The Last Red Death (A Matt Wells Thriller)

by Johnston, Paul

  ‘So Andonis would have nothing to do with the Iraklis group,’ Alex Mavros said, his voice little more than a murmur. The unworthy suspicion that his brother had been involved with terrorism loosed its hold on him and was gone. ‘Did you ever hear anything more about him?’

  The assassin’s head rocked back in a negative movement. ‘No. He has still not been found?’

  Mavros didn’t answer. Initially relief had flooded through him, but now he was stricken with bitter disappointment. He had been hoping that Iraklis would have some unique information to give him, something that would finally put him on Andonis’s track after all the empty years of searching. But there was nothing. The trail was as cold as ever.

  Grace looked round at him. ‘Alex?’ she said softly. ‘I’m sorry.’ She reached a hand out to his. ‘It was always a long shot. You said so yourself.’

  Mavros sat for a while with his head bowed, then pulled himself together. Ahead of them, the lights of Tripolis were glowing in the distance. ‘You have more to tell, Irakli,’ he said, his tone firmer. ‘What happened to Babis Dhimitrakos? He was a member of your band, wasn’t he?’

  ‘He was. As the American said, he betrayed me along with the others a decade ago. They were caught and tortured. So was I, but I managed to escape. I thought Flora had eluded them, but I was a fool.’ He shook his head. ‘I visited my old comrade in that hovel up in Kainourgia Chora. I didn’t do anything to him. I wanted to know if he’d been contacted recently by the Americans or their Greek equivalents. Something about the way Flora drew me back to Greece made me suspicious, though I never thought she’d gone over to the Americans. I left, but then I saw the American operative in the village and doubled back to see what he was doing. It looks like he was making sure that Babis’s mouth was permanently closed.’

  ‘And why did you save us from him?’ Grace demanded. ‘What was in that for you?’

  ‘I’d recognised Milroy,’ Iraklis said, his voice low. ‘Whatever that bastard was doing needed to be stopped.’ He glanced at her. ‘Besides, I’d also recognised you, Grace.’

  There was a long silence.

  ‘Thank you,’ Grace said finally, her eyes on the road.

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ Mavros echoed, recalling the crazed glint in the American’s eyes as he had approached them.

  ‘What was it the guy called Jaeger said about my parents?’ Grace said. ‘Milroy was a friend of my father’s, but it sounded like he had a thing for my mother.’

  Iraklis gave her an agonised look. ‘That animal? I don’t think he has emotions.’

  ‘No doubt he feels the same about you,’ Grace said.

  ‘He killed the composer Randos on a whim,’ the terrorist said, his voice filled with indignation. ‘I never killed anyone without just cause.’

  Mavros decided to ratchet up the pressure. ‘You visited Kostas Laskaris after you found Dhimitrakos, didn’t you?’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Never mind,’ Mavros replied, his tone hardening. ‘What did you do to Yiorgos Pandazopoulos?’

  ‘The overweight comrade who was down there? Don’t worry about him. I locked him up in Kostas’s top room. He should be out by now. I didn’t want him blabbing about me. There was another guy on my tail in Nafplion. Anything to do with you?’

  ‘No.’ Mavros remembered the shadowy form he’d seen on the ramparts above Kyra Stamatina’s street.

  ‘He must have been with the Americans.’

  ‘Did you hurt him?’ Grace demanded.

  ‘Not much. He’s in my mother’s cellar,’ Iraklis replied. ‘If he’s lucky, she’ll have left him alone. I told her to let him go tomorrow.’

  Mavros stared into the back of the terrorist’s head, the hair still dark despite his age. ‘Loudhovikos was right. You have lost your nerve.’ He was taking a chance, but he wanted to see how much fight there was left in the man.

  ‘Look at it this way,’ Iraklis said after a long pause. ‘If I hadn’t, you two would already be dead. As it is, you’re safer with me than you would be in the open. You can be sure the Americans are after me. If this is an operation that Jaeger’s superiors don’t know about, they’ll be planning to dispose of me as spectacularly as they can and they won’t want any witnesses.’ He laid his hand on the butt of the automatic. ‘Now, be quiet and let Grace drive. We’ve a long way to go.’

  Mavros sat back and watched as the lights of the town grew closer, then slipped past on their right. They were on the bypass, aiming south into the cold, dark heart of the Peloponnese.

