A Killing Place in the Sun

by Robert F Barker

  Ahead of Pippis’s HRV, dust still hung over the unfinished road’s gravel surface, marking another vehicle’s recent passing. In the passenger seat, Murray leaned forward to peer up at the slopes ahead of them, looking for signs of the spotters he knew were there somewhere. Behind them, Gina lolled. She had found her visit to her sister’s bedside exhausting, emotionally draining. She badly needed quality sleep.

  'It will be my brother, I think,' Pippis said in answer to Murray’s unspoken question. 'Vasillis said he was shutting shop early to get here.'

  Murray remembered Pippis mentioning the butchery his brother’s family ran on the Polis Road. He leaned forward, checking the wing-mirror on his side. Some way behind was another cloud.

  'And that will probably be Chris,' Pippis said, looking in the mirror.

  'Your son?'

  'My uncle.'

  'The one with the garage?'

  'The one who runs The Neptune, at Coral Bay.'

  Murray nodded. He knew of four Chris’s so far - though he expected there were more. The other, a nephew, worked in the Municipal Offices next door to the Police Station.

  'How many are coming?'

  Pippis waved a hand in the air, conjuring numbers. 'Twenty maybe. Twenty-five? Perhaps thirty.'

  Murray stared ahead. He had no idea how far Pippis’s family extended or how many he had called to what would be the second gathering since the explosion. During the earlier meeting, when Murray first met most of them, the names had just kept coming; several Chrises and Georges; Kyriakos, Pambos, Nickolas, some Peters, Stavroses, Davids, and more. He gave up trying to remember them all once the numbers crept past twenty. And when Pippis spoke of ‘thirty,’ Murray guessed he was referring just to men-folk. If the women came along as well, and with the children - which was likely - God knows how many that would make.

  As he calculated numbers, Murray resigned himself to experiencing the same mix of hostility and hospitality as last time, perhaps more of the former if it included some who were yet to meet him. He knew without having to be told that his presence amongst them, the part he was playing in the events now unfolding, presented many in the family with a dilemma. By nature, Cypriots are among the most welcoming and friendly of people. It was why he and Kathy had chosen to settle here. Before him, his own ex-service parents. But it could not be ignored that, however the facts were presented, what had befallen Ileana and Gina traced back to their involvement with him. He couldn’t blame those who found it hard to comply with their elders’ counsel not to hold Murray to account, but to welcome his commitment to helping them achieve the justice they were looking for - whatever form that may take. And while he appreciated the efforts of the likes of Pippis, who was doing his best to keep up the pretence that Murray was, for now at least, an honorary member of the family, he couldn’t help but be aware of the simmering anger some were holding in check. He didn’t like to dwell on how things might pan out when it was all over. Assuming he was still around to find out.

  But thoughts of Pippis’s family brought to mind another matter, one he was still mulling over. His Black Sea trip had been managed with the connivance of a family member who worked in the Immigration Department. It meant he’d been able to avoid channels that may have been being monitored. Looking out at the spectacular Troodos scenery flashing past, he said, 'You’ve got a big family, Superintendent. Do they all live in the Pafos district?'

  He felt rather than saw the policeman’s searching glance. Once you got to know him, the laid-back official the policeman most often presented was far from the true Pippis.

  'Most, but not all. Cyprus is a small island. As you know, we have big families. Limassol, Larnaca, Nicosia. We are all over. This is good for holidays, yes?'

  Murray ignored the joke. 'Nicosia eh?' He said it like he was impressed. It prompted another glance.

  'What is it you need, Mr Murray?'

  As the HRV bumped and rocked over a particularly uneven stretch of ‘road’, Murray hung on, then turned to give him a look that was deliberately nonchalant.

  'Don’t suppose any of them happen to have connections with anyone in your Intelligence set-up do they?'

  Pippis eyes narrowed. After several moments, a wry, slight smile – the first in some time – showed.

