Mykonos After Midnight

by Jeffrey Siger

  “I didn’t know he spoke Greek well enough to do that.”

  “Wacki translated for him. Did a pretty good job too. Only one screwup so far as I could tell, and from the way he looked and Sergey reacted, it might have meant something.”

  “What was it?”

  “Sergey was saying how I should learn to play along, and I tried pulling his chain by saying he probably knew the ‘perfect teacher.’ When I said ‘teacher’ Wacki practically choked. He didn’t translate the word, and I thought he didn’t know it in English. I did, so I said it in English. That set Sergey off on Wacki about why I was talking about ‘teacher.’ I know enough English to tell Sergey was talking about ‘teacher’ as if teacher were a person.”

  “Who’s ‘teacher?’”

  “I don’t know, I was hoping you might.”

  “Not a clue.”

  “No problem, I have a friend at Europol I can run it by. I’ll give him a call when we hang up. He might know something.”

  “We sure could use a break.”

  “And soon. I hate being off the job. First time in more than––”

  “I know a hundred years.”

  “Sure feels like it at times. Take care. I’ve got to get back to my coffee commitments. I’m a busy man these days. Yiasou.”

  Andreas put down the phone. It was the house phone, so unlikely to be tapped as no one other than Tassos, Lila, and Maggie knew he was there. Or so he hoped.

  Time to join Yianni for some fun in the sun, he thought. Andreas hadn’t been a cop for anywhere near as long as Tassos, but he knew one thing for sure: Enjoy the downtime when you could, because the monsters lurking out there would be back soon enough.

  ***

  Sergey stopped on a dirt path that wound east away from the windmills along a ledge overlooking the water. He stood behind the other government-built hotel in town, a modernism gem designed by legendary Greek architect Aris Konstantinidis, and looked west at a small church sitting on a rise above the sea, just below and southeast of the windmills. Wacki had picked it as the place for Sergey’s one-on-one meeting with the Albanian, assuring Sergey the church would be empty and only tourists came that way at this time of day.

  Besides, the Albanian was not comfortable meeting with what he called “a Russian with big ideas” at a deserted spot. Sergey couldn’t blame him. Life often ended abruptly in his line of work. No reason to take chances.

  But now that the meeting was over and they’d reached an understanding, things should work smoothly from here on out. Each had something the other needed.

  Everything was falling into place. Too bad for those cops. They’d had their chance.

  ***

  When not at home or in his office at police headquarters, Tassos always parked his car at Syros’ city hall in spaces reserved for government officials. Suspended or not he wasn’t about to change his routine. Besides, no one would dare stop him and he didn’t give a damn about whatever bullshit the media might say about him, assuming any had the balls to come to Syros and confront him.

  It was close to midnight, and Tassos’ plans for coffee only and an early night had turned into ouzo, tsipouro, and whiskey with friends. He generally didn’t drink much, but he was pissed off and Maggie wasn’t around to keep him in line. He’d spoken to his Europol contact who promised to check if they had anything on a “teacher” character and get right back to him. That was hours ago. He’d better press him first thing in the morning.

  Syros streets were relatively quiet at night. Not like Mykonos. He’d made his way down the alley from the taverna, and a block or so in the direction of his parked car, when he saw two men forcing a young girl into the doorway of a vacant, old storefront. One man had his hand over the girl’s mouth. She was kicking and shaking her head as if trying to scream, but no sound came out. They disappeared inside the doorway.

  Tassos pulled his gun and moved carefully along the front of the building. The windows were covered over in old newspapers. By the time he reached the doorway the attackers and girl were gone.

  He tried the door knob. It turned. He pressed his hand against the door. It moved. He pushed harder and listened. He heard what sounded like a scuffle, a slap, and the ripping of clothes.

  No time to call for backup. The girl would be raped before they got here.

  Tassos crossed himself and stepped inside. There was enough moonlight coming through a doorway on the right side of the rear wall for him to tell he was alone in the front room. He moved slowly toward sounds coming through that same doorway: the grunting of a man and the crying of a girl.

  He paused at the doorway. They had to be inside and off to the left. He drew in and let out a deep breath, and swung into the room, gun barrel first. The girl was sitting on a chair smoking a cigarette and making crying sounds. On a chair next to her was a man grunting. There were two other men in the room, each with a shotgun aimed at Tassos’ head.

  The four began to laugh. Tassos did not. He dropped his gun.

  The girl stood, walked toward him, kicked his gun away, smiled, and ran one finger up his arm and along his back as she walked behind him. Tassos waited for what was coming. Then he felt it. A sharp needle prick in his neck.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  I wondered how it would end. I knew it would. With all the mistakes I’ve made, my crazy chances, and lousy choices I’m surprised it hasn’t come sooner. Maybe I’ve just been trying to hurry it along? Get out of here and on to the next place. If there is a next place, I want to see my wife, my son. It’s been too long.

  Lord, why didn’t you give us even a single day together here on earth?

  Tassos’ mind wandered. Lord, is it okay if I have sex with my wife in heaven?

