The phone buzzed.
‘Yes,’ the Father answered, expecting to hear the woman’s voice.
‘We have work tonight.’ Ricardo spoke so quietly that he could hardly hear.
‘What do you mean? I don’t take orders from you.’
‘This time you do. The boss is otherwise engaged.’ There was a pause. ‘She told me to say that this is the last round in the current hostilities and that she’s relying on you.’
The Father was suspicious. It was the first time this had happened. Was it a trick? Did the Son have the balls to set something up with Ricardo? He found that hard to believe. The worm had been whimpering like a child ever since he held the knife to his throat. No, the woman really must be busy. It was understandable. Her husband was dying, she was in charge of the family in time of war. He felt his lips curve into a smile. What a woman she was, what courage and ruthless self-interest she possessed! She’d had those virtues before she met him, but he’d built on them. He was the one who’d made her.
‘Are you still there?’ Ricardo said impatiently.
‘Silence!’ the Father ordered. Should he go along with it? He had nothing to lose. He wasn’t frightened of those fools. He might be old, but he could take them. Hadn’t he just proved that with the Son? He’d do what the woman wanted, even if the order came indirectly. ‘Very well. What time?’
‘Nine o’clock.’ Ricardo told him the meeting-point.
The Father put the phone back in his pocket and started to unwrap his equipment. He’d bought a new stock of hooks, as well as additional probes from a dental supplier. He’d tell the Son about the job later. He had other preparations to make first.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MAVROS DROVE THE hire-car up the sloping streets and found a space opposite Dmitri’s flat. The noise from the bar was less noticeable than the last time he’d been in the neighbourhood. As he was about to cross the road, a long-haired young man on a motorbike came round the corner and drove on to the pavement. It was Zak, the guy who’d told him where Katia’s boyfriend lived
‘You again,’ he said, recognising Mavros. ‘Did you hear about Sifis?’
‘I did.’
The young man’s face was grim. ‘Bastards.’
‘You know who did it?’
‘It’s obvious enough, isn’t it? The people who supplied him with the dope. Here, did you ever find his girl?’
‘Still working on it. Why’s the bar so quiet?’
Zak shrugged. ‘Apparently the locals have hired a lawyer.’ He looked across the road. ‘Oh-oh, here comes the Russian bear.’ He went inside rapidly.
‘You talk to those drug-takers, Alex?’
‘I talk to them because they tell me things, Dmitri.’ He led his client to the car. ‘How do you think I got the lead we’re following tonight?’
‘Okay, sorry,’ the Russian-Greek said gruffly. ‘Where we go?’
Mavros pulled away from the kerb. ‘To Lavrion.’
‘I know this place. Many camps there. I visit friends. Stinking hole.’
‘It isn’t the most attractive town in Greece. But Katia may be nearby.’ He told Dmitri about the house the actress had disclosed.
‘You really think my Katia is there?’
‘It’s the best chance we’ve got,’ Mavros said, not mentioning that it was also the only one. ‘We’re meeting Damis in Lavrion.’ He glanced at the bearded man. ‘Do you trust him?’
The Russian-Greek raised his shoulders. ‘I learn to trust no one, Alex.’
‘Not even me?’
Dmitri laughed. ‘I pay you, so I trust you a little.’
‘I hope you haven’t brought that automatic pistol,’ Mavros said, with a frown.
Dmitri opened his jacket. ‘Look, nothing here.’
‘All right.’
‘You trust me now?’
Mavros turned on to the avenue that led towards the new airport. ‘I suppose so.’
Once he cleared the traffic in the city centre, he was able to move quickly down the motorway heading southeast. The wide prong of Attica had only been accessible by single-lane roads until recently, but now Athenians were able to speed to their weekend retreats. Mavros remembered coming out to the country when he was a child, Andonis driving the ancient Fiat that their father had bought from a friend in the Party. They used to go to deserted beaches. Dorothy was always engrossed in a book and Anna dressed her dolls in clothes she’d made, while Mavros and his brother scrambled up rocks or played football. He saw the sign to Paiania and blinked hard. It was there that Andonis was last seen, back in ’72. Was there really a chance he could pick up the trail after all those years?
