by Sewell, Ron
Pavlo swallowed hard and shook his head. “Thank you, but I’m in a hurry to get home.”
“We should at least file a report, sir.”
“It’s not a problem. I must get home.”
“Sir, park your car over there.”
Agitated, he shifted the select lever to drive and parked the car.
“In here, it won’t take long.”
“Move that car, it’s in an officer’s parking place,” came a shout from an officer.
“I’ll move it,” said the guard. “Your key, sir.”
Pavlo handed over a bunch of keys and the man jumped in and drove to an alternative parking place. If he was hoping to check for smuggling he was out of luck, he thought. In the orange glow of the car park lights, he lifted the boot lid and peered in, spun around and vomited. Stunned, the guard staggered back into the office. “Sergeant, there’s the head of a woman protruding from the boot of his car.”
Pavlo, his thoughts elsewhere, didn’t look up until a guard poked at his head with a pistol.
“Don’t move or you’ll have a few more bruises.”
“What in God’s name are you saying?” said Pavlo.
“You two bring him to his car.”
Two men grabbed Pavlo and frog-marched him to the car park. With the boot still open, he couldn’t fail to see the dark bruises on Nitsa’s neck, conclusive evidence of her murder. His knees buckled and he sobbed. “They told me she’d be released. Not this, never this. The bastards.”
A voice interrupted. “Take him inside and don’t let him out of your sight. You both go with him if he wants a piss. Suicidal prisoners I don’t need.”
“I didn’t kill her. She’s my girlfriend. A Turkish sergeant and his bastard friends did this.”
“You haven’t grasped the seriousness of this. Your girlfriend’s dead in the boot of the car you’re driving.”
“Listen to me,” shouted Pavlo. “I don’t know what to tell you except I did not kill her. I loved her.”
In the distance, the ebb and flow of a police siren wailed.
Chapter Twenty-Three
With thoughts of the collection filling his mind, the local news on television interested Bear. Elini interpreted but his eyes never left the screen. The images of rivers overflowing their banks which, according to Elini, were dry six weeks before, excited the newscaster. Gangs of workmen cleared accumulated debris from storm drains. During the night a build up of fallen trees and rubbish resulted in a road flooding and washing away. The local news reporter commented that the deluge of mud and water took several cars with it. According to the report, the police still searched for bodies.
The commentary changed and became monotonous.
“Elini, I must go and have a chat with George,” said Bear.
“Dinner will be at seven. Don’t be late.”
“Me, late for good home cooking? Never.”
Elini chuckled. Bear grabbed his coat and left.
It took him longer than he anticipated to locate George’s garage.
“George,” shouted Bear. “How’s our alterations?”
“Come see,” said George. “What Petros suggested became impossible. The plastic covers are brittle and when cut shattered. Tell me what you think?”
Bear clambered into the back of one truck and then the other. To satisfy his own curiosity, he searched over and under them both again.
“Okay, George, where do we hide our spoils?”
George called two of his mechanics over and they lifted out the plastic insert. Next they removed a precision fitted false bottom.
Bear’s eyes opened wide when he inspected their handiwork. “What made you think of this?” He pointed to the sunken compartment in the rear of the truck.
George introduced him to one of his men. “Ramon is an engineer from Israel.”
Bear shook his hand. “First-rate, better than I expected.”
“Not my idea, my father’s. When the world turned its back on Israel and we needed weapons to defend ourselves, my father transported guns and ammunition from everywhere and anywhere. He told me that no one ever sees what’s in front of their noses.”
Bear nodded. “You’re right. Thanks for a great job, Ramon.”
“You’re welcome. And George, when you’ve got a moment I need you to check the diagnostics on the Audi.”
“Tomorrow, Ramon,” said George. “We’ll have more time.”
Ramon shrugged as he strolled towards the red Audi.
“Ramon deserves a bonus,” said Bear
“He’s been paid,” said George. “I’ve told him we are smuggling cigarettes from the north.”
“And he accepts that?”
“It’s not his problem.”
“What about the hydraulic jacks, ropes and uniforms?”
“Ready and waiting. I’ve included a few crowbars and rolls of duck tape for binding our army friends. It’s good and strong but apart from tearing the hairs off their arms will do no damage.”
“You’ve done an excellent job, George. Let us know the cost and PK will give you the money.”
“No charge, Bear. I am my sister’s brother. I do it for her because she asks.”
“Yeah, she’s one hell of a woman.”
“She certainly is. I had to take care of her when as a small tornado she ran around screaming and causing havoc.”
“It’s hard to believe.”
“Tell that to her brothers. In the early days, the four of us slept in one bedroom and she had one to herself. Our mother told us it wasn’t right for girls and boys to be together. Thanks to us she grew up streetwise, as Petros well knows.”
“She holds every card. Good looking and a brain.”
They laughed.
“Bear, how about you buy my boys a drink for all their hard work?” George closed the doors to his garage and followed Bear and his men to a nearby taverna.
Holidaymakers and the local men smoked pipes and cigarettes, contaminating the air with tobacco smog. Those who were lucky enough, hunched over the few tables drinking beer and shouting abuse at the large flat-screen television, bolted to the far wall.
