Che Committed Suicide

by Petros Markaris

  ‘The biographies had been sent to the publishers three months previously and more or less on the same day. Whoever this Logaras is, he knew very well what was going to happen.’

  She was thinking about it, either because I had convinced her or because she was searching for some counter-argument, when the secretary came in and whispered something in an agitated fashion in Yannelis’s ear. As soon as Yannelis heard it, she jumped up out of her chair.

  ‘What? When?’

  ‘Just two minutes ago,’ replied the secretary, leaving the office and closing the door behind her.

  Yannelis turned to me. ‘There’s no need for you to continue with your investigations into the causes of the suicides, Inspector,’ she said slowly. ‘Just a short while ago the police arrested three members of that nationalist organisation …’

  ‘Philip of Macedon?’

  ‘Yes. They’ve been charged with the murder of the two Kurds and as accessories before the fact in the suicides of Jason Favieros and Loukas Stefanakos.’

  ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘It’s just been announced in a special news bulletin.’

  29

  I don’t remember how I got to Aristokleous Street. I suppose I must have been led by my reflexes – both in my choice of route and in my observance of the highway code. As for the rest, the only collision I tried to avoid throughout the journey was the one between my thoughts and my feelings. On the one hand, I was trying to think calmly in order to understand what was behind this act, and on the other my thoughts were being confounded by my anger and indignation.

  I barged into the sitting room and found Adriani, as every evening, with the remote control in her hand.

  ‘Where on earth have you been? All hell’s broken loose!’ she shouted, as though I’d been down to the beach at Varkiza for a swim.

  I stood facing the screen waiting anxiously for the world-shattering news, but the TV was earning its name as the gogglebox. A presenter was testing the general knowledge of two young contestants. He was apparently overjoyed when they gave a right answer and he had to pay out and grief-stricken when they got it wrong and he saved his money. I grabbed the remote control and began switching channels, but I ended up flicking from one piece of tripe to the next.

  ‘Don’t be like that,’ Adriani said by way of consolation. ‘They’ve been putting it on every hour. It was on at seven, and it’s sure to be on again at eight.’

  It was the voice of years of viewing experience so I gave up. I waited for fifteen minutes for the programme to end and another ten minutes for the ads to finish. Finally, after half an hour, the title appeared: ARREST OF RIGHT-WING EXTREMISTS FOR MURDER OF TWO KURDS AND AS ACCESSORIES IN SUICIDES OF FAVIEROS-STEFANAKOS.

  The same instant, three close-cropped, brawny types appeared on the screen. They were handcuffed with two of our lot on either side of them and were walking down the familiar corridor outside my office. The first was wearing a T-shirt with some monster from hell depicted on it. The other two were so close together that their trademarks weren’t visible. Lined up along the sides of the corridor were reporters trying to thrust their microphones in the faces of the youths. The questions were coming thick and fast: ‘What do you have to say about the charges against you? Did you kill the two Kurds? How did you feel when you shot them? What do you think about racism? How did you convince Favieros and Stefanakos to commit suicide?’ The youths had their heads bowed and didn’t answer, while the police officers were pushing them in an effort to break through the ring of reporters. As soon as they disappeared, the main attraction was gone and the screen split into various windows.

  ‘The arrest of the three suspects took place today at three in the afternoon following a coordinated operation on the part of the police,’ said one reporter, who had made his appearance just prior to my being shot. ‘The suspects are Stellios Birbiroglou, aged twenty-three, unemployed, Nikos Seitanidis, aged twenty-two, a student at the Physical Education Academy, and Haralambos Nikas, aged twenty-five, an electrician by trade. All three are are being held at Security Headquarters, where their interrogation is ongoing.’

  ‘Have the police made any statement, Vaso?’ the newscaster asked.

  ‘Yes. We have a statement from the Head of Homicide, Inspector Polychronis Yanoutsos.’

