Katerina visibly recoiled under the blow. She could not believe it. did not want to believe it.
'Elena! Nikos! Alexi!' she cried on a rising note of anguish. 'Dead!' She shook her head. 'No, No. That is not so. That cannot be.'
Alarmed, Annika took a step towards her. 'Mother,' she said, putting out a hand to her. Katerina waved it away.
'No!' she keened wildly. 'That cannot be.' She turned to Spiridakis. 'How? How?' she demanded.
'The two men who saw it happen say that the car appeared to be out of control,' replied the lawyer.
Katerina swayed on her feet and pressed the palms of her hands to her forehead. 'Elena, my grandchild; she wailed. 'Dead! Nikos, her husband, dead! And little Alexi, also dead. In the Englishman's car.' Demented, she staggered across to the wall plaque and stared at it in horror. 'What trick is this?' she screamed. 'What have you done to me?'
Annika, Spiridakis and Sia exchanged troubled, anxious looks. Now, very unsteady on her feet and breathing badly, Katerina swung round from the plaque, staggered over to the table and, head down, gripped the edge of it for support.
'Noukakis . . .' she croaked and she had difficulty in speaking. 'Matheous Noukakis ... hear me ... I ... I Curse . . . I curse . . .'
Noukakis paled. Oh my God, he thought, now she's lost her mind. The old fool's about to bring us both down. Panicking, he turned and ran from the room and out of the house.
Annika, Spiridakis and Sia had no time at that moment to give even a second thought to Noukakis' strange behaviour for, even before the front door slammed behind him and before Annika could cross to her, Katerina Matakis' knees buckled and she collapsed onto the floor.
While Spiridakis bent over them, Annika and Sia knelt beside her. Annika turned her mother over on to her back. She was unconscious and her skin had taken on a strange pallor.
I will get the doctor,' said Spiridakis and he hurried across to the door.
Matheos Noukakis ran out of his house carrying a rifle and a heavy rucksack. He threw the rucksack and-the gun into the back of his carelessly parked car and then got in behind the steering wheel and drove off at speed.
Spiridakis and Sia were alone in the sitting room awaiting the doctor's diagnosis. Sia gazed at the plaque of the Moerae. 'What do you think Kyria Matakis meant when she spoke in that way to Noukakis?' she asked pensively. 'Was she cursing these, the Fates?' She turned to her husband. 'Or was she cursing him?'
Spiridakis shook his head. 'I do not know,' he said thoughtfully.
'And why did he run from the house?' Sia pressed him.
'That is another question I cannot answer,' Spiridakis replied. 'But there are many things in my mind. Things which trouble me greatly.'
The sitting-room door opened and Annika and the doctor, a grey-haired, stoop-shouldered man in his sixties, came into the room.
'She has had a stroke,' Annika informed them quietly.
The doctor nodded. 'And a very severe one I fear,' he confirmed. He looked at Annika. 'But, as I said, just how severe and how much damage has been done ... ' He shrugged. 'Well, that I cannot tell until she regains consciousness. '
'And when will that be?' asked Spiridakis,
The doctor gave another shrug. 'In minutes from now or not for several hours. A day. Longer perhaps. It is not possible to say. That is if she does regain consciousness. She may not. Again he looked at 'Annika. 'You must be prepared for that,’ he warned her. Annika nodded. 'I will send a nurse to you,' the doctor went on, 'tonight. And if there is any change see to it that I am informed at once. I will, in any case, return in the morning.'
Annika thanked him. The doctor nodded to Spiridakis and Sia. 'Kalinicta.'
'Kalinicta,' they replied.
He turned to Annika. 'Kalinicta.· he repeated quietly. 'And please accept my deepest sympathy. For both the tragedies which have struck your family today.' He took her hand and pressed it. 'Have courage.'
Annika gave him a faint smile and then went with him to the front door.
'Annika cannot carry this burden alone, Babis,' said Sia urgently in a low voice. 'She needs her brother here at a time like this. He is head of the family.' She gave a helpless shrug. 'And where is he? Not even in Athens. On his way to San Francisco on business. When will he get the cable.'
'As soon as he arrives at his hotel,' her husband assured her.
