The Golden Silence

by Paul Johnston

  ‘That’s big of you. Do you really think the next scumbag to take over the Silver Lady will be any better?’

  ‘Probably not.’ Damis looked away. ‘We should go. Mrs Chioti’s expecting us.’

  ‘Give Dmitri some time.’ Mavros went upstairs slowly, hearing low voices from the bathroom. His client was speaking tenderly, Katia answering between sobs.

  Mavros knocked on the door. ‘It isn’t safe to stay here.’

  ‘Can you find clothes, Alex?’ his client asked.

  Going into the front bedroom, Mavros pulled open the wardrobe. There were a couple of men’s shirts and a pair of jeans. He hoped that Katia wouldn’t mind wearing what were probably Ricardo’s clothes.

  After he handed them in, the Russian-Greek came out.

  ‘She wants to dress herself.’

  ‘We have to take her to a doctor, Dmitri. Has she been eating?’

  ‘Every two or three days they give her some muck. And a little water. She drink now, but she can’t eat.’ He clenched his fists. ‘The animals. I kill them all.’

  Mavros stepped closer. ‘Was she…did they…’

  ‘No,’ Dmitri said, shaking his head. ‘This Ricardo, he is pig. He give her lift, saying he take her home. Then he knock her out and bring her here. But he didn’t touch her. He told her he wanted her to…to go with him willingly. He said the girls in his club, they do it because they have to. With Katia, he wanted her to choose. When she say yes, she get out of that hole.’ He gave a weak smile. ‘My Katia, she is very brave. She not say yes. But she suffer so much.’

  The door opened and Katia came out. She looked better, her face clean and her hair tied back, but there was an emptiness in her eyes that Mavros knew would take a long time to disappear.

  ‘My father told me you’re the one who found me,’ she said in fluent Greek, giving Mavros a shy look. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It’s my pleasure,’ he said. ‘Come on, we have to get out of here.’ He led them to the stairs. Dmitri watched over his daughter as she walked awkwardly, both hands on the walls.

  As they reached the bottom, Damis came inside quickly and turned off the light. ‘There’s someone coming. I saw headlights on the hillside.’

  Mavros went to the kitchen to extinguish the light there. Before he did so, he saw Dmitri pull an automatic pistol from behind his back.

  ‘Sorry, Alex,’ the Russian-Greek said, catching his eye. ‘I lie. Maybe now you are happy I did.’

  ‘Take your daughter back upstairs,’ Damis said. ‘And don’t fire unless you have to.’

  In the torchlight Mavros saw that he had drawn his weapon too. ‘What am I supposed to do?’ he asked. ‘Throw the tripe at them.’

  ‘It’ll be better than nothing,’ Damis said, with a hollow laugh. ‘I’m going outside. I’ll take cover behind the wall round the terrace. You get under the dining-room table.’

  Mavros did as he was told, his heart pounding. Was this how it was to end? As soon as Dmitri and Katia were reunited, Ricardo and his men rolled up to reclaim her? He knew his client wouldn’t allow that without a fight. But what about Damis? How committed was he to taking on Ricardo? How far could he trust one of Rea Chioti’s men? Then he thought of the Father. Was there really a chance that he knew anything about Andonis? How likely was it that a notorious torturer would talk if he did? He crouched under the table, listening to the sound of a high-powered car come closer up the track. It didn’t go round the back as they had done. Two doors opened and were slammed shut. He heard footsteps approach the terrace.

  ‘Turn that torch on, Pano.’

  Mavros recognised the voice of Yannis.

  ‘Here, Yanni, the door’s been—’

  There was a heavy thud and the sound of a body hitting the terrace.

  ‘Hands high, Yanni.’

  ‘Dami? What the fuck are you playin’ at?’

  Mavros went to the front door. Turning on the light, he saw Damis take an automatic and a switchblade from Yannis’s pockets. The gorilla called Panos was stretched out on the stone tiles.

  ‘You!’ Yannis said, his eyes darting from Mavros to Damis. ‘You bastards are in this together?’

  ‘Get inside, shithead.’ Damis pushed him forward, the pistol still raised. ‘Here,’ he said, handing Mavros the gun he’d taken from Yannis. ‘You know how to operate a Glock?’

