The White Sea

by Paul Johnston

  He was no expert but it looked very like a hand grenade.

  Mavros’s mother showed no surprise when Laura came into the saloni in mid-morning. ‘Ah, Ms …’

  ‘Moreno, but please call me Laura. Alex invited me to stay, I hope that’s all right. I’m sorry, I never oversleep.’

  ‘As you can see, my son almost always does so. Help yourself to his breakfast.’ The old woman smiled encouragingly.

  ‘He has a sweet tooth, I see.’

  The table was covered with croissants, cake and several jams.

  ‘Oddly, he takes his coffee without sugar. The rest is his Scottish genes. My country is notorious for its sugary diet.’

  Laura poured herself orange juice and tore apart a croissant before dipping the pieces in strawberry jam.

  ‘That’s home-made,’ Dorothy said, ‘but not by me. I used to until I had a stroke. I still work though.’

  ‘Alex told me about your publishing company.’

  ‘He’s been a great help. And you? What brings you to the Edinburgh of the south? My Greek friends hate me calling it that.’

  Laura laughed. ‘I’ve been to Edinburgh. It’s a beautiful city.’

  ‘In the centre, yes. Some of the poor areas on the outskirts are as bad as any in Europe.’

  ‘Everywhere it’s the same – certainly in Bogotá.’

  ‘My, you’re a long way from home.’

  ‘I run a family company, though it’s rather larger than yours.’

  ‘And what do you produce?’

  ‘Weapons. We supply several national armies.’

  Dorothy failed to hide her surprise. ‘You’re an arms dealer?’

  ‘No, no, we manufacture and I make sure we work directly with end-users. Dealers in what we make are … unpleasant people.’

  ‘Ah. You’re here on business?’

  ‘Of a sort.’

  ‘Only I don’t think the Greek armed forces are going to be in the market for new weapon supplies in the near future.’

  Laura finished her juice. ‘I’ve read of the economic situation. No, I have a small interest in shipping.’

  Mavros appeared, his hair wrapped in a towel. ‘You’re up,’ he said to the guest.

  ‘As you see. Good morning.’

  Mavros returned the greeting and then kissed his mother on the cheek.

  ‘Laura makes guns,’ Dorothy said.

  ‘I know. I’m keeping my head down.’

  ‘Idiot.’ Dorothy raised an eyebrow, her curiosity unspoken but clear enough.

  ‘Laura knows Kostas Gatsos,’ Mavros said. ‘We’re going to Lesvos to check some leads out.’

  ‘Are you? Let me see, I’m sure we have friends on the island. Kiki … no, her husband died last year and she’s back in Athens …’

  ‘It’s all right, Mother. We don’t need somewhere to stay. I’ve booked rooms.’

  There was a short silence.

  ‘How about some Greek coffee?’ Mavros said to Laura. ‘Though I can’t promise it’ll be as good as you’ve had from Kostas Gatsos.’

  ‘Yes, please. Like you I take no sugar.’

  ‘Except in pastries and jam.’

  She smiled. ‘Your standard breakfast, I gather.’

  ‘Oh no. The Fat Man’s galaktoboureko – custard pie – is what I go for when I have the chance. Which is at least three times a week. Back in a few minutes.’

  Laura watched him go and turned to Dorothy. She had noticed the photographs on the dresser.

  ‘Alex told me about your older son.’

  Dorothy’s eyes widened. ‘Did he? It’s unusual for him to open up to a stranger. Andonis … Andonis is the mystery in our family, the gap, the silence. We’ve got on with our lives, but deep down he still defines us all.’ She smiled sadly. ‘We’re incomplete, craving even the worst sign of what happened to him. He’s why Alex became a missing persons specialist, of course.’

  Laura went over and sat by her, then took her wrinkled hand. ‘In my country people disappear all the time. It is a ruinous situation. Did I say that right?’

  Dorothy leaned against her. ‘You did, my dear. In truth, we are ruined.’

  Mavros reappeared with a tray on which he had put two small cups. He peered at them dubiously then went to the table. Laura joined him shortly afterwards and they began to speak about Santiago Rojas and the Gatsos group.