Sia frowned. 'Is there no way of contacting him sooner than that? Cannot the airline send a radio message to the aircraft?'
Spiridakis nodded. 'Yes, I imagine so,' he said patiently. 'But what purpose would that serve? The plane will be half way there by now. The pilot cannot turn round and come back.'
Sia shook her head. 'San Francisco is such a long way away.'
Spiridakis put his arm around her shoulders. 'Yes, it is,' he agreed. 'But Petros will return as quickly as he can. Be sure of that.'
Annika came back into the room. Sia broke away from her husband and crossed to her.
'You will stay here tonight?' she asked.
Annika nodded. 'Yes, of course.' 'Then I will stay with you.'
'No,' said Annika. 'It is very kind of you, Sia, but you have a family of your own to look after. Go home. Cherish them. And give thanks.'
'But I do not wish you to be alone,' protested Sia. 'Not tonight. '
'I shall not be alone. You heard what the doctor said. He is sending a nurse.'
Sia made an impatient gesture. 'A stranger,' she said. 'It is not the same.'
'No,' replied Annika. And then she smiled kindly. 'But it is sometimes better.'
Sia searched her face and then nodded. 'Yes,' she said. 'I understand.'
'Is there anything we can do?' asked Spiridakis, crossing to them.
Annika nodded. 'Yes, there is. On your way home go to Elounda for me,' she said. 'See Leandros. I am worried about him. This terrible thing that happened on the mountains. It has hurt him badly. Even more than it has hurt me I think. And God knows I am wounded badly enough by it. But you saw his reaction. It was as if Niko and Elena and Alexi were more than just dear friends to him. Much more.' She shook her head .. 'I do not understand it.' Spiridakis frowned and then Annika went on, 'But I do know that his agony has cut into him and that he is bleeding.' She took the lawyer's hand. 'Go to him,' she asked. 'As I would if I could. And comfort him a little if you can. Will you do that for me?'
'Of course,' replied Spiridakis gripping her hand tightly and then releasing it.
'And give him my love,' added Annika.
Sia took her into her arms and held her close. 'Anything,' she whispered. 'Anything you need. You have only to speak. You know that.'
Annika nodded. And, in an attempt to conceal the fact that she was crying, Sia turned away from her and crossed to the sitting-room door.
Spiridakis kissed Annika. 'And at any time,' he assured her. 'And do not worry. Those things which have to be done. I will attend to them.'
He crossed to his wife and they moved away down the hallway and out of the house.
Watching them go, Annika's eyes fell on the plaque hanging on the wall beside the door. She walked slowly over to it and stood gazing at it. She frowned.
The lights were on in the living room of Haldane's house when Spiridakis parked his car outside it. Motioning to Sia to stay where she was, the lawyer got out of the car.
The music blaring out through the open windows was Stravinsky's Rite of Spring, strident with anguished savagery. Spiridakis hurried up the steps to the front door. It was ajar. He pushed it open.
Haldane was sitting at his worktable, slumped forward over his drawing board, his head resting on his arms, a glass held limply in his right hand and an empty brandy bottle lying on the table beside him. The raging music filled the room.
Spiridakis closed the front door, crossed to the record player and switched it off. Then he moved to the worktable and looked at Haldane and shook his head sadly but decided against disturbing his drunken sleep. Gently he eased the glass from his hand and set i
t down on the table. Then he studied his friend thoughtfully and sighed.
Crossing back to the front door, he switched off the lights and stepped out into the night again, closing the door quietly behind him.
Later that night Major Krasakis was sitting at his desk, speaking on the telephone and making notes. 'Yes ... ' he said urgently . 'Yes. . . How? .. '
There was a knock on the door and Krasakis looked up briefly from the telephone as a sergeant ushered Spiridakis into the office.
'You are absolutely positive of that? ... ' the Major said into the telephone. He nodded to the sergeant and beckoned Spiridakis across to his desk. The sergeant withdrew.
'There can be no doubt, eh? .. Right. Thank you.'
Krasakis replaced the telephone and stood up.
'I am glad that you are here, Kyrie Spiridakis,' he said. 'I have just received some very disturbing news.' He nodded towards the telephone. 'That call was from our Vehicle Section. Their experts have examined Leandros' car and they are in no doubt that what happened was not an accident. Apparently the car's brakes had been tampered with. Clumsily but very effectively.'
