Devil of Delphi: A Chief Inspector Andreas Kaldis Mystery

by Jeffrey Siger

  “I understand what a great disappointment your son has been to you. And, frankly, from the way you’ve raised him I can only see him continuing on unchecked in all aspects of his life. So, if that curse is your heartfelt wish and desire…” Teacher cocked her head toward the father.

  He jutted out his chin and stared straight ahead. Teacher nodded to Kharon.

  Kharon did not move, but sat with his hands in his lap until the father’s eyes met his. Then he smiled, brought his right hand up from his lap, and pointed toward Mount Athos.

  “What are you pointing at?” said Tank, leaning in to look.

  “Ask your father,” said Kharon. As Tank turned to face his father, Kharon drew a stiletto up from his lap in his left hand and sliced through Tank’s carotid artery, straight across his throat. Tank gurgled as he grabbed at his neck and tumbled forward toward his father, spinning wildly and spewing blood over them both before falling on the ground at his father’s feet, dead.

  The father’s mouth fell open in a scream, but not a sound escaped. His eyes fixed on the blood on his clothes. He lifted his hands and stared at the blood there too.

  Teacher sighed. “I trust you now understand how very serious we are.”

  The father looked at the faces around the table, then down at his son’s body. He reached out as if to touch it, but paused. He sat up, stared off at Mount Athos for a moment, and picked up his phone.

  ***

  Kharon and Teacher spoke through headphones as the helicopter sped southwest toward Delphi.

  “You did well, Kharon. Very well, indeed.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I have some good news for you.”

  Kharon turned to face her, eyebrows raised.

  “The olive oil processing facility and owners of the other groves you wanted agreed to sell. Everything you asked for is now yours.”

  “That isn’t good news, it’s great news.”

  “And there’s more.”

  “More?”

  “Yes. A tiny part of those wire transfers Tank’s father put through went into your Swiss bank account.”

  “I don’t have a Swiss bank account.”

  “You do now. Funded by a one percent finder’s fee.”

  Kharon’s jaw dropped slightly. “That’s two million euros.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “But why?”

  “Because you earned it.”

  Kharon shook his head. “You kept your word to me on the olives. That was our deal, and that’s all I want.”

  “Consider it my way of thanking you for doing what you did without questioning my motives, even though you had to know I wasn’t telling you everything.”

  Kharon didn’t acknowledge her comment.

  She smiled. “Even now I see you’re keeping your thoughts to yourself. I like that. It shows caution, not disloyalty.”

  She paused. “Okay, there’s another reason. A selfish one. I don’t want you thinking I don’t appreciate your efforts. It might lead you to look elsewhere. Not today, not tomorrow, but someday. I’ll also try not to keep things from you in the future. It’s a pesky habit left over from too many years among too many betrayers.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you just told me the sort of things that might get me killed,” said Kharon.

  Teacher laughed. “I’ll try.”

  She paused. “In fact, I’ll start now. With those two you killed in the monastery.”

  “What about them?”

  “They were brothers.”

  “Too bad.”

  “And the one who escaped was the oldest brother.”

  “Yes?”

  “I just thought you should know.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Aren’t you worried?”

  “Not really. They went down in action trying to take me out. I don’t think the survivor’s going to blame me for fighting back.”

  “Interesting thinking.”

  “With professionals, the time to worry is if you’re the one who gave an order they didn’t want to carry out and it got somebody killed.”

  “You mean like Tank’s father?”

  Kharon shrugged. “If he made the brothers do something that got two of them killed, I’d say he damn well better worry.”

  Teacher nodded. “Thanks, I’ll try keeping that advice in mind.”

  “What advice?”

  “Only tell you what to do, not how to do it.”

  Make a pledge and mischief is nigh came to mind, straight off the carvings on the Temple of Apollo, but Kharon smiled. “Works for me.”

  The helicopter swung around Mount Parnassos, headed south toward the Phaedriades cliffs above sacred Delphi, the Pleistos River Valley, and the Gulf of Corinth beyond. Teacher pointed ahead. “You’re almost home.”

  Kharon nodded.

  Teacher smiled. “Just one more thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A loose end.”

  “Loose end?”

  “Yes, your friend, Jacobi.”

  Kharon’s heart jumped. “What about him?”

  “He knows too much about us.”

  “He’s like my only family. He would never say a word.”

  Teacher shrugged. “We can’t take the risk. Our future together has too much at stake. You know that even without my telling you.”

  Kharon stared out the window at the olive groves below.

  “But I want to make this easy on him,” she said.

  Kharon did not look at her.

  “So, you should do it.”

  He whipped his head around to face her. “Me?”

  She nodded. “Yes, if you do it, you’ll be merciful. If I have to send someone else, they may not be as kind. You owe him at least that.”

  Kharon picked up his backpack and clutched it tightly to his chest.

  “You do it, or someone else does. It is his fate.”

  Kharon squeezed the backpack harder and turned away from Teacher to face out the window.

  “But you don’t have to decide now. I’ll give you until noon tomorrow to choose.”