  CHAPTER 37

  By six o’clock, most had arrived. As the women stoked the oil-drum barbeques and prepped the food that would follow, the children helped lay tables under the olive trees. The men retired inside.

  The discussions were lengthy, and heated. Conducted mostly in English, for Murray’s sake, he was conscious that whenever it turned Greek it probably meant they were talking about him. And it seemed he wasn’t the only one surprised when at such times it was usually Pippis who stepped up to defend him. He saw the whispers that passed between some. As far as Murray could tell, Pippis seemed to be in the chair, though it was his white-haired father, Galios, who did the summing-up. The old man still owned Gina’s taverna, as well as the farm and its adjoining winery. At ninety-three, Galios was still the proud possessor of a head of hair so thick Murray would have been glad to sport it in his twenties. When Galios spoke, everyone else fell silent. And on the rare occasions someone dissented from his view, they did so with utmost respect. And Galios always had the final word.

  How much of it had been worked out before and they were simply going through the motions, Murray had no idea. But the debate when it raged and the different points of view offered up for consideration seemed genuine enough. But bit by bit, stage by stage, the different elements were agreed. And despite the obvious dangers involved, Murray sensed a mood of excited anticipation taking hold amongst those present. It reminded him of the briefings he had presided over during Priscilla. Several times he caught some of the older men nudging each other, exchanging knowing winks and sly smiles. 'Like the old EOKA days,' he heard one say, a reference to the island’s struggle for independence from the British during the 1950s. Murray didn’t like to point out that ruthless though the British Army was perceived to be during its period of occupation, it was nothing compared to what Podruznig and his henchmen were capable of. He just hoped he hadn’t overlooked anything. Provided people played their part, it should all fall into place. But then he remembered what he hadn’t dared share with Pippis, or anyone else for that matter. It was the one thing with the potential to threaten their chances of success, and the one he couldn’t predict. He had no choice but to hope that when the time came, he would be able to deal with it without it affecting everything else. Nevertheless he harboured deep feelings of guilt about keeping Pippis in the dark.

  As the discussion progressed and as if to underline Murray’s dilemma, the biggest point of disagreement seemed to centre round not what needed to be done, but how far Pippis ought to be involved in it. If anything went wrong and he ended up implicated in a scandal, he stood to lose more than all of them. His brother, Vasillis, was particularly concerned.

  'But there is no need for Pippis to get involved,' he argued. 'We all know what needs to be done.' For once, Vasillis saw a positive in Murray’s involvement, even referring to him by name. 'As he said last time, the benefit of Mr Murray being here is that if anything goes wrong, it will be seen as his doing. Why put yourself at risk?'

  Grim faced, Pippis made ready to answer, but old Galios held up a hand. The room fell silent. For the first time, the old man rose to his feet, using his stick for support.

  'I have discussed this matter with my son at great length. It is true that some would love to drag the name of Iridotu through the dirt if Pippis is found to have acted outside the law. His career, his reputation, his personal life, would be destroyed, saying nothing of any other ill that, God forbid, may befall him.' Murmurs of agreement sounded round the room. 'For myself, I fear that risk greatly.' At this point he turned to face Murray. 'Yet we are talking about putting ourselves in the hands of this man, who I know some blame, for this whole situation.' There was another low murmur. 'He is not one of us
. How do we know we can trust him?' He turned full circle in the centre of the room. Wherever he was going, Murray couldn’t help but be impressed. The man was a born orator. 'But I also know that it is Pippis and Maria who have suffered the most in all of this.' Here his voice almost faltered. Gritting his teeth he kept going. 'Indeed, it is for that very reason we are here, to help them put right the wrong done against our little Ileana and, of course,' he held out a hand, 'Gina.' Heads turned in the direction he’d indicated. For the first time Murray realised she was standing just inside the door, her eyes riveted on her grandfather. 'But it is also true that the Englishman himself has been wronged.' Gina’s gaze switched from her Grandfather to Murray. 'And he also seeks justice.' Galios paused to ponder, looking at the floor. 'These are complicated matters. Ileana is my granddaughter, and I know what I feel in my heart. But more important than that, Pippis is her father. I think therefore that none of us have the right to tell him what to do, or to question his judgement over this affair. He will do what he feels he must.' The nodding of heads seemed to signify general agreement.