  Mavros took the weapon and racked the slide. ‘I think I can manage.’ He heard steps on the stair and looked round. Dmitri was standing there, his face flushed. He went up to Yannis and drove his fist into his belly.

  ‘You do this to my daughter, pig?’ he shouted, grabbing his hair. ‘Fuck you!’ He smashed the other man’s head against the wall.

  ‘Stop it!’ Katia screamed from the staircase. ‘Stop it, all of you! You’re as bad as they are.’

  Damis grabbed the unconscious Yannis. ‘You’re right.’ He glanced at Mavros and his client. ‘Come on, get them inside.’

  They dragged the two men into the house and sat them on chairs in the dining-room. Damis found some rope in the boot of the Mercedes and bound their wrists. ‘Pity we knocked them both out,’ he said. ‘I wanted to ask where Ricardo was.’

  ‘You may still be able to,’ Mavros said, pointing at Panos. The muscleman was groaning, his head swinging to and fro.

  Damis went into the kitchen and returned with a saucepan full of water. He dumped it over the captive’s head. ‘Pano, is Ricardo coming?’ he said, pulling the groaning man’s tie tight. ‘Is Ricardo coming?’

  ‘Dami? Is that you? What the—’

  Dmitri pushed Damis aside and grabbed the captive’s neck. ‘I’ll kill you, animal. You feel my fingers?’

  Panos squealed and tried to push his chair back. His face reddened and his eyes were protruding. ‘Yes,’ he croaked. ‘Soon.’

  ‘On his own?’ Mavros asked.

  ‘No…no…’ Panos slumped forward as the Russian-Greek loosened his grip. He looked up at them blearily. ‘He’s bringing the…the Father and…Son.’

  Mavros looked at Damis. ‘We wait, okay?’

  The tall man pursed his lips and then smiled. ‘Okay, we wait.’

  Dmitri glanced at his daughter and stepped back from the chair. He had the look of a man who’d just won the New Year’s Day lottery.

  Rea Chioti was sitting in her private quarters, a cigarette in one hand and a glass of cognac in the other. She was wearing a black trouser suit, her high heels on the rug beside her stockinged feet. By this stage in the evening, she would normally have changed into something less formal, but she was expecting visitors. The first ones should have been Damis and the investigator Mavros. She’d asked the ex-bouncer why his name didn’t appear on any register in his home island. He said he’d bought a false ID card from a friend. She was almost convinced. She wondered where they were, but then the thought of Jenny Ikonomou distracted her.

  When the actress rang in the afternoon and asked if they could meet, Rea had been puzzled. Although she’d met her occasionally over the years, they’d never acknowledged their shared past. Nor had they mentioned Ricardo. Rea assumed that Jenny knew her brother worked for the family and wasn’t interested. The actress was notorious for her autocratic manner. Rea admired that, though she had no time for people who wasted their talents on TV. What could her former comrade want? She hadn’t responded when Rea asked the purpose of the visit. Maybe she’d fallen on hard times and was going to blackmail Rea about the old days. That would be a very bad idea.

  Emptying her glass, Rea stood up and looked at herself in the mirror above the fireplace. The plastic surgery had changed her appearance. Perhaps the actress didn’t realise she was Roza Arseni. Another thought struck her. What if Jenny Ikonomou was going to tell her something about Ricardo? Recently he’d been behaving strangely. She wondered if Damis was right. Was Ricardo no longer reliable? It would be difficult to cope without him, but that would be nothing compared with life without the Father. She considered calling the old man to find
out if he was all right, then dismissed the idea. Their relationship didn’t work on the level of common courtesies. If the Father had lost his grip, he wouldn’t tell her. He’d simply disappear, like an elephant heading to the graveyard.

  The intercom buzzed.

  ‘The actress Jenny Ikonomou is at the lower checkpoint,’ her assistant said. ‘She has two women with her. According to the guards, one of them is a nurse and the other’s…well, the other’s a patient.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘A mental patient, it seems. She’s calm enough.’

  Rea felt a stir of disquiet. ‘All right. Make sure they’re searched.’

  She pulled on her shoes and stood to her full height.

  Ten minutes later the actress walked in like a queen at the head of a procession. She was dressed in a full-length dress with brightly coloured African motifs on it, her raven hair swept back in a chignon. She nodded to Rea, then turned to the two women behind.

