“Is there any doubt in your mind that Babis killed your uncle?”
“No.”
“Do you have even a hint that anyone else was involved?”
Kouros looked away. “No.”
“Because if you did, I’d be right beside you looking to cut off any other responsible bastard’s balls.
“But while we’re on the subject of frank talk, let’s be realistic. This wasn’t the murder of an ordinary, law-abiding Greek citizen, where further investigation would be welcomed by the victim’s family as police thoroughness. He was the head of a major criminal enterprise whose family would take it as a sign of more bad guys out there. More who should die.
“And, yes, before you say it, it’s possible Babis did not kill out of jealousy. Perhaps it was a hit getting back at your uncle for who knows what sort of grievous sin he’d committed. But the bottom line is we’ll never know. Accept that, consider the case closed, and take solace in knowing your family will be spared further bloodshed and that the lowlife who killed your uncle is dead. Which is far more justice than your family would ever get out of his hide under Greek law.”
Kouros raised his eyes and stared at Andreas.
“Yes?”
“So, where’s breakfast already?”
***
The remains of breakfast sat on paper plates and cups atop Andreas’ desk and Kouros lay asleep on the couch when Maggie popped her head in the doorway. “You have a visitor.”
“Who?”
“Your friend, Petro.”
“Send him in.”
Maggie stepped into the office, closed the door, and began gathering up the plates and cups. “No reason to let the poor boy think you’re just as big a slob as every other cop. And what’s with Sleeping Beauty over there?” She tossed the rubbish in a wastebasket in a corner of the office behind Andreas’ desk.
Andreas picked up a tiny replica soccer ball from his desk and lobbed it at the back of Kouros’ head. “Mama says it’s time to get up.”
“I don’t have school today.”
“Let’s go boys,” said Maggie, “you have to make a good impression.”
Kouros rolled over and sat up. “On who?”
“The kid from headquarters security I told you about. The one who’s keeping an eye on Orestes for me.”
Maggie opened the door to the office. “Come in, son.”
As Petro entered, Maggie stepped out, closing the door behind her.
“Good morning, Chief.”
“Morning, Petro. Do you know Detective Yianni Kouros?”
“Only by reputation. We’ve never actually met.” Petro put out his hand to Kouros.
Kouros shook it. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Sit, please.” Andreas gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk. “So, what news do you have for me?”
“Last night, at about one in the morning, Orestes came into the club with three men I’d never seen before. One Balkan type, one likely from the Ukraine, and a Greek.”
“How could you tell?”
“From their Greek accents. I heard them talking in front of the club before they went inside.”
“What did they say?”
“Just bullshit about how they were hoping to find some ‘hot pussy.’”
Andreas frowned. “That’s it?
Petro smiled. “That’s all I heard. But I knew there was no way I could ever get close enough to Orestes’ table to hear what they were saying. So I had a friend do it for me.”
“How’d you do that?” asked Kouros.
Petro turned his head to face Kouros. “A working girl. Reminds everyone of the American actress Sofia Vergara. She owes me. I look out for her when she’s inside so that no one gets rough with her. All she had to do was walk by Orestes’ table once, smile at the ugliest guy with him, and she had a place of honor on his lap for the rest of the night.”
“They let a hooker sit with them while they talked business?” said Andreas.
“The ugly guy wouldn’t let her leave. Even tried to get her to fly back with him to Kiev on his private jet.”
“Did she go?”
Petro gestured no. “She’s smart enough to know that too many pretty girls in the Ukraine end up as slaves in the sex trade.”
“Was he a bad guy?”
“Not sure about the Ukrainian, but the Balkan guy with him had bodyguard written all over him and was a certified, grade-A hard-ass. The type with hands covered in prison tattoo tears, one for each of his kills.”
“Braggart,” said Kouros.
Petro laughed. “Don’t know how many were real, but he sure looked the part and acted like a pro. Later, I had to stop him from dragging the girl into Ugly Guy’s limo and Bodyguard didn’t give me any lip, just his best ‘I’d kill you if I had the chance’ glare. Lucky for me there was a crowd in front of the club or he might have tried.”
“What did she tell you?” said Andreas
“That it was hard to follow their conversation. They sounded like characters in a gangster movie talking about things they all knew and didn’t want or need to use specifics. Lines like, ‘About that thing down there, the one with the problem. We got to make it work before the other guys kill our deal.’”
“That could mean a lot of things,” said Kouros.
“Or nothing,” said Andreas. He picked up a pencil and began tapping it on his desk. “What about Orestes? What did he say?”
“He didn’t seem to know the foreigners and spent most of his time trying to impress Ugly Guy with his political clout. The other Greek guy seemed to know Ugly Guy and be more in tune with whatever was going on. This looked to be Orestes’ introduction to Ugly Guy. Greek Guy kept saying how Orestes was the person Ugly Guy needed to ‘make things work’ in ‘building their first step’ toward monopolizing a business ‘guaranteed’ to make them all ‘fortunes.’”
“What kind of business?” said Andreas.
“Didn’t say, but they all seemed to know what it was. When she sensed they were about to get into specifics, Ugly Guy sent her off with Bodyguard to ‘powder her nose for the trip.’ That’s when Bodyguard tried forcing her into the limo and I had to explain to him the available long-term housing provided courtesy of the Greek state for those who tried to abduct its citizens. He let her go and she took off. She called me later to tell me what happened.”
“That’s it?” said Andreas.
“She thought the other Greek guy might be a politician, because he ‘kept kissing ass.’”
Andreas studied Petro’s face. “So we have some presumed Greek politico trying to convince a monied Balkan type that Orestes had the necessary political contacts to make them all a hell of a lot of money. Sounds like business as usual for Orestes. It’s what he does for a living.”
He’s given me nothing, thought Andreas. Could Orestes have reached him, turned him to find out what I’m up to? A bit of a coincidence that those subpoenas to companies on Orestes’ list went out late yesterday afternoon, and Petro was in his office this morning with news.
Andreas leaned forward. “Did anyone mention anything about subpoenas?”
“What subpoenas?”
“The ones tied into that crew from last night’s plans for Crete.”
Petro blinked. “Crete? Who said anything about Crete?”
“Isn’t that what this is all about? Orestes’ interest in making money from Crete’s gas discoveries.”
Petro shrugged. “Maybe, but the girl never said anything to me about anyone mentioning Crete. There was a mention of the Peloponnese, but that was it on naming places.”
Kouros suppressed a yawn. “What about the Peloponnese?”
“The Greek guy told Ugly Guy that he and Orestes could help him with his plans on building something down there.”
“What sort of plans?” said Andreas.
“Don’t know. All she heard was that they’d fallen through when the property owner died a few days ago in a car accident.”
***
Petro left Andreas’ office with instructions to return ASAP with photographs of Orestes’ three companions taken off a security camera mounted outside the front of the club.
Andreas told Petro to tell the club owner that if he refused to cooperate, Andreas would personally arrange for a half-dozen uniforms plus a representative of Greece’s special tax squad to be at his club every night, photographing every customer until either they found the three they were looking for or the place ran out of clients.