“Who's playing who?” shouted Bear.
“Arsenal and Man U,” bellowed George. “This is an Arsenal bar. Man U is a few doors along the street.”
Suddenly, the bar erupted in cheers when Arsenal scored a goal. Men hugged women and jumped with excitement. The local beer, Keo and Zivania flowed freely.
George and his men found space at the far end of the room but could no longer see the screen.
Bear waved at the barman. “Drinks for my friends.
* * *
Petros hung up the phone in the kitchen. “Maria, your brothers are here.”
Dressed in a short-sleeved white shirt and dark blue jeans, Petros drank his third cup of coffee of the morning. He smiled as the four men entered the kitchen. They hugged and kissed everybody in the traditional manner, a custom Bear accepted.
Petros spoke to Elini. “Can I turn your room into my operation centre? It’s cold outside.”
She smiled, nodded her approval and strolled head held high into the lounge.
Petros ran up the stairs, reappearing in moments with two large sheets of paper. These he placed on the table. “This is the plan and it stays in this room. You can argue every point, but once we agree there’ll be no changes. Stop me if there’s something you don’t understand.”
The five men and Maria indicated agreement but remained silent.
“George and Maria are the drivers in and out of the occupied zone. Kyriacos and Bear in George’s truck. Takis, Andreas, you’re with me and Maria. Any comments so far?”
They nodded in agreement.
“Good. Now here’s my idea.” He went on to explain in detail how they intended to approach the patrol, secure the area and lift the altar.
“What happens if it doesn’t move?” said Takis.
“Pray it does,” said Petros.
He stud
ied the attentive faces in front of him. “Any ideas, tell me sooner rather than later. I’ll agree or say no. When’s the full moon, Bear?”
Bear stood up and walked to the window. “Moonlight will be at its peak for the next three days. I’ve checked the weather and the local met office says it will be showery and chilly.”
Petros beamed. “We go tomorrow at midday, but be here by nine. Comparable to condemned men, you will at least eat a hearty breakfast. In any case, it beats sitting around waiting.”
* * *
Petros stood in front of the bedroom window. Through it he observed red tiled roofs over whitewashed walls. His eyes traversed across ploughed fields and vineyards that surrounded the village. Life must have been so peaceful long ago, before the island hurtled into the twentieth century, he thought.
Maria joined him and placed her arms around his waist. The tranquillity of it shaped their thoughts, drawing them close.
The last remnants of the sun dropped below the horizon and the twilight sky blushed a bright orange that dimmed into darkness.
He turned to face her and kissed lips that were moist and soft. He lifted her and she clung to him as they tumbled onto the bed.
Their love making went above the physical. Every time she left him satisfied but wanting more.
She snuggled close and he smelt the scent of her body. He silently swore when Bear’s voice bellowed, “Dinner’s ready, and Alysa wants her mum.”
Any thoughts of remaining in bed vanished. “In a minute,” Petros shouted. “I needed forty winks.” He listened to Bear’s footsteps padding along the hall, and his laughter.
“Come on, Maria. You go to the bathroom and I’ll freshen up later.”
Turning on the light he smiled a self-satisfied smile. He lay there until she returned, and while she brushed her hair he stood behind her wrapping his arms around her neat waist. She pressed back, placing her hands over his.
A quick adjustment of clothes and they joined the others.
* * *
Petros slept fitfully and woke long before dawn. He tumbled out of the bed, waking Maria. Her eyes quivered and opened wide.
“It’s time, Maria. You can stay here if you want, no one will think any the less of you.”
“You can’t get rid of me. Someone has to take care of my man.”
He bent and kissed her as she pulled him onto the bed.
“No, my love, not that I don’t want to, but there’s a time and place.”
Her eyes slanted and her cheeks glowed. “Can’t give it away. I’ll see you when you’re ready.”
At breakfast, everyone’s nerves were on edge and no one took more than a cup of coffee and a thick slice of toast.
Petros waited until their coffee cups remained on the table. He assembled the whole party for a final chat and placed a map of Varosha for everyone to see, detailing positions and times. Each eventuality discussed, no fact overlooked, nothing left to luck. “Any questions?” he said. “Speak now, because if we get it wrong, God help us.”
They remained silent.
Taking a deep breath, he walked out of the house and over to the modified trucks. George’s people had done an excellent job. His eye for detail missed nothing.
* * *
Maria dressed modestly, covering her arms and head. Satisfied, she went into the courtyard to find Petros checking the equipment for the umpteenth time.
“PK, I must go and ask that our Lord protect us.”
“Go, but don’t take too long.”
She held and kissed him full on the lips, which caused her brothers to cheer and whistle.
The village church set high on the hill among pine trees was empty. Candle flames danced when Maria opened the door. She kneeled on one knee and gave the sign of the cross before moving closer to the golden cross. Her eyes focused on the most important icon, the Virgin with Child. The Christ Child appeared to beckon her. She kissed with reverence every icon.
Her prayers said, she walked to the entrance, turned, gave the sign of the cross and left.
* * *
“Okay, as I told you, George and Maria are the drivers in and out of the occupied zone,” said Petros.
