‘I’m still here on Corfu,’ Charlie said quickly. ‘Things are turning out more complicated than you said they would. I’m running into problems.’
‘What do you need from me?’
Charlie said something Ben didn’t catch.
‘You’re breaking up.’
‘I said, I need you to come out here as soon as possible.’
‘I can’t do that. Can’t you just tell me what’s going on?’
‘I know it sounds odd, but I have to explain it to you face to face. I can’t talk about this on the phone. There’s a situation developing here.’
‘It’s a simple job, Charlie.’
‘That’s what you told me. But believe me, things didn’t turn out that way.’
Ben sighed and was quiet for a few seconds.
‘Ben, please. This is serious.’
‘How serious?’
‘Serious.’
Ben closed his eyes. Shit. ‘And you’re absolutely certain you can’t handle this on your own?’
‘I’m sorry. I need backup. You know this kind of stuff better than me.’
Ben sighed again. Shook his head. Punched out his left fist and looked at his watch. He did a quick calculation. He could catch the Oxford Tube into London and be at Heathrow in a few hours. Catch a flight to Athens and from there to Corfu. ‘OK, copy that. Give me an RV point and I’ll be with you by midday tomorrow.’
He was there by breakfast.
It was an island Ben had never been to before. He’d expected an arid landscape but from the air Corfu was strikingly green, a paradise of woods and wildflower meadows, mountains and blue ocean. In the distance he could make out rambling ruins and sleepy villages nestling in the pine forests as the plane circled and dropped down towards the airport at Kérkyra, Corfu Town.
But he didn’t have much time for the beauty of the place. He was tired, and fighting to contain his annoyance. He couldn’t understand why he had to be here, why Charlie couldn’t deal with this on his own. Had he misjudged him? The man had been a good soldier. Tough, determined, resourceful. But maybe he’d lost his edge. Ben had seen that happen before.
He stepped off the plane into the warmth of the sun. In the small airport he rented a locker and stuffed into it his passport, his return tickets and the thick hardcover philosophy book he’d brought to read on the plane. He wasn’t planning on staying long, and he wanted to travel light. The only items he kept with him were his wallet, his phone and his whisky flask.
He wondered about the Bible. He’d been carrying it around a lot lately, and had got used to having it to hand to dip into. It was compact and not too heavy. He decided to bring it along. He slung the lightweight duffel bag over his shoulder, secured the locker and put the key and his wallet into his jeans pocket.
Outside the airport, he hailed a taxi. He leaned back in the noisy Fiat and took in the scenery. The driver talked incessantly in such rapid broken English that Ben couldn’t understand a word. He ignored him, and pretty soon the guy shut up. It was only two miles into Kérkyra, but traffic was already building, and by the time they entered the city the roads were badly snarled up. Ben paid the driver in crisp euros, hauled his duffel bag out of the back and decided to walk it.
He walked fast, impatient to hear what Charlie was going to tell him. The rendezvous was at the guesthouse where Charlie was staying. Ben had the address and used a cheap map he’d bought at the airport to find his way through the old town.
He walked up narrow streets where washing hung like banners on lines strung between the houses. The place was crammed with life and bustle – shopping arcades, tavernas, hot food bars and cafés. He walked through a thronging marketplace, rich with the salty tang of lobster and squid. Stand after stand of fresh olives glistened in the sunshine. In the hectic buzz of San Rocco Square people were sitting outside cafés, taking their morning coffee. Traffic rumbled through the old twisty streets.
He reached Charlie’s guesthouse just before nine, a faded stone building on the edge of a busy road right in the heart of the old town. It had a café terrace outside, tables lining the pavement and shaded by wide parasols and dozens of trees planted in big stone urns.
Charlie was sitting at one of the tables, a newspaper and a pot of coffee in front of him. He saw Ben across the street and waved. He looked relieved more than happy, and he wasn’t smiling.
