‘I wouldn’t say that. People don’t complain to me. He made an observation.’
‘So did I. He isn’t guilty.’ Damis glanced round at the sideboard. ‘Can I fix you a drink?’
‘Keep to the business in hand,’ Rea said, raising a finger. ‘Gikas is too frightened to act against me. So are most of the people I employ.’
Damis nodded. ‘But fear can make some people irrational. Do you know a man called Angelos Lazanis, Lakis for short?’
She gave him a blank look. ‘Should I?’
‘He’s my ex-boss at the Silver Lady. A smallish man with the face of a fox.’
‘Ah, the one who’s in charge of security at the club?’
‘Correct,’ Damis said, moving nearer. ‘On the evening of the attack, Gikas made a call to the Silver Lady. He wanted to speak to the manager Mr Ricardo, but he was away from his desk. Closeted with one of the girls, as a matter of fact. She saw the clock above his head as he was…well, you get the idea. It’s impossible to prove, but I’m certain that the person who took the call was Lakis. He’s often in Mr Ricardo’s office and I’ve heard him answer the phone without identifying himself.’
Rea’s face was impassive. ‘Gikas told him I was coming?’
‘Yes. He wanted to make sure that the best champagne was in stock.’ Damis raised his shoulders. ‘It seems he wanted to impress you.’
‘And you think that this Lakis alerted the assassin?’
‘I do. I got your people to check the numbers he called from his mobile phone. They all checked out. But I took a look in his flat without telling him. I found another mobile there. Three minutes after Gikas called the club, Lakis used it to ring a number belonging to a stolen mobile phone. I can’t prove it was the sniper but if you give me the go-ahead, I can get a confession from my ex-boss. He’s the only person in the frame.’
Rea stood up. ‘No. I have people who are specialists in that field.’ She pointed beside him. ‘Now you can bring me that drink. A large cognac.’ She smiled at him. ‘Pour one for yourself. This could be the making of you.’
He smiled back at her. ‘As long as I can be of service, Mrs Chioti.’
Rea watched him as he turned away. The young man clearly had talent, as well as an attractive face and a fine body. Why was it she could hear alarm bells ringing in her head?
CHAPTER NINE
MAVROS LEANED FORWARD to the taxi driver. ‘Take the first right.’
‘What are you doing?’ Niki asked. ‘There isn’t much traffic on the coast road.’
‘Pull up here.’ Mavros turned to her and switched to English. ‘I’m going back to the club. See if I can talk to the girls.’
‘I thought you said that was too dangerous.’
He laughed. ‘Haven’t you realised? I live for danger. Don’t put the chain on the door.’
Niki looked unimpressed. ‘I have to compromise my personal safety so you can go and chat up a gang of hookers?’ She put a hand on his arm. ‘Be careful, Alex.’
He kissed her on the lips. ‘I’ll try not to be too late.’ He waved after the cab, seeing Niki turn away with a flick of her head. He could have given her more warning, but the fact was he’d only decided to go back as they pulled away from the club. There was too much going on there to ignore—Sifis going down, the heavies who threatened him snorting coke and hinting at a solo job, the big guy putting a hold on the other one and being warned off by Jenny Ikonomou’s brother. Even if he didn’t find Katia, he might be able to dig up something that would impress Kriaras or Bitsos.
He spent the next hour on a bench by the chain fence around the Silver Lady. It was outside the ring of light, but close enough for him to see people as they left. So far, only customers had headed down the red carpet. The workers would be the last to leave. His plan was to follow one or more of the girls and ask about Katia. If he was lucky, they wouldn’t all be accompanied by the gorillas who handled security.
The wind had dropped and the waves were running gently up the narrow pebble beach below the raised breakwater. It was a moonless night and there was a great blanket of stars across the sky. A faint blur of light and the outline of a pyramid peak were visible to the south. The island of Aegina. For a few moments Mavros wished he was there, away from the noise and filth of the city. Then he remembered the case he’d investigated on another small island. Drugs, deviancy, repressed anger and murder had been its main features. At least the criminals in the big city were open about their rapacity.
