get me a meeting with him now.”
“May I ask why?”
“No.”
Wacki nodded and forced a smile. “Yes, boss. I’ll make some calls and make it happen.”
Sergey didn’t turn away from the window. “Good.”
***
An hour later Wacki and Sergey bounced along in a Jeep winding along a ridgeline road high above the island’s northwest coastline. The road ended at the island’s only lighthouse and, in keeping with the practical way islanders tended to name places after their geographical peculiarities, this area was known as Fanaria, the Greek word for lighthouse.
As with virtually all secondary roads in Mykonos, repaving schedules largely coincided with the four-year mayoral election cycle and, as the next election wasn’t for a year, the Jeep’s off road capabilities were getting a workout.
“Quite a view from up here, isn’t it?” Wacki spoke as his eyes darted between the road and Sergey in the passenger’s seat.
“Yes.”
“Over there to the left is Delos. It’s a holy island, second in importance only to Delphi. Next to it is Rhenia, the locals call it ‘Big Delos’ and straight ahead is the island of Tinos. It’s famous for-”
“How much longer until we get to Lefteris’ house?”
“A couple more minutes. It’s on the left, facing west. Terrific view of the sunset. Maybe the best on the island. He moved here from town a couple of years back. A lot of Mykonians have moved out of town. Practically abandoned parts of the old town to Albanians.”
“You don’t say,” said Sergey.
“Now we’ve got Pakistanis and Bangladeshis moving in. The whole place is changing.”
“I’m sure.”
At a long, white-stuccoed wall Wacki turned left through a blue, halfway-open sliding gate. He parked on a flagstone driveway next to the wall and led Sergey through an archway into an entrance foyer. The house stood on the right and a large, semi-enclosed terrace opened off to the left, each done in the same all-white with blue trim motif as the hotel. They went out onto the terrace.
Lefteris’ home, like his hotel, had an unobstructed view of the sea, though from this height the Aegean seemed a sapphire tabletop peppered with colorful toy boats sliding by puffs of white cotton.
Wacki waved to a gray-haired man of about Wacki’s height, but at least twice his girth. He sat on a beach chair next to a swimming pool that looked to fall off into the sea.
“It’s windy, Lefteris,” said Wacki.
“Always is this time of day this stage of summer. Sit over here. It’s protected from the wind.” He spoke in Greek and pointed to two chairs facing his. As the men approached, Lefteris struggled to his feet and extended his hand to Sergey.
“Welcome. I’m Lefteris.”
Sergey shook his hand. “Sergey.”
Lefteris motioned to the chairs again. “Please, sit. Would you like anything to drink?”
“No, thank you,” said Sergey.
“Water?”
Wacki gestured no.
Lefteris switched to English, “Please forgive my English, it is not very good but I understand you do not speak Greek.”
Sergey nodded. “I’m trying to learn.”
“Good. I’m sure we will find some way to communicate.” Lefteris sat down. “So, what can I do for you?”
Sergey sat down, crossed his legs, and pulled a cigarette and a lighter out of his shirt pocket. “May I smoke?”
Lefteris smiled. “Of course, this is Greece. We’re civilized.”
The men laughed.
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” Sergey lit the cigarette and put the lighter back in his pocket.
“You are a guest of the hotel.” He waved toward Wacki. “And a friend of Wacki’s. How could I refuse?” Lefteris smiled.
“I don’t know what Wacki has told you about me or-”
“Nothing,” said Lefteris in a bit too quick of answer.
“As I was saying, or the purpose of my business on Mykonos.”
“Business?” He looked at Wacki then back at Sergey. “What business?”
“One that will be highly profitable for both of us.”
“I already have a highly profitable business, I need no other.”
Sergey smiled. He was holding the cigarette but had not yet taken a puff. “We both know that’s not true. You, like every other hotelier on this island, are suffering. Hotels offering far more to guests than yours can possibly match are cutting rates to the point where you cannot compete on price and still make a profit. You’ll be lucky if you make enough to cover your expenses for the season. And with all that you owe to the banks I doubt you’ll make it another season, certainly not two. Crossing your fingers won’t work either. It will take at least a decade for Greece to get back on its feet.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I lease the hotel. I’m not an owner. I’m not worried about the banks.”
Sergey laughed. “I like your style. But we both know that not owning the hotel is a decided disadvantage, because the only time a hotel on Mykonos is likely to make any real money for its owner is when it’s sold. And that’s an opportunity you’ll never have.”
Lefteris stared at Sergey. “You seem to know a lot about my business.”
“Enough to know that what you said about your debt situation isn’t true. You borrowed a lot to cover renovations required by your lease, and even more to cover this season’s estimated operating costs. With the way things are going, how do you possibly expect to meet your bank payments? And, with what you’ll owe in lease payments to the government…” Sergey shook his head.
Lefteris didn’t answer.
Sergey continued. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that in the current political climate the ministry isn’t about to cut you any slack. It’s a new crew in there. Not like the old days. You’ll be in default on the lease and, if someone with money comes along willing to take over your lease, bye-bye, you’re history. You’ll end up with no hotel and a lot of debts you can’t possibly pay.”
Sergey pointed at the house and pool. “My guess is you’ll lose this place, too.”
Lefteris stared at Sergey. “I assume you didn’t come here to lecture me on hotel economics. What’s your point?”
Sergey stared back. “I want to buy your hotel.”