  A minute later the helicopter touched down, Kharon was out the door, and the chopper was back in the air.

  He’d nodded a hasty good-bye and she’d nodded back.

  He’ll come around, she thought. He only has two choices. It will be instructive to see which one he picks.

  She looked across to where Kharon had been sitting and said to herself, “Don’t worry, you now have me as your family.” That’s when she noticed he’d left his backpack on the floor.

  She wondered what might be in it. Secrets perhaps? She loved secrets. Especially another’s deepest, darkest ones.

  She leaned across the seat and lifted the backpack onto her lap. She studied it for a moment before opening it. As she lifted the flap she heard a pop, looked inside, drew a quick breath, and smiled. So, you found a third way.

  Teacher shut her eyes and thought of her children.

  ***

  Kharon stood among the olives—now his olives—and watched the helicopter head north across the valley. No doubt she was right about Jacobi, but this wasn’t about Jacobi. She wanted Jacobi to die to prove a point: that Kharon was like her, no longer caring who he slaughtered. It was a test he could not pass. If he killed Jacobi, a man as close as a brother, she’d see Kharon to be just as capable of betraying her. If he refused, she’d see him as disloyal. Either way, one day she’d likely see him dead.

  Despite what Teacher had said about Jacobi’s fate, she no more believed in trusting to the Fates than did the Delphic Oracle. Each demanded absolute obedience to their pronouncements.

  Kharon believed in leaving decisions on who should live and who should die to the Fates. Perhaps that’s why he saw another ch
oice. A risky one, for if Teacher lived she’d know it was Kharon who’d acted, and he’d be dead by sundown.

  He’d clutched his backpack to his chest as he’d turned away from her in the helicopter, reached inside, removed the safety pin from one of the frag grenades he’d brought with him to his battle at Hosios Loukas, and wedged the safety lever into a loop on the inside of the backflap. If someone lifted the flap, the lever would pop off, and—the Fates willing—seconds later it would be over.

  But if she never noticed the bag on the floor in front of his seat, or wasn’t curious enough to open it, or….

  He saw the flash in the sky above Delphi before he heard the explosion.

  Chapter Thirty

  “So, any news?” said Tassos dropping onto Andreas’ couch. He nodded a greeting at Kouros, who sat on one of Andreas’ office chairs.

  “About what?” asked Andreas, looking at his watch.

  “Anything. I’m just looking for someone to talk to until my girlfriend’s boss lets her take off early from work. We’ve tickets for the Spanoudakis concert tonight at the Herodeon.”

  “It doesn’t start until nine and besides, we both know you’re going to use your badge to get good seats.”

  “What’s the matter, you don’t want me to feed her first?”

  Andreas shot him an open hand.

  Tassos dismissed it with a wave. “So, like I said, any news?”

  “Tank’s disappeared. No one’s seen or heard from him since the abbot booted him out of Hosios Loukas.”

  “Sounds like it could be terminal.”

  Andreas shrugged. “Only time will tell. We thought he might have been in a helicopter that exploded over Delphi. It sounded like something Teacher would have planned for him, and the timing was right. Plus, Delphi is her boy Kharon’s backyard. But our foreign ministry said it was a hush-hush diplomatic mission out of the Ukraine and no one but Ukrainian diplomats were allowed to see the wreckage. All they told us were that no Greeks were among the dead.”

  “And the old man?”

  “Not a peep from him either. Word is he’s holed up in his place in Chalkidiki.”

  “Is he still gunning for Spiros?”

  “Doesn’t look to be. Seems more like he’s hiding out.”

  “What about the business?”

  Kouros answered, “If you mean Tank’s counterfeit booze business, all kinds of bomba crap is streaming in through places like Bulgaria, Albania, Turkey, and Cyprus trying to jump in on our tourist season action.”

  “You know what they say about nature abhorring a vacuum,” said Tassos.

  “Especially when it comes to champagne in the summertime,” said Kouros.

  Andreas looked at his watch.

  Tassos nodded. “Amazing how many jerk-offs with more money than taste or brains get their kicks out of spraying the most expensive champagne they can afford on the bustiest women they can find.”

  “For sure,” said Kouros. “Just slap a high-priced phony label on anything that will fizz and you can sell two euros’ worth of packaging and bubbles for a hundred to a thousand times its cost.”

  Tassos shrugged. “I guess that works so long as they don’t taste the stuff, just spray it.”

  Andreas waved a hand in the air. “How about we look at the bright side, guys? We’ve closed down a hell of a lot of illegal manufacturing and distribution operations in Greece. Sure, the customers are still out there, but we’re talking about cheap booze. There will always be a market for that. For what it’s worth, I’ve passed on to Europol what we learned about Teacher’s operations, along with a request that they do something about shutting down alcohol smugglers coming into Greece through EU member states.”

  “And the chances of that happening?” said Kouros.

  Andreas shrugged. “From past experience, I’d say it depends on whether big-time legitimate wine and liquor companies who want to shut them down have more juice with enforcement authorities than the bad guys.”