  'As for you Mr Murray,' Murray’s head snapped up as he felt the harsh stares that turned in his direction. 'Pippis tells me he trusts you.' Murray glanced across to where the policeman sat, watching. 'Therefore I also trust you, and I say we welcome your help in this matter.' A commotion at the back of the room made everyone turn. A door banged shut. Murray wasn’t sure who had left but he couldn’t see young Kyriakos anywhere. Galios continued, unaffected. 'But let me say this. If, when it is over, I discover that you have failed to consider what is best for my family in all of this, then you will find the House of Iridotu as fierce an enemy as this Russian.' This time as the old man fell silent, there was no murmur of agreement, only an intense quiet.

  Murray rose and came forward. He turned to address them all.

  'I have said this to Pippis and now I say it to all of you. This situation has come about because the Russian wronged me, and my family. Now he has wronged you also. We are all therefore victims of his disregard for the law and his contempt for human life. But I make an oath to everyone here. Whatever happens, whether I find the justice Galios refers to or not, I swear I will not rest until Pippis and you all, have gained the satisfaction you also seek.'

  There were several nods, one or two even began to clap but stopped as Pippis rose to come forward, stopping in front of Murray. To Murray’s surprise he wrapped his arms round him in a brotherly embrace that was clearly meant as a signal to all. As more spontaneous applause broke around them, Murray, embarrassed, looked for Gina. But she had gone.

  Afterwards, when it was all over, the necessary decisions taken, responsibilities clarified, Murray went looking for her. He found her along the goat track that led behind the farmhouse, sitting on a rock, smoking fiercely as she gazed up at the mountains at the head of the valley. Behind them, the dying rays of the sun that had already set over the rest of the island picked out the British Army’s golf ball-style listening station on top of Mount Olympus, Cyprus’s highest point, painting it orange-yellow.

  As he approached, she stubbed out her cigarette, grinding it into the rock several times, making sure it was dead before flicking it away. In high summer, in the mountains, fire is an ever-present risk. She didn’t turn to acknowledge his presence but went back to her mountain-gazing.

  'Mind if I join you?'

  She shuffled right a bit, but said nothing. He sat beside her. She had dispensed with her collar the day before and her hair was down, blowing softly in the late breeze coming off the mountains. It reminded him of how she’d looked that night in her garden, before Ileana arrived. He remembered the feelings she’d revived in him. But that was then.

  'Tell me what you’re thinking,' he said, though he had a fair idea.

  As if she’d been waiting for the invitation, she turned on him. There was just enough light to make out the tracks on her cheeks.

  'Why don’t you go home Peter?' she said.

  It wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting. 'That’s what I am trying to do.'

  'I don’t mean here. I mean England.'

  He paused. 'I know what you meant. But my home is here now.'

  She was breathing hard, trying to stay in control.

  'People are going to get hurt.'

  'What is going to happen will happen, whether I am part of it or not.'

  'But if you were not here it would have to be done differently. Then my father would have to-.' She stopped, as if anticipating his reply.

  'What? Use his authority? Bring Podruznig before the courts? You know that will not happen, Gina. That is why-.'

  'That is why you are all acting like little boys? Running around playing war games? Why do men always think violence is the answer to everything?'

  Murray was surprised by the bitterness in her voice. He had assumed she wanted to avenge her sister as much as anyone. He said so.

  'I do,' she replied to his question. 'But not if it means my father putting himself at risk this way.'

  Murray looked into her face but the light was fading rapidly now and he couldn’t see what was there. He wanted to ask if it was just her father she was worried about, but was scared that whatever her real feelings, the heat of the moment might lead her to say it was.

  'Your father knows what he is doing Gina.'

  'But do you?'