  When they left an hour later, Dorothy held her son back at the door and whispered to him, ‘She’s a good one. Don’t let her go.’

  Mavros gave her an infuriated look, before kissing her on the cheek and reminding her to apply the bolts and chain. As he followed the Colombian to the lift he shook his head. Trust his mother. He hadn’t even laid lips on Laura Moreno and there was Dorothy envisaging them as a couple.

  She was usually a good judge of character, though.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Nikos Kriaras tossed the print-out on to his desk.

  ‘Well done, lieutenant – at last. Now what are you going to do about it?’

  ‘Follow them. I’ve booked two seats on the same flight.’

  ‘Two? I’m not going back to that lesbian-overrun island.’

  Babis looked above the brigadier’s head. ‘I didn’t think you were, sir. Permission to take Sergeant Latsou.’

  ‘On the grounds that you and she did such a sterling job finding nothing out from your meeting with Mavros at his obese companion’s shit hole last night?’

  ‘It was her idea to run Mavros’s name through today’s flight manifests.’

  ‘Was it now?’ Kriaras grinned. ‘Maybe she’s in line for promotion.’

  Lieutenant Haralambidhis stood to attention, his face impassive but his mind roiling.

  ‘Very well, take her with you. Need I remind you about the regulations concerning fraternisation?’

  ‘No, sir.’ Babis was innocent of any infraction. When he’d tried to take Elisavet’s hand last night she’d pulled it away, though her smile gave him grounds for hope. ‘Something else, sir. You notice the highlighted name Moreno, Laura?’

  The brigadier stretched forward, examined the list and nodded impatiently.

  ‘She’s one of the Colombians who’s a shareholder in the Gatsos group. A further check of flight manifests showed that she arrived from Bogotá via Madrid yesterday. Another Colombian, Santiago Rojas, was on the same plane.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Not going to Lesvos.’

  Kriaras twitched his head. ‘So what, Haralambidhi? Is this man of interest to us?’

  ‘Potentially. He’s also a shareholder in the Gatsos group and he owns a ship, the Greenland Reefer, that’s under arrest in South Korea for breaking the embargo on trading with the North.’

  ‘Did you find that out or was it another of the thrusting Sergeant Latsou’s contributions?

  ‘I did, sir.’

  ‘What course of action do you propose?’

  ‘We could find out where he’s staying, put a tail on him.’

  ‘Why? Because he owns a ship that’s been arrested on the other side of the world? That isn’t a crime under Greek law.’

  ‘Perhaps you could ask Loukas Gatsos about him, sir.’

  ‘Perhaps I could.’ The brigadier frowned. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because he might be involved in the kidnapping – there are suspicions that he’s a drug supplier, as well as in league with the revolutionary FARC guerillas.’

  ‘Whose are these suspicions?’

  ‘The FBI’s. I spoke to their man here.’

  ‘You did what?’

  ‘You were in the management meeting, sir. I decided it couldn’t wait.’

  Nikos Kriaras damped down the volcano that was threatening to blow inside him – inter-agency liaison was his domain. ‘I’d rather you didn’t go tripping off to Lesvos, but I can see the virtues of keeping an eye on Mavros. Make sure he doesn’t spot you.’

  ‘No, sir, I mean, yes, sir. We’ve come up with a good cover.’

 
The brigadier eyed him doubtfully. ‘All right, but keep in regular contact. Don’t turn your mobile off for a second. And minimise expenses.’

  Lieutenant Babis saluted and left the office. The expenses might not be a problem. He was going to suggest to Elisavet that they share a room – for the benefit of the Greek tax payer, of course.

  Mavros and Laura sat together on the plane, which was only half full. The Fat Man and Marianthi – who had managed to talk her mother into looking after her kids – had started off immediately behind them, but had moved to a more secluded area.

  ‘Touching, aren’t they?’ said Mavros.

  Laura laughed. ‘You’re very cynical, Alex Mavros.’

  ‘With Yiorgos for a best friend, I have to be.’

  ‘I told you, he’s a good man. So are you.’

  ‘That’s Latin American candor, is it?’

  ‘Maybe.’ She looked out of the window. ‘When I was at Yale, my room mates laughed at me because I always said what I thought. I learned from that. In Colombia I have a reputation for being reserved. Steely, even.’

