The new and old roads connected south of Mykonos town at Ornos, and north of the town at the sea midway between the old port and the new port in Tourlos. Between those two junctures, and out of sight of the old town, the new road ran up and down hills for approximately two miles in three unequal north, central, and south sections, separated by rotaries at the north and south ends of the central section.
At the north rotary a road to the west snaked down to meet the old road just above the town, along the way offering the island’s most spectacular views of the majestic old town below. The road east from the rotary passed by the Mykonos hospital, cultural center, and a gauntlet of businesses as it wound its way around brown-beige hills toward the town of Ano Mera three miles away at the heart of Mykonos’ agrarian roots.
At the south rotary, the road off to the west entered the old town in an area known as the bus station, and with an abrupt left, turned into a flagstone lane that narrowed down over a quarter mile until ending close by the six windmills symbolizing Mykonos. The road to the east led to the airport and police station. Professional and business services, notably banks, clustered around the south rotary, possibly in the belief that proximity to the police station might minimize robberies.
The new road was a godsend for those seeking relief from choking summer traffic along the old inner road, but to others it was the devil’s work in disguise. The new road offered easy access for armies of heavy construction equipment and building supplies streaming off of ships on their way to undeveloped parts of the island.
In less than two decades Mykonos went from being a quaint Greek island to a world-class summer playground with an international reputation for a free-wheeling 24/7 seasonal lifestyle and a vibrant tourist-driven economy. As for the traffic, some said it was worse than ever.
Many saw a golden lining in all the changes. They were the ones who believed that regardless of what might happen to the rest of Greece, Mykonos’ jet set international reputation would continue to bring prosperity to their island. It did not matter what part the devil might have played in creating their modern paradise, for as the world knew, all were welcome to do their thing on Mykonos.
Except for bank robbers.
Chapter Six
Tassos turned left out of the airport onto a narrow road headed east.
“The new road is to the right,” said Kouros.
“I thought I’d take the scenic route.”
The road twisted east for a quarter mile until meeting up with a ten foot high chain link fence topped with razor wire marking the perimeter of the airport. From there the road and fence ran due east together for another quarter mile before turning sharply north for a half mile run parallel to the runway. Off to the right, roads led off to Agrari and Super Paradise beaches, and fields edged away from the side of the road onto steep hillsides filled with homes offering spectacular views to some of the island’s most celebrated seasonal residents.
Halfway down the runway the road turned abruptly right and into a half mile-long series of S curves and straightaways. Tassos barely slowed down as he popped the police car out onto the main road headed east toward Ano Mera.
“And before you say it, Yianni, yes I know this isn’t the way to the port.” Tassos tapped a screen on the console of the police cruiser. “I’m following this.”
“What’s that?” said Kouros leaning over the front seat.
“Modern police legwork,” said Tassos. “Each of the bank’s money drawers contains a packet of money capable of transmitting a signal. Cashiers know to turn it over when there’s a robbery.”
“I thought the ministry’s cutbacks killed that project?” said Andreas.
“They did,” said Tassos. “But bankers on Mykonos thought that with less than twenty full-time cops spread out over three shifts during most of the year and only an additional fifty third-year police academy cadets assigned to help them out during tourist season, it might be good business to get together and fund the idea on their own. The technology is basically what’s used to locate a missing iPhone.”
Andreas shook his head and looked out the window. “We’ve got wolves descending on Greece in packs and all the government gives us to fight them are slingshots.”
“And the bad guys know it,” said Kouros. “The bastards have taken over parts of Athens.”
“Hard to imagine that Greece once had the lowest crime rate in the EU,” said Tassos.
“It’s become so bad in some neighborhoods that vigilante groups are offering protection,” said Kouros.
“For the price of your vote,” said Tassos.
“It’s working. Those neo-Nazi bastards are now in parliament,” said Kouros.
“Let’s not get into that political rats’ nest,” said Andreas. “We’ve three armed bank robbers to find before they get off the island.”
“No problem,” said Kouros. “Besides, they’re a lot easier to catch than the miserable cocksuckers who steal us blind with campaign promises and a pen.”
Andreas spun his right hand in the air.
Tassos pointed at the screen. “The money’s stopped. Can’t tell if the bad guys are with it. It’s on the south shore between Kalifati and Kalo Livadi beaches, at the foot of two hills the locals call the ‘mounds of Aphrodite.’”
“I know the place,” said Kouros. “It’s on an isolated peninsula about a quarter mile off the highway. The only way in by land is along a flat dirt road across a wide open space. Anyone coming is visible the whole time.”
“So much for the element of surprise,” said Andreas.
“It gets worse. The road turns east at the base of the first mound and runs between a gauntlet of one-story buildings on both sides. Mainly private homes, rooms to rent, and a couple of fish tavernas. Everything is owned by one family that likes its isolation.”
“The perfect setting for a major shootout,” said Andreas.
“They must plan on getting away by boat,” said Tassos.
“Makes sense,” said Kouros. “Just past the second taverna is a turn off to the left that brings you down to a cove behind the taverna. There’s a tiny concrete pier with its far end and west side open to the sea. It’s barely long enough for two small fishing boats to tie up alongside. Fishermen use it to unload their catch.”
“Sounds like a boat’s in their plan,” said Andreas.
“What’s ours?” said Kouros.
Andreas smiled. “The usual.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“Improvise?” said Tassos.
Andreas nodded. “And pray.”
***
The distinctive, green three-wheel hauler with an extended truck bed hadn’t seen a repair shop in decades. But its owner knew how to keep the tiny thing’s 1300cc engine running. Those Mazda three-wheelers, with their generally oversized drivers crammed into tiny cabs up front, were once a staple of transport around the old port, but modern times and methods had made that form of hauler virtually extinct.
But this three-wheeler and the old man in the driver’s seat with the steel gray fisherman’s mustache, Greek fisherman’s hat, and denim work shirt, were familiar figures in these parts. Everyday he’d drive his unmuffled hauler in along the same dirt road to pick up fish off his cousin’s boat for delivery to nearby tavernas and hotels.
The old man noticed the three men in windbreakers standing by the first building on the left at the end of the dirt road. When he reached them he saw three yellow motorcycles tucked inside a shed on the far side of the building. The old man didn’t recognize the men, but nodded to them. Two nodded back, the third kept yelling into a cell phone. He wasn’t speaking Greek and wore a backpack.