Ben threaded his way across the brisk traffic and between the tables to where Charlie was sitting. The place was already busy with families eating breakfast, the season’s first tourists with their cameras and guidebooks, people grabbing a bite on their way to work. A small man in a light cotton jacket was sitting alone near the edge of the terrace, working on a notebook computer.
Ben hung his jacket over the back of the empty wicker chair at Charlie’s table, dumped the duffel bag on the ground and sat down. He leaned back in the chair, kicked his legs out in front of him and crossed his arms.
‘Thanks for coming,’ Charlie said.
‘This had better be good. I’m tired and I shouldn’t have to be here.’
‘You want coffee?’
‘Just talk,’ Ben said.
Charlie was frowning. He looked even more agitated than he’d sounded on the phone. He folded up his paper and laid it on the table beside him, took a sip of coffee and looked hard at Ben.
‘I have a bad feeling,’ he said. ‘About Zoë Bradbury.’
Chapter Fifteen
‘I came here as a messenger and ended up like a detective,’ Charlie said. ‘You told me she wouldn’t be at the villa, but I checked anyway. No trace. The owners didn’t know anything about where she’d gone afterwards. She didn’t make her flight either. Then I went to see the friends of the family that she’d been staying with initially. Couple of ex-pats. A bit stuffy, middle- class prigs. I could see why she didn’t get on with them. They told me the same story they’d told her parents – that she’d argued with them, left, got booted out of the hotel, rented the villa. Nothing new. So I started scouring the island. I’ve been to every bar and café, showing her picture and asking if anyone has seen her, saying I was a friend of the family trying to get in touch about a pressing legal matter at home. I’ve spoken to everyone. Police, the ferries, the airport, taxi drivers, hotels, hospital. You name it. I gave out cards with my number on, in case anyone knew anything. Must have given out fifty or sixty of them. And nothing. She just isn’t here.’
‘So what makes you think something happened to her?’ Ben said. ‘Plenty of ways off an island without leaving a paper trail. She could have caught a ride on someone’s yacht. She could be sitting a mile offshore as we speak, lounging on deck sipping on a cool drink.’
Charlie listened. He shook his head.
‘There’s always a trace you can follow,’ Ben said. He let the irritation show in his voice. ‘You didn’t have to press the panic button so soon.’
‘There’s a lot more. When you hear it, you’ll understand why I called you.’ Charlie was talking fast, looking jumpy.
‘I’m listening.’
‘Then I got a call from this guy. Said his name was Nikos Karapiperis and that someone had told him I was looking for Zoë. He sounded concerned. Said he knew her and had something to tell me. But he didn’t want to say much on the phone. Preferred to meet up somewhere.’
‘So he’s married,’ Ben said. ‘Respectable local guy. His wife is away and he’s been dallying with our girl.’
‘You got it. About forty-five years old, businessman. Something big at the golf club. Pillar of the community. Posh house here in Corfu town, and also this little hilltop hideaway out in the countryside, a good place to chill out and bring girls. He didn’t want to talk to me at his main residence, because his wife and kids had just got back from holiday. He invited me up to his hideaway. I went there to meet him. He seemed really nervous. Told me a lot of things.’
They were distracted by a child running by the terrace tables. He was seven or eight, a typical
little Greek boy, black hair, dark eyes, deeply tanned. He wore a striped T-shirt and red shorts. He was playing with a football, bouncing it skilfully like a basketball player with a rhythmic slap of rubber against pavement. He ran round the edge of the tables, chortling to himself, bouncing the ball as he went. A couple of women at a nearby table smiled as he ran by them.
As Charlie reached for the coffeepot to top himself up, Ben twisted in his seat, admiring the kid’s skill with the ball. The kid was too intent on keeping the rhythm going to notice anyone watching him. But then he missed a bounce and the ball went sideways and hit the leg of the table where the small man with the computer was sitting. The man swore at the boy in some language that Ben didn’t recognise over the traffic noise. His face was lean and angular, and his eyes blazed for a second. The kid picked up his ball and backed off.
‘I wish that damn brat would go and play somewhere else,’ Charlie said.