A door opened at the back of the club. Mavros stayed where he was, keeping very still. Two girls appeared in the rectangle of light. They were dressed in jeans and bomber jackets, their heads down. There were two men in dark suits behind them.
‘It’ll be fun,’ said one. Mavros recognised the voice of Yannis. ‘I’m a great driver and the Mercedes has lots of room in the back for us to get friendly.’ He laughed. ‘Doesn’t it, Pano?’
‘Yes,’ said the big man beside him. ‘Are you sure we can take the car?’
‘Of course,’ said Yannis. ‘We’re not the scum of the earth any more.’
Mavros watched the foursome head to the car park, the women markedly less enthusiastic than the men. There was no chance of asking them about Katia with the loudmouths in tow. He decided to wait. The Silver Lady had closed and there would soon be more sad-eyed women leaving.
Time passed, his feet and hands tingling in the cold, but he didn’t have any luck. The dancers and waitresses who came out were either accompanied by men with lust in their eyes or had cars waiting for them. This was turning out to be a wasted night. Then he saw the lights in the opaque windows on either side of the door go out, and decided to see who was last to leave. He heard the door open, but wasn’t able make anyone out in the darkness. There were footsteps moving alongside the building and a man came into view. It was the tall guy he’d seen with his hand round the throat of the much smaller one in the passage beyond the stage. An engine started and came nearer, a black Audi reversing to the club’s rear door.
Mavros moved forward cautiously. By the light from the car’s interior he saw two men standing at the door, one slumped forward and the other supporting him. The man at the wheel got out and helped the others into the back seat. As they bent down, Mavros recognised the other two. The one who seemed to be unconscious was the skinny guy who’d been in the clinch with the tall man earlier. The other, his bald head now covered by a black cap, was Jenny Ikonomou’s brother Ricardo.
Realising he had very little time, Mavros backed off and headed for the road. The Audi would soon be away and he had to find a taxi. Although the coastal road was as good a place to get one as any at this time of night, he’d still need some luck. It was one of the few times in his life that he wished he had a motorbike. He glanced to his right and saw the car with the three men in it moving towards the car park exit. He swore under his breath. He didn’t know which way it was going to turn—left towards the city or right towards the coastal strip.
There was a high-pitched honk from the other side of the road.
‘Over here, Alex.’ Dmitri Tratsou was waving to him from the wheel of a battered Lada.
Keeping his eye on the car park, Mavros ran across the lanes between cars that were breaking the speed limit. To his relief he saw that the Audi was indicating left. He pulled open the passenger door.
‘I see it,’ his client said, his eyes on the mirror. He had the engine running and, when the black car passed, he pulled out and slotted in about fifty metres behind in the central lane.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Mavros demanded, looking to the front. ‘Don’t let him get too far ahead.’
‘I know what I do. You see Katia?’
Mavros jerked his head back in the negative gesture. ‘Who told you she might be at the Silver Lady?’
Dmitri accelerated through a light that was changing. ‘I have friends, Alex.’
‘You also hired me. Didn’t you think of sharing that information with me?
’
‘Calm down, my friend. Seems you already know.’
Mavros watched as the Audi passed a tree-ringed square. ‘Get closer. He’s pulling away.’
The Russian-Greek pushed the Lada hard and made up some ground. ‘Who are these men?’
‘They work at that club.’ He glanced at his client. ‘Why are you so keen to tail them?’
‘I ask you the same question, Alex.’
‘Careful. He’s slowing down. The road splits here. Make sure we go the right way.’
Suddenly the Audi accelerated, overtaking a container lorry.
‘He’s going left,’ Mavros aid. ‘The Piraeus lane.’
‘You sure?’
‘Yes! Pull out!’
The engine rattled in its blocks as the Lada was forced alongside the thundering lorry.
Mavros watched as the Audi moved further ahead, staying in the outer lane. ‘Yes, he’s heading for Piraeus,’ he said, relaxing. ‘No, he’s cutting in! Get across!’
Dmitri tried to squeeze more from the Lada, but the lorry was keeping up with them, its driver smiling grimly. At what seemed like the last moment, the Russian-Greek managed to get past him and slip into the lane. Ahead of them the Audi, moving slower now, was approaching the junction.