Spiridakis was deeply shocked by this. 'My God!'
The Major nodded. 'So now we are faced with a case of murder.'
'Multiple murder,' Spiridakis corrected him quietly.
'Yes. But in error I believe.' Spiridakis frowned.
Krasakis went on, 'Because of a twist of fate which the murderer could not possibly have foreseen, because his intended victim was not driving the Fiat as he expected him to be. As he normally would have been had not Nikos Vassilakis' car broken down.'
'Leandros!' exclaimed the lawyer. 'Someone meant to kill Leandros!'
The Major nodded. 'There can be no doubt about that.' He studied Spiridakis. 'You are surprised?'
'Of course.'
Krasakis frowned. 'Leandros did not tell you about the letter he received?'
'What letter?'
Krasakis crossed to a filing cabinet, took a file from it and opened it. On top of the other reports and statements which it contained was the anonymous note which Haldane had received and the coins which accompanied it were in a small plastic envelope clipped to one comer of it. The Major handed the file to Spiridakis who read the note and frowned. He looked up at Krasakis. 'When did he receive this?'
'Less than a week ago. He did not mention it to you?'
The lawyer shook his head and returned the file to him. 'And you did nothing about it?' he scowled.
Krasakis shrugged. 'There was little I could do. The paper is of a type which has a very wide sale. The only fingerprints we found on the note were those of Leandros and myself. And it was the same with the coins. I offered him protection but he refused it.' He made a helpless gesture. 'I could not force it on him. And he did promise me that he would be careful.'
'But who?' enquired Spiridakis incredulously. 'Who on Crete would want Leandros dead? And why?'
'Why?' Again the Major shrugged. 'Jealousy perhaps.' He moved back behind his desk. 'Although that may not be the only motive. As to who. Well, I think I know the answer to that question.' He sighed. 'But I do not believe it will be easy for me to prove it.'
'And are you willing to tell me who it is you suspect?' asked Spiridakis.
The Major studied him for a moment and then nodded. 'In the strictest confidence, yes,' he said. 'It is the same man I have always thought was responsible for the damage done to Leandros' possessions in your house. The man who I also believe set fire to his caique.' He picked up the cigarette box on his desk. 'Matheos Noukakis.'
Spiridakis frowned. 'Matheos!'
The Major nodded, opened the cigarette box and held it out to Spiridakis who shook his head.
'But if you thought him responsible for those acts why did you not arrest him?' he demanded angrily.
Krasakis gave him a patient look. 'Oh, come now, Kyrie Spiridakis,' he said. 'You are a lawyer. You know that it is one thing for a policeman to believe someone to be guilty of a criminal act and quite another for him to prove it.' He took a cigarette from the box and lit it. 'For that,' he went on, 'he needs evidence. The evidence I had against Noukakis was not sufficient to bring him before the courts. And when I questioned him about his whereabouts when Leandros' boat was destroyed I could not break his alibi. From time to time since then I have had him under surveillance. But with the limited number of men at my disposal it has not been possible twenty-four hours of every day. But I shall, of course, bring him in for questioning now,' he assured the lawyer.
Spiridakis nodded. 'Yes, Major,' he said grimly. 'And I would do that now if I were you. For you must know that when I went with Kyria Zeferis to break the news of the tragedy to her mother. Matheos Noukakis was there with her. And that when he heard what had happened he seemed greatly affected by the news and ran from the house.'
Krasakis reacted with an expression of alarm. Stubbing his cigarette into the ashtray, he snatched up the internal telephone on his desk and pressed one of the buttons on it.
'Major Krasakis,' he barked into the telephone. 'I want three men and a car. Immediately'.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
'Noukakis killed them!' breathed Haldane, stunned and bewildered.
He had not been to bed all night. His eyes were bloodshot, his clothes rumpled, his hair unkempt and his face unshaven. He had been awake for only a short time but he had already opened another bottle of brandy and poured himself a stiff drink from it when Spiridakis and the Major called on him early the following morning.