  ‘Come in, my dear,’ she said to the one leaning on the nurse’s arm.

  Rea stood where she was, an icy finger running up her spine. The woman’s face was ravaged, her grey-white hair lank and her eyes moving continuously. There was something about her that Rea recognised, something about the expression—a kindliness, despite the restless eyes and the tight mouth.

  ‘Who is this, Jenny?’ she asked. ‘Are you doing some kind of charity work?’

  The actress finished settling the woman into a chair and signalled to the nurse to sit by the window. ‘Yes, you could say this is for charity. Don’t you recognise our old comrade, Roza?’

  Rea made no reaction to her former name. She was studying the ruined figure in the armchair. No, it couldn’t be, she thought. It was impossible.

  ‘You do, don’t you?’ Jenny said, walking up to her. ‘Come on, think back to when you were a student. When you were in the youth party.’

  ‘No,’ Rea said, blinking back a cascade of images. ‘No, I don’t know this person.’

  ‘Say her name,’ the actress insisted. ‘Say her name, Roza.’

  ‘Era,’ Rea said in a low voice. ‘Can it really be Era Bala?’

  The woman in the chair looked at her, a flash of recognition in her eyes.

  ‘That’s right,’ Jenny said, taking Rea’s arm. ‘Come closer. She doesn’t speak, I’m afraid. She lost that ability after she lost Manos.’

  Rea’s knees almost gave way, but she managed to stay upright. She pulled her arm away from the actress. ‘Why have you brought her here?’

  ‘It’s time we all came to terms with what happened during the dictatorship, Roza.’ Jenny put her hand on the sitting woman’s shoulder. ‘You see, until now I thought that I was responsible for Manos and Era’s suffering. I told the interrogators everything, they didn’t even need to touch me. Then my father got me out of the cells. I was so ashamed. All I wanted to do was forget the Party and make a new life.’ She gave a bitter smile. ‘But it wasn’t a real life. It was empty, nothing more than a series of disguises.’

  Rea shuddered as she thought of her golden mask. ‘You said you felt guilty until now.’

  The actress straightened her back. ‘That’s right. Now I see it differently. I learned something from the brother of a former comrade of ours. Remember Andonis Mavros? His brother Alex has turned up new information. It was you who betrayed us, wasn’t it? You were eaten up with jealousy, you wanted Manos for yourself. But he felt nothing for you except as a comrade.’ She pointed to Era. ‘I took her in when I found her, but you took her life away. Have you the courage to admit that to her face?’

  Rea stepped back, her hands shaking. The woman she’d watched on the table, the woman she’d laughed at when the Father mounted her, Manos screaming, trying to break free from his bonds—this was what remained of Era. She was a silent wreck, but worst of all was the expression of delight that transformed her cracked features as she stretched out her hands to Rea. After all she’d been through, it seemed she held no grudge.

  ‘No,’ Rea said, her voice hard. ‘This is insane.’ She went to the intercom and called her assistant in.

  ‘A shame,’ Jenny said, ‘but I can’t say I’m surprised. You’ve been in the Chiotis family too long to have a conscience. I remember when you were a brave comrade, Roza. Before you forgot what it means to be human.’ She turned away.

  Rea watched as the woman left. Era gave her another beatific smile before she disappeared behind the door.

  What was it like to forgive the person who betrayed you, who watched you in your bitterest humiliation, Rea wondered. Then she remembered what the actress had said. Alex Mavros was the one who’d unearthed her secrets. She’d told Damis to bring him to the house. When they came, she’d have to relive the shame again.

  Rea shivered, her breath rasping in her throat. It came to her how her grandmother had comforted her when she was little, saying, ‘My Roza, you’re too pretty to be unhappy.’ She started to cry like the innocent child she wished she could become again.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  MAVROS WAS WITH Damis at the window of one of the bedrooms upstairs in the house on the hill. They’d left the ground-floor lights on to give the impression that Yannis and Panos had opened up the house. Dmitri and Katia were in the back bedroom. The Russian-Greek had a frightening expression on his face. Mavros didn’t even try to take the gun from him.

