An Aegean April

by Jeffrey Siger

  l l l l l

  The two young cops in a marked blue-and-white Toyota seemed unsure of what to make of the scene in the café. A heavy, old guy on a chair had a young, lanky punk pinned to the ground, and as soon as the punk saw the cops, he’d started screaming, “police brutality” at the top of his lungs.

  “He’s complaining about me, not you,” said Tassos, holding out the ID he’d pulled from his jacket pocket when the cruiser drew up to the curb.

  One cop took the ID, looked at it, and showed it to his partner. They both stood up a little straighter.

  “What’s the situation, Chief Investigator?” said the one holding the ID.

  “Our friend here is a dirty, little drug dealer.” Tassos stood, shifting his full weight onto the man’s elbows, before stepping onto the ground.

  The man screamed.

  Tassos pointed a finger at him. “Stay there.” He turned to the cops. “The suspect also drives illegally on the sidewalk, and I’d bet his bike’s registration’s expired.”

  The cop holding Tassos’ ID took another look at it. “You’re serious?”

  “Yep, the drugs are in that open carrier on the back of his bike.”

  “He broke into it,” yelled the suspect.

  “Shh,” said Tassos, putting a finger to his lips. “You’ll get your chance to tell your story, but for now, just shut up and remember one thing: Never come back to this neighborhood, and if you happen to live here, move.”

  The two cops walked over to the bike, and three minutes later had the suspect handcuffed and hustled into the back of the cruiser. They collected the evidence, took a statement from Tassos, and tried to get a statement from the waiter, an immigrant, but he insisted he’d seen and heard nothing. The cops called for a van to impound the motorcycle and Tassos agreed to stay there until it arrived.

  It was after one by the time the two cops left, and Tassos’ stomach growled with hunger. He estimated it would be at least another hour, possibly two, before the van picked up the bike, and so he’d better pace himself. He decided to start with something simple, like gavros, and along with those little deep-fried anchovies he ordered a small bottle of tsipouro. That brought him to thinking he’d better go healthier, so he added a Greek salad. Which, he concluded, justified his adding a fried cheese saganaki to go with it.

  As he waited for the food, he thought about tomorrow’s Easter meal, and how to go about getting Andreas the information he wanted on the Volandes murder. It seemed almost sacrilegious to bother someone about such grisly matters over Easter.

  The proverbial light bulb went off in his head. Unless the someone doesn’t celebrate Easter.

  He pulled his phone from his pocket, looked up a number, and pressed connect.

  “Hello?”

  “Ibrahim, how are you? It’s Tassos.”

  Pause. “Why are you calling me?”

  “That’s not a very warm way to greet a long lost friend.”

  “You’re not a friend.”

  “My, oh my, what a short memory you have.”

  “No, I have a very long one, and getting a reduced sentence instead of freedom for my son, I do not consider the work of a friend.”

  “Your wife did.”

  “Mothers are more emotional.”

  “Yeah, I guess she made your life pretty miserable but, after all, it was you who decided to bring her baby into your drug-smuggling business. Has she ever forgiven you for screwing up his life?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Imagine how much worse it would have been for him if I hadn’t stepped in. Not only would he have served five years instead of one, he’d also have done his time in a maximum-security prison, playing house with a bunch of real hard cases.”

  “As I said, I owe you nothing.”

  “How’s your daughter? The one married to that Greek politician.”

  Silence.

  “You know, the one with the three kids your wife idolizes. It was her husband, your son-in-law, who asked me to help out with your son. Or do you forget that too?”

  “You can’t do anything to them.”

  “Nor would I want to. They’re decent folk who were just trying to do the right thing by helping out a family member who’d been betrayed by his selfish father. You had the chance to take the rap for him but refused to come to Greece and face trial.”

  “I’m hanging up.”

  “If you do, my next call is to someone who’ll start the process for listing you and your wife as persona non grata in Greece. Enjoy explaining to your wife why she can’t visit her grand-children in Greece anymore. That should be fun to watch.”

  “No way you can bar us.”

  “Compared to what I did for your son, that will be child’s play. How tough do you think it’s going to be to get the Greek government to keep a notorious Turkish drug smuggler from entering the country? And if you think your son-in-law will jump in to help you out, pray on.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Ibrahim, you’re the one who decided to play hardball with me before even hearing why I’m calling. I always thought you were smarter than that, especially when you’re the only one with something to lose.”

  While Tassos listened to the heavy breathing on the other end of the line, he waved to the waiter standing nearby with plates of food to put them on his table.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “What can you tell me about who was involved in the murder of that Greek shipowner on Lesvos?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “You really don’t expect me to accept that, wish you a nice life, and kiss you good-bye? Work with me, man. Give me your best guess.”

  “My best guess is the same as yours. Everyone knows the shipowner was trying to wreck the refugee-trafficking business, so it likely was someone in that business.”

  “Likely doesn’t cut it. I need names.”