‘Good, eh?’ Dmitri grunted.
Before Mavros could respond, the Audi veered to the left again.
‘Ach, hell!’ Tratsou said, glancing in his mirror. The lorry was right behind them. He made an attempt to follow the car in front, but quickly realised that he would hit the bollard separating the lanes and corrected his course.
‘Bastards,’ Mavros said as the Audi disappeared on the loop towards the port. They came on to the avenue that led to central Athens, the nearest junction several hundred metres ahead.
‘They saw us,’ Dmitri said, shaking his head. ‘Sorry, Alex. This car no good for high-speed chases. I turn to Piraeus?’
Mavros sat back. ‘No, forget it. We’ll never catch them now.’ He looked at his client. ‘It’s time we had a talk.’
‘I take you somewhere?’
‘Yes,’ he said, remembering that Niki was expecting him. He gave directions. ‘Who told you that Katia might be at the club?’
Dmitri kept his eyes on the road. ‘I already say. A friend.’
‘Listen, you’ve got one choice and one choice only. Either you answer every question I ask you or I walk away. I’m serious. I can’t work for you if I you keep things from me.’
The Russian-Greek pulled into a space and turned off the Lada’s engine. ‘All right, Alex. I know men, some from former Soviet Union, some I meet here at work. They…they are not good men.’
‘You mean they’re criminals.’
‘Yes.’ Dmitri looked down. ‘I try to keep away from them, but since my Katia disappears, I talk to them. Ask them if they know where she could be.’ He glanced at Mavros. ‘You know, many girls from old Communist states, they find no other work. They…they sell their bodies.’ His face above the unruly beard was pale in the lights from the street. ‘I don’t believe my Katia do this, but maybe…maybe they force her.’
Mavros decided to take a chance. ‘Did you bring your gun?’
His client’s head jerked back. ‘My gun? I don’t—’
‘I saw you receive it.’
‘You spy on me?’
‘No. I happened to see the handover and then I heard the guy speaking Russian on his phone.’ Mavros glared at him. ‘Have you got it with you? What were you intending to do with it?’
‘Get my Katia back,’ Dmitri said, his head dropping again.
‘Let me see it,’ Mavros said, taking out his handkerchief.
The Russian-Greek checked that the street was empty and fumbled in his pocket. ‘Good gun,’ he said. ‘Glock. Cost me a lot of money.’
Mavros released the ammunition clip and let it drop into his lap. The weight suggested it was full. He held the weapon to his nose. It didn’t smell like it had been fired recently.
‘Ah, I understand,’ his client said. ‘You think I kill that piece-of-shit drug-pusher. I saw report on news.’ He gave a slack smile. ‘I want to kill him, but I not know his address. And I work all day. You can ask at site.’
Mavros handed him back the gun and then the clip, using his handkerchief. ‘All right. But you can see why I was suspicious. Did your friends give you any other places to look for Katia?’
Dmitri pulled out a piece of paper from his jacket pocket. ‘Other clubs, some…’ he broke off and bit his lip ‘…some brothels.’
Mavros took the list. ‘I’ll keep this. I don’t want you causing trouble, especially not with that thing. Get rid of it.’
The Russian-Greek’s expression was suddenly aggressive. ‘You have nothing to tell me, Alex? I pay you for what?’
Mavros held his gaze. ‘I’ve got some angles to follow up, but I’m keeping them to myself. After tonight you can hardly blame me. I’m the one who’s looking for Katia, okay? You go to work, and then look after your wife in the evenings. If you don’t like the way I’m running this investigation, you can fire me.’
For a few moments he thought Dmitri might do that. Then, after a series of long sighs, the Russian-Greek started up the Lada and drove on. Mavros didn’t feel good about shutting him out, but the worst thing that could happen now would be for his client to burst in waving a gun. Especially since it looked like Jenny Ikonomou’s brother worked for the Chiotis family.
But where did that leave the beautiful, stage-struck Katia?
The Son knocked the agreed number of times at the rear door of a crumbling building in a suburb beyond the port. It was five in the morning and the first sounds of a new day were audible: birds waking up on the rooftops, people on the early shift going by on noisy scooters, a couple of dogs fighting over a plastic bag.
