The Golden Silence

by Paul Johnston

  Then she thought of the woman she’d ruined. Would she ever summon up the strength to speak, to break the golden silence? If she did, everything that Rea had worked for would turn to dust.

  Mavros stood under the camera at the door of the Pink Palace, his heart pounding. If Ricardo opened it he was in deep shit, but he didn’t have a choice. He had to speak to Jenny Ikonomou.

  There was a loud buzz. He pushed the metal door and walked in. To his relief there was no one in the long entrance hall.

  ‘Take the lift to the third floor,’ came the actress’s voice from a speaker.

  Mavros complied and walked out onto thick-pile carpet. Jenny Ikonomou was framed in a doorway at the end of the corridor. She was wearing a pair of tight-fitting jeans and a white blouse, her dark hair loose on her shoulders. The change in her appearance from the last time he’d seen her was striking. She looked twenty years younger.

  ‘Alex Mavros,’ she said, blowing out smoke. ‘I didn’t expect to see you again.’

  He raised his shoulders. ‘I must apologise, Mrs Ikonomou. My clients’ daughter is proving to be a source of irritation to a lot of people.’

  She stepped back into a large drawing-room. There were paintings by modern Greek masters on the white walls. ‘Katia caused no irritation when she was here,’ she said, sitting down and waving him to the sofa opposite. ‘So, she is well?’

  ‘Yes,’ Mavros said, looking around. The ambience was one of understated elegance. A row of terracotta masks stood on a sideboard. ‘Are those ancient?’ he asked, taking in the varied expressions.

  Jenny Ikonomou laughed. ‘Of course not. Not even I can buy such things. They’re copies of fifth-century originals. Do you like them?’

  Mavros wasn’t sure. Some of the faces were grotesque, others displaying naked emotion. ‘Your brother isn’t here this evening?’ he asked, turning back to her.

  ‘My brother comes and goes,’ she said, giving him a blank look. ‘But you didn’t come to talk about Ricardo. Is Katia on her way home?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ he said, looking down. ‘Her parents certainly hope so.’

  ‘Ah, to be young,’ the actress said with a sigh.

  Mavros took the cue. ‘You were in the Communist youth party, weren’t you? You must have known my brother Andonis.’ Despite his decision to end the hunt, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

  Jenny Ikonomou busied herself extinguishing her cigarette, but Mavros could see that she was agitated. Taking another from the pack, she looked up at him. ‘You’re Andonis Mavros’s brother? Spyros’s son? My God, I didn’t realise.’

  ‘Did you ever meet Andonis?’ Mavros was expecting his brother’s face to rise up before him, but again there was nothing.

  ‘I…no, no, I didn’t.’ The actress glanced towards the line of masks. ‘I knew of him, of course. It was a terrible tragedy that he disappeared.’ She glanced back at him. ‘There’s never been any trace, has there?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Those bastards,’ she said bitterly. ‘They were cowards. They ruined people’s lives and they didn’t have the nerve to own up to it.’

  ‘Did they take you in?’

  She inhaled deeply. ‘I was arrested, yes.’

  ‘Tortured?’

  She stared at him through the smoke she’d blown out. ‘Why are we having this conversation?’ She twitched her head. ‘They hurt me. But it was nothing compared with what my friends went through.’ She stood up. ‘Now, you wanted to see the room that Katia stayed in. It’s been thoroughly cleaned. I don’t think you’ll find anything. What was it again? Earrings?’

  ‘A single earring.’

  ‘Follow me,’ she said brusquely, her appetite for conversation clearly exhausted. She led him to the lift and they went up one floor. There were two doors on each side of a dimly lit hallway. She went to the first on the right and opened it.

  ‘Are there only guest rooms on this floor?’

  Her expression suggested that the question was inappropriate. ‘Yes,’ she replied, as she turned on the lights and went inside.

  Mavros followed her. The room was substantially larger than Katia’s bedroom in her parents’ flat. There was a double bed covered with an African blanket. The walls were pale peach, framed Toulouse-Lautrec prints facing each other. Instead of a dressing-table, there was a long mahogany table under the window. The surface was bare apart from a glass ashtray and some art books. There was a partially open door in the corner, expensive bathroom fittings visible through it.