  He laughed at the thought. At least he thought he was laughing. But he wasn’t sure if he was awake or dreaming. He heard voices in a language he did not understand.

  Perhaps I’m with my son and he’s talking to me? I must learn to understand him. I feel the rocking of the cradle. As if we’re in it together on the day he was born. But he was in heaven on that day and I wasn’t with him. Only his mother was there.

  At least he wasn’t alone. Or she.

  I feel the rocking, son. I feel the twisting. I hear your voice. I hear the engine. I…

  Tassos caught his thought.

  We are in a boat moving through rough waters. It is not you in the boat, son. But these people will have me with you soon, my child. I have no doubt about that.

  He thought of Maggie. I will miss you, my love.

  The rocking stopped.

  ***

  Sunlight was barely above the horizon when the phone rang. Andreas tried ignoring it. Then he heard Kouros’ mobile ringing in the next room. Both ringing at the same time likely meant a conference call, and that meant only one caller.

  He reached for the phone and fumbled for the answer button. “Maggie, what’s up?”

  “Tassos is missing!”

  Andreas sat up on the edge of the bed. He’d never heard panic in Maggie’s voice before. But he recognized the fear from what he’d once felt in his own voice when killers stalked Lila and he could do nothing to protect her.

  “How do you know?” said Kouros on his phone.

  “He promised he’d call me in Athens as soon as he got home last night from the taverna. He never called.”

  Andreas relaxed. “Maybe he just passed out and forgot to call?”

  “That’s what I thought, too, and why I didn’t bother to call him last night. But this morning I tried his mobile and his home phone and there was no answer.”

  Kouros stuck his head in Andreas’ room, covered his phone with his hand, and whispered, “Maybe he got lucky and didn’t make it home?”

  Andreas shrugged and said to Maggie. “I’m sure he’ll turn up.”

  “I called Niko, Ta
ssos’ friend who owns the taverna, and he said the last thing Tassos said before he left was ‘I’m heading home to call Maggie.’”

  “Still,” said Andreas, “he could have driven home and just forgot to call. Besides, if God forbid, there was an accident I’m sure we’d have heard by now.”

  “There was no accident. I called his assistant, Adonis, and he said ‘not to worry’ because Tassos’ car was in the City Hall parking lot all night. One of the patrol guys had joked to him about Tassos tying on such a big one that he probably forgot where he’d parked his car.”

  Andreas felt it first in the pit of his stomach.

  “What should I do? I’m sure something has happened to him,” said Maggie.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll make some calls as soon as we hang up and get back to you. By the way, what’s the telephone number for Tassos’ friend, Niko?”

  Maggie told him. “Please, call me as soon as you hear anything.”

  “Promise. Bye.”

  Andreas looked at Kouros. “That doesn’t sound like Tassos.”

  “If he’s off with some woman no one is going to tell Maggie the truth.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m calling his friend.”

  Andreas dialed the number and waited.

  “Hello.”

  “Niko?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hi, this is Andreas Kaldis, Tassos Stamatos’ friend and I––.”

  “Have you found him?”

  The knot in Andreas’ stomach was now bigger, and tighter. “I was hoping you’d tell me not to worry.”

  “He left here a little drunk but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. And I know he wasn’t going anywhere but home.”

  “Could he have stayed somewhere else last night? Perhaps with a friend in town?”

  “If you mean a woman, he could have but he didn’t. I’m sure of that.”

  “Maybe if he was drunk someone gave him a ride home and he’s still sleeping it off?”

  “Are you suggesting that Tassos Stamatos would admit to anyone that he was too drunk to drive home? What Greek ever admits to that? Besides, as I said before, he wasn’t that drunk.”

  Andreas fluttered his lips. “Okay, thanks. But let me know if you hear anything.”

  Andreas hung up.

  “If he’s not at home…” Andreas let the thought drift off.

  He dialed another number. “Hi, this is Chief Inspector Andreas Kaldis. I’m trying to locate Tassos Stamatos and I understand––.”

  “Hi, Chief, it’s Adonis, I work with Tassos.”

  “Oh, yes, how are you, Adonis?”

  “Fine, thanks. I assume you’re calling about his whereabouts?”

  “Yes.”

  “After Maggie called I asked a buddy to drive by his house and wake him up.”

  Andreas let out a breath. “Great! So you found him?”

  “Not yet. There was no one home. The neighbors hadn’t seen him either. Maybe he stayed with someone in town?”

  Andreas consciously kept his voice flat. “I think we have to take this to a different level, Adonis, and quickly. According to his friend, Niko, he was alone and headed straight home.”

  “What are you saying?” said Adonis.

  “All I can tell you is that we’re working together on an investigation involving some very desperate people who think he has something they want very badly. I’m afraid we must assume that Tassos has been kidnapped.”

  Pause.

  “I knew he was clean. What do you want us to do?”

  “Retrace the steps Tassos would have taken from the taverna to his car. Speak to everyone in every building along the way and check every security camera with a glimpse of his route to see if they caught anything.”

  “Will do.”

  Andreas paused. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you this, Adonis, but if the people who have him are who I think, we have a very small window in which to find our friend alive.”