  “If you’re asking me to name everyone in Turkey involved in refugee smuggling, go to hell. Even if you’re just asking me to name the Greeks involved, same answer. Go to hell.”

  “That’s fair. I can live with that. But I only want to know which of them are possibly––and I emphasize possibly––tied into the shipowner’s murder.”

  More heavy breathing. “The night after the shipowner’s murder, a guy involved in refugee smuggling north of Izmir turned up murdered in his car.”

  “So?” said Tassos. “Nothing unusual about that.”

  Ibrahim sighed. “It’s the way he died.”

  “Meaning?”

  “His head was sliced off with the single stroke of a sword. While he sat in his car.”

  “Jesus.”

  “I would put it differently, but you get the point.”

  “Any idea who did it?”

  “Not a one, but you see the connection to the Lesvos murder, right, super cop?”

  “Who’d the dead guy work for?”

  “A local operator named Malik.”

  “Who’s Malik’s boss?”

  “That’s all I can give you. Malik heads up refugee-smuggling operations out of that part of Turkey into Lesvos.”

  “What about a last name and address for Malik?”

  “Tiryaki, but no idea of an address. He lives in a big compound not too far from the sea, south of Ayvalik.”

  Tassos glanced at his food while he wrote the information on a small notepad. “What does he have to say about the murder of his man?”

  “No idea. I don’t know the man personally.”

  “No threats, no inquiries, no more bodies turning up?”

  “Not a sound. And word is, he hasn’t left his compound. If he knows anything, he’s keeping it to himself.”

  Or dead. “That’s it? Don’t you have anything else for me?”

  “Yeah. Go to
hell.” The connection ended.

  Tassos put down his phone, picked up a fork, and tasted a bit of the saganaki.

  Well, it’s a start.

  Chapter Seven

  At Lila’s urging, Andreas spent the afternoon in the National Gardens across the street from their apartment, playing with their son, Tassaki. Lila had told him that staying out of her way was the best thing he could do to help her ready their home for Sunday’s festivities. Preparing Easter dinner on her own had become an annual tradition for Lila, but that meant no distractions by the other members of the household, namely the men in her family. The baby nurse would take care of their three-month-old daughter, Sofia. Besides, she wasn’t old enough yet to create the sort of messes her brother and father were so good at.

  Andreas watched his son run across the grass trying to keep up with older boys kicking a soccer ball. The older boys didn’t seem to mind their five-year-old shadow, even encouraged him to put a boot to the ball every once in a while.

  Andreas knew he was a lucky man. Despite Greece being in the throes of economic meltdown, and its Mediterranean neighbors battling wars and terrorists, his wife and children lived a home life removed from virtually all of that. He knew theirs was a life not to be taken for granted. Things could change rapidly in this world. That was not a thought he’d shared with his wife. New mothers had enough to worry about. So did fathers, old and new.

  He couldn’t imagine how he’d feel if his family had to flee for their lives as trafficked refugees. How would he react to predators seeking to exploit or harm his children, his wife? Or to governments ignoring pleas for simple acts of human decency, such as food, shelter, or medical care for a sick child?

  Not well. Not well at all.

  Andreas’ mobile rang.

  “Tassos, what’s up?”

  “Can you talk?”

  “Sure. I’m in the Gardens with Tassaki.”

  “I might have something for you on the Volandes murder.”

  Andreas listened as Tassos related his conversation with Ibrahim.

  Once he’d finished, Andreas said, “It would be a hell of a coincidence if there’s more than one killer taking a sword to folks tied into the Lesvos refugee situation. What’s the chance that the decapitated guy simply pissed off some crazies who go in for beheadings?”

  “You tell me,” said Tassos. “He worked as low-level muscle in a refugee-trafficking ring. Why would anyone want to make an example of him? Besides, as far as I know, no one’s taken responsibility for it. My guess is, if someone’s sending a message with him, it’s a private one intended for the beheaded guy’s boss.”

  “Which brings us back to Lesvos refugee smugglers based in Turkey.”

  “And a dead end for me,” said Tassos. “My contact won’t give me anything else.”

  “I’ll see if I can get anything from connections I once had in the Turkish Police.”

  “Once had?”

  “They haven’t been too cooperative lately. Everyone in Turkey is looking over his shoulder for someone who might be trying to label him disloyal to President Erdogan.”

  “Can you blame them? It’s freaky what’s going on over there, now that he has virtually unlimited power.”

  Tassos yawned. “I guess I should head back to Maggie’s for a nap. This keep-out-of-the-house routine is hard work.”

  “Tell me about it.” Andreas watched the older boys exchange high fives with Tassaki over a score.

  “Let me know if you need anything else from me before I see you tomorrow,” said Tassos.

  “Will do, and thanks.”

  Andreas hung up his phone. He ought to head straight home and get to work on an official request for assistance from the Turkish Police. As he’d said to Tassos, he doubted his colleagues on the eastern side of the Aegean would cooperate unofficially. With the rampant paranoia of the Turkish leadership, person-to-person, informal cross-border cooperation of the sort most police relied upon had become downright dangerous for the Turks.

