by Gary Cleaver
Alex Anousakis sat behind the big, solid wood desk in his office. As usual he had arrived behind it at precisely eight thirty, punctuality was second nature to him as were, precision, fastidiousness and attention to the pettiest of details. He was every inch a bureaucrat and had been as a result a disastrous Mayor. He needed to seek re-election in 2009 and already all of his focus was on this, he had a nasty feeling he might loose, he was not wrong. He had decided that to keep a hold on his job he must ensure that nothing went awry, that no detail be overlooked. As a politician he realised that this meant doing as little as possible, while at the same time appearing to be working even harder. It also meant not making any decision that might be seen, in any way controversial. He looked down at the form on his blotter, that certainly included allowing whores to run legitimate businesses. At nine thirty the intercom on the left side of the desk gave a short bleat, he thumbed the button.
“Yes”
The metallic voice of his secretary replied, “Sofia Hadjadakis, sir” the tinny reproduction did nothing to hide the distaste in her tone.
“Send her straight in please Dimitra.” He could have left her sitting out there for hours, could have made her sweat a little, but he had decided to dispense with this matter quickly and expediently. The door opened quietly and Sofia stepped in, it was the morning after the football match and she was a little worse for wear after the previous evenings festivities. Anna had loaned her an old business suit, it was too big but she was as well turned out as she could possibly be.
“Good morning sir” she said.
He smiled “Come Sofia there is no need to be so formal, take a seat.”
She swallowed, “I’d rather stand if you don’t mind.”
His smile faded, how dare she come in here in her borrowed finery and tell him what she preferred to do, if she had come in a French maids outfit she would have more chance.
“You have done well Sofia, I respect that, everything has been properly carried out and you are to be applauded for your efforts” he paused, ignoring her stony gaze. “But I cannot sign this, it is much too big a step for you. You must understand that a person such as yourself…”
“Cannot be allowed to better herself?” she finished the sentence for him, but she wasn’t done. “ A person like me should know her place, a person like me should stay in the gutter where she belongs!”
He remained patient, “Calm down Sofia, please realise that I have a great responsibility, the good name and reputation of this town must always be…”
“You care nothing for the good name of this town Alex!” she was furious. “All you care about is keeping yourself in that chair! The only reputation you try to defend is your own and it would be wise for you to remember Alex that I know some things…”
“STOP RIGHT THERE” he was on his feet, it was his turn to be angry. “If you are threatening what I think you are Sofia, this will be your last day in Katsimila, I will see to it personally. You will go now and this matter is at an end, take this” he threw the form at her. “Put it in a frame on your wall, it can serve as a reminder to you to know your place and as long as I am in this chair that place WILL be the gutter…Get out!”
She stomped through the doorway, she didn’t slam the door she left it hanging open, she knew it would annoy him more. As she went through the outer office she caught Dimitra’s small smile of triumph, she had obviously heard it all, Sofia turned on her.
“Yes enjoy yourself, Dimitra and when you’re finished go in there, get down on your knees under his desk and earn your salary!” she walked out into the square, turned right and headed toward the harbour.
“That could have gone better,” she said quietly to herself. She tried to think of a course of action and came up with nothing. When she reached the harbour she sat down on a bench and stared out at the sea, she concentrated hard, she would not weep, she would not allow him that. Anna came over from her shop and Sophia told her of the interview word for word. She felt an arm around her shoulder.
“Do not despair my dear, give me the form, there may be another way who knows? There may be some loophole we have not thought of.” She took the form and left Sofia sitting alone. Anna did not study the form, she already knew of a loophole and she knew she would find it at the hotel Artemis.
Alex leaned back in his chair sipping his mid-morning coffee. He thought he had handled the day’s first piece of business reasonably well, losing his temper had not been part of the plan but the little whore had pushed him too far. Now he was confident the matter had been put to bed for good. He was congratulating himself on the aptness of this thought when he was brought back to reality by a commotion in the outer office. Through the door he could clearly hear Dimitra’s voice.
“You cannot go in, you do not have an appointment” there was a low growl in response to this. “The Mayor is very busy, you…”
Alex’s office door swung wildly open and banged back against the bookcase, a small chunk of teak veneer whirled through the air and fell to the carpet. In the doorway, his face flushed and thunderous, stood George Karamis. Without waiting to be asked he walked in, his stick thudding on the floor, he stood before the desk and Alex found the form he had recently dispensed with, back on his blotter.
“Good morning George” Alex’s voice was even, he knew he must be careful.
“Sign it Alex” George said simply.
“I don’t think you fully understand the complexities of the issue” Alex began, but George cut him dead.
“Oh spare me the bullshit, Alex, we both understand this very well. There are people in this place with even smaller minds than yours, signing this may lose you votes, but if you don’t sign it I will make sure you lose a whole lot more.”
For the second time that morning Alex was on his feet, “I cannot believe this! First the little tart threatens me and now you, I know you have influence in this town Karamis, but you really do not have the power to take me down.”