They came into Lavrion. The lights on the power station were flashing in the darkness, the main street filled with people engaged on the evening walk. Many of them were immigrants in cheap clothes.
‘Where we meet Damis?’ Dmitri asked, looking around the crowd with distaste. ‘Lavrion is like Lebanon, not Greece.’
Mavros wasn’t going to let the Russian-Greek’s prejudice pass. ‘These people just want a better life,’ he said, looking at his client pointedly. ‘Like you.’
Dmitri ignored that. ‘There he is,’ he said, pointing to the dark blue four-by-four.
Mavros drove over and lowered his window. ‘Good evening, Dami.’ The tall man looked uneasy. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Ricardo left the Silver Lady an hour ago. I tailed him to the city centre, but I lost him.’
‘Was he alone?’ Mavros asked.
‘He was driving the Audi. You remember Yannis and Panos? They were behind him in the Merc we picked you two up in.’
‘You’ve no idea where they went?’
Damis’s face was blank. ‘There’s something else,’ he said, looking at Mavros. ‘Mrs Chioti wants me to take you to her.’
Mavros felt a jolt of surprise. ‘Why?’
‘She didn’t say. I don’t think it’s a social call.’
‘Shit.’ Mavros wanted to talk to the woman who’d been in the youth party with his brother, but Katia had priority.
‘You think they come here?’ Dmitri asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Damis said, glancing at his watch. ‘It’s possible. Ricardo sometimes takes his victims to out-of-the-way places.’
‘With the Father and Son?’ Mavros said, leaning over to the back seat for the map he’d brought.
Damis didn’t answer.
‘Who’s the Father and—’
‘Don’t ask,’ Mavros interrupted his client. ‘We’d better get going.’ He pointed to a road marked in yellow on the map. ‘We follow this for three kilometres, then we turn on to the track here. The house was at the end of it. Okay?’
Damis nodded. ‘You lead.’
Mavros headed out of the town, to the west. The road began to rise into hills that he knew from previous visits were bare, the trees burned to clear the land for building. They passed a picnic area called Chaos and then signs to the ancient silver mines that had provided the wealth of Athens. They’d been worked by slaves. He thought of the Chiotis family and the Silver Lady. Foreign women were no better than slaves there. Was that to be Katia’s fate?
‘Here,’ Dmitri said, pointing to the right.
Mavros signalled and saw Damis’s lights flash in the mirror. They headed up a rough track, stones clattering against the bodywork. There were no lights ahead, the flank of the hill an inky mass. Then the moon, almost full, came out from a patch of cloud and lit up the ground. It was uncultivated, the spring flowers and vegetation thick. Through his partially open window Mavros could smell a mixture of scents. They reminded him of nights when he was young. A girlfriend had a car and they used to come out to the hills and lie on a blanket, crushing the vegetation. He tightened his grip on the wheel and wondered what they were going to find in the house on the hill.
‘Switch off headlights, I think,’ the Russian-Greek said.
Mavros did so, looking up at the moon. It was casting enough l
ight on the stony way ahead. Damis followed suit. They went on slowly, grinding up a steep section past a rocky outcrop that brought them on to a plateau. To the rear, about a hundred metres away, stood a two-storey white building. It was unlit. Mavros stopped and got out. Damis met him between the vehicles.
‘There’s no sign of anyone,’ Mavros said, peering ahead. ‘We’ll head over and see if we can park behind the house. Turn round so that we can make a rapid exit if necessary.’
‘Okay, but we’d better be quick. Christ knows where Ricardo is.’ Damis gave Mavros a tight smile. ‘And don’t forget—we have a date with Mrs Chioti.’
They got back into the cars and approached the house. The track led round the back. They managed to park in a location that was obscured from the approach road.
Dmitri was first out. He stepped up to the house, a small torch in his hand. All the shutters were closed and there was a heavy padlock on the back door. ‘Katia!’ he shouted. ‘Katia!’ A burst of Russian followed.