  ‘How do you know he’ll be heading there, sir?’ Jane Forster asked, her eyes on the surface of the Argos–Tripolis road. They had found a Land Rover parked near the entrance to the site of Tiryns and Milroy had hot-wired it.

  ‘Never fucking mind,’ Jaeger said, blinking hard. His nerves were at breaking point, his plans turning to shit. Fortunately the Palaiologou woman was playing ball, agreeing to keep quiet until Nikos Kriaras arrived to smooth things over. He reckoned it would be possible to secure the police commander’s silence—there were some old debts Jaeger could call in. Christ knew how he’d keep the rest of them quiet. Alex Mavros’s sister was a journalist. Hopefully Kriaras would put the fear of God into her. ‘You all right?’ he asked, looking over his shoulder.

  ‘Yeah.’ Lance Milroy was stretched out on the back seat. The handkerchief he had spread over his face obscured livid bruises on his cheek and temples. ‘I’m going to tear that shit-eater apart.’

  ‘All in good time,’ Jaeger said. ‘You should never have gone near the house and you shouldn’t have tried to block his escape. All that because you couldn’t wait to get even with the guy who screwed a woman you had your eye on twenty-five years ago.’ He gave a hollow laugh. ‘Besides, you should be grateful to him. He could have blown your brains out.’

  ‘Fuck you. We shouldn’t have trusted Tiresias. There were things she set up with him that she kept from us, I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Like how he was going to get out of the country?’ Jaeger asked. ‘Don’t worry. Flora thought I didn’t know about the letters she sent Iraklis via the old Communist they used in the Caucasus. Stupid mistake.’ He glanced at the driver. ‘Ms Forster, I hope you’re not thinking of telling anyone about this conversation.’

  She shook her head, keeping her eyes on the road.

  ‘Good, because that would be detrimental to your career.’ Jaeger watched as the lights of Tripolis loomed up, a bitter taste in his throat. The operation had almost been blown at the house above Tiryns. Langley would have his balls unless he could deliver the head of the most wanted man in Greece. At least there was still a good chance of that. Iraklis looked like he might have lost it after Flora had tried to take his gun from him. The fact that she’d ended up dead meant she wouldn’t be talking.

  Jaeger smiled. Maybe the set-up was going to work out after all.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  MAVROS woke with a start, his eyes gummed together. The sound of the car’s engine was still in his ears, but it was labouring more than it had been on the fast road south of Tripolis. He sat up and rubbed away the sleep. Iraklis and Grace had swapped seats again. ‘Where are we?’ he asked.

  ‘Almost there,’ Iraklis replied.

  ‘Almost where?’ Grace said. She seemed to be fully awake. ‘We’re going to run out of land soon.’

  Mavros could see nothing outside the Suzuki—no lights, no other vehicles, no sign of civilisation. ‘Are we in the Mani?’ he asked.

  ‘Even in his sleep the great detective has his finger on the case,’ his client said, her tone mocking. ‘The last place we went through was that vampire town Vatheia.’

  ‘Shit,’ Mavros muttered, straining his eyes outside again. ‘We really are going to hit the sea soon.’ He looked into the rear-view mirror. ‘Are you being picked up by boat?’ he asked the driver.

  ‘Wait and see, young Mavros,’ Iraklis replied. His head was moving from side to side and it looked like he wa
s wrestling with exhaustion.

  They went over a series of low hills, a few lights below, and then continued in a straighter line, the first flecks of dawn appearing in the eastern sky. By the time Iraklis had driven down an incline and stopped the car, there was enough of a glow to make out a great finger of land stretching away to their right. Ahead was a wide expanse of open, white-flecked water.

  ‘This is it,’ the assassin said, raising his weapon. ‘Get out, both of you.’

  Mavros and Grace followed his instruction, stamping their feet on the reddish mud covering a makeshift parking area. The place was silent, the pale green mounds of the hills dotted with scrub. Behind them was a boarded-up restaurant, its terrace festooned with unpruned vines. An icy wind was blowing from the north.

  ‘Jesus,’ Grace said from in front of a brown sign. ‘What is this? “Sanctuary and Death Oracle of Poseidon Tainarios”?’