The afternoon sun shone bright, the sky sprinkled with clouds that resembled wisps of hair.
They left on the stroke of twelve. Zena and Elini stayed inside but Jack waved as they drove away.
The two trucks motored along the Limassol highway and onto the motorway.
The guards at the border crossing point were more of a pain in the backside than on the prior excursion. They checked every vehicle, passport and visa before allowing them to continue.
Maria manoeuvred into the car park at the Palm Beach Hotel and braked.
“My favourite dump.” She unbuckled her seat belt and descended from the truck.
Petros shook his head. “Cheap and cheerful, my love. Cheap and cheerful.”
George parked next to Maria.
At reception they waited over ten minutes before an unshaven young man wearing a ruffled grey suit appeared. He showed no interest on seeing Petros and his group.
“Six rooms on the ground floor please, for two nights.”
He handed over six sets of keys, grasped Petros’s Visa card, and swiped it through the electronic payment machine. Petros punched in his PIN number, waited and seized the receipt. He waved their passports but the young man ignored him.
“Meal times are detailed in your room folder,” said the man before he returned into his office.
“The man’s a buffoon,” muttered Petros. “He couldn’t be bothered to examine our passports.”
“Turkish efficiency,” said George with contempt.
Petros paused and grasped Maria’s hand, raised it to his lips and kissed it.
“Stop it,” she said, pushing him away
“Okay guys,” said Petros. “We meet,” he checked the time, “in room four in half an hour.” He passed a key to each of them.
* * *
Colonel Ahmed Mustafa yawned. For a few moments, he sat back in his chair staring out of the window. He turned, took a sip of coffee, stood and stretched. “Captain Yilmaz and Sergeant Celik, we are aware that a group of Greek Cypriots intend to steal hidden religious artefacts from a church located in Varosha. Your plan to stop this theft?”
The captain’s eyes flashed with unease. “Colonel, if we swamp Varosha with men, whoever comes for the icons will spot them and vanish. I have installed battery-operated movement detectors in the four chapels. Once triggered, an alarm activates in the guards’ house. On being informed, Sergeant Celik and I, and a group of selected soldiers, will make our move. Furthermore, I have doubled the patrol along the perimeter fence. They report directly to me.”
The colonel passed his hand over his eyes. “Anything else I should know?”
“You can be assured,” said the captain, “that we will apprehend these criminals and recover the treasures.”
“I don't know,” said the colonel in a cold voice, “but a fatal accident might befall these intruders. Once eliminated and their corpses disposed of, there’s no proof they were ever here.”
A brief silence followed before the sergeant spoke. “I understand, sir. Arrangements will be made.”
“Captain,” he said abruptly. “You will keep me informed with regard to this little matter.” The colonel turned his back on the two men indicating the meeting had ended.
* * *
Detective Inspector Barris, of the Nicosia Police Force, walked into the interview room. Detective Sergeant Nasso followed with a buff-coloured file under his arm.
They nodded to the policeman standing by the door guarding the suspect.
In the windowless space, the DI and his associate sat and studied an agitated Pavlo; red eyes, a bruised and stubble-covered face implied a lack of sleep.
“What have we got here, Sergeant?”
The sergeant handed him the manila folder.
DI Barris opened it and stared at the
photographs it contained.
Nasso nodded, raised his hand, and pressed the record button on the tape machine. He kept his voice bored and unfriendly. “It’s for you as well as our records.”
Pavlo shuddered and tried to swallow, but his mouth remained dry. “I don’t need this. I didn’t kill Nitsa. I want to go home and sleep.”
DI Barris slouched in his chair and smiled. “You’re obviously eager to be out of here. I’ve read your statement over a few times. There are many irregularities.” He always started with simple questions designed to set up a rapport with the suspect. “Do you tell me how old you are and where you live?”
“Paphos and my age is on my passport.”
Barris smiled and nodded. “Pavlo, tell me again why you travelled to Northern Cyprus?”
Pavlo sat unresponsive, his mind elsewhere. He stared at the man’s thin lips and unruly hair. His body ached from the abuse of the last two days. He started to speak, but Nasso interrupted.
“The medical examiner confirms you had anal sex. Your partner used a proprietary muscle relaxant. Was it consensual?”
Pavlo leaned on the table as he struggled to stay awake. These men are morons, he thought. “Why do I have to tell you again? Two Turkish soldiers tied me to an overhead beam and raped me. I’m not gay.”
“I don’t believe you. Are you bisexual?” asked Nasso.
Pavlo screamed into his face. “I did not kill Nitsa.”
“You’re a sick bastard,” Barris said coldly. “You told us, when you left the army camp you didn’t check your boot?”
“Why should I? I wanted to get away from that place. Can’t you understand?”
Nasso interrupted, “You were happy to leave your girlfriend?”
Pavlo sensed their probing eyes boring into his. “How did I know they were going to kill her?”
“Please, reply to the question,” said Barris. A hint of delight flashed across the inspector’s face. “We’re not here to answer yours.” With a cough, he cleared his throat. “You or one of your associates murdered your girlfriend, they ran, you panicked and dumped her in the boot.”