  Mavros smiled. ‘I’d have difficulties with the man or woman in the Bogotá street then.’

  ‘I’m not always like this. I’m relieved to get away from Santiago.’ Her tone was suddenly less confident. ‘And from Athens. I don’t want to see the Gatsos family at this time.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Laura was staring out of the window. ‘The sea is white.’

  Mavros moved his head. ‘Little white goats, they’re called here. White horses in English. At this time of year the blue isn’t as bright as you’ll have seen in summer.’

  ‘The Gatsos family – I don’t know what I’d say to them, not least because I know Santiago is scheming against them.’

  ‘You could tell them.’

  She turned to him. ‘Yes, but that would make Santiago my enemy, which would not be good for Colarmco. His company is big and he has many politicians in his pocket. I fear for my family as well as myself.’ Her face hardened. ‘But I don’t take well to being threatened.’

  Mavros took in the mixture of emotions. ‘Why do you think Rojas got into shipping? If he’s a drugs kingpin, he’ll be using small aircraft and boats rather than ocean-going vessels to move his product, won’t he?’

  Laura nodded. ‘It’s true. I think he is power-mad. Kostas Gatsos is one of the world’s best-known tycoons. What better target for Santiago to take on and beat?’

  ‘But does that include kidnapping?’

  ‘After he turned that Russian on me yesterday, I think anything’s possible.’

  ‘Just as well you came to me.’

  She smiled. ‘I think so.’

  The plane landed shortly afterwards. The Fat Man and Marianthi followed them off. None of them noticed the couple in flowered shirts and unseasonal shorts that hung back until they’d all disembarked.

  The hire car that Mavros had booked – a Japanese 4x4 – was waiting outside the airport. Marianthi got in the driver’s door and Yiorgos joined her in the front.

  ‘Where to?’ she asked

  ‘Molyvos,’ Mavros replied. ‘I want to see the Gatsos villa and there’s a local businessman who might be able to help us. For a start.’

  ‘Two hours at most,’ Marianthi said, handing the map to the Fat Man.

  ‘Have you been here before?’ Mavros asked.

  ‘No. But with the bull bars on this thing, nobody’s going to slow us down.’

  ‘Great,’ Mavros mumbled.

  They drove across the island as the sun began to fail. The hills were verdant after the first rains and the olive trees strained against the wind that had got up from the north.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ Laura said. ‘But not like my country.’

  ‘Tell me,’ Mavros said.

  ‘We are high, nearer the clouds – not just in Bogotá but in the mountains where my people originated. Well, some of my people – I am of mixed descent, native and Spanish.’

  That explains the unusual looks, Mavros thought.

  ‘For me the sea is a foreign element, while it’s in your veins. My spirit resides in the high places, where the peaks point to heaven and the condors hang on the thin air like messengers from another realm.’

  ‘You’re a poet.’

  She laughed. ‘I used to do well with writing at school and university, but my father always made it clear that my future would be in the business, despite my brothers and the fact that they are more westernised. They have never been to our mother’s tribal region.’

  Mavros was beginning to realise that he had a seriously exotic creature next to him. Or was that just a card she was playing to disorient him, to make him spill his thoughts? If she was Rojas’s spy she was a hell of an actress, but he couldn’t rule out the possibility.

  The sun was setting over the choppy sea as the lights of Molyvos appeared in the distance.

  ‘See?’ said Marianthi, looking at the dashboard. ‘One hour and forty-three minutes.’

  ‘My heroine,’ said Yiorgos.

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ said Mavros.

  Santiago Rojas had been unimpressed to find that Laura hadn’t returned to the hotel in the evening, but he assumed she’d gone to dinner with Loukas and Evi Gatsos. When she failed to show in the morning, he began to worry. Had his use of Igor Gogol been a step too far? The stupid bitch. If she talked to anyone, she’d be sorry. In the meantime, he had Greek investors to meet and would have to come up with an excuse for her absence. Illness was the easiest solution. He’d tell them she had a weak constitution, making it even more obvious that he was the main man. On the other hand, he knew how tough Laura was when it came to business.

