A Killing Place in the Sun

by Robert F Barker

  The man had sounded even angrier than normal. Understandable, given the delay. But Westgate was pretty sure it was only for effect. He would calm once he thought things through. After all, it wasn’t Westgate’s fault that information was so sparse. None of them had factored in the complications over the Russian’s involvement. And given they had waited so long for things to start moving again – Murray’s gang had stuck it out far longer than they had ever imagined - it made no sense to risk drawing attention to their interest by running around asking questions. Besides, the contact he had managed to make recently meant his chances of picking up on anything significant were much improved - as he’d discovered when he learned of what had happened in the hills overlooking the house. He hadn’t pushed for details, it wouldn’t have been professional. But when he referred to the house being watched and the comment came back about there now being one less to worry about, the inference was clear.

  That Murray’s gang were still interested in the house raised two possibilities. The first was that Murray was still alive and following through with his plan. The second, that he was dead and the others were doing so on his behalf. Either way, it didn’t matter. Given the way things were shaping up, the eventual outcome would, he was sure, be the same. What he needed to focus on, was making sure that when the pieces stopped falling and the smoke cleared, he was in a position to step in - right place, right time - and do what he was being paid for. When that happened, his patient persistence would, he hoped, be rewarded in the way it so deserved. It had been long enough coming.

  As the pretty Japanese waitress poured his second coffee, Westgate thought about whether it was too soon to call again. Their last contact had been two days before, but his instincts told him the pace was picking up and he shouldn’t leave things too long. He could easily come up with some bullshit story to justify it. Some sighting, or interesting-sounding piece of background. The tone in the man’s voice was usually enough to tell how things were going, or if there were any new developments.

  Grabbing his phone, he punched in the divert-code the Comms. Officer at the base had given him, followed by the number he’d memorised. After a short delay, the familiar voice answered. He sounded calmer than last time. Perhaps something positive had happened for a change. Either that or he was ready to barter information.

  ‘It’s me,’ Westgate said.

  CHAPTER 44

  The sun was dropping behind the mountain backing the farmhouse as Murray pulled up. He knew at once something was wrong. Pippis, one of the older Chrises, and another of his nephews were just setting off, fully armed, along the path that wound across the valley. Seeing Murray arriving, they stopped while Pippis jogged back. He looked as concerned as the first time Murray saw him after the explosion.

  'Gina took a basket up to Kyriakos three hours ago.'

  Instinctively, Murray’s gaze switched to the outcrop. There was no one in sight.

  'She hasn’t returned and they aren’t answering their phones.'

  As if to prove it, Pippis turned to fire his rifle into the air. He waited only as long as it took for Murray to see there was no response from up on the outcrop, before he turned to rejoin his companions. 'We must hurry.'

  'I’m coming with you,' Murray said.

  By the time they emerged from the trees onto the outcrop, dusk was falling. Far below, the lights showed bright in the windows of the farmhouse. There was no sign of Kyriakos or Gina. The four fanned out to search.

  It was George, Pippis’s nephew, who found Kyriakos’s body amidst the rocks that formed a natural shelter on the southern edge of the outcrop. He all but collapsed as he hailed them. 'HERE.' They scrambled over to join him.

  Kyriakos was still sitting upright, his back against the large boulder. He was facing out down the valley, his rifle beside him. His white shirt was stained red from the blood that had gushed from the wide slit in his throat. There was no sign he had even had time to move, let alone put up any resistance. Just like Billy, Murray thought. About to say so, a heart-rending cry from Pippis stayed him.

  'GINA.'

  Turning from Kyriakos, Pippis set off, searching frantically around the outcrop. They all joined him. Murray could sense the Policeman’s terror that he would find her, having suffered the same fate as her cousin. For himself, he was all-but sure they would not. For several minutes they scoured the immediate area around the outcrop and surrounding trees. Eventually it was Murray, going over the ground already covered by the younger Chris, who found the food basket, on top of the rock where it had been left for them. Chris had missed it in the semi-darkness. No one criticised.