  ‘Are you sure those guys can breathe with the gags you tied round their mouths?’ Mavros asked in a low voice. They’d put Yannis in the cellar where they’d found Katia and left Panos tied to the chair in the dining-room to lure Ricardo and the others in.

  ‘Yes,’ Damis replied, his eyes on the moonlit track. ‘You’re too soft, Alex. They’re heartless bastards.’

  ‘They’re your partners.’

  ‘You think I’m like them?’

  Mavros thought about the way he’d been behaving. ‘No, I don’t. I’m not sure what you are. Why are you putting your life on the line with Ricardo, let alone the Father and Son? Rea Chioti isn’t going to be impressed if we take them out.’

  Damis looked over his shoulder. He took in the Russian-Greek with an arm round his daughter, the automatic in his other hand. ‘It isn’t right what Ricardo did to that girl. As for the Father and Son, they’re butchers. I’ve seen them at work.’

  ‘So you admit you know them.’ Mavros saw the pain on his face. ‘What’s eating you?’

  Damis turned to him. ‘The woman I loved. Martha. She…the drugs took her. I tried to get her off them, but she didn’t make it.’

  ‘She died?’

  ‘Worse. She lost her mind. She doesn’t even know me.’

  Mavros moved closer. ‘What are you saying, Damis? You’re in this to get back at the people who traffic the shit?’

  ‘There’s something wrong with that? The Chiotis family have ruined plenty of lives apart from Martha’s.’

  Things fell into place—the punch that Damis had pulled, the way he’d made contact with Mavros and his client, his easy familiarity with weapons. ‘You’re an undercover cop, aren’t you?’

  ‘I can’t answer that,’ Damis said, his eyes locked on the track and the rocky outcrop beyond.

  ‘You just did.’ Mavros felt a wave of relief wash over him. ‘Why don’t you call for back-up?’

  Damis shrugged. ‘You know what would happen. The idiots would send in an army. They’d blow my cover and I’m not ready for that. I want to do as much damage as I can. That means putting the squeeze on Rea Chioti.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t trust my own people. The Chiotis family has bought plenty of them.’

  ‘Does Nikos Kriaras know about you?’

  ‘The new commander?’ Damis moved his face closer to the glass. ‘I imagine so. I don’t know him. Do you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you trust him?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Let’s hope he isn’t one of the family’s men.’ Damis raised a hand. ‘I can hear a car.’
/>   Mavros could too. He watched as a double beam of light shone up into the sky above the rock. ‘They’re coming.’

  Damis nodded. ‘Let’s get downstairs.’

  ‘Remember what we agreed, Dmitri,’ Mavros said to his client on the way to the stair. ‘Whatever happens, you stay up here with Katia.’ He took in the young woman’s wan face and wished he could have got her out of the house. But Katia gave him an encouraging smile, her arm round her father’s broad back. She looked exhausted, but there was no sign of fear in her eyes.

  Mavros hoped the same could be said of his.

  The Father looked at the Son as the Audi came round the corner and headed up the track to the house. Although his offspring had the usual loose smile on his lips, there was an air of tension about him that confirmed the Father’s suspicions. The fool was planning something and Ricardo was in on it.

  ‘They’re here,’ the bald man said from behind the wheel. ‘That’s the car. I don’t know why Yannis hasn’t been answering his phone.’

  The Father took out his mobile. ‘No signal up here.’

  ‘Ah,’ Ricardo said, his shoulders relaxing. ‘I thought something had happened to them.’ He pulled up behind the Mercedes and looked round. ‘They’ll have the Russian trussed up ready for you,’ he said to the Father.

  The old man took the bag with his tools in one hand. ‘Let’s proceed, then,’ he said, opening the door.

  The Son stood at the steps leading to the terrace. ‘Nice place you’ve got here, Ricardo,’ he said ironically. ‘You didn’t think of planting trees to make it a bit more homely?’

  ‘I think you’ll find it’s homely enough inside.’ The bald man moved round the car. ‘After you,’ he said to the Father, extending his arm.

  ‘No, after you,’ the old man replied, watching them. The look that passed between the Son and Ricardo was the final proof. The Father saw the guilt in their eyes. He put his right hand into his jacket pocket and felt the butt of his service revolver. It was a long time since he’d used it, but he kept it in perfect condition.