Maggie opened the door to his office. “Are you calling me?”
“Some goddamned idiot at immigration couldn’t spot a polar bear in a Santa Claus suit in August. But I bet the bastard’s damn good at finding a reason to wreck a tourist’s holiday. Can you believe it took Europol to tell me what’s in Greece’s immigration database? Had the asshole bothered to check the same alerts we’d given Europol we could have snatched the boyfriend at immigration.”
He slammed his hand on the desk. “Now he could be anywhere.” Andreas ran his hand across his face. “Have Yianni check the passenger list for every flight out of Athens today. Let’s see if he’s on one of those.”
“Will do, but he could have taken a boat and, as loose as ticket agents are on checking IDs before issuing a boat ticket, no telling what name he could have used.”
“Good point. But if this Sergey is our boyfriend, I don’t think he’s hiding if he flew into Greece using his real name. Check out the boats, too.”
“There are a lot of boats in Greece this time of year, some with thousands of passengers and crew, and not all their records are available on computers.”
Andreas picked up a pencil.
“Is this a tapping or breaking moment?”
Andreas smiled and began tapping the eraser end on his desk as he stared out the window. “Start with the boats leaving today for Mykonos. See if we get a match on a ticket issued in his name.”
“You don’t actually believe he’d be insane enough to go to Mykonos if he had anything to do with Christos’ murder?”
“I find it hard to believe that he’d come to Greece under any name at all, let alone his real one.”
“I know you’re the cop, not me, but even assuming he has no idea we have his girlfriend on video at the scene of Christos’ murder, wouldn’t he have to be a complete idiot not to realize that once his girlfriend turned up dead in the same Polish town where he lived, that she and he would be prime suspects in Christos’ murder if for no other reason than coincidence?”
“You’re absolutely right, and whether he’s sane, insane or an idiot, it’s precisely because of what you just said that all my instincts tell me that whatever reason was strong enough to bring him to Greece to face that risk must have something to do with Mykonos.”
“In other words…”
Andreas smiled. “Humor me.”
***
Less than an hour later Maggie burst into Andreas’ office followed by Kouros. “We found our boy. He was on a Sea Jet that arrived on Mykonos around noon out of Rafina.”
“Makes sense,” said Andreas. “He probably took a taxi from Venizelos. It’s a closer port to the airport than Piraeus. Any idea where he’s staying on Mykonos?”
“I called Tassos,” said Kouros. “He’s making discreet inquiries. Sergey just arrived, and hotels don’t have to turn over information on new guests to the police until tonight.”
“Heaven forbid they were required to submit in real time by computer,” said Andreas.
“If he’s staying in a rented room rather than a hotel his name may never turn up,” said Kouros.
Andreas stood up. “Grab your toothbrush, Yianni. I’m betting Tassos will find him. But even if he doesn’t, we’ll comb the island until we do. Alert the coast guard and airport police that if they let this bastard off the island before I say he can leave I’ll have them all transferred to where there’s no more beaches, no more nightlife-”
“No more nookie,” said Kouros.
“In other words,” said Maggie, “you’ll cut their balls off.”
“Precisely. Including those who don’t have any.”
***
Andreas and Kouros just made the seven o’clock flight to Mykonos. No helicopter was available and even if one were, with all the economic cutbacks Andreas would need ministry-level approval to use it. It was a lot less hassle to fly commercial and, in this case, quicker. Tassos met them as they stepped off the stairs from the plane onto the tarmac.
Tassos pointed at an unmarked police car off to the left and walked toward it. “I found Sergey. He’s ensconced as a VIP in the best suite at the Asteria.”
“So much for trying to hide,” said Andreas.
“And rumors are flying all over the island that he’s a big-time Russian with lots of money to spend.”
“How the hell did those start?” said Kouros.
“My guess is from him,” said Tassos.
Tassos slid onto the driver’s seat, Andreas sat next to him, Kouros in the back. “Before we start to drive, I think we should decide where we’re headed with this guy. He’s not behaving like a suspect in a murder investigation. He hired one of the most connected pieces of nightlife scum on the island as his assistant and they’ve already met with the owner of the Asteria in what I understand was a command performance ordered by Sergey. At least that’s what I heard from the hotel concierge who tracked down the owner and set up the meeting at the urgent request of one very anxious Wacki.”
“Wacki? Is that jerk-off Sergey’s assistant?” said Kouros. “He’s been involved in every sort of dirty deal on the island, from hookers and drugs through election rigging.”
Andreas nodded. “Yeah, I know him. He’s everything you say and more. But he’s also clever enough to go where the money is.”
“So, how does a guy less than two months out of a Polish prison manage to show up acting like an anointed king?” said Kouros.
“Tassos is right. This isn’t adding up.”
“The part about coming to Mykonos fresh out of prison to make a score isn’t a new story,” said Tassos. “But with this guy it’s the other way around. He’s bringing serious money here. My guess is, unless he’s hit the lottery, the money’s not his.”
“Yianni, check out what Europol, Interpol, CIA, MI6, and anybody else has on Sergey. I want to know everything there is on this guy.”
“I assume that means we’re not paying him a visit tonight,” said Tassos.
Andreas nodded. “Not until I have a better idea of whom we’re dealing with. Just make sure the local cops are watching him like a hawk. I don’t want our boy taking a piss without us knowing about it.”
“Some of my guys from Syros are on him 24/7. There aren’t enough cops on Mykonos to do the job right.”
“Terrific,” said Andreas.
“So, where to?” said Kouros.
“Dinner. Tassos, you pick the place.”
“Ahh, the kind of police work I can sink my teeth into.”
Kouros groaned. Tassos smiled.
***
Tassos turned right out of the airport, drove down the hill, went straight through the south rotary, and a couple minutes later slowed to turn left at the road’s intersection with the old road by the bus station. In high season this was the most hectic intersection on the island, if not in all the Cyclades.
To the left, the old road stood lined on both sides with car and motorbike rental agencies clogging the already narrow two lanes down to one and a half with their rows of double and triple parked motorbikes and four-wheel ATVs. Pedestrians, finding no sidewalks, had no choice but to dodge and weave among the madness, ever alert for less than accommodating drivers coming at them from all directions.
Tassos sat stuck in the middle of his left turn between a Jeep facing him at a stop sign on his left and a phalanx of motorbikes parked on the right. He could have squeezed the unmarked car between the Jeep and the four wheelers but a big guy in a sleeveless t-shirt, sitting on a motorbike outside the first rental shop and chatting with the owner, blocked what was left of Tassos’ side of the road.
To make things worse, another turning car now blocked Tassos from behind and the intersection was in total gridlock. All because of the idiot on the motorbike. A third-year cadet out of the police academy was too busy flirting with a pretty tourist girl to do his job directing traffic.