An Aegean April

by Jeffrey Siger

Deema knew that her husband beat her to excuse himself for his own insecurities. She’d learned to anticipate those moments, and to be prepared for what followed. But that was before the foreigner.

  Aryan had changed the rules. The night he entered their lives Malik beat her mercilessly, venting upon her his anger at himself for his lack of courage in confronting Aryan. When Aryan later forbid Malik from striking her, Deema knew Aryan hadn’t come to her defense out of any concern for her safety, but to humiliate her husband, compounding his shaming by lecturing him in front of her.

  Aryan had raped her for the same purpose. Not for the pleasure of her body, but to complete Malik’s humiliation with an act he would forever blame on his wife as much, if not more, as on her rapist.

  Deema saw her life as over. Soon, one of her abusers would kill her; either Malik worked into a holy rage over festering thoughts of adultery, or Aryan simply because he decided it was time. Fears of what would become of her children after she was gone were all that pushed her to live. She longed to escape with them, but could think of no place on Earth to flee where her husband could not find them.

  Even the most despondent of her husband’s trafficked refugees had a better chance of finding freedom than did she from her tormentors.

  Death will be the only escape.

  l l l l l

  Dana’s second visit to Ali did not meet with the same official opposition as her first. This time the officer showed her into an interview room and even asked if she wanted coffee while she waited for Ali to be brought to her.

  “Hi, Dana,” said a smiling Ali as an officer led him shackled into the room and sat him in a chair across the table from Dana.

  “Just yell if you need me,” said the officer to Dana. “I’ll be right outside.”

  “You seem happy,” she said.

  “Ever since you spoke to the commander and I told my jailer that I’d asked not to be transferred to another jail, I’ve been treated as if I gave them a five-star rating on TripAdvisor.”

  Dana laughed. “They’re probably not used to satisfied customers.”

  He shrugged. “As long as they’re happy, I’m happy. Any word from the police on finding the real killer?”

  She hesitated. “I don’t know. They’re willing to say off the record that you’re not the killer, but they won’t go public with it. They claim you’re safer inside.”

  “Safer from whom?”

  “The real killer.” She glanced at the door and lowered her voice. “But that’s just what they say, and until you’re told you’re free, I wouldn’t assume anything other than you’re the one they plan on pinning this on.”

  He nodded. “I’ll just keep smiling and not say anything when they try to get me to talk again.”

  Dana sat up straight. “Someone’s trying to get you to talk about the case?”

  He nodded again. “A woman about your age, maybe a little younger, came by this morning asking me questions. But I wouldn’t answer any of them.”

  “Who’s she with?”

  “She said she’s a forensic examiner.”

  “She’s works for the people who put you in here.”

  “She told me that, too, but said she wanted to help me.”

  “I bet. Good thing you didn’t talk to her. What’s her name?”

  “Aleka something or other.”

  The police commander’s daughter. “I know her.”

  “She seemed nice enough.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure she’s as sweet, innocent, and understanding as a friendly insurance investigator trying to get you to tell him what he needs in order to deny your claim. It’s in their genes. Don’t talk to her. Please.”

  “I hear you, but she said she’d stop by again tomorrow to see if I’ve changed my mind.”

  Dana made a mental note to tell the woman to stop pestering Ali. They chatted for another ten minutes about NGO business unrelated to his case, and Dana passed along the good wishes of Ali’s coworkers, explaining how everyone wanted to visit him but the police wouldn’t allow it. She said she didn’t want to make a fuss over that because it might jeopardize the relatively free access she now had to him.

  He said he understood, but as he was led away still in shackles, she watched his sunny smile fade away.

  l l l l l

  Malik spent the early afternoon on the telephone cajoling, convincing, and conniving with people he knew wanted him dead. As far as they were concerned, he was complicit in the murder of their leader, who to some was also a cousin, brother, or father. Malik faced a hard sell, but Aryan wanted the meeting and that meant he had to arrange one, even if on dangerous terms.

  They agreed to meet that day before dark on flat, open farmland halfway between Izmir and Malik’s home. It offered both sides a safeguard from ambush, as anyone approaching could be seen from kilometers away, but its utterly deserted environs offered no limitation on what one side could do to the other once there.

  The odds definitely favored the other side’s twelve men––plus one driver and one bodyguard each––versus Malik, Aryan, and Tomislav.

  Thirty-six potential guns, cried Malik, but Aryan shrugged it off as a meaningless concern. “Not one of them wants to die needlessly any more than we do.”

  “But they could kill us on the road before we get there. These men have great power, they could use a military attack helicopter,” said a nearly hysterical Malik.

  “If you wish to fantasize, think drone. No, my friend, if they have such power, we are dead men anyway. They will be curious to hear what we have to say, and those who just want to see us dead will want to see our faces as we die.” He smiled at Malik. “Perhaps even want to behead us themselves.”

  Malik turned away. “You’re mad.”

  “Come, let’s get ready.”