Mavros took his arm. ‘Keep the noise down, Dmitri,’ he said, leading him round to the front. A bare terrace was enclosed by a low wall, an untended vine hanging from a pergola.
‘Doesn’t look lived in,’ Damis said, going up to the front door. There was another padlock on it, a heavy-duty chain protruding from holes that had been drilled through the door and frame.
Mavros took his client’s torch and shone it on the lock. ‘There are scratches around the keyhole. I think they’re recent.’ He glanced round at Damis. ‘Any ideas how to get in?’
‘Sure,’ he said, pulling a matt black automatic from his belt. ‘Stand back.’
‘I don’t suppose you’ve got a silencer,’ Mavros said, looking round the moonlit hills.
‘Sorry.’ Damis pushed them back and aimed at the padlock. He loosed off a shot and knocked the shattered mechanism away. ‘Now for the door lock.’
‘Let me,’ Dmitri said, lowering his shoulder. On his second charge the wood splintered and the door gave way. He pushed it aside, shouting his daughter’s name again.
Mavros caught up with him and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Quiet,’ he said, cocking an ear. There was no sound in the house.
Suddenly the lights came on.
‘That’s better,’ Damis said, one hand on the switch. He was still holding the pistol in his other hand.
Mavros checked the ground-floor rooms. It was a standard design, a large sitting-room to the left and a dining-room with cheap table and chairs to the right. The kitchen at the back was long and narrow.
‘Ricardo hasn’t spent much on this place,’ Damis said, going over to an old-fashioned fridge in the corner that was emitting a loud hum. He opened the door and gagged. ‘Christ.’
Mavros stepped over quickly. ‘What is it?’
‘You tell me.’
Bending down, Mavros saw a clear plastic bowl. It was half-full of pale, spongy objects floating in liquid. He took a deep breath and opened the lid. It took him a few seconds to identify the contents. ‘Tripe,’ he said, with a relieved smile.
Damis gave a grimace. ‘I can’t stand that stuff.’
‘It isn’t rotten,’ Mavros said, putting the lid back on. ‘Someone’s been here recently.’
The Russian-Greek came in and looked at them. ‘Nothing upstairs. Three bedrooms, one bathroom. I don’t think anyone sleeps in this house for long time.’
Mavros and Damis exchanged glances.
‘Something bad here,’ Dmitri said. He pushed his head back and sniffed the air. ‘Maybe septic tank full.’
‘Did you smell it in the bathroom?’ Mavros asked.
His client looked at him thoughtfully. ‘No.’
‘You would have done if the tank was backing up.’ Mavros inhaled again. ‘You’re right, something does stink.’ He went to the sink. ‘Not here, though.’
Damis opened the door of a ceiling-high cupboard. The three of them gagged at the wave of fetid air that rolled over them.
‘Shit,’ Mavros said, taking in the empty shelves.
‘I think so.’ Dmitri went closer. ‘There is handle on panel at back.’ He turned to them. ‘And lock. Is door.’ He started to heave at the wood. ‘Katia?’ he shouted.
There was a loud creak and then the Russian-Greek’s body came back so rapidly that he almost fell to the floor. Recovering his balance, he ripped away the panelling to reveal a dark space. The stench was worse.
Mavros looked down past his client. He could see the uneven surface of a wall that seemed to have been hacked out of the bedrock. Dmitri clambered through and shone the torch down.
‘There are steps in stone,’ he said, his hand over his nose and mouth. ‘Katia?’
The three of them listened for a reply. At first, there was no noise apart from the fridge humming and the breath catching in their throats. Then they heard it, a weak and muffled sound that could have been a human voice.
‘Katia?’ Dmitri shouted again, his eyes wide. Then he disappeared into the reeking hole.
When the Audi pulled up, the Son came out of the ring of light around the kiosk and strode to the front passenger door.
‘In the back with me,’ ordered the Father, as he stepped out of the shadows.
The Son managed a smile. ‘If that’s what you want.’
‘That’s what I want.’ The old man put his hold-all on the seat and got in.