  The basket’s contents were undisturbed, but on top of the cloth, weighted by a stone, was a note. Written in a neat, precise hand, the message turned Murray’s blood cold. He read it to the others.

  'THE BOY MAKES 2. IF YOU COME AFTER HER SHE WILL BE 3.'

  Murray handed it to Pippis. 'He’s got her,' he said, grimly.

  Pippis held the paper between shaking fingers, reading its devastating message for himself. Then the Divisional Commander for the Pafos Police Division lifted his eyes to the emerging stars and gave out a howl of torment that reverberated and echoed off the mountains for what seemed an age.

  'GINNAAAA.'

  By the time they reached the farmhouse everyone knew what had happened. After hearing Pippis’s fearful cry echoing down off the mountain, some of the younger men had rushed out and up the hill to lend aid in whatever way was needed – only to meet the party returning, carrying Kyriakos’s body between them. One of them raced back with the terrible news.

  The older women wailed as fresh hands, working under Galios’s direction, took Kyriakos from his exhausted bearers and carried him inside. Few words passed between them, though Murray could tell the dam would not hold long. Vasillis hadn’t arrived yet. He was on his way, but already the smell of vengeance hung heavy in the air. When someone raised the question of what they were going to do about Gina, Pippis silenced them with a curt, 'See to Kyriakos, then we will talk.'

  During their silent descent down the mountain, Murray had sensed, rather than seen, the change in Pippis. The anguish, grief and fury that had been fuelled by Kyriakos’s murder and the killer’s note, lasted only as long as it took Murray to cajole them all into holding off declaring their intended response until after they got Kyriakos off the hillside. As they began the grim task of carrying him down - not easy in the dark - they’d all lapsed into silence. But Murray kept his attention on the man whose daughter was now in peril, and could only admire the man’s fortitude in controlling whatever emotions were coursing through. His stoicism seemed to convey itself to the others, stemming Chris and George’s questions about what they would do once they got down.

  By the time they neared the farmhouse and the family came out to meet them, Murray sensed Pippis’s quiet determination more keenly than he had after the explosion. He didn’t need to ask how much notice Pippis intended to take of the killer’s note. But for all that Murray was aware he might soon face a fresh wave of resentment from certain quarters, his concern remained on ensuring that whatever decisions were taken, nothing happened that might endanger Gina. It wouldn’t be easy. The desire to avenge Kyriakos and stage an immediate rescue – if such a thing were even possible – would be strong in all of them. He just hoped that the likes of Galios and Pippis were not too enraged to recognise that decisions taken in the heat of battle didn’t always stand up to scrutiny. With Gina a hostage, now, above all, was the time for cool thinking.

  As the rest of the family disappeared inside with Kyriakos, Pippis motioned Murray to hang back.

  'My family are angry. Already they talk of revenge.' Murray nodded. 'The note spoke of two. What does it mean?'

  Murray told him about Billy, regretting he hadn’t contacted Pippis at once to warn him that Podruznig had brought in a professional. Pippis wasn’t interested in recrimination.

  'We all thought we were safe here. We were wrong.'

>   'Which raises a question.'

  Pippis stared at him a moment, then the penny dropped. Turning, he walked swiftly to where the cars were lined up in front of the house. Murray followed.

  They found it easily. Murray had used trackers during live ops many times and reasoned that having the highest public profile, Pippis was the most likely target. As he pulled the small box off the back of Pippis’s HRV and showed it to him, the policeman displayed no regret, only the same steely determination as he observed, 'So it was me who led him here.'

  Taking the device from Murray, he flung it down and ground it into the gravel with his heel. The failure to preserve what could have been vital evidence signalled to Murray well enough that whatever action Pippis was now considering, it wasn’t the sort that would end in a court case – not unless it was to be him in the dock.