Ben turned back to face him. ‘Just tell me what Nikos Karapiperis told you.’
Charlie continued. ‘They’d been seeing each other, discreetly, for a while. It started as a one-night stand. Apparently she had quite a few of those. Then it got more serious, and they saw each other again and again. He was pretty frank with me. He’d had flings with girls before, but this was different. He was beginning to really care for her. Liked buying her things, he said. But then, suddenly, she didn’t need his money any more. She had plenty of her own.’
‘Did you find out where she was getting it?’
Charlie nodded. ‘It came from the States. Someone sent her an international money order for twenty thousand dollars. She wouldn’t tell Nikos who sent it, but she did tell him that there’d be more of it coming her way very soon.’
‘More?’
‘A lot more. The kind of money that would free her up for the rest of her life, she said. Apparently she was talking about coming back and buying a big house here, settling. She said she’d never have to work again. So if it’s true, we must be talking millions.’ Charlie paused. ‘But here’s the really strange bit.’
Ben blinked. ‘What?’
‘She never told him who sent the money, but she said it was all because of some prophecy.’
‘What prophecy?’
‘That was all Nikos knew. She was vague about it. The prophecy had something to do with the money. I have no idea what that means. Someone predicted that she’d win the lottery?’
‘When was the last time he saw her?’ Ben asked.
‘At the party she threw on her last night here, the night before she was due to catch the flight back to England. He didn’t really want to be seen at her parties, but he drove down there and hung around for a while, trying to keep a low profile as best he could. He was there until around eleven-thirty. They had an arrangement that afterwards, she’d ride her scooter up to his hideaway. They were going to spend a last night there. He was supposed to wait for her at his place.’ Charlie reached back across for the coffeepot and refilled his cup.
‘But she never got there,’ Ben said.
Charlie shook his head. ‘That’s the moment where we lose track of her. Sometime between Nikos leaving the party, around eleven-thirty, and the time she should have turned up at his place, she disappeared.’
‘Did you say she was using a scooter?’
‘One of those big fancy super-scoots. It was a rental. She never returned it. It’s disappeared too.’
‘So maybe we’re looking at a road accident. A little drunk, after the party. She could be lying in a ditch somewhere.’
‘Maybe,’ Charlie said. ‘But there’s more to it. Nikos said he thought something weird happened at the party. He knew she liked men, and there were a lot of much younger and fitter guys than him there. So he was keeping an eye on her. Jealous type.’
‘Go on,’ Ben said.
‘Apparently there was this guy hanging around her. Nikos described him as young, early thirties or thereabouts, good-looking, fair hair. He came in with a woman, but soon afterwards he started flirting a lot with Zoë. Said his name was Rick. Nikos thought he sounded American.’
‘What about the woman?’
‘Could have been Greek, according to Nikos. But he didn’t hear her talk at all, and he didn’t take a lot of notice of her. He was more worried about this Rick character, because it looked like Zoë was responding to him. Then Nikos said Rick went to the bar and fixed her a drink. He couldn’t be sure, but he said there was something furtive about the way he did it. He was standing with his back to the room. Nikos thought maybe he was slipping something into the glass.’
Shit, Ben thought. He’d been here before. At best it was a guy loading the dice by slipping a woman an aphrodisiac. A little worse than that, it could be a date- rape setup. The worst possibility was abduction. And that was the option that seemed to fit the picture. ‘This isn’t good,’ he said.
‘Nikos wasn’t totally sure of what he saw,’ Charlie said. ‘But he went over and butted in right away. Asked her for a dance. While he was at it, he spilled the drink, kind of accidentally-on-purpose, just in case there was something in it. They danced, and he warned her about Rick. Told her to stop the party and come away as soon as she could. She argued with him, and he was scared she was going to cause a scene and draw attention to him. He warned her again to stay away from this Rick guy and not to touch any drinks anyone gave her. Then he left, went back up to his hideaway and waited for her.’