‘We’ll be leaving in broad daylight,’ he said in a low voice.
‘Does that worry you?’ The Father’s voice was scathing. ‘What are you, a woman?’
The Son’s face hardened. When the door opened, he pushed past the bald man and carried his bag down a dripping corridor. There was a room lit up at the end.
‘Who’s this?’ he demanded, taking in the scene. A bound and gagged man was slumped in a chair beside a long work bench, but he wasn’t the one who’d caught the Son’s attention. There was a tall, muscular young man in a dark suit to the rear.
‘He’s with me,’ Ricardo said.
‘The agreement is that no one sees us at work except you,’ the Son said, glancing at the Father.
The old man stepped forward and put his bag on the bench, his eyes locked on the tall young man. ‘You’ve seen us and we’ve seen you,’ he said, the words heavy with menace. He turned to the bald man. ‘Why the delay?’
‘Sorry. We had to lose some arseholes.’
The Son bent over the man in the chair. ‘You were followed?’
‘Don’t worry,’ the bald man said. ‘It was nothing. We shook them off easily.’ He gave the Father a slack smile. ‘Believe me, they’ve got no idea where we are. I’ll deal with them later.’
‘Be sure you do,’ the Father said, unzipping his bag. ‘You know who we answer to.’ He looked at the tall young man. ‘It’s time for you to leave.’
‘No, let him stay,’ Ricardo said. ‘He’s Mrs C’s blue-eyed boy. He should see what happens at this level of the business.’ He laughed. ‘Besides, he smoked this fucker out. You want to see what happens to him, don’t you, Dami?’
‘No names,’ the old man growled.
‘Sorry.’ The bald man looked chastised. ‘This is an easy one for you.’ He inclined his head towards the man in the chair, who groaned as the Son’s probing fingers brought him round. ‘He’s one of ours who’s gone bad. We need to know who he’s been talking to. And anything else you can get out of him.’
When the Son had put on his waterproof overalls, he took hold of the captive’s chin. He ripped the tape off in a single movement. The m
an squealed.
‘Do you have any idea how much shit you’re in? Do you know who we are?’ He pointed to the old man. ‘That’s the Father. Guess who I am.’
‘The Father…the Father and the Son…no, no, I…’ The bound man jerked his head round. ‘Dami, tell them I’m clean.’ He looked to the front. ‘Ricardo, this is all wrong.’
‘Fuck you, Laki,’ the bald man said. ‘We know you called in the shooter. Now you’re going to tell us who got to you.’
‘No…no…’ The captive started to gabble incoherently.
Damis stepped round the chair. ‘Maybe he’ll tell me.’ He took in the tools that the Father was lining up on the work bench. ‘Maybe there won’t be any need for…for whatever it is you’re going to do to him.’
‘Losing your nerve?’ Ricardo jeered. ‘That won’t go down with Mrs C.’
‘That’s enough,’ the Father said, pulling on latex gloves. ‘Get him on to the table.’
‘I’ll do it,’ Damis said, bending over. He took out a clasp knife and sliced through the rope round the captive. ‘Oh shit, I—’ He broke off and slowly raised the upper half of his body. ‘Laki, don’t…’ The man in the chair stood up and darted behind him.
‘You see, I’m holding the knife to his throat?’ Lakis said, his other arm round Damis’s neck. ‘Raise your hands, all of you!’ He watched as the other three complied. ‘Right, you piece of shit. You and I are going for a walk.’ He nudged Damis. ‘To the door. Slowly, very slowly.’
‘What makes you think I won’t go for my gun?’ Ricardo asked. ‘You think I care if you slit his throat?’
Lakis gave a cracked laugh. ‘You said it yourself, fuckwit. Damis is the boss’s new toy boy. What do you think she’ll say if you bring him back without a voice box?’
The Father’s eyes were on the Son.
‘That’s it,’ Lakis said, panting. ‘Nearly there.’
‘Just one thing,’ Ricardo said as the pair reached the passage. ‘You’ll need this.’
The Golden Silence Page 16