  ‘Very nice,’ he said, standing in the middle of the room.

  ‘Katia was the last person to stay here.’ The actress went over to the double doors of a built-in wardrobe and opened them. ‘Nothing in here apart from fresh bed linen and towels. I really think you’re wasting your time.’

  Mavros shrugged. ‘Don’t worry, I’m being paid for it. Shall I come down when I’ve finished?’

  She turned away. ‘All right.’

  Mavros watched her go, relieved that she’d taken the hint. He couldn’t have searched with her standing over him. He closed the door and ran his eye round the room. It had certainly been cleaned fastidiously since Katia was there. He wondered if there was anything to be read into that. Probably not, since Jenny Ikonomou hadn’t denied the missing girl’s presence. Her brother had been less forthcoming, though.

  He decided to prioritise locations, given that he couldn’t expect to spend long in the room—locations where Katia might have left some trace that had escaped the cleaner’s eye. The bathroom was completely clear, shelves and surfaces bare, and the pockets of a white towelling dressing-gown behind the door empty. He went to the wardrobe and pulled out the fitted drawers. Nothing. There were only empty hangers in the main section. He took a step back and peered up at the top shelf. Again, nothing. Then he checked the width of the shelf and realised that the rear part wouldn’t have been visible, even to a tall woman like Jenny Ikonomou. He brought a chair over and stood on it.

  ‘Eureka,’ he said under his breath. He stretched forward and brought out the pair of worn trainers that were lodged deep in the corner. They were size 38 and looked similar to those in Katia’s own room. Then he remembered that he’d found things in a shoe there. Did she make a habit of hiding things in her footwear?

  Mavros sat down and stuck his hand into the first shoe. It was empty. Taking a deep breath, he did the same with the other. There was something in the toe. He wriggled his finger and dug out a tightly folded piece of paper. The handwriting on it was in green ink and he recognised it immediately—he’d seen it in Katia’s schoolbooks. She had written this. He unfolded the sheet, which had been torn from an exercise book, and started to read, thankful that she’d used Greek rather than Russian.

  Saturday 23 March. Wonderful day! Worked with Jenny—she asked me to call her that—on diction and movement in the morning. Then we had lunch on the roof garden. After that Jenny went off to sleep and I worked on the texts she gave me. In the afternoon we ran through some speeches. I did the best I could with Elektra. Then she asked me to do Lady Macbeth. At first I thought it was disgusting, she was encouraging her husband to kill the king, calling him a coward and saying she’d do the killing herself. But something strange happened, as if a switch clicked in my head. Suddenly I was Lady Macbeth, forgetting the book in my hand and moving around the room like a big cat circling its prey. It was amazing! And at the end Jenny actually clapped. She’d been so stern, but now she clapped and smiled, saying bravo and kissing me. I wish I could do this every day of my life! But on Monday I have to go back to school. Jenny won’t hear of me stopping before exams. But I’ll come to her as soon as they’re finished. She’ll find me a job helping her and I’ll be able to study what she does in every part. It’ll be wonderful. I don’t care what the others say. Sifis, Papa, Mama, they’ll all try to discourage me, but I know I’m right. Only Makis supports me. He was so happy when I called. He’ll keep it secret, I know he will. I was born to act,
I told him. The great Jenny Ikonomou said so herself!

  This evening wasn’t so nice. Jenny was tired and she didn’t talk much. Her brother Ricardo ate with us. His eyes were on me all the time. I wish he’d left earlier than he did. At least I didn’t see him again, at least he didn’t talk to me like he did last night. Horrible man.

  Now I’m sleepy, I can feel my eyes closing. But I have to finish this. Because the last, the best thing Jenny said was that she wanted me to come to her house in Aegina at Easter. Mama and Papa won’t like it, Papa especially. He likes to make a family occasion of the holidays, even though I’m not his little girl any more. I wish he hadn’t been so horrible to Sifis. I’ll tell them I was with a girlfriend. Papa will be furious that I didn’t let them know before, but he has to realise. This is my new life. I’m eighteen, I’m a grown woman. No one can tell me what to do any more, not my parents, not the man in my life. I want Sifis, but I want my future even more. Thank God there are people as kind as Jenny Ikonomou in the world! What a weekend this has been!