  “Good luck to them,” said Tassos. “Hasn’t worked very well for the designer watch, hand bag, and sunglasses crowd.”

  Andreas looked at his watch.

  “That’s the third time you’ve looked at your watch since I came in here,” said Tassos. “What has you so antsy? It can’t be any of this bullshit. Let the victims and the folks who make money off the real stuff fight it out.”

  Andreas pointed his right forefinger at Tassos. “Aha, the typical government response to just about any time-consuming problem confronting our country today, ignore it, pass it on, anything but address it. With Tank out of business, if not dead, his father muzzled, and no one willing to point a finger at Kharon for so much as a speeding ticket, Teacher seems to have faded away, and our government is perfectly content to leave it at that.”

  Andreas slammed the palm of his right hand on top of his desk. “I’d like to think we could do better.”

  Now Tassos pointed his finger at Andreas. “I don’t give a damn about our government’s mess over bomba or how those fools in the ministry underestimate Teacher. I’m talking about you. Just tell me what has your balls in a sling?”

  Andreas drew in and let out a deep breath. “Lila’s at the doctor.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “It’s just a regular checkup.”

  “Then why are you so anxious?” said Tassos.

  “I’m not anxious, just…concerned.”

  “Someday you’ll explain the difference to me.”

  “When I feel this way, it’s concerned. If anyone else does, it’s anxious.”

  Kouros laughed.

  “Thank you for clearing that up,” said Tassos.

  “Any time,” nodded Andreas.

  Andreas’ phone rang on his direct line. He snatched it up immediately. “Hi, honey, is everything all right?”

  “Honey?”

  “Whoops, sorry, Spiros, I thought it was Lila.” Andreas tried to ignore the silent hoots and hollers of Tassos and Kouros.

  “That’s a relief,” said his boss.

  “Anything new on Tank?”

  “Nothing. That’s not why I’m calling. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

  “Sure, what’s up?”

  “It’s a conversation to have with you face-to-face.”

  Andreas cleared his throat. “Okay, when’s good for you?”

  “How about in an hour, in my office?”

  “Fine, see you then.”

  “Bye, honey.”

  Andreas stared at the phone.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Kouros.

  “Nothing…I think Spiros just made a joke.”

  “Miracle of miracles.”

  “It also sounds like he wants to talk to me about his health.”

  “I hope it’s not bad news,” said Tassos.

  Andreas rubbed at his forehead with his left hand. “Me, too.” He looked at his watch.

  ***

  Andreas had just pulled into the Public Order Ministry’s parking area off Kanellopoulou Street when his phone rang.

  “Hi, my love, what did the doctor have to say?”

  “Everything’s fine. We’re on the road to having a very healthy baby something-or-other. Still too soon to tell more than that.”

  Andreas crossed himself as he muttered, “Puh, puh, puh.”

  “I thought you weren’t superstitious?”

  “I figured it couldn’t hurt to be careful.”

  Lila laughed. “Since I’m out and about, what do you think of catching an early dinner somewhere?”

  “Like when?”

  “Like now.”

  “I wish I could, but I’m just about to go inside the ministry to meet with Spiros. He called an hour ago to say he wanted to talk to me face-to-face about something t
hat sounds serious.”

  “Ouch, like his health?”

  “My thought exactly.”

  “Just be supportive and listen. Take all the time you need. Don’t worry about dinner.”

  “I really don’t want to be doing this.”

  “But he does, and that’s what matters. Besides, it’s the right thing.”

  Andreas blew through his lips. “I don’t know anything about this sort of grief counseling.”

  “Of course you do. Just go with your instincts and you’ll do fine. You can achieve anything you set your mind to.”

  “You’re a pretty good cheering section.”

  “Of course I am. I’m your biggest fan.”

  Andreas smiled. “Love you. Filakia.”

  “Kisses to you, too, my hero.”

  Andreas’ smile stayed with him until he stepped inside the ministry building. He’d been to the ministry hundreds of times before, but he never felt as he did at that moment. Melancholy might have been the word. His thoughts drifted from his day-to-day hassles and battles with its bureaucracy. The influence peddlers, the hustlers, the corrupters, the incessant politics.

  The adage, “a fish rots from the head,” came to mind. It was up to the minister to set an example, and though Spiros wasn’t corrupt, nor had he ever been diligent or confident enough to take on the interests that were. He’d never been a cop, only a bureaucrat, bouncing around between ministries until he’d ended up here.

  No matter, all that’s in the past. Poor bastard.

  The moment Andreas walked into the minister’s anteroom, the secretary waved him straight though into his office.

  “The minister is waiting for you.”

  Spiros stood in front of his desk between two chairs. He gestured at one of the chairs and sat in the other.

  Of all the times Andreas had been in this office, this was the very first time Spiros hadn’t taken a seat behind his desk.

  Spiros nibbled at his bottom lip, and his skin looked as if he’d not seen the sun in a lifetime, but what Andreas noted most was that his once carefully dyed, jet black hair showed a full quarter-inch of gray roots. He looked like a man who no longer cared.

  Andreas shifted in his chair and clasped his hands together on his lap.