  On the way down, Murray had wondered whether, in light of Kyriakos’s death, Pippis would now ditch what they had recently discussed in favour of a full-scale police response. They were after all, now dealing with a murder and kidnapping as well as the bombing. But Podruznig held an ace card - Gina. Murray figured that at all costs, Pippis would wish to avoid anything that might alert whoever was holding her to the fact something was being planned. Besides, Murray was pretty sure that even if a police operation did result in some official sanction, Kyriakos’s murder, coming on top of what had happened to Ileana, meant it would not be enough to satisfy the family. The juggernaut was rolling. Murray could imagine only one thing stopping it.

  He knew he was right when Pippis turned to him and said, 'We do not have much time. Where will they take her?'

  Murray thought a moment. The Sea Caves house was almost too obvious. But it was secure, and anywhere else would mean Podruznig having to split his forces. If his intention was to intimidate his enemies into leaving him alone – the Intelligence File Murray had seen showed he had used the tactic many times over the years – it had to be there. In saying so to Pippis, Murray took care not to voice his other, worse fear, that Podruznig may decide to kill her anyway. He remembered what he’d read about Podruznig’s past misdeeds - and what he’d learned during his Odessa trip.

  Pippis took his time digesting it. It was obvious to Murray what he was thinking. If they went ahead and something went wrong, she could still end up dead.

  'Pippis.'

  They turned. Galios was framed in the doorway.

  'Your family needs you.'

  'A moment Papa.' He turned back to Murray. 'I have no time Mr Murray. My family needs me to be strong. You have experience of situations like this. Tell me. What should we do?'

  Murray’s gaze swung between Pippis and old Galios, still waiting for his son to instruct them as to their response. Clearly, the priority was Gina’s safety. But could that be guaranteed? And though right now it was way down his order of priorities, there was still the other matter to consider. On the face of it, it was all too difficult. Not enough time.

  'Pippis?'

  'I am coming Papa. Mr Murray?’

  Murray’s mind raced, re-playing everything that had happened so far. Everything he had learned about Podruznig. Seeking out options. He recalled that first day he had visited the house with Klerides. The panic he’d triggered. Their reception. The walk up the drive to meet with Podruznig. His being snatched, and taken out to the Akamas for ‘disposal’. His meeting with Marianna Podruznig at Scorpios. The-. Wait. She had said something about-.

  'They need you Pippis.' Galios was becoming impatient.

  'Peter?' -- the first time he had used Murray’s given name

  He remembered. He dug in his pocket, took out his phone.

  'Go to your family Pippis. But don’t let them rush into any decisions. I’ll join you shortly.'

  About to say something, Pippis bit his lip, turned, and went to join his father. Arms about each other, they went inside. The door closed behind them. Murray called Red.

  'Wassup Plod?'

  Murray brought him up to date. When he finished, Red repeated the words he’d already uttered several times as he’d listened. 'Jesus Christ.' Then, 'So what do you think the chances are of-?'

  'Who doubled with Billy on the obs on the house?'

  'The obs? Mainly Wazzer I think. Ryan did a bit but-'

  'Is Wazzer there?'

  'Hang on.'

  As he waited, Murray mentally crossed his fingers. If he was right, they would have to work out the details, and he might need another stroke of luck on the part of Pippis’s family. But there was nothing wrong with the basic idea. It had worked well enough for the Greeks at Troy.

  A few minutes later, as Murray walked in, Pippis was addressing his family, arrayed about him. Silence fell as Murray came through the door. Even Galios seemed to be looking at him differently now. Too much pain, even for him. Murray spoke directly to Pippis.

  'Do you know anyone who works for Charalambos Pilakoutas?'

  Part Three

  SETTLEMENT

  CHAPTER 45

  The Charalambos Pilakoutas Group is the biggest, franchised car dealership in Cyprus. It trades in most of the up-market marques - BMW, Rolls Royce, Jaguar, others. Kodras Shikkis had been Service Manager at the Pafos branch of the group’s BMW Division since gaining promotion from Lead-Salesman on the basis of his organising skills and, especially, his observed ability to cope with pressure. The latter quality was particularly important as one of the post’s key responsibilities involved handling dissatisfied customers - usually those unacquainted with the fact that the word often used to describe the Cypriot work-ethic mirrors the Spanish - mañana.

