“I thought you didn’t like American western movies,” said Kouros.
Tassos shot the open palm equivalent of a middle finger in Kouros’ direction but kept his eyes on Andreas. “Do you get my point?”
Andreas’ face relaxed. “Okay, but what’s in there that’s so important you have us acting like spooks in a B movie.”
“Fair question. With the aid of a pair of latex gloves I saw enough in the ledgers to explain how Christos managed to keep so many of Greece’s major players and public officials on his side for decades.”
“If you’re saying you’ve found evidence of corruption, I’m shocked.” Andreas raised his hands as if surprised. “Greek government officials taking bribes? My, my, what is our country coming to?”
“No one’s going to care,” said Kouros. “All the world knows they’re goddamned crooks.”
“Thinks they’re crooks,” said Andreas. “But good luck on getting a prosecution. I spend more time trying to light fires under prosecutors than chasing bad guys.”
“Fellas, give me some credit. If this were just about payoffs we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Yes, the ledgers show a lot of bribes to a lot of important people, but bribes only guaranteed their loyalty until someone else offered the corrupt bastards more than Christos did.
“Christos’ real influence was what he had on virtually every politician and family in Greece that’s mattered over the last forty years. It’s all described in the ledgers. Enough toxic events and transactions to have them all by the balls.”
“Come on,” said Andreas. “You can’t be saying that every prominent person in Greece has something that serious to hide?”
“No, I’m not, but virtually all of them have at least some family member who does. And that’s all the leverage Christos needed. After all, he wasn’t asking to get away with murder or rob the National Gallery. All he wanted them to do was make sure he could run his club without complications or competition.”
“I wonder if that’s what drew all the movers and shakers to his club?” said Kouros.
Tassos nodded. “Because they knew if you wanted to be indiscreet, Christos’ place was where you could do your thing and get away with it.”
“As long as you protected him,” said Andreas.
“Smart guy,” said Kouros.
“Dead guy,” said Andreas.
“Some of his ‘friends,’” Tassos accented the word with finger quotes, “were pretty fucking kinky. Those folks preferred to use his house. From what I could make out from the ledgers, the Marquis de Sade would have been proud.”
“Do you think he was murdered because of what’s in the briefcase?” said Kouros.
“Don’t know, but my instincts tell me it’s a hell of a lot more likely he was killed because of what’s in there than because Christos’ girlfriend and her buddies botched a robbery.
“If I had to guess, I’d say he was supposed to die and the reason for his death is answered by something in the briefcase. As for just what that might be or how it all ties together,” Tassos gestured no with his head, “I don’t have a clue. But one thing I know for sure. If what’s described in that ledger ever gets out, it will bring on an international media shit storm like this country’s never seen before.”
“Terrific, just what we need. More international press stories screaming about our ‘national character.’” This time it was Kouros using finger quotes.
“Bad press might be the least of our worries if the blackmail value of what’s in there is as powerful as you say,” said Andreas.
Kouros smiled. “You mean like a tape recording of our prime minister lip-locked in an intimate cell phone conversation with his lover?”
“Joke all you want about that old bit of political gossip, but don’t underestimate what the right sort of pressure applied to a politician’s vulnerabilities can achieve in knowledgeable hands.” Andreas nodded at the case. “Did you find anything else interesting in there?”
“I only looked at the ledgers. Didn’t touch anything else.” He smiled. “I thought it best that I wait for you. But I assume it’s supporting proof for what’s in the ledgers, because next to each ledger entry are categories labeled, ‘dates,’ ‘times,’ ‘names,’ ‘places,’ and ‘storage media.’”
“Seems pretty well organized,” said Kouros.
“Looks like Christos recorded or at least made detailed notes of every conversation he ever had with someone of importance. Plus, I’ve a feeling there’s proof in there that people who should have known better did a lot of very stupid things in public at the end of a long night of partying.”
“Like I said, he was one smart guy. So, where do we go from here?” said Kouros.
“One place we definitely won’t be going is to Spiros. At least not now,” said Andreas. “He’ll have an orgasm at the thought of how many favors he’ll be owed if he handles things right. The arrogant bastard will blame it all on a robbery gone sour, and with an easy conviction of the girlfriend and her accomplices, close the case without ever mentioning the contents of the second safe. Then he’ll spend the rest of his days reminding the rich and powerful that he was their savior.”
“Or worse,” said Tassos. “There’s enough blackmail material in here to make him a very, very rich man.”
“Let’s hope he’s not gone completely over to the dark side,” said Andreas. “But I get your point.”
“The eleventh commandment. Thou shalt not lead thy boss into temptation,” said Kouros.
“The first thing we need to do is find out exactly what’s in this massive pile of shit you so kindly dumped in our laps.”
“That’s going to take a lot of time and we can’t do it here. My friend will be back any minute.”
“Assuming you don’t mind turning the briefcase over to me, we can do it back in my office in Athens. At least I know that small part of police headquarters is secure.”
Tassos shut the lid, pressed the locks closed, scrambled the tumblers, and pushed the case across the table toward Andreas. “Done. This mess is now officially yours. Uhh, make that unofficially. By the way, the combination is Tassaki’s birthday.”
“Nice touch.”
“I did it in the hope that by the time his next birthday rolls around we might have some idea of what the hell’s going on here.”
“His birthday is almost a year away.”
“You’re right. That’s not enough time, I should have said-” Tassos reached for a police radio on his belt. “It’s vibrating.” He tinkered with a dial and brought the communicator up to his ear.
“What is it?” said Andreas.
“Three men just robbed the national bank on the ring road. They escaped on motorcycles.”
“Descriptions?” said Andreas.
“Foreigners.”
“That’s a big help,” said Kouros.
“All approximately six feet tall, Caucasian, muscular, each wearing jeans, long sleeve grey work shirts, light blue windbreakers, work boots and ski masks.”
“So, what’s the foreigner tie-in?” said Andreas.
“The one who did all the talking had an Eastern European accent.”
“What about the bikes?” said Kouros.
“All yellow, and fast. Probably stolen. They took off north in the direction of the new port.”
“They’ve probably hooked up with a fast boat and are on their way to who knows where by now,” said Kouros. “The only one with any chance of catching them now is the coast guard.”
“Don’t be so sure,” said Tassos. “Are you two Athenian desk jockeys up for a bit of old fashioned, down home police work?”
Andreas looked at Kouros, then back at Tassos. “Why not?” He picked up the briefcase and headed toward the door, “The Lone Ranger and Tonto are always up for a little adventure.”
***
What locals called the “ring” or “new” road was finished in the late 1990s and enclosed a much older inner road that marked the land-based perimeter of the old port area of Mykonos. Beyond the north and south edges of the original town the old road hugged the sea as it made its way north to the villages of Tourlos, San Stefanos, and Houlakia, and south to the village of Ornos. At a turnoff to Ornos Beach the old road split, continuing south to the area of Agios Ioannis of Shirley Valentine film fame, and west, past the island’s soccer stadium, to the steep rocky hills of Canalia peninsula, a modern construction miracle or a development curse, depending upon your point of view.