Andreas smiled. “Seems I’m not the only ‘lucky man’ when it comes to finding the right lady.”
“Damn straight, and don’t forget to tell him exactly that.”
“Can’t wait.”
***
Andreas sat alone in his car in the hospital parking lot, air conditioner running. He opened the envelope and began reading the transcript.
“Hello, Chief Stamatos. I’m calling at the request of your good friend, Europol Inspector McFaydean. He said you’re a man who can be trusted to respect confidences, and as I owe our mutual friend a very serious favor, I am repaying him with this call. But I cannot risk calling again, and so I must leave this as a message.
“As Inspector McFaydean appreciates and I trust you will as well, I cannot reveal who I am because I prefer living, and being identified as having provided this information would be inconsistent with that preference.
“I understand your question is, ‘Who is Teacher?’ Obviously, Inspector McFaydean did not know. Which is why you’re receiving this call from me.
“My answer requires somewhat more of an introduction than you might think warranted, but it is necessary if you wish to understand the phenomenon that is Teacher. And I say ‘phenomenon’ because she is far more than just a mortal being. At least in the world to which she belongs. And rules.
“The world is no longer linear. There are no straight-line rules to follow, or confining borders to observe. Not in communication, not in business, not in political loyalties, and certainly not in crime. Those who seek to retain parochial influence within strictly drawn political borders fail to appreciate the implications of this new order. Today vast numbers live within various countries’ legal borders but owe their allegiances elsewhere, to leaders outside borders and beyond a government’s reach. Their loyalty is to a thought, an idea, one not offered in any embraceable form by the land in which they now live.
“It is the West’s greatest nightmare. An insoluble situation many say. And one Teacher has exploited as ruthlessly as anyone on earth. She has convinced an army of the exploited that they have the power to change their lives. That any who desire simple protection from those who would do them physical harm should join her on the path to a better life.
“She preaches that words alone are not enough for those in mortal fear, and that praying for a better life is not the way. She proves her point by telling them what they already know: that the criminal beast can never be killed off in this world. Far too many want the sex and slaves and drugs that it offers. What she offers, on the other hand, is to tame the beast a bit. To teach those who traffic in evil that it is far wiser to pay the small share she asks for on behalf of her flock than face the assassination and torture she would bring upon them and their families.
“She lives in no one place. She has no family. She lives a private life away from prying eyes. It is said she has no vices because she’s done them all and has attained a state far above what they promise.
“That is all the information I have to offer except for this bit of gossip.
“Virtually all in Eastern Europe who fear her are praying the rumor that she’s terminally ill is true. They believe no one who assumes her role could be as ruthless as Teacher.
“Good bye, Chief Stamatos. I hope this is of help to you.”
Andreas looked up from the transcript and stared out the window.
“Why is someone this powerful backing a low-life like Sergey? And why Mykonos?” Andreas knew he was talking to himself. He looked back at the transcript and shook his head.
“God help us.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Andreas sat behind his desk, watching Kouros read the transcript. He’d twice called out for Maggie, only to catch himself and get what he needed on his own. He didn’t want to think about what life in the office would be like if she never came back. Or Tassos.
Kouros looked up.
“So, what do you think?” said Andreas.
“Sounds like an educated caller. Not a run-of-the-mill hood.”
“Might not even be a hood. At least not of the traditional sort.”
“You mean it could be someone who does business with Teacher?”
Andreas nodded. “A politician, military, journalist, maybe even a cop. But educated.”
“How does the caller tie into Sergey?”
“I don’t think there is a connection between the caller and Sergey. If the caller had something to do with Christos’ murder or was tied in with Sergey or Teacher in whatever they have planned for Mykonos, why would it risk telling Tassos anything, no matterhow big a favor it owed Tassos’ Europol inspector friend? The caller would have to know that Tassos was looking for the information to go after Sergey.”
“I’d still like to know who the caller was.”
“Me too, but since the caller doesn’t seem to have anything to do with our problems, and we don’t have the manpower to allow us the luxury of satisfying our natural curiosity, let’s just accept the caller’s message for the gift that it was and go on from there.”
“And where precisely would ‘there’ be?” said Kouros.
“If we assume that Sergey’s financial backer and likely boss is Teacher, and it sure looks that she is, why is she involved in this hotel deal with Sergey? It seems such small potatoes for Teacher and her crowd. I don’t see a payday coming out of it anywhere close to what she must make everyday extorting drug dealers and sex traffickers. She must have something else in mind for the hotel. Something that made them so desperate for Christos’ files that they kidnapped and tortured a cop.”
“I see…. We’re back to where we started. Nowhere.”
Andreas tapped a pencil on his desk. “Wacki?”
“Not yet, but give me time.”
“Glad your sense of humor’s back.” He flipped the pencil at Kouros, who caught it in mid-air.
“If Teacher is as infamous with Eastern European bad guys as the caller said, I can’t imagine that Wacki doesn’t at least know about her.”
Kouros twirled the pencil between his fingers. “And from the way big-ego Wacki is playing seeing-eye dog for Sergey, my bet is he’s doing it because Teacher told him to.”
Andreas nodded. “Nothing else makes sense. I think it’s time we head back to Mykonos.”
“Are we still hiding out or am I free to till the soil?”
“I won’t ask what that means. But, yes, we’re done hiding out. After all, we’re national heroes.”
“Good, that should help with the tilling.”
Andreas smiled. “And I know the perfect hotel for national heroes.”
***
Sergey had spent thirty-six hours sunning, dining, drinking, dancing, and demonstrating to all of Mykonos his presence there. It was difficult to miss him and his entourage of three Asian, African, and Irish beauties. The women were almost as tall as he, and when clothed-as opposed to virtually naked on the most prominent beach on the island-they dressed in white linen accented by earrings, necklaces, and bracelets of solid gold.
They danced together in the style and form of proper ballet as Sergey undulated and swayed among them, dressed in skintight blue and white, his silver hair flowing freely about his face.
No one could take their eyes off him.
But, now, with the first news of Tassos’ rescue, Sergey had disappeared. No one, not even Wacki, had seen him for a day. He’d left firm instructions not to be disturbed by anyone, a not-unusual request to the hotel front desk from one who partied as hard as Sergey.
But Sergey had not slept. He kept running over in his mind how Andreas and Kouros could possibly have found Tassos.
There must have been a betrayal, he thought. There was always a betrayal. It was to be expected. That was why betrayal must be punished harshly and swiftly.
Wacki was the likely one. But he’d not known anything of the plan. He only knew of Sergey’s meeting with the Albanian. Perhaps now, with all the news, he’d guessed that was the purpose of the meeting. But he had no way of knowing before.