  But in the six years he’d been doing the job, nothing came close to what hit him when he arrived at his office at his usual seven-am to find his phone already ringing. Thinking to ignore it – his secretary didn’t start until eight – he changed his mind when he saw it was the line from Nicosia Group Headquarters. At this time of the morning? Unheard of.

  When he picked up and heard the booming voice of the group’s senior Operations Director, Marinos Tsaliki himself and not his secretary, Nova - 'Is that you Kodras?' - he snapped to attention.

  'Mr Tsaliki? What can I-?'

  Not allowed to finish, Kodras could only listen as the man who was second in the group’s hierarchy only to its chairman, spelt out, in precise terms, the reason for his call. It began with, ‘Listen carefully Kodras. I am calling directly on behalf of the chairman himself.’ It ended with the sort of question Kodras usually answered straight off the top of his head. Thankfully, his instincts told him that on this occasion, it would not be good for his career if he had to ring back and admit he’d made a mistake. For that reason, Kodras uttered the words he took pride in having always avoided since his first day in the job.

  'I am sorry sir, I do not know.'

  Tsaliki maintained a steady calm. 'In that case, Kodras, this is what you will do.'

  As Kodras wrote down the step-by-step instructions, responding to each with a crisp, 'Yes sir,' his collar grew damp. He had no idea whether what was being demanded of him was deliverable – has he forgotten it is Friday? - but his chairman’s tone left him in no doubt. If he did not succeed in what was being asked of him, he may as well start reading the Situations Vacant pages of the Cyprus Mail.

  When he was finished, Tsaliki said, 'Any questions, Kodras?'

  'No sir.'

  'Then get on with it. And let me know when it is done.'

  As he hung up, Kodras knew that despite himself, he had told one lie. He did have questions. Lots. But none were relevant to the success of his mission, only to understanding why he was being asked to carry it out - and what could be so important as to make his Director late for his regular, Friday-morning seven-o’clock round of golf at the exclusive Aphrodite Hills Resort?

  Shelving his curiosity – he needed to get things moving – Kodras made his way through to the garage and out back to the low prefabricated building that was the bodyshop. On his way he passed the service mechan
ics eating their first breakfast. In high summer they start at six so they can finish before the sun is at its fiercest. He didn’t respond to their cheery chorus of, 'Good morning Kodras.'

  As he slipped between the plastic strip-curtains hanging over the bodyshop entrance, the sweet smell of acrylic hit him. Leonidis Evripidou, the bodyshop foreman, was standing in front of a Jaguar saloon that was up on the ramps. It was minus both front wings and its bonnet. He was sipping Cyprus coffee from a small cup while giving instructions to the shop’s two young panel-beaters who were standing, hands in the pockets of their blue overalls, looking suitably bored. They all turned as Kodras came in. Their faces evidenced their surprise. Leonidis and Kodras knew each from their salesman days, which was why Leonidis didn’t try to hide his amusement at seeing his boss out and about from his luxurious office so early.

  'My God, Kodras. Has Peta finally traded you in for someone who can give her what she needs?'

  Having married a woman ten years younger than himself, Kodras was used to the occasional ribbing his good fortune sometimes generated. But on this occasion he ditched his usual retort about Leonidis’s six children and his own wife’s proclivities.

  'The X7 Leo, the one belonging to the Russian. Is it finished yet?'

  The smile on Leonidis’s face vanished. Simple courtesy demanded at least some attempt at banter before business. But whatever the cause of his boss’s bad mood – Peta no doubt – he wasn’t about to let Kodras take it out on him. He raised his cup towards the back of the bodyshop where the object of his boss’s enquiry was still gathering dust. 'We are waiting for the door panel.'