George smiled, it was not a pleasant sight. He leaned forward and placed his palms flat on the desk, his face just a few centimetres from Alex’s, “I know she threatened you, but she would never tell your wife about you and Anja, about your Tuesday evening visits, about your little weakness” He leaned even closer, “But…I…Will! Sign this form Alex, or I will see to it that you cannot get a job sweeping the damn streets!”
Alex played his last card, “You’re bluffing” he said without conviction.
“Oh I doubt that” they both looked round at the sound of this new voice. Dimitris Lambakis had seen George go by from his shop and noting the look on his friend’s face had thought it prudent to follow, he had been standing in the doorway for some time. “In my experience George rarely fails to deliver on a promise. Incidentally Alex, your wife’s sister will be coming to my place on Thursday for a trim, I so look forward to our little chats”.
She was still sitting on the bench staring at the ground when George and Dimitris got back, they sat one on either side of her. George gave her the form and she looked at it. He had never seen her cry, even when she had been in the most awful pain, if asked he would have said he didn’t believe she was capable of such a thing. She did not cry now, instead she looked at him soberly.
“I didn’t really want you to fight my battle George.”
He laughed out loud, “Sofia my dear I only fought on your side, the victory is yours, all yours and you have earned it.”
She folded the form and walked away, the men sat for a while in silence.
“Do you think she has a chance of success?” Dimitris said finally.
“The shop? Ha! The shop is nothing, you mark my words young Jimmy, one day that girl will sit in Alex’s office, behind the desk! Come on let’s go to my place and Andreas can bring us wine, this has already been a good day”.
In the cool of early evening Sofia Hadjadakis walked out to the end of the harbour wall. For the first time in eight years she stood on the exact spot where she had been found, nak
ed and close to death. She stood motionless and looked out to sea. In her minds eye she watched a large white motor cruiser powering toward the horizon. She spoke, her voice barely a whisper.
“I beat you, I beat you and even if you were to come back there would be no need to kill you, because…I…beat…you” and finally, she managed to do the thing George thought her incapable of.
On a Sunday Afternoon
Scott Arneaux, twenty four, single and at the moment unattached, loved his job, he had been with Maple Air for three years as a cabin steward and took pride in his efficiency and customer service skills. Also he was happy in the knowledge that while he was not the only male attendant working for the airline he was, as far as he could tell through his less than exhaustive research the only one who was heterosexual, as far as Scott was concerned the ladies were all his. He strapped himself into his crew seat and prepared for landing as the Airbus 330 turned on to its final approach to Frankfurt airport, after re-fuelling it would take two more hours to reach Athens the flight’s ultimate destination. Two more hours for Scott to work his charm on the lady in 4b, she was the only female passenger in first class and she was eye wateringly beautiful. He glanced over at her stealthily, he had attended to her every need during the ten hour journey from Toronto, on the run down to Greece he decided he would make his move.
The lady in 4b was looking out of the window and did not notice Scott’s furtive attentions, in all her thirty six years she had never been out of Canada and while Frankfurt airport was not exactly glamorous it was strange and exotic enough to gaze as the aircraft sank toward the tarmac. Kirsty Macgregor was on her way to her mother’s country, out of curiosity more than anything, she was to spend a week in the village where her mother had been born and lived until her eighteenth year, then a week in Athens seeing the sights; she would also be meeting the family. Her mother’s recent death made this a kind of pilgrimage, plus there was a small duty to be performed. Her mother’s last wish was to have some of her ashes sprinkled at the foot of an olive tree in her native land, beneath Kirsty’s feet in the luggage hold, inside her big grey suitcase, was a padded envelope that contained a portion of Alici Lavendakos’ last remains. Alici’s family had moved to Canada in 1953, she was the eldest of four children and had taken to the new life well but she upset the family greatly when she chose to marry Alec, a big red haired lad who worked in a local mill. Alec was a good man and a hard worker, they had two sons and were happy enough, then, in 1972, at the somewhat advanced age of thirty seven, Alici discovered that she was pregnant again. Kirsty had arrived the next summer, her father doted on her from the start. At twenty five she met and married Michael, the son of a timber magnate and acquired the unlikely surname of Steinschneider. She supposed she had fallen for his “little boy lost” routine, it had taken her two years to fully discover that it wasn’t really a routine at all. Mike was selfish, bombastic and at times downright cruel, their divorce had been long, drawn out and acrimonious, but the settlement her lawyer had secured and the relief of losing the name had made it all worthwhile.
The big airliner, now filled with enough kerosene to complete its journey, thundered down the runway and into the cloudy German sky. As soon as they reached their cruising altitude of twenty eight thousand feet her favourite boy returned to ask her what she would like for lunch; he had been with her all the way and had attended to her every need, sometimes even before she knew she actually needed it, she thought him sweet, kind and about as gay as a whole row of Christmas lights. After lunch she settled back in her big leather seat and tried to relax, it had been a long trip but the food was excellent and the accommodation comfortable, she considered the ten thousand dollars her first class ticket had cost money well spent, the Airbus roared on, heading south east.