‘Everything all right?’ Ricardo asked, looking over his shoulder from the driver’s seat.
‘It is as far as I’m concerned,’ the Father said curtly. ‘Now drive.’
The bald man did what he was told without comment.
The Son sat staring out of the window at the traffic. He was telling himself to keep calm. The old bastard suspected something. He had a look in his eye that the Son remembered from his childhood—the look that said ‘I know what you’ve been doing, worm’. But he couldn’t know. The Son had called Ricardo earlier, as arranged. The bald man wasn’t stupid. He’d realised how unreliable the old man had become and he agreed they had to do something. When the Son asked how Ricardo would explain it to Mrs Chioti, he laughed and said she’d be so shaken that she wouldn’t be able to function. It wouldn’t be long till he was running the Chiotis family’s criminal operations. The Son wasn’t concerned by that prospect. All that mattered to him was that the Father was out of the game.
The Audi approached the flank of the Parliament building and turned left. Soon they’d be on the road out of the city to the north, then on the motorway past the airport. Ricardo had a place above Lavrion, he’d told the Son. That was where they’d do it. The bald man had sent two of his men on ahead. One of them would pretend to be the next victim. That way the old fool would start salivating and wouldn’t notice that the fish spear was pointed at him.
‘What’s the matter with you, boy?’ the Father demanded. ‘You’re panting like a dog chasing a bitch.’
The Son got his breathing under control. ‘It’s nothing,’ he said in a submissive voice, seeing Ricardo’s eyes on him in the mirror. ‘The pollution, it sometimes—’
‘For God’s sake,’ the old man groaned. ‘I’ve spawned a pathetic weakling.’
The Son gave no reaction. He’d mastered his doubts. He knew he could do it. Soon he would be free of the Father at last.
‘Is there a light switch down there?’ Mavros called from the top of the steps, swallowing the bitter liquid that the stench had brought to his mouth.
‘Wait!’ Dmitri yelled. ‘Yes, here it is.’
The roughly cut steps were flooded in yellow light. Mavros followed Damis down.
The Russian-Greek was on his knees by a mattress in the far corner. ‘Katia,’ he moaned. ‘My Katia.’
Mavros went closer. The stone walls were unplastered and damp. Over his client’s shoulder he could see a thin figure in a filthy night-dress. The blonde hair was knotted and grimy, but her face, though dirty, bore no marks. His client was struggling to undo a gag with his thick fingers.
> ‘Here,’ Damis said, handing over a switchblade.
The material fell away and the young woman gasped to fill her lungs, her eyes wide. She clung to her father like a small child, staring at Mavros and Damis in terror.
‘It’s all right,’ Mavros said, kneeling down. ‘We’re with your father.’
She watched as Dmitri nodded, then she started to speak in Russian. Eventually she stopped, the words replaced by a long series of sobs.
The Russian-Greek stood up, his arms wrapped around her. As he turned, Mavros saw that his beard was drenched with tears.
‘My Katia,’ he said, his voice shaking. ‘You find her, Alex. Thank you, thank you.’ He moved towards the steps, taking care that his daughter wasn’t knocked against the walls.
Damis went ahead, shining the torch on the steps. Mavros stayed in the basement that had been Katia’s cell. Apart from the mattress, there was only a bucket on the floor in the opposite corner. There were faeces along the bottom of the wall. Although the food in the fridge suggested there had been someone in the house recently, the captive had been forced to empty her bucket around the cell. What kind of bastard would do that to a young woman? Fighting his anger, Mavros went up to the ground floor.
He found Damis outside the open front door. He was looking down the track. The moon had disappeared behind clouds. The glow from the town was in the sky to the east, but there were no other lights to be seen.
‘I needed some fresh air,’ Damis said.
‘Me too. Dmitri’s taken Katia upstairs?’
‘He’s going to clean her up.’ Damis dropped his gaze. ‘It makes you ashamed to be a human being.’
‘Certainly should make you ashamed to be associated with the fucker who did this.’
Damis raised his eyes. ‘I’m doing what I can to nail Ricardo.’
The Golden Silence Page 29