  He took his time answering, stung by the implication. Before the explosion she’d trusted in his abilities. 'I suppose you will just have to wait and see.'

  She gave a mocking grunt. 'Wait and see? Is that the best reassurance you can come up with?'

  Murray didn’t answer, he couldn’t. For a long time there was silence between them. The vehemence in her tone had surprised him, but he knew he had no right to expect anything else.

  Suddenly and to his surprise, she collapsed in on herself, dropping her face into her hands, shoulders hunching. Caught unawares, he thought about putting his arms round her. But he left it too late. Taking a deep lungful of air she rallied, coming upright again. But her mind was clearly still in turmoil.

  'So much has happened…. I do not know what it is all about any more…. Ileana is still alive. A house is just a house. Tell me Peter, why are you doing all this?' She turned to him, her hands feeling their way down his arm, searching for the reassurance she so obviously needed. He waited a while before speaking.

  'I cannot speak for Ileana. That is for you and your family. But-.'

  'Yes?'

  He reached into his back pocket. 'Give me your lighter.' She passed it across.

  It took a couple of attempts, but as the flame steadied, Gina leant in to see what he was cupping in his other hand. It was a leather billfold, a photograph showing in the plastic window.

  The woman had long blond hair, and was stunningly attractive. It was the first time Gina had seen her, or the beautifully-handsome little boy pressing up against her to get into the shot. Despite the fact he was smiling broadly, Gina had no trouble seeing his father in him. They stayed that way, looking at the picture in the flickering flame, until the breeze caught it again and it died.

  It was almost pitch dark now and Murray could barely make her out. He felt her hand settle, lightly, on his shoulder. It stayed there a while. Eventually, she rose to her feet. She didn’t say anything, but as she walked away her hand brushed, gently, against his cheek.

  As he listened to her pick her way carefully back along the now dark path to the house, Peter Murray sat on the rock, staring out into the pitch dark of the mountain night. As he did so, his thumb rubbed, back and forth across the billfold’s plastic window.

  CHAPTER 38

  The two men came round the side of the house, heading towards the black SUV parked at the bottom of the steps. Nearly a mile away, former Marine Lance-Corporal William Desmond Hines, more commonly known as ‘Moss-Side Billy’, checked his watch - 07.15 - before rolling left so he could check them out through the binoculars propped on the stand. He was famil
iar with all of them now, bar one, and a quick glance was all he needed. Sure enough, they were the same pair Wazzer had reported the previous day at this time, and Ryan the day before that. The pattern seemed established.

  Rolling back right to where he’d set the Cougar against a rock so he could get at it quickly if needed, he pressed and held the ‘talk’ button.

  'Dress Circle to Bookings, over,' he said, softly.

  Kishore’s response was instantaneous, as always. 'Go Dress Circle.' .

  'Zero seven-one five. Werewolf and Dracula out. Looks like the Sugar run, over.'

  'Roger that. Confirming Werewolf and Dracula. Standing by for Goldilocks, over.'

  Shaking his head at the ridiculousness of the exchange, Billy checked through the binoculars again but there was still no sign of the little girl’s green blazer or her golden hair. Having an extra bowl of Cheerios he thought.

  He still wasn’t sure who had devised the horror/fairy-tale code; Wazzer probably. It was him who’d come up with Priscilla. Something to do with some film Billy had never heard of. About the desert and fucking transvestites of all things. But Billy had to admit, though they’d all taken the piss, it worked fine. By now they all knew the scary-looking one with the slicked-black widow’s-peak as Dracula; the guy with the hairy arms, Werewolf, and the tall one with the lurching gait, Frankenstein. The giant Siberian with the scar, Podruznig’s right-hand man? Igor of course. And so on. For a mapping and counting op. like this it did the job. Another day or so and they should have all they need. Now if he could just get some more on The Mummy - the one who kept himself well wrapped up whatever the temperature but who’d rarely been seen since he arrived a couple of days before - they could knock all this logging stuff on the head and concentrate on getting ready for-.