  ‘So that’s it,’ Mavros said. ‘This is where it ends.’

  ‘You know your mythology?’ Iraklis asked, herding them with his automatic past a low ruin of roughly hewn stone blocks with an arched roof.

  ‘It was drummed into me at school,’ Mavros replied. ‘This is Tainaron. The cape down there is the furthest southerly point of mainland Greece. And somewhere around here is the entrance to the underworld.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Iraklis stopped above the end of a narrow inlet, a yacht bobbing at anchor, and pointed to a cave shrouded by the leafless branches of a dead tree. The entrance was marked by a couple of low gateposts, a wall of piled stones to the right. ‘The local fishermen, the few who remain, use it to store their gear now, but in the myths this was the way that Iraklis went to the death god’s kingdom on his twelfth and final labour.’

  ‘To haul Cerberus up,’ Mavros added. ‘Did Flora teach you all this?’

  ‘Uh-uh. I’m a local. And I read more about the history when I was in New York.’ He looked around and pointed to a scarcely discernible line of foundation stones by the tiny beach. ‘That was the temple of Poseidon. Mercenaries came from all over the Greek world to be hired here.’ He looked at Grace. ‘Killers with a blood-curse on them could seek asylum at the temple and summon up the souls of their victims to absolve themselves of guilt.’

  Grace’s mouth was twisted in disgust. ‘Did you bring me here to ask for forgiveness?’ she demanded. ‘Do you really think I’m going to give you that?’

  Iraklis held her gaze. ‘If I thought it would help you,’ he replied haltingly. ‘For me there can be no forgiveness, I know that well enough.’ He stepped away. A small green-bottomed rowing boat was lying upturned on the stony beach. ‘Help me with this, Alex Mavro,’ he said, slipping off his coat and rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt. He kept the automatic within his reach on the wooden hull. ‘The yacht is chartered to me. I will leave you the Suzuki.’

  Mavros stepped forward. ‘How did you arrange the boat? It wasn’t through Flora, was it?’

  The terrorist nodded. ‘I’m taking a chance that she didn’t tell the Americans. That’s why we should hurry.’

  Grace stood stock-still, her eyes burning as Mavros put his shoulder to the boat and manhandled it to the water with the terrorist, the automatic now in his belt. Then he turned back, went into the cave and reappeared with a pair of oars.

  ‘Don’t worry about the dinghy,’ Iraklis said. ‘The fisherman has been paid over the odds for it.’

  ‘You…you can’t let him leave,’ Grace said to Mavros. ‘You can’t.’ She ran forward, to be pushed immediately on to the stones by the assassin with a weary grimace.

  ‘It’s finished,’ Mavros said. ‘You told me you wanted your father’s killer to explain himself and he’s done that.’ He watched as Iraklis took the automatic from his belt. ‘I don’t think he’s going to kill again. Unless you drive him to it.’

  Iraklis glanced at him, then shouldered the oars. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to kill again.’

  The shot surprised them, the enclosed space making the reverberation boom into their ears. Suddenly the assassin was lying on his back beside Grace, crimson flowering on his right shoulder. The weapon had spun from his hand and Grace scrabbled for it, taking hold before he could.

  Mavros crawled towards the boat and looked around the surrounding slopes, trying to pinpoint the shooter’s location. Then he turned to his left when he heard Grace speak. ‘They never give up,’ she said, the muzzle of the Glock against Iraklis’s temple.

  He was gasping, his left hand over the wound and the veins on his forehead protruding. ‘I was almost certain the Americans would come,’ he said.

  Mavros swivelled round and saw a tall figure he recognised walking slowly down the hillside. There was a woman about ten metres to his right and further down another man, hair close cut and grizzled, his face and the side of his head discoloured by livid marks. All three had pistols raised in a double-handed grip.

  ‘Grace?’ Peter Jaeger called. ‘Grace Helmer? Take the shot, why don’t you? The guy killed your father. Now’s your chance to make him pay.’

  Mavros looked round and took in the scene beyond the boat. Grace was on her knees, her ponytail dangling over her shoulder. Iraklis had stopped writhing, his lower lip between his teeth and his eyes narrowed. Blood was seeping through the fingers he had placed over his wound. ‘Kill me,’ he gasped. ‘Kill me before they do.’