  ‘And when on earth did he take over your position,’ Adriani asked in astonishment.

  ‘As I’m on sick leave, someone had to fill my position.’

  ‘Yes, but shouldn’t they say that he’s only standing in for you?’

  ‘Now you’re asking for too much.’

  Nevertheless, I was surprised that it was Yanoutsos who was making the statements and not Ghikas. Ghikas considered statements to the press his own little domain. How come he was letting Yanoutsos trespass on his patch and in such an important case too? Yanoutsos read out the the previously prepared statement from a piece of paper, but the microphones pressed up close to his mouth made him feel uneasy and he coughed at every second word.

  ‘Already, following the suicide of the businessman Jason Favieros, and the ensuing statement by the Philip of Macedon National Greek Front, there was evidence that the aforementioned nationalist organisation was planning to proceed to blackmailing well-known figures and even to political murders. Following the murder of the two Kurds, both of whom were employed on the construction site of Domitis Construction, owned by Jason Favieros, the police began a coordinated operation in order to apprehend the guilty parties. We are now in a position to state that the culprits had been blackmailing Jason Favieros and Loukas Stefanakos for many months, applying more and more pressure and eventually causing both to commit suicide.’

  I was spinning in a huge vacuum. First of all, I had never heard anything about the police having had their eye on the Philip of Macedon National Front. And even if they had, it was work for the Anti-terrorist Squad and not for my department, even less for Yanoutsos, who until just previously had been looking for Mafiosos in order to pin the murder of the two Kurds on them. And why was it Yanoutsos and not Ghikas making the statement, or, for that matter, the head of the Anti-terrorist Squad, who was the one most competent to do so?

  As I was racking my brains to work out what was going on, the lawyer for one of the three accused appeared.

  ‘My client is innocent and is being prosecuted for nothing more than his ideas,’ he said angrily. ‘These are actions that do damage to the validity and functioning of democracy. What person in their right mind can believe that three youths were the instigators in the suicides of two leading figures in the financial and political world such as Jason Favieros and Loukas Stefanakos?’

  ‘And what about the two Kurds?’ one reporter asked.

  ‘My client had no involvement whatsoever in the murder of the two Kurds and we will prove it in court.’

  ‘So you believe that the charges are trumped up?’ another reporter asked.

  ‘What I believe is that some people are looking for scapegoats so that all the fuss surrounding the scandals, which is harming the government, will blow over.’

  ‘You see, now, that you didn’t believe me?’ Adriani said triumphantly.

  I nodded my head as though acknowledging her, because I was in no mood at that moment for an argument. The lawyer’s words had opened my eyes and I realised the game that was being played. Petroulakis, the Prime Minister’s adviser, had seen that I had not been in contact with him and had assigned someone else to hush up the business. And so it had fallen to Yanoutsos, without the Anti-terrorist Squad having any part in it.

  This was the coup de grâce as far as the loss of my position was concerned. From the moment that Yanoutsos willingly carried out orders and rounded up the three extremists, there was no way that they wouldn’t reward him. And his reward would be to permanently take over my job. My sick leave would be up in less than a month and so I had to start looking for some refuge straightaway.

  The sound of the phone roused me from my thoughts.
Adriani never answered it when I was in the house because she thought it ninety per cent certain that it would be someone from the department for me. I lifted the receiver and heard Katerina’s voice. ‘Dad, have you heard?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are they right in the head? Are they trying to say that three village idiots forced a business tycoon and a leading politician to commit suicide? What a load of nonsense!’

  ‘Don’t ask me, dear. I know as much as you do about it.’

  ‘Anyway, I’ll tell you one thing. With all that nonsense they’ve no chance in court of making the charges stick.’

  ‘Perhaps there’s more that they’re not saying.’

  ‘Possibly. But more likely, they’re looking for a way to close mouths just like that lawyer said.’

  ‘We’ll see. Let me put your mother on.’