Now he sat on the settee in a lingering haze of alcohol which he had so recently freshened and in the grip of an emotion which was beginning to overwhelm his feeling of loss and feed off it.
Krasakis nodded. 'But by mistake,' he said. 'You were the one he planned to kill, Leandros.'
'You are certain of this?' Haldane asked flatly.
'Yes', confirmed the Major. 'I am certain of it.' He paused and then went on. 'Now. Just as I am sure that it was he who was responsible for the outrages committed against you previously.'
'And he has gone into hiding you say?'
'When we went to his house last night he was not there,' said Spiridakis. 'And his brother, Ioannis, has also disappeared. They are together it seems.'
Haldane looked at the Major. 'So what are you doing to find them?' he challenged. 'They could have left Crete by now.'
Krasakis shook his head. 'No. They are still on the island. A police patrol found Matheos Noukakis' car abandoned just outside Karto Asites. Like all Cretans in time of trouble they have gone into the mountains. And they are armed. But they will be taken. Be sure of that.'
Haldane scowled and gave him a scornful look.
'Perhaps,' he muttered. 'But when?' He got to his feet and crossed to the table. 'Up there around Oros Idi,' he went on bitterly. 'Anyone who knows the mountains, who knows how to survive, can hide for years from an army of men. I know.' He turned to Spiridakis. 'We did it, didn't we Babis? You and I. And others.'
'Yes,' agreed the lawyer. 'But the people who live there were on our side. We had friends, Leandros.'
'And the Noukakis brothers don't?' retorted Haldane. Krasakis hesitated. He shrugged. 'A few perhaps,' he said. 'But the two men will be found. However long it may take. I will keep you informed.' He gave Haldane a salute. 'Kalimera, Leandros.' He moved over to the front door and opened it.
'Why, Major?' asked Haldane quietly. Krasakis turned in the doorway to look back at him. 'Why should Matheos Noukakis want to kill me?'
Krasakis regarded him thoughtfully, then he said, 'He was jealous of you. That you know surely? But the real answer has to lie in the past I think.'
The Englishman frowned. 'There's nothing in my past that's in any way connected with Noukakis.·
'Perhaps not,' replied Krasakis, 'directly.' Again he studied Haldane. 'But in a lifetime, in every act, among the seeds we sow is the seed of tragedy. We would all do well to remember that. And tragedy is a plant which can t
ake many years to grow, and even longer to blossom and bear its bitter fruit. It is possible that Matheos Noukakis may only have brought that fruit to market.' He paused just long enough to let his words sink in and then he turned and walked out through the front door.
Haldane reached for the bottle of brandy and poured some into his glass. Spiridakis moved to his side.
'How is Annika?' asked Haldane, staring at the drink in his hand.
'Holding on,' said the lawyer quietly. 'Her mother is very ill.' Haldane glanced at him. 'A stroke. Brought on by what has happened, I think.'
Haldane nodded. 'I'm sorry to hear that,' he said. And then he sighed. 'Poor Annika. So much to bear.' Again he looked down at his glass. 'You have not told her anything?' he asked.
'No. But she is worried about you.'
'I wish I could go to her,' Haldane sighed. 'But I can't.
Not yet.'
He raised his glass to eye level and gazed at the brandy in it. Spiridakis frowned. 'You do not need that, Leandros, do you?' he asked gently.
Haldane turned his head to him and met his gaze. 'No.' His voice was cold. 'I don't need this. Not any more.' Swinging round, he savagely hurled the glass across the room and it shattered into the fireplace. 'There is only one thing I need now, Babis,' he continued almost in a whisper. 'And you know what that is.'
He looked at the lawyer and saw the troubled expression on his face. Spiridakis knew only too well what it was he was asking for. But he hesitated.
'It was my daughter,' said Haldane, pleading his cause, 'and my grandson who Noukakis killed. And Nikos is also dead. There is no one else. And I have the right.'
When Spiridakis left the house he was surprised to find Major Krasakis waiting for him at the bottom of the steps.
'Tell me,' he asked when the lawyer came level with him. 'Do you know of any reason why Katerina Matakis should hate Leandros? Enough to want him dead.'
'No,' exclaimed Spiridakis, genuinely taken aback. 'Why?'
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