  Mavros folded the page and put it in his pocket. He replaced the shoes so there would be some proof that Katia had stayed, should the actress go back on what she had said. The person who concerned him now wasn’t Jenny Ikonomou, but her brother. Katia had felt his eyes on her. The scumbag had a reputation for mistreating young women, and he worked for the city’s biggest crime family. Had he really not seen Katia in the house? It didn’t take much imagination to see a solid link to Katia’s disappearance there now.

  He closed the wardrobe doors and put the chair back. As he was turning away, the bedroom door opened without warning.

  Ricardo stepped in. ‘Alex fucking Mavros. What the fuck are you doing here?’

  Mavros raised his shoulders. ‘Didn’t your sister tell you? I’m looking for—’

  ‘An earring that the girl supposedly lost.’ The bald man moved closer. ‘Found it, did you?’

  Mavros put his hand in his jacket pocket and took out the piece of jewellery that he’d bought in the Flea Market. ‘Yes, I did. Thank you for asking.’

  Ricardo stared at the earring. ‘Out,’ he said, pointing to the door with a rapid movement.

  Mavros left the room. ‘I was going to say a word to Mrs Ikonomou.’

  ‘Say it to me.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  Ricardo ushered him into the lift. As soon as it started, he stood in front of the doors. ‘You and I need to have a conversation, wanker. I saw you in that clapped out car last night. What the fuck were you doing tailing me from the Silver Lady?’

  ‘Who said I was tailing you?’

  The bald man’s teeth were visible between his thin lips. ‘Don’t play games, you piece of shit. If I see you here again, you’ll regret it. If you contact my sister again, you’ll regret it. If you show up within a kilometre of me again, you’ll be picking your teeth off the pavement. Clear?’

  Mavros sighed. ‘So hostile, Ricardo. Anyone would think that you had something to hide.’ He decided to see if his story provoked a different reaction. ‘Didn’t your sister tell you? The young woman Katia has turned up in Italy.’

  Ricardo’s eyes widened. He still blocked the doors after they’d opened on the ground floor. It looked like he was about to say something, but finally he let Mavros pass without a word.

  Out on the street, Mavros walked swiftly away. He was sure that actress’s brother knew something about Katia. A look of confused relief has flashed across his face when Italy was mentioned. But this had turned into a dangerous strategy. If Ricardo was involved in Katia’s disappearance, he would know that Mavros had been lying. He’d have to watch his back even more carefully from now on.

  From the third-floor window, Jenny Ikonomou watched the investigator’s shadowy form move down the street until it disappeared. When she’d told Ricardo that he was in the bedroom Katia had used, her brother’s face took on the blank expression that she’d dreaded from childhood. She knew it was wrong to admit Alex Mavros, but she couldn’t help it. She liked the girl, was disturbed that she’d disappeared. And Katia was safe now. So why had Ricardo been so keen to eject Mavros?

  The actress sat down and reached for a cigarette. There was no point in tormenting herself over her brother’s moods. She’d learned long ago never to ask questions and never to criticise him. Ricardo had been a closed book to her since they were children. Her father had been overjoyed when a son came seven years after her. He made no attempt to disguise his preference for Ricardo, even insisting on the unusual name to emphasise his importance. He grew up in the bright light of their father’s adoration. Their mother had almost died giving birth to the oversize baby and had never forgiven him for the pain, but that made no difference. She paid little attention to either of the children, being obsessed by the family’s standing in society. When Ricardo proved himself to be a waster and a bully, it was too late. Their parents did what they could, spending more than they should have to rescue him from the law and then to set him up in the US. They even sold the estate in Aegina, though she’d been able to buy it back when she married one of the country’s richest industrialists.