On the main road from Katsimila to Korinthos near the village of Corfos was a remote “Avin” fuel station, on that Sunday lunchtime a single car stood at the pumps, it was a large, silver grey Mercedes 300, a white plastic sign in the middle of it’s roof said “TAXI”. Vassillis Arvantis stood beside the vehicle pumping diesel into it’s voluminous tank, he was doing the job he hated most, the run to Athens airport took a little over two hours from Katsimila and was dull once you had done it a few dozen times, especially on a Sunday afternoon. And of course there would be the inevitable passenger, another faceless tourist who would sit in the back seat and exchange no more than three words with him before falling asleep, he had long ago reached the conclusion that he just wasn’t cut out to be a taxi driver, although he had been doing it since he left the army fifteen years before. In that same year he and a group of friends had gone to “Loopy”, Katsimila’s only discotheque, they had fallen in with a bunch of British tourists and he had met Julia, she was small and pretty with curly brown hair and soft brown eyes, they had spent the remaining week of her holiday together and when she returned to Yorkshire they wrote long letters to each other on a weekly basis. The following spring she came back and he asked her to marry him, his family, in particular his mother had hated her on sight, which, of course, made him doubly determined, they married the next year. The wedding was still in his memory like a half forgotten nightmare, the families had spent the day like two superpowers at a doomed peace summit, throughout there had been an atmosphere of polite hostility, a feeling that, at any moment one trigger happy individual could start a shooting war that would never cease.
They settled down in the village and for a while things had been good, she helped to improve his English and in turn he tried to teach her Greek, but her heart wasn’t really in it. It became obvious that he alone would never be enough for her, she became isolated and depressed and only brightened when friends visited from England, one day he returned, from the airport as it so happened, and she was gone, the only evidence of her at their small apartment was a note in the middle of the kitchen table. She said she couldn’t go on living this way, the hostility of his family and her solitary existence were too much to bear, she hoped that he could find it in his heart to forgive her. And that was that. He had never seen her again.
He finished fuelling and paid the attendant, he got back behind the wheel and picked up his clip board, attached was a single sheet of A4 and written on it in black marker pen was K. MACGREGOR, his English was good but the hieroglyphs made little sense, he tried pronouncing the name but the best he could come up with was “Basreeshore” which he was sure wasn’t correct, it was the only information he had apart from the flight details, but this was not unusual, after all why should a mere taxi driver know details such as sex, age, colour of eyes etcetera, he played his usual game of trying to imagine the person concerned. He decided on fat, bald and around sixty, not very good at tipping and with bad breath; he smiled at the thought as he pulled back on to the road. It was the last Sunday in September and the summer had been as long as he, or anyone else in Katsimila could remember, it hadn’t rained in serious way for three months, the sun shone and it was thirty three degrees. At Korinthos he turned right on to the busy three lane highway that led to Athens and the airport, he glanced at the clock on the dash, he would be there in an hour; ten minutes later, unless there was some kind of delay, Maple air flight 691 from Toronto would arrive.
The undercarriage dropped from the hatches in the fuselage and the flaps angled down from the wings as the Airbus lined up for the runway, in 4b Kirsty was looking out of the window again, Greece as far as she could make out, was beige, there was the occasional tree or shrub and a lot of little white buildings but overall the countryside was just beige, she looked forward and braced herself for landing. Captain Murray brought the aircraft in for a perfect touchdown, cut in the reverse thrust and taxied to the terminal, at the pier Kirsty rose from her seat and headed for the exit, Scott stood in the doorway wearing his best goodbye smile, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, she whispered in his ear.
“Thank you so much, I’m sure you’re gonna make some lucky guy really happy one day” she walked away. S
cotts’ smile slid from his face, which took on the same colour as Mrs Levendakos’ remains in the hold.
Vassillis stood in the arrivals hall, took a final sip of his coffee and pitched the paper cup into the garbage bin beside him, the passengers from 691 were beginning to emerge, among the first was a big round man of sixty or so with a shining bald head, Vassillis straightened instinctively and held up his board, but the man passed on through the next set of automatic doors and disappeared, the next to come out was a stunning young woman, her long wavy hair was the colour of burnished copper which perfectly highlighted her large, emerald green eyes. Vassillis was so captivated by this vision that it took him a few moments to realise that she was standing directly in front of him.
“Hi, I’m Kirsty Macgregor” she pointed at the clip board.
“Oh … I … hello … I…” for a second he forgot his own name, the name his parents had given him thirty eight years before simply wandered out of his mind, after a struggle he managed, “Vassilli” before adding unnecessarily, “That’s my name.”
“Good” she said. “Well, Vassilli, now we’ve gotten our names straight perhaps we should go.”
“Oh…yes” he took a couple of steps toward the door, stopped, went back and collected her suitcase and then fell in behind her.
She turned “Er, you would know best where the car is, Vassilli”
“Oh sorry…of course.” At the car he loaded her case into the trunk and opened the rear passenger door, she shook her head.
“Uh uh this is my first time in Greece, Vassilli and I want to see everything, I’m sitting up in front with you.” Before he could respond she opened the front door and settled herself in, still in something of a daze he walked round the car and climbed in beside her, as they pulled away he was keen to keep their dialogue going for as long as possible.
“So, where are you from?”