  “What’s your hurry?” said Malik. “We don’t have to leave for hours.”

  “Yes, but we must dress appropriately for our funerals.”

  l l l l l

  Dana planned on heading straight back to the office from her visit with Ali. She had work to do on a grant application she intended on submitting to a foundation established by one of the most charitable shipowning families in Greece. It seemed logical to ask Greek shipowners to continue Mihalis Volandes’ good work. She might even suggest a joint venture of sorts with the Greek Church. No reason not to aim high. But as she walked to her car she remembered she had a more urgent matter to attend to.

  When she entered the office of the forensic supervisor, she headed straight for the reception desk.

  “Hi, my name’s Dana McLaughlin, and I’m here to see Aleka.”

  “Is she expecting you?” said the dour-faced woman sitting at the desk.

  “No.”

  “What is your business with her?”

  “She knows me.”

  “Just a moment.” The woman dialed an extension, repeated what Dana had told her, and hung up. “She’ll be right with you.”

  Twenty seconds later, a tall, young woman with a quizzical look on her face appeared at the reception desk. She stared at Dana for second. “Oh, it’s you,” said Aleka, the look now gone. “I didn’t place a face with your name. What can I do for you?”

  “Is there a place we can talk?” said Dana.

  “You can talk here, it won’t bother me,” said the woman behind the desk.

  “That’s very nice of you to offer,” said Dana, “but my mother raised me not to be an imposition, so, I’d rather be somewhere that won’t make me feel that I am.”

  Aleka nodded. “Follow me.” She led Dana down a hallway of institutional green walls and beige linoleum floor tiles to a door marked EXAMINATION ROOM. “No one’s in here now.”

  As she stepped into the room Dana felt a chill run down her spine. She realized she stood where many of the people she tried to help ended up
when she failed. “Is this where they bring the drowning victims?”

  Aleka nodded, grim-faced. “Among others.”

  Dana stared around the room.

  Aleka broke the silence. “I appreciate your not talking in front of that woman. She’s my boss’ secretary and his eyes and ears around this place.”

  Dana focused on Aleka’s eyes. “Should I take that as an admission you realize you’re way out of line in trying to speak to my coworker, Ali?”

  “No, that’s not the reason at all,” said Aleka in a cold voice. “If you’d mentioned any of that in front of her, you’d have made things worse for him.”

  “Don’t run your ‘I’m only here to help you’ hustle by me, sister.”

  Aleka clenched her teeth. “I see what my father meant.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Beg all you want. You’re one strong-willed bitch. Bitch being my word, not his.”

  “Fuck you,” said Dana.

  “Good, now we can have a conversation on a level we both understand,” said Aleka. “I know your guy isn’t guilty, but a lot of people around here don’t seem to care. I went to see him to find out if he had even an inkling of who the actual killer might be. Volandes’ killer stood in the garden that night only steps away from Ali, facing him head on. I don’t think anyone’s ever told Ali that before. I wanted him to concentrate on what he could remember or even just sense about that moment. But I never got around to asking him, because he wouldn’t talk to me about that night.”

  “How do you know all this?” asked Dana.

  “From the police in Athens.”

  “Then why is Ali still in jail?”

  “My boss doesn’t agree, and the prosecutor will run with the case if it works for him politically.”

  “That seems to be the party line.”

  Aleka shrugged. “Believe it or not, that’s up to you. I just wanted to help. If you don’t need it, fine. I’ve a lot of other things to do.”

  Dana paused. “No, I think it’s okay. In fact, to be honest, I think your interest might have made Ali feel better. I’m his friend, he expects my support, but you represent the government to him, and that gives him more confidence. He’s a naturally cheerful guy, but I sense jail is wearing down his spirits.”

  “As if our lines of work don’t do the same to us.”

  Dana smiled. “Touché.”

  Aleka crossed her arms and leaned back against an examination table. “Perhaps you could answer a question for me.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “I’ve lived here all my life. Never even been out of Greece except twice with my father to visit my mother’s family. You’re from America, and I’m sure you’ve seen a lot of places.” Aleka bit at her lower lip. “I can’t help but wonder if anyone out there really cares anymore about what’s happening here? As far as I can tell, many who once claimed genuine concern have moved on to mourn new crises, forgetting all about the refugees and us in the process. I’ve even heard that some NGOs created here and bearing the name Lesvos, have not only moved on, but removed Lesvos from their names.”

  Dana shrugged. “I’m afraid that represents a sad reality of the state of our world. Crisis brings media attention. Media attention brings openhearted people who translate into money. Along with money come profiteers who don’t give a serious shit about the people in crisis. They’re only interested in their own image and fundraising. Slick PR and sound bites draw in the donations, and for them, that’s all that matters.”

  Aleka nodded. “We islanders know who they are. The EU gives money directly to NGOs, and the aggressive ones are damn good at getting more than their fair share.”

  “That’s because the EU doesn’t trust your government.”