  I was in no mood to go on with the conversation. What Katerina told me I already knew, but that didn’t do anything to change my own fate. They would decorate me for my bravery and put me out to pasture.

  As I was reflecting on all this, I had one of my sudden flashes and understood what Ghikas was up to. The anti-terrorist people may not have known anything, but Ghikas was certainly in on it. Not even a leaf fell to the ground in Security Headquarters without Ghikas knowing about it. With some bitterness I realised that the conclusion I had come to on the day I visited the public notary was correct. Ghikas had supported me as long as the investigation was unofficial and he was in no danger of being compromised himself. However, as soon as he had received orders from his superiors to close the case, he had left me playing blind man’s buff and supported Yanoutsos because it suited him.

  I felt anger rising inside me and rushed to the phone. I called Ghikas at home. I let the phone ring at least a dozen times, but no one answered. Of course, I thought to myself, he suspected I might call and he’s not answering so as not to get into an unpleasant conversation with me and lose his peace of mind.

  Adriani shouted from the kitchen that the meal was ready. I sat down to eat a little ratatouille but it just wouldn’t go down.

  ‘Anyway, what are you brooding for?’ said Adriani, seeing me eating without any appetite. ‘Let them gouge each other’s eyes out. You’re not going to save the honour of the Police Force on your own.’

  She thought I was brooding because the Force would be compromised, as I had told her nothing of what was eating away at me. I didn’t care a jot about the Force; what bothered me was losing my position. Of all the transfers I had had, this was the one that suited me to a tee and I liked the job, even though I was always walking a tightrope. Now they would stick me in some operations or planning department and I’d be pushing papers all day long.

  ‘I know what,’ said Adriani rather coyly, and I knew immediately that she was about to come out with something. ‘What would you say to us going to stay with Eleni for a while on the island? She’s always inviting us. If you want my opinion, after the hospital and all we’ve been through, it will do us good. You still have another twenty-seven days’ sick leave.’

  She had counted them down to the very last one, but her idea provided me with a way out. If I got out of Athens for a while, at least I’d get a little peace. I’d get my strength back and I’d come back able to fight for a new position that wouldn’t damage my pride. But despite the positive side to it, I tried not to show too much enthusiasm so she wouldn’t get her hopes up and start nagging at me all the time.

  ‘We’ll give it some thought. It’s not such a bad idea.’

  ‘Wonderful. I’ll call up tomorrow to find out the times of the boats. Eleni told me that there are some new ones that do the trip in six hours. They’re a bit pricey, but it’s worth it.’

  When she really wants something, there’s no need for you to say ‘yes’. All she needs is a ‘we’ll see’.

  ‘All right, find out. But don’t take it as definite.’

  I left half the food on my plate and went to take up position in front of the TV. I knew that apart from losing my appetite, I was also going to lose my sleep. I again watched the three youths dashing down the corridor outside my old office, again listened to Yanoutsos’s statement and again became riled. However, then they showed interviews with the parents and neighbours of the three youths, something that was of interest to me. The parents of all three stated categorically that their sons were innocent. They swore at the government and cursed the police for plunging them into grief and stigmatising their offspring. The truest thing was said by a young lad from the same neighbourhood. ‘Okay, I’m not saying he was a saint, but a murderer? You’ve got to be joking.’

  Just after eleven, I chanced upon a discussion concerning the danger of the extreme right in Greece, once again chaired by Sotiropoulos. The participants were a minister, a prominent member of the opposition, a reporter and a lawyer. The game was being played in the usual way, with little variation: the minister claimed that the danger from the right was always lurking in Greece and the state had to be ever vigilant; the opposition politician rejected all this and accused the government of political exploitation, the minister responded by accusing the opposition of deliberately underestimating the danger in order to benefit from the votes of the extreme rightists. In between, like a wild card, there was, on the one hand, the lawyer, who was trying to explain whether and to what extent there were grounds for a case against the three youths, and, on the other, the reporter, who was trying to engage in a political analysis of the situation. Both were wasting their time as no one was paying any attention to them. Sotiropoulos was playing his usual game of hot and cold: first he would come out with some innuendo to get the participants to flare up and then he would try to maintain a balance.