  Grace shifted the weapon round till the muzzle was in the centre of his forehead. Her breathing was steady, but there were drops of sweat on her brow. ‘You loved my mother,’ she said. ‘But you killed my father.’

  Iraklis turned his head away. ‘Laura,’ he said, the skin on his face beaded with sweat. ‘Laura…’

  Grace leaned closer, her finger tightening on the trigger.

  ‘Don’t!’ Mavros yelled. ‘Don’t let them suck you into their world!’

  She gave him an agonised look, her eyes damp, then turned back to the man on the stones beside her. For a moment Mavros thought Grace was going to fire and so did Iraklis—he closed his eyes and lay still. But then she stood up in a quick movement and tossed the automatic towards the cave entrance, stepping to the boat.

  Before Mavros could say anything to her, before he could comfort her, his ears were blasted by a succession of shots. When he looked back at Iraklis, he saw that his chest had been torn apart, his shirt perforated and bathed in blood. The crew cut man stepped up and fired one more time into the terrorist’s head from close range.

  ‘The last red death,’ Jaeger said. He nodded to Lance Milroy, who had ejected his ammunition clip and slapped in a replacement. ‘At least, that’s how it will seem.’ He glanced round. ‘Ms Forster, go find Iraklis’s weapon. We’ll need it to dispose of our two witnesses.’

  Mavros and Grace exchanged looks as the American woman headed towards the cave mouth. The enclosed bay was silent, waves lapping against the unmanned yacht. Further out, a deep-sea vessel was cutting through the chill grey water at the very end of Greece.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  MAVROS took a step forward. ‘You know Grace was CIA,’ he said to Jaeger. ‘She was one of yours.’

  ‘Alex,’ she said, grabbing his arm. ‘Don’t—’

  He shook himself free. ‘She won’t talk. You can’t…’ He let the words trail away when he saw the look on Jaeger’s face.

  ‘Give it up, Mavros,’ the American said. ‘You know you’re whistling in the wind. It’ll look even better that Iraklis took out the daughter of one of his victims before we got to him. Took her out along with the cretinous investigator who brought her into contact with the terrorist.’

  Milroy ran a hand over his hair. ‘I don’t like it. She’s Trent’s daughter, for Chrissakes. She’s…she’s Laura’s daughter.’

  Jaeger shook his head. ‘There you go again, Lance. Still harping on about your old friends.’ He laughed. ‘Still obsessed by a woman who didn’t return your lust. If you’d been professional at the Palaiologos house, we’d never have ende
d up in this shit.’ He glanced over to the cave. ‘What’s going on, Ms Forster?’ he called in a mock-southern drawl. ‘Can’t you find the weapon? Don’t tell me you’re afraid of snakes in the grass?’

  The female operative’s back remained turned towards them as she scoured the ground for Iraklis’s Glock.

  Mavros felt the chill wind on his face as he played for time. ‘What were you trying to achieve with this complicated scheme, Jaeger?’ he asked. ‘Is this how the agency’s acting after September the eleventh? Catch all known terrorists no matter the cost?’ He took another step forward and stopped when Milroy raised his automatic.

  ‘Something like that,’ Jaeger replied with a grin. ‘Except this is my own little plot. No one in Langley knows about it yet.’

  Mavros saw Jane Forster look anxiously over her shoulder as she leaned forward into the new grass outside the entrance to the underworld. ‘So you put the squeeze on Flora Petraki-Dearfield to get Iraklis back into the country. How did you manage that? From what I saw, she was committed to the struggle with a will of iron. Even Iraklis was in her power.’

  ‘You haven’t got a clue, asshole,’ Milroy said. ‘We identified her back in the early nineties before we caught the gang. We let her think she was in the clear, then we tightened the screw on her.’ His weapon was still pointed at Mavros’s chest. ‘She gave us some useful stuff on certain other underground cells so we let her stay out of jail.’

  Grace came up to Mavros, ignoring the weapon that Jaeger levelled at her. She glared at the station chief. ‘You guys are really something, aren’t you? Do you seriously imagine Langley’s going to go along with the murder of the composer Randos?’ She turned her gaze on Milroy, her expression one of loathing. ‘It was you, wasn’t it? Christ, you even threw the kittens out of the window with him, you sick fuck.’