“Europol’s working on it,” said Andreas.
“I’ll put out word on the Eastern European bad guy grapevine and see what that turns up,” said Tassos.
“What are you talking about?” said Kouros.
“Drug and human traffickers are always passing through Greece from the Balkans and further east. And they’re constantly exchanging information with their contacts and business partners here. It’s vital for their personal and business health to know who’s doing what in their spheres of interest. We just have to hope that somehow the two killers are known to someone on that web so that we can get a line on them.”
“Couldn’t Sergey find them the same way?” said Kouros.
“If he has the right connections, yes.”
“And you do?” said Kouros.
“Let me worry about that.”
“What do you want me to do, Chief?”
“Go fishing.”
“Huh?”
“Pack a bag and meet me here at midnight. We’re taking off for parts unknown.”
“And where exactly is that?”
“‘I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,’” said Andreas.
“Tom Cruise in Top Gun,” said Kouros.
Tassos smiled, “Better that than Mission Impossible.”
***
Things were going quite nicely, thought Sergey. The hotel owner agreed to sell, the memorandum of understanding was signed and submitted to the ministry of tourism, and the mayor was on board as much as Sergey could hope for.
He took a sip of water and studied the grounds surrounding his table in the hotel’s poolside garden restaurant. There were a lot of changes to make here. But once he had the right politicians on board this place would be a gold mine. No, a diamond mine. It would change Mykonos forever.
He looked at his watch. It was almost midnight. Wacki was supposed to be here by now with news on whether the cops had a line on the two guys he’d sent with Anna to kill Christos. Sergey’s own contact had turned up nothing.
He didn’t want to have to ask Teacher for help on this. She only wanted to hear good news. And that’s all he intended to give her.
“Hi, Boss.” Wacki dropped into the chair across from Sergey and waved at a waitress for a drink.
“What did you find out?”
“Nothing about the two guys. The police have no idea where they are. Europol traced them to Bialystok but lost them when the girl turned up dead. Their best guess is they had a falling out, and the two guys iced her and took off.”
Damn, thought Sergey.
“I understand why you might be concerned that your old girlfriend and her buddies are killers, but there’s no way they’re coming back to this island. So, if I were you I’d relax.”
Sergey stared at Wacki until Wacki fidgeted in his chair.
“But I do have some good news. Your idea on that call to the police chief worked wonders.”
“Tell me.”
“Rumor is that all three cops have been suspended.”
“Why?”
“There was a second safe in Christos’ house, one that wasn’t mentioned in that Syros cop’s report.”
“What was inside?”
“No one knows.”
Good, thought Sergey.
“But now the safe’s empty.”
Even better news.
“Sounds like Stamatos and his buddies are facing jail time. Cops are afraid of prison. Too many enemies inside looking to settle a score. They’ll be too busy trying to save their own asses to be any more trouble for us.”
All I have to do is find a way to squeeze those cops until they realize the only move left for them is to turn over Christos’ files to me.
Sergey took another sip of water. Things, indeed, were going quite nicely.
***
Wacki had called Teacher twice today. All was going according to plan though she wondered why Sergey had Wacki checking up on the two men who murdered Christos. If he were worried the police might find them, the two should be killed.
She looked at the photograph of the young girl on her desk. “I pray for the day there no longer will be a need for violent acts. But violence is the nature of the godless creatures with which we grapple every day. It is ironic, it is tragic, but to do battle with the devil you must be prepared to do what even the devil dare not consider. Then the devil will deal.”
She reached out and stroked the girl’s face. Sergey knows all of that, she thought. He has since he was five. It was how he survived the violence of the orphanage and his years of abuse at the hands of slave-masters who called themselves foster parents. They were much alike in many ways.
My escape was a marriage. His was the army.
Teacher withdrew her hand from the photograph.
He did not know she was aware of his past. But she hoped he realized a new road was open to him. One that could lead to harmony in his life, allow him to achieve great things, and be acknowledged for his deeds. It was a step of destiny that only he could take. No matter how he suffered in his youth or sinned thereafter to survive, this was his chance at a blessed future.
She cleared her throat. “We shall see.”
Chapter Twenty
Andreas and Kouros made it from the apartment to the harbor town of Vouliagmeni south of Athens in thirty minutes. This was Greece’s most exclusive marina, where the rich and mega-rich kept their private yachts. The forty-eight-foot Uniesse’s engines roared to life the moment the two cops stepped out of the taxi. The two jumped on board, cast off the mooring lines, and were underway.
“It should take us less than three hours to reach Lia,” said the captain.
“I really appreciate this, Zanni,” said Andreas.
“Appreciate what? An excuse for me to get out of the house for a moonlight, full-throttle sprint across a calm sea? I’m the one who should be thanking you.”
Andreas laughed and smacked him on the back. “I also appreciate your keeping this just between us.”
“No problem. Like I said, I should be thanking you.”
The nearly full moon had turned the sea to silver glass, spewed out as diamonds in the breaking wake of the ship.
Andreas whispered to Kouros. “When you see the world looking as serenely at peace as it does tonight, it’s pretty hard to imagine all the deep shit we’re in.”
“Yeah, but did I hear him right? Are we headed to Lia beach, on Mykonos? We may as well have stayed in Athens.”
“Relax. Lia’s on the island’s southeast corner, far away from all the late night craziness, and with any luck we’ll be in and out of there long before any early risers are around to notice us.”
“But Mykonos is the first place the press will look for you when they can’t find you in Athens.”
“We’re not staying at Lila’s parents’ house. That’s where they’ll look. We’re using the home of American friends. They won’t be back until September. Their house is isolated at the top of a rutted, dirt mountain road far away from any beach. No tourist ever goes up there except by mistake, and the neighbors can’t see a thing over the walls surrounding the place.”
“Sounds like Meteora.”
Kouros was referring to the community of soaring, massive gray stone pillars in central Greece where for more than a thousand years many sought monastic seclusion among its virtually inaccessible heights.
“Not quite, we won’t have to hoist ourselves up in baskets. Lila arranged for one of her parents’ cars to be left by the beach.”
“I sure hope this works.”
“The house has television, so if it doesn’t, I’m sure the networks will tell us.”
***
The house sat high above the sea, facing south across the relatively undeveloped far southeastern shoreline of Mykonos. Centuries-old walls ran down from the property toward the sea, marking boundaries, holding back erosion, shading goats from the sun, and offering sanctuary to lizards from predators.
Its owners had taken great care to build in keeping with the habitat. The gardens were desert-like, with natural stone and unpainted wood featured in everything they built. The property literally faded into the mountain, and to find it even those who knew where it was often had to think, “Look just below and to the right of the mountaintop radar station.”