  That was it, I thought to myself. They’ve managed to do what they set out to do. The next day, all the newspapers, the radio stations and the channels would be talking about the danger of the extreme right and the three youths would come to a bad end.

  It was one of the few nights that before going to sleep I longed to hear the waves breaking on the shore of an island. As soon as I closed my eyes, however, I saw Yanoutsos before me, sitting in my chair, and I opened them again.

  30

  It usually means one of two things when you can’t get to sleep: either you’re full of fear and worry or of vexation and anger. In both cases, you need some kind of sedative. My sedative was my decision to square accounts with Ghikas. Instead of this bringing with it agitation and anxiety, it brought me relief and I managed to sleep a couple of hours.

  So, at ten in the morning, I left the Mirafiori in the garage at Security Headquarters and took the lift up to the fifth floor. Koula’s replacement was there again with a magazine in front of him.

  ‘Inspector Haritos,’ I said, certain that he would have forgotten me as I wasn’t either a Toyota or a Hyundai.

  He cast a glance at me and went back to reading his magazine. As I walked past, I saw his eyes bulging as he had his ugly mug stuck in a two-page advertisement for mobile phones.

  I knocked on Ghikas’s door and went straight in without waiting for an invitation. I found him standing with his back to the desk gazing out of the window into Alexandras Avenue. This was a sign that something was eating him, otherwise he never budges from his chair. As soon as he turned round, I stood on the brake and stayed where I was. I saw a man who was tired, his eyes red from lack of sleep, looking at me as if some great misfortune had befallen him.

  ‘I know what you’re going to say to me,’ he said, ‘but I had no idea.’ He sat down and fixed his eyes on the matching set with the scissors and paperknife on his desk. ‘I had no idea, Costas. Everything happened behind my back.’

  In all the years we had worked together, I had seen him enraged, indifferent, fawning, cunning, secretive … This was the first time I had seen him an emotional wreck and all my anger dissolved. I put everything I had prepared to say to him in the pending tray and sat down in my usual chair without waiting for an invitation
. He slowly lifted his eyes and looked at me.

  ‘All these years I’ve been on the Force, I knew the political leadership at the Ministry had faith in me. If anyone had told me anything to the contrary, I wouldn’t have believed him. And they didn’t only have faith in me because of my ability, but because I always played by the rules, I carried out my orders without question or any disagreement or pretending not to have heard them. Yesterday, for the first time, I felt I was being passed over. I realised that it’s not enough just to follow orders, I have to carry them out to the letter. Not in my own way, which because of my experience is the correct way, but exactly as they are dictated to me, even if what they ask of me is irrational and compromises me.’

  His voice sounded tired and weary, yet sincere. Perhaps because he wasn’t one of those people who easily open themselves to you.

  ‘I have another six years to go before I’m up for retirement,’ he went on. ‘And in those six years, I’m going to have to live with the doubt as to whether they’re telling me the truth or not every time. I’ll be constantly niggled by the thought that behind my back they’re issuing other orders that I won’t know about and that I’ll eventually have to deal with. I ask you, is that a way to live?’

  It wasn’t easy for me to find any comforting words. Not just with Ghikas at that moment, but with Adriani and Katerina too. There are times when I pray that my sympathy shows on my face because the words stick in my throat and won’t come out. That’s how it was then. All I could say was something quite innocuous.

  ‘Didn’t you ask Yanoutsos for an explanation?’

  ‘Yes. Do you know what he replied? Orders from up above. Talk to the Secretary General.’

  ‘And did you?’

  ‘Yes, and he told me that it wasn’t his job to keep me informed and that those beneath me should have informed me earlier.’