  Jenny sat in a cloud of smoke and wished that she’d cut ties with Ricardo long ago. She knew he was involved with unsavoury people. He might even be behaving like he had done in New York. Though she tried not to show it, he frightened her and she knew he frightened other people. That poor girl Katia had quivered like a mouse when he eyed her up. Thank God she was safe. If only Jenny had the strength to throw him out of her house, but it was no good. She’d promised to protect him from himself when she was young and idealistic, and she could never break that promise. Not just because of him, but because of the people she’d wronged. She owed it to them, her former comrades, the ones she’d worked with to change society. They were lost now, one of them long dead and the other suffering in silence, but she’d be true to them. If she saved one soul, her brother’s, that would be some recompense for what she did to them.

  They came back to her in a flurry of images. Alex Mavros’s questions had brought them to the surface. He was Andonis’s brother, Andonis Mavros who had inspired them in the youth party. Why did she lie to Alex? Why did she tell him she’d never met Andonis? How had she failed to recognise the features they shared? The investigator’s hair was longer and his eyes were different. Perhaps subconsciously she’d refused to allow herself to make the connection. She remembered the end-of-term party. Andonis Mavros had been there, in the flat near the Polytechnic. That party had marked the beginning of the end for Manos Floros and his comrades. She’d danced with Andonis, his eyes a brilliant blue that enslaved women and men alike. Then she’d watched Manos. He was strong and brave like Andonis, but he chose his friends less carefully. That night he was surrounded by the women who dragged him down. She included herself in that number.

  ‘Are you all right, big sister?’ Ricardo’s voice cut into her thoughts. ‘You don’t need to worry about that asshole Mavros any more.’

  She kept her eyes down. Ricardo faced the world with vicious disdain. He’d never got over the spoiled life of his early years. But she didn’t want to think about him. She wanted to go back to her own youth, when she’d thought for a short, sweet time that she could do something about the injustice all around her. Manos had convinced her of that and she’d loved him for it. But so had the other women, and one of them had wanted him for herself alone. Why was there so much selfishness in the world?

  ‘I’ll be back late,’ her brother was saying, smoothing the creases of his suit and smiling ironically. ‘Don’t wait up.’

  As if she would. Jenny had better people to devote her attention to. Alex Mavros had taken her back to them with his questions. Did he have any idea of the memories he’d stirred up? But at least the missing girl was found. The long-haired investigator with the flaw in his left eye had finished his work. He was different from Andonis, he was darker and taller, but there was a similar doggedness about him, a similar subtle intel
ligence. She found herself regretting that she wouldn’t be seeing the youngest of the Mavros men again.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  EVEN THOUGH IT was well into the evening, drills were blasting away at the palatial hotel in Syndagma Square—no expense was being spared to refurbish it in time for the Olympic Games. Mavros took out his mobile as he crossed the open space and called his client’s home number.

  Mrs Tratsou answered, her voice almost inaudible.

  ‘Is Dmitri there?’ Mavros asked, remembering her lack of Greek. ‘Dmitri?’

  ‘Mowbeel, mowbeel.’

  Mavros cut the connection and found the number in the phone’s memory. He was still suspicious of what his client was up to.

  The call was answered with a gruff monosyllable.

  ‘Dmitri? It’s Alex.’

  ‘Can’t speak now.’

  ‘Where are you?’ Mavros demanded. ‘You should be at home with your wife.’

  ‘I…I have work. I call you later.’

  Mavros swore under his breath as the call was terminated. He could tell his client was hiding something. He’d heard no background noise from the motorway site during the brief conversation, so he didn’t think Dmitri was working overtime. He stopped by a cypress tree, sure that his client was looking for Katia. It didn’t take him long to conclude where he’d be. Dmitri had been outside the Silver Lady last night and he’d been involved in the abortive tailing of the Audi. He had unfinished business.

  Kicking the paving-stones in frustration, Mavros looked at his mobile. He could call Dmitri back and tell him to get the hell out of there, but that might blow his cover. There was only one solution. He’d have to go down there and get his client to safety. But what if Ricardo saw him? He’d been warned off and he knew the bald man wasn’t joking. He remembered the state of the body he’d seen in the morning, the hooks with fishing lines tied to them, the mutilated genitals. He’d be out of his mind to risk another confrontation with the man who was probably responsible for that. He considered calling Kriaras, but dismissed the thought. What would the policeman have been able to do to help Dmitri without destroying the trail to Katia?