“Yes?” she asked. “What you want?” She spoke in a heavy Greek accent.
“I want to talk with you for a few moments, if I may,” I said for openers.
“About what?” she replied, suspicion instantly in her voice.
“About someone you know,” I smiled, trying to put her at ease, “Anton Karminian.”
“I don’t know anything about heem,” she shot back but I caught the flash of fear that had leaped into her eyes. She started to slam the door shut but I got a foot on the threshhold and held it open.
“Please,” I said calmly. “I’m looking for him, and I thought you might help me.”
“No, no,” she said angrily. “I know nothing.” She tried slamming the door again but my foot was still there. She tried pushing my foot with hers, but it wouldn’t push. Suddenly she yanked the door open and leaned out.
“JIMMEEEE!” she yelled at the top of her voice. I turned and saw “Jimmeeee” emerge from the rear of the club, a big, beefy form with the rolling gait of an ex pug.
I’d met the type many times over. Every sleazy little joint had one as a bouncer. He didn’t ask questions either, which was also typical of his kind. He just took in the scene, made his one-tracked conclusions and moved in.
I knew that even to attempt explanations would be a pure waste of time and breath. But I also knew that Athena was far too reluctant to talk about her friend, Karminian. I was going to find out why. I let Jimmy grab me by the collar and start to rush me out into the alleyway. I offered only token resistance.
“Cut it out,” I said. “I only wanted to talk to her.”
“Shut up, bum,” he growled. I sighed silently. Everybody had to do their bit, including me. As we reached the alleyway, I braced my feet on the ground, tightened up and with a quick twist, had one thick arm in a judo hold. I twisted and he went sailing into the alleyway to land on both knees.
I saw the look of astonishment on his battered face as he started to get up. He was big and there was no doubt a fair amount of muscle still under the layer of lard he carried, but he was shamefully out of condition. In addition, I could see that he’d never had the reflexes to be anything but a third-rate pug. He moved at me, more carefully now, shot out a jab which I easily slipped. He tried another and I ducked away. He made little motions with his hands, did a small shuffle as a matter of habit, and tried two hard blows, a left and a right cross.
I blocked them and backed away. Then I feinted, starting off as though I were going to try and run past him. He lunged at me but I wasn’t there. I’d ducked backwards and as his lunge carried him past me, I came up behind him, put my shoulder into his back and drove forward hard. He slammed into the wall and I heard the crack of his forehead against the bricks. I stepped back and he slumped slowly to the ground, like a burlap sack emptying out its contents.
I turned back to the club just in time to see the door to Athena’s dressing room open and a flash of green disappearing down the corridor in the opposite direction. I ran and found another exit leading to another alleyway. I glimpsed the green coat racing around the corner and took after it.
She was heading for the park behind the Boulevard Rachidi when I caught up to her. I grabbed her wrist and spun her around. I was going to be soothing again, when I saw her hand come out of her purse and the glint on the blade of the pocket-knife. Athena slashed at my hand holding her wrist and I let go quickly. She stood with the little knife held in front of her, her eyes mixed with fear and anger.
“Get away from me,” she said in her strangely accented voice.
I shrugged, started to back off and for a moment I saw her relax. All I needed was that moment. I dived forward, grabbed her wrist and twisted, and the knife fell from her hand. She gasped in pain.
“Ow! Goddamn you,” she cried out in pure Americanese. “Sonofabitch. Let me go.”
“Well, well,” I said, keeping my hold on her wrist. I had turned her around so that her back was against my chest and I held her arm pulled up behind her back. I looked down into her grimacing face. “What happened to Athena, the Belle of Athens?” I grinned.
“Let go of me, you bastard,” she hissed. She brought her heel down hard along my ankle, raking my flesh with it.
I yelped, spun her around and grabbed her by the throat. There was a sudden terror in her eyes.
“You behave or I’ll break you in little pieces,” I growled. Athena had been around and she read the message in my eyes. “All I want is some answers,” I added. “And I’m going to get them, sister.”
“No rough stuff?” she asked fearfully.
“Not unless you force it,” I answered. I let go of her and she stepped back, her eyes combining resentment with respect.
She had, I noted, slipped on a silk minidress, a deep pink, and, I wagered, not taken the time for anything else. The small points of her nipples stood out deliciously beneath the silk, forming tiny, sharp mounds. Even without a bra she was high-busted and full.
“You’re American,” she said, interest creeping into her voice. “What do you want?”
“Just some information,” I answered.
“That’s what they said,” she answered bitterly.
“They?” I questioned and she looked around nervously.
“Look, my place is only two blocks from here,” she said. “If you want to talk let’s go there. I’m not standing around here at this hour.”
“Start walking,” I said. I fell into step beside her and glanced down at her small, pretty face. Without the heavy makeup she had a face that once, I was sure, was sweetly pretty. It was still pretty enough, but a hardness had come into it. She wasn’t much more than twenty-five, I guessed.
“Sure you can trust me enough to take me to your place?” I asked, somewhat maliciously.
She glanced up at me.
“No, I’m not sure,” she said. “But I’ll chance it. I figure maybe as an American you might take it easy. Besides, there’s something different about you. You’re not the usual bum around here, and you’re not one of the tourists out for a cheap feel either.”
“I’m an artist,” I said. “A traveling painter. Since you’re not from exotic Athens, where are you from?”
“I’m from exotic Akron, Ohio,” she grunted. “I know the next question by heart, mister. What am I doing here?”
“Good enough guess,” I said. “What’s the answer?”
“Nothing glamorous, I can tell you that,” she said. “I was with a small troupe on tour. I met a guy here and got hooked on him. I stayed on with him when the troupe left. A little later, I found out that he never had any long-range plans for us. I found that out the morning after he cleared out, taking every cent I had with him.”
“And you’ve never heard from him since,” I supplied.
“How’d you guess?” she said bitterly. “I got a job at the Club Bedouin. It was the only place that would hire me without a permanent visa or a resident entertainer’s license. They’re not too fussy at the Club Bedouin, and it was a job and I was grateful. The old Turk that runs the place is all hands, but he’s harmless. I’ve been trying to save enough to get out of here.”
We had reached her place and she led me into a first-floor apartment, three rooms, but smaller than Karminian’s flat and considerably more run-down.
Athena flung off her coat and I saw the nice, firm shape of her body. Her legs, a little short in the calf, were shapely and youthful and attractive. The pink dress clung to her and there was no faint line of even a pair of bikini panties. I was certain now about the bra by the way her full breasts moved beneath the silk, swinging freely and tantalizingly.
“What’s your real name?” I asked.
“Aggie,” she said quickly. “Aggie Foster. God, I haven’t said it in so long it sounds funny to me.”