  “With good reason, but instead of putting time and attention into establishing a mechanism that actually achieves what the EU claims to want, it just passes out the money and says, ‘See, we care.’”

  “We’re of like mind on that score,” said Dana. “Good intentions don’t always succeed.”

  Aleka stared at Dana. “I have something else to ask you.”

  Dana cocked her head and nodded.

  “Do you really know who’s behind refugee smuggling in Turkey?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Pure curiosity. I can’t help but wonder what drives someone to do what you did. Most would say you’re nuts to have held that press conference, because whether or not you actually do know the name, simply threatening to release it to the press must have sent your life insurance rates sailing off the chart.”

  Dana nodded. “You know, I never thought of it that way before. But I get your point. Your father made sort of the same one to me.”

  “He makes good points to me, too. Many times, on many subjects. Even if I don’t admit it to him.” Aleka smiled. “But you didn’t listen to him, did you?”

  Dana grinned. “We bitches rarely do.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Here it is,” said Maggie, bursting into Andreas’ office.

  “Here’s what?” said Andreas.

  “This.” She placed a photo on his desk. “It’s from the Turkish police, taken off a camera in the lobby of the dead man’s office building.”

  Andreas stared at an image of three men walking together. Aryan’s face stared straight back at him. Andreas patted the face with his forefinger. “That’s our guy.” He looked at the other faces. “But what’s with this? One of the faces is blurry.”

  “That’s the way it came in.”

  “Looks like someone doesn’t want the third face identified.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “Tell Yianni to come in here, and please get me that Turkish police inspector on the phone.”

  Andreas’ eyes went back to staring at the photo.

  Yianni walked into Andreas’ office just as Maggie yelled, “He’s on.”

  Andreas motioned for Yianni to sit in the chair by his desk, and handed him the photo as Andreas picked up the phone. “Hi, Inspector. My colleague just walked into the room so, if you don’t mind, I’ll put you on speakerphone.”

  At that, Maggie came inside the office and closed the door.

  “First of all, thank you for sending me that photo.”

  “Always glad to help our Greek colleagues.”

  Yianni made a gesture that Andreas ignored.

  “But there seems to be a technical glitch in the photo. One of the faces is blurry. Do you have a better copy?”

  “Oh, you needn’t worry about that man. He’s not relevant to your investigation.”

  “I see,” said Andreas. “But could you at least tell me who he is?”

  “No. As I said, he is not relevant.”

  “What about the other two men in the photo?” said Andreas.

  “One is a former employee of the victim. He is a Serbian national, all we have for a name at this point is Tomislav.”

  “And the other man?” Andreas waggled his eyebrows at Yianni.

  “Uh, we’re hoping you might be able to help us with that one. We can’t seem to identify him.”

  “So sorry to hear that. We know who he is, and would like to help you out, but frankly, I don’t think he’s relevant to your investigation.”

  Yianni smiled.

  “I think he is,” said the inspector in a clipped voice.

  “Aha,” said Andreas. “A professional difference of opinion. And I respect that. I have a similar reaction to the blurry man.” He waited a beat. “Why don’t you reconsider your position on the relevance of blurry man, and I’ll do the same with mine on your killer.”

  “Are you saying the man you won’t identify is the killer?”

  “For sure.”

  “I demand that you tell me.”

  “Dul
y noted. But first, I need to know about blurry man.”

  “This is the last time you’ll ever get help from me.”

  “Sorry to hear that. I thought you wanted the name of your killer.”

  “We can get it without the help of the Greek police.”

  Andreas rolled his eyes. “Good luck, but don’t let pride stand in your way if you need our help. I’ll be more than happy to show you mine, if you show me yours.”

  The inspector exhaled into the phone. “I doubt I can trust you.”

  “I guess you’ll just have to if you want to know who you’re looking for.”

  “That’s blackmail.”

  “No, it’s professional cooperation between neighbors.” Andreas made the same gesture Yianni had used.

  “Good-bye,” said the inspector.

  “Thank you, bye.” Andreas hung up.

  “I wonder who the blurry guy is,” said Yianni.

  “My bet is he’ll tell us,” said Maggie. “He’s desperate for Aryan’s name.”

  Andreas leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands together behind his head. “Somehow, I sense negotiations are not yet completed.”

  l l l l l

  Malik wanted to reach the meeting site early, but Aryan opted for being right on time. He figured whatever surprises the other side undoubtedly had in store for them would be hidden in their vehicles, be they rocket-propelled grenade launchers or something more prosaic than RPGs. Arriving early would gain no advantage, and only show anxiety. Aryan saw this as a business meeting and intended to treat it as such, with slight preparatory modifications in recognition of the circumstances.

  Malik drove, with Tomislav next to him in the front seat, but he didn’t say a word as he sped along the four-lane highway through nothing but wide open farmland and the occasional town that made even the farmland look interesting. Ragged hills rose up in the distance to the east, and somewhere off to the west sat the sea. When they turned east toward Bergama, the scenery remained uninterestingly the same.