  “You don’t. Now if you’ll excuse me I have to make arrangements for the citizens of Syros to undergo a period of woefully inadequate police protection. I’ll call you back on this number as soon as we have anything, but by noon at the latest. Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  “Why don’t we just bust Sergey’s head until he turns over Tassos?” said Kouros.

  “Nothing would please me more. But he’ll deny everything, and pressure from us could push him to kill Tassos sooner. As long as he thinks you and I aren’t on to his tie-in to the kidnapping he has no reason to kill Tassos before getting Christos’ files.”

  “But Tassos doesn’t know where Christos’ files are. I hid them. He has nothing to tell them.”

  Andreas nodded. “I know.”

  Kouros rubbed his forehead. “Maybe we should tell Sergey we’re willing to trade the files for Tassos?”

  “I wish it were that easy. No way he’s going to let Tassos live after this, no matter what we do.”

  Andreas stood up, walked over to the window, and pulled back the curtain. He watched the sunlight play along the sea. “Nor can he allow us to live.” Andreas turned away from the window. “He knows we’ll come after him for what he did to Tassos.”

  “He can’t just go around killing cops,” said Kouros.

  “Dirty cops? At least that’s how he’ll try to play it. And if he can’t make it stick, it won’t be much consolation to us if we’re dead.”

  “We have to do something.”

  “Yes, and the first thing is to get protection for your family and mine. Sergey is more than capable of going after them when he can’t find us.”

  “And second?”

  “Try to convince ourselves that we have a snowball’s chance in hell of finding our friend in time if his Syros buddies turn up empty.”

  ***

  If there’s a universal brotherhood among free-world cops, what binds them together is the unstated premise that civilians don’t appreciate them. And in Greece, where cops are vilified as corrupt, lazy, and inept, and targeted with stones and molotov cocktails at public demonstrations, that brotherhood is very strong.

  If a Syriot ever wondered precisely how many cops were on the island’s police force, all that citizen had to do was count the number of uniforms on the streets around City Hall that morning. Every cop on the island, whether on-duty, off-duty, on holiday, or out sick, was there with a photograph of Tassos and a “you damn well better speak up if you know anything” attitude.

  By ten that morning they’d found a waiter who the night before had been walking toward the harbor for a drink after work when he passed Tassos going the other way, toward City Hall. They’d said hello to each other, and according to the waiter, “He seemed fine.”

  When Adonis passed the news on to Andreas, Andreas told him to narrow the search to streets Tassos could have taken between where the waiter saw him and his car.

  At ten thirty a sergeant found an abandoned store with an unlocked door. Inside the place was empty except for two chairs and a cigarette butt on the floor in a back room. A fresh butt. He called forensics and by noon a print matching Tassos’ was lifted from the front door.

  A security camera mounted on the roof of a bank just around the corner and across the street from the building caught a partial rear view of the top of a white van pulling up on the driver’s side in front of the building, stopping for ninety seconds, and pulling away, all within twenty minutes of the time Tassos was said to have left the taverna.

  Another security camera a block away caught a white van passing by at approximately the same time with the name of a butcher emblazoned on its side.

  The butcher couldn’t believe his good fortune when three cops showed up taking such an interest in his van. After all, he’d only notified the police of its theft that morning when he got into wo
rk and saw it was missing.

  With that news, Andreas told them to make the van the target of their search. An hour and a half later a rookie cop in a patrol car found the empty van abandoned less than two miles from where they’d found Tassos’ fingerprint. It was by a cove off the road to the seafront village of Azolimnos, south of the island’s main harbor, just beyond the Syros Airport, and directly across the sea from Mykonos.

  Andreas had Adonis on speakerphone as he delivered the news about locating the van. “I don’t know what to say, Chief. Where they’ve taken him from here is anybody’s guess.”

  “I know.” Andreas looked at Kouros and shook his head. “Let me know if forensics turns up anything more from that building or the van. And keep checking those security videos. We might get lucky.”

  “Will do.”

  Andreas reached to turn off the phone. “By the way, Adonis. You did a great job. Tassos would be proud.”

  There was a distinct swallowing sound on the other end of the line. “Thanks, Chief, but if it’s all the same to you I’d rather hear him tell me that himself.”

  Andreas smiled. “Well said. Bye.”

  He hung up and looked at Kouros. “I guess ‘anybody’s guess’ means our guess.”

  “So, what’s yours?”

  “That they took Tassos someplace they know. Where they’d feel secure. My guess is that since Sergey doesn’t know anything about the islands, he’s relying on someone who does. I’d say Wacki, but it’s hard to imagine him getting himself personally involved in anything as risky as kidnapping a cop.”

  Kouros nodded. “He’s too much of a wimp for the physical stuff. But he’d know plenty of nasties capable of doing whatever Sergey wanted.”

  “For sure. They’re clients in his clubs.”

  “Which means likely Athenian or local muscle,” said Kouros.

  “If Athenians snatched him and took him back to the mainland we’ll never find him in time. If locals did it, they’re probably from Mykonos, because Syros bad guys had no reason to get him off the island as fast as these guys did. They would know where to hide him there.”