  His suite was large but characterless, not that he cared. He spent more than a quarter of each year in similar places across the Americas and the wider world. They served his needs adequately. The provision of high-class tarts was easily arranged, but the one he’d had last night – Moldovan, she’d said, which was a first for him – had been too eager to please. That was what drove him crazy about Laura. She wouldn’t give in to him, she sometimes looked at him as if he was a piece of shit. Which he was, of course, he had no illusions about that. But he was soon going to be exceptionally rich and influential. Surely even she couldn’t resist that. If she did he would ruin Colarmco’s operations with strikes and attacks on shipments, then buy the company on the cheap. That would teach her how worthless her self-regard was. She could go to a hut in the mountains and chew coca like her ancestors.

  His mobile rang and he answered it, bending forward as he listened.

  ‘No, Loukas,’ he said, after the irate young man had finished, ‘I’m sorry I didn’t contact you when I arrived yesterday, but a labour dispute flared up in one of our largest mills. My company involved with FARC and drug production? I can’t imagine where you heard such a thing. Not all Colombians dip their hands in the white stuff. The FBI don’t know their dicks from their fingers. What was that? You haven’t seen Laura? No, she was quite distracted when I last saw her. Bad news from home, I think. The arms trade is a difficult one the way the global economy’s heading. I’m busy all day, but hope to see you for dinner tomorrow.’

  So much for Laura. If she turned up he would treat her like a fractious teenager and if she didn’t it would be her loss.

  His phone rang again. This time he bent over even further, straining to catch every word. The news was interesting, very interesting indeed.

  Mavros and company had checked into a guest house near the harbour at Molyvos. They met up half an hour later and repaired to a taverna that their host had recommended. The place was almost empty, a white-haired man in the corner with his head bent over his food and a trio of old loudmouths near the door. The north wind ensured that no one was sitting outside.

  The Fat Man went to the kitchen and did his thing.

  ‘Spaghetti with lobster for five and a large salad, all right?’ he said on his return. ‘Oh, and some mezedhes.’


  The selection of appetizers – pieces of octopus with oregano, small cheese pies, small fish in vinegar – arrived with a litre of white wine. Glasses were filled and chinked before the food was attacked. No one had eaten since the early afternoon.

  The only person who wasn’t concentrating on what was on the table was Mavros. He was looking at his phone, trying to find a photograph. When he did, he compared it with one of the men at the front of the taverna.

  ‘That’s Thanasis Gritsis,’ he said to Yiorgos quietly. ‘The one with the gold chain.’

  ‘I’ve seen him before,’ Laura said. ‘He had an argument with Kostas here in the summer.’ She smiled. ‘The old man threw wine over him.’

  ‘So I heard. Excuse me.’ Mavros got up and went over to the table. ‘Mr Gritsi? Could I have a word?’

  ‘Speak, hippy.’

  The portly man’s companions laughed.

  ‘In private would be better for both of us.’

  Gritsis glared at him and then turned his gaze on the table to the rear. It looked like he recognised Laura.

  ‘Is this about that fucker Gatsos?’

  ‘Why don’t we step outside? We’ll stay in sight of your friends if you’re worried.’

  Gritsis reacted as expected. ‘Worried by a washed out long-hair? Do you know who I am?’

  Mavros nodded respectfully and opened the door. Thanasis Gritsis heaved himself from the table and followed him. They stood on the taverna’s deserted terrace.

  ‘What’s this about? Who the hell are you?’

  Mavros gave him a card. ‘As you surmised, I’m working on the kidnapping. I was wondering if there was anything you could tell me about it.’

  ‘Me? What would I know? Anyway, I’ve spoken to the police.’

  ‘I’ve seen the file. You were less than frank.’

  Gritsis took a step towards him. ‘What the fuck does that mean?’

  Mavros hadn’t moved and their faces were now only a few centimetres apart. ‘You omitted to mention that you had a longstanding feud with Kostas Gatsos.’

  ‘What are you saying? That I had him kidnapped?’

  ‘I’d say that was beyond your capabilities. Gritsis Industries no longer produce olive oil, soap or ouzo. You’re living on your savings, which I have no doubt are substantial but not sufficient to hire professional operators.’