‘How do we know she even intended to go to his place? She could have been stringing him along.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Charlie said. ‘Because then she wouldn’t have let him put her baggage in his Mercedes earlier that day, and drive it up to the hideaway. A rucksack with all her clothes and things. And a travel pouch with her passport, money, plane tickets, the works. She was serious about going up there to meet him.’
‘So it looks as though perhaps this Rick person didn’t give up so easily,’ Ben said. ‘What happened next?’
‘When Zoë didn’t turn up that night, Nikos tried to call the landline at the villa. No reply. Then he went down there. It was all closed up, empty. The scooter was gone. She’d vanished. That’s when he began to worry.’
‘And he couldn’t call the police about the disappearance,’ Ben said. ‘He’d have to let out about their relationship, and he’d have been scared that if she just turned up after a couple of days, he would have compromised himself for nothing.’
Charlie nodded. ‘He was in a fix. When he heard that I was asking questions and I told him I was employed by her family, he was very happy to give me her stuff.’
‘Where is it now?’
Charlie pointed upwards to a window. ‘The rucksack is in my room upstairs. The pouch is right here.’ He reached over and grabbed a plastic shopping bag off the seat next to him.
Ben took out the travel pouch and sifted through it. The contents were all the usual items a traveller would carry. Passport. Mobile phone. A fabric purse, stuffed with euro banknotes, all five hundreds. He counted quickly through the cash and stopped at six thousand.
‘There’s more cash in the rucksack, under her clothes,’ Charlie said. ‘She made a good dent in the twenty grand, but she still had quite a bit left.’
‘I think you’re right,’ Ben said. ‘She must have been serious about joining Nikos. Nobody walks away from that much money.’
He rummaged deeper in the bag. Her air tickets were folded in a glossy travel agent’s paper wallet. He opened it. The destination was Heathrow via Athens, dated the day she’d disappeared. Under the tickets was a little book, good-quality leather jacket. An address book. From its crisp edges he could see it had been bought recently. He picked it up and flipped through it, looking for a Rick. Rick was what worried him the most.
But it was a long shot. As he’d expected, there was nothing. He flipped through the pages and took note of the names she’d written in it. There were few entries. A handful of numbers with the 01865 Oxford code. One of t
hose numbers was her parents’. Then there were some overseas numbers. Someone called Augusta Vale. Someone else called Cleaver. That seemed to be either a nickname or a surname. Or else maybe a company name. There were no addresses, just phone numbers. The Vale and Cleaver numbers had the international prefix for the USA.
‘Who or what is Cleaver?’ Ben asked. Charlie just shook his head. Ben flipped a few more pages, and a business card dropped out onto the table. He picked it up. The card read: ‘Steve McClusky, Attorney’. The address printed under the name was in Savannah, Georgia, USA. He slipped it into his pocket. ‘Apart from the money and the clothes, is there anything else in her rucksack?’
‘Nothing else,’ Charlie said. ‘I went through it all.’
‘Then this is all we have to go on.’ Ben thought about the money from America. And Rick, the American at the party. ‘A lot of US connections. Did Nikos mention anything about that?’
‘Apart from the fact the money came from there, no.’
‘Then I think I’d like to meet him and talk about this, in case he knows something. Can you arrange it?’
‘It’s not going to be possible, Ben.’
‘I understand it’s delicate for him. Tell him it’ll be very discreet. All we want is to ask him a few more questions.’
‘That’s not what I meant,’ Charlie said. ‘You can’t talk to him.’
‘Why not?’
‘You think I’d have called you all the way here for nothing?’ Charlie picked up the folded newspaper, opened it out and handed it to Ben. ‘Front-page news, yesterday. You don’t have to read Greek to get the idea.’
Ben ran his eye down the page and it settled on a grainy black-and-white photo. The picture showed a couple of police cars and a bunch of uniformed officers standing outside what looked like a small villa surrounded by trees. Next to that picture was another, of a man’s face. The man looked to be in his mid-forties. Olive skin, strong features, moustache, greying at the temples. There was a little caption under the picture.
The Ben Hope Collection: 6 BOOK SET Page 72