  Thank God it’s not like that here.

  Tassaki came racing across the grass toward his father, smiling from ear to ear. “Daddy, this is my best day ever.”

  Andreas’ face lit up and he swooped his son up in his arms.

  “And it’s only going to get better.” Andreas kissed Tassaki on the cheek. “Next stop, ice cream.”

  Official police business could wait.

  l l l l l

  “Hi, Mommy, we’re home.” Tassaki ran ahead of his father through the rooms toward the kitchen.

  “Shh,” said Marietta. “Your sister’s sleeping.” She pulled off his jacket and pointed to a brown stain on the front. “I see someone had chocolate ice cream.”

  “That’s the least of his laundry challenges,” said Andreas. “He was a regular football star today, and has the grass stains to prove it. Don’t you, champ?” Andreas lowered his hand to exchange a high five with his son.

  “That’s terrific,” said Lila, poking her head out from the kitchen.

  “It was so fun, Mom.”

  “You mean such fun.” Lila bent down and gave her son a kiss. “Marietta, would you please give Tassaki a bath while I finish up in here?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Lila.”

  “Thanks.”

  Andreas followed Lila into the kitchen. “He had an absolute blast. There were some older kids playing football and they let him play with them.”

  “That’s unusual.”

  “I know. I hope he’s not disappointed the next time. Kids can be difficult.” He reached for a hard-boiled egg dyed red, sitting in a basket on the black granite countertop.

  “So can their fathers.” Lila smacked his hand away from the egg. “I spent Thursday dyeing them. You’ll have to wait like everyone else. Don’t you have something you can do besides ‘help’ me in the kitchen?” She put finger quotes around help.

  “As a matter of fact, I do. We may have a lead on that Volandes murder.”

  “He was such a nice man. My father knew him well.”

  “Tassos told me that last night someone used a sword to decapitate a bad guy on the Turkish coast across from Lesvos.”

  “Oh, my God,” said Lila. “That part of Turkey’s becoming a hotbed for terrorists.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “It’s all over the TV. Last night a Greek couple and their baby on holiday were gunned down there in a café. No apparent motive, but the Turks are trying to say it’s not terrorism.” Lila pointed to the television mounted in a corner of the kitchen. “There it is again.” She picked up the remote and brought up the sound.

  “Turkish authorities now claim to have found the van used by the killers, and also believe they’ve identified one of the men involved in the café murders. The bloody corpse of a known organized crime member was found in a stolen car not far from the café. Turkish police believe the Greek family was not the target of a terrorist attack, but rather, innocent victims of an organized crime dispute. Police are looking for a man shown on closed-circuit television as leaving the café on foot immediately after the shooting. Stay tuned for further developments.”

  Andreas kept staring at the screen while an advertisement started.

  Lila clicked mute on the remote. “I take it you found that interesting.”

  “I’ve got to get a copy of the CCTV recording.” He smacked his hand on the countertop. “I’ll bet you anything Volandes’ killer is the one who walked away from that café.”

  “Why?”

  “Too many coincidences. Not sure why the shooters at the café wanted him dead, but they did. And badly enough to risk taking out tourists in the process.”

  Lila looked down at her hands. “Including a baby.”

  Andreas paused. “Our children are safe.”

  She looked up at his eyes. “How can you
say that? The world’s gone crazy. Everywhere you look, irrational people with myopic agendas are gaining power and hacking away at whatever aspects of civilized behavior they deem inappropriate for their purposes.” Lila shut her eyes and shook her head.

  She opened her eyes. “What do you honestly think will become of our children?”

  Andreas swallowed. “No one’s future is ever guaranteed, but I think we serve the children and ourselves best by doing all that we can to prepare them for living the sort of life we hope they’ll have, and showing genuine respect, love, support, and optimism toward each other. All of that we can control. As for the bad stuff,” Andreas shrugged his shoulders, “it’s always going to happen to somebody. We can only pray it won’t be us, help those who aren’t as lucky…and be prepared to cut the balls off of any bad guys who dare to get too close.”

  Lila smiled. “You had to end your little pep talk on a tough guy note, didn’t you?”

  Andreas feigned a glare. “It’s my style.”

  She shook her head and pointed at the television. “Okay, macho man, how do you plan on getting the recording?”

  He moved away from the television and slid his arms around his wife’s waist. “I’ll worry about that later. For now, I’m all yours.”

  “Is that a threat or a promise?”

  “You decide.”

  Lila draped her arms around her husband’s neck. “I guess cooking can wait.”

  l l l l l

  Andreas lay next to Lila, waiting for his heart rate to subside.

  “My, weren’t you the perfect picture of afternoon passion, my darling husband?”

  “Something about the thought of you holding those eggs––”

  “Stop, don’t ruin the moment with your warped sense of humor.”

  Andreas rolled over and looped an arm across Lila’s chest. “Your wish is my command.”