The Cyclist

by Tim Sullivan

  But it was a photograph of him at a local charity event for a Greek hospice that caught her eye. It wasn't the size of the cheque he was holding (both in a monetary and physical sense), it was the man standing next to him. She cross-referenced the photograph with a couple of others and then got up to tell Cross. This was a breakthrough. She was sure of it and, what was more, no-one had asked her to do it. She could practically taste the gratitude and surprise. She knocked on Cross' door. He asked her in. He was sitting with Ottey. They had been discussing the case and Ottey was looking decidedly pissed off.

  'I've found something,' Mackenzie said eagerly. Cross said nothing.

  'Go on,' said Ottey.

  'Tony Franopoulos was, or rather is, known to Angelo Sokratis,' she proclaimed, maybe a tiny bit theatrically. The two detectives said nothing, then looked at each other, weighing up the import, the precise implications this bombshell was going to have on the investigation.

  'DS Cross has just told me that Franopoulos introduced Sokratis to Alex Paphides,' said Ottey. What? Shit! thought Mackenzie. This was the second time in as many cases – well, she'd only been there for two cases, admittedly – where she'd discovered something and informed him, only to be told that he already knew, taking all the wind completely out of her sails. Ottey then turned to Cross. 'George?'

  'Yes? Oh yes. Alice, were you tasked by me to look into Tony Franopoulos?' he asked.

  'I was not,' she sighed.

  'I take it from that exhalation that you are fully aware of what I'm about to say. Had you kept to what I'd tasked you with, rather than "going freelance", I believe is the expression, then you might not have wasted your valuable time ascertaining something you couldn't know that I was already aware of. Was there anything else?'

  'No,' she said, turning towards the door. She stopped and turned back to him. 'One slight problem with what you just said. You haven't actually tasked me with anything.’

  Cross thought about this for a moment, 'That, Alice, is an excellent point.'

  'Thanks,' she said, amazed that she'd come out of this with anything positive, however small.

  'And something I shall rectify immediately. I shall come over to your desk with an assignment,' he replied. Cross looked over at Ottey and raised his eyebrows as if to say, 'You see? I am learning.' She shook her head and left the office.

  Catherine had been asked to look at the CCTV footage at the hotel the evening of Alex's death. She came to the office later with her results. Ottey saw her from her desk and got up to follow, as did Carson, who saw her crossing the department. The last time they had all gathered like this, the previous day, Cross had been appalled to be told that Catherine had "sent away" the footage of the indistinct logo on the side of the suspect van for enhancement.

  'What do you mean, "sent away"?' he asked.

  'Well, what do you think it means, George?' said Carson.

  'Why is it we seem no longer capable of doing things that only a few months ago were routine and deemed essential for the proper facilitation of police work?'

  'Improved efficiencies, as you well know,' Carson said.

  'I know nothing of the sort. You can't tell me that her having to do this is either more efficient or cost-effective in her effort or time,' Cross continued. 'So the purpose of these cuts, namely "improved efficiency", is clearly not working.'

  'George, it's not as if she actually had to go out to the post office, put it in a jiffy-bag and buy a stamp.'

  'Well, obviously not,' said Cross, thinking this through. 'It's an electronic image, which would have made that impossible. Unless of course she printed it out first. Then she could have sent it in an envelope, as you suggest, but that would surely have defeated the whole purpose. The pixels are what need enhancement, so it would have to be sent electronically.'

  Carson had immediately regretted making his little quip, and made a note that in future, to save time if nothing else, he would refrain from making such jokes. Catherine showed them some clips she'd edited from the airport hotel footage. First of all, two men arrived. This was Angelo and his business partner Theo. They were dressed incredibly well, in suits that said they were there to do business. They had booked a meeting room, according to the hotel. The next footage showed Alex arriving and being greeted by Theo in the reception of the hotel. It was quite a formal, stiff greeting, Cross thought, as if what was about to happen held no attraction for either of them. It was probably going to be an awkward meeting. Alex left an hour later. Then shortly after, Tony Franopoulos was seen walking through the hotel to the meeting room. The timecode said this meeting lasted just under forty-five minutes.

  'They're not in the least bit bothered about being seen on security camera. They spend time in the reception area. They visit the rest rooms. They even go for a drink in the bar. Why haven't they left yet? What are they waiting for? They have nothing to hide, whatever it is,' he said. Catherine smiled. She really liked Cross. She liked the way it was all business with him. What they had in front of them – nothing else. But what she really liked was the way, on every occasion, he seemed to be one step ahead of everyone else. As he was here.

  'They were indeed waiting for someone,' she said, and then moved the tape on. At ten pm, which was around the time they thought Alex had been killed, in walked his brother. This time it was Angelo who met him. It was a warm embrace, then Angelo led him by the arm into the meeting room. They all left two hours later. Big hugs between Angelo and Kostas. Warm handshakes with Theo. Then they left. The two Greek men flew straight back to Athens. It was a really quick turnaround.

  They all sat there and took this new information in.

  'So they didn't kill him,' said Carson.

  'No-one had suggested they had,' said Cross.

  'No, I was just thinking out loud, as it were. So what does this mean, George?'

  'I think I'd like to pay Tony Franopoulos another visit before making any comment,' he said.

  'Do you think he's involved?' asked Carson.

  'He's certainly more involved than he has previously let on. He meets with Hellenic at the hotel and leaves shortly after Alex,' he said.

  'So you think he might have killed him,' Carson stated.

  'I don't think anything of the sort, but I would certainly like to know where he went after their meeting. His company vans are also the same shade of light blue as the paint left on the garage frame, which might be interesting,' he went on.

  'You're kidding,' said Carson.

  'Why would I joke...' started Cross.

  'George...' said Ottey, indicating that he'd got the wrong end of the "literal" meaning stick again.

  'No. It's true. I'd also like to see Kostas again, just for my own curiosity.'

  'Do you think we have time for that?'

  'If we can send pieces of forensic evidence out for examination as well as digital imaging, I think I have time to look into Angelo Sokratis' dealings with Kostas Paphides. Because if that man is suddenly going to have business dealings and concerns in Bristol, I think it would be wise to know exactly what they are. I don't, for a minute, think we've seen the last of Sokratis, and from what Athens and MI5 are telling us, he's a nasty character we'd do well to keep our eyes on.'

  'MI5?' said Carson, but Cross got up and grabbed his coat and bike gear. When he got to the door he stopped as if he’d remembered something, and turned to Ottey.

  'DS Ottey, will you be joining me?' he asked.

  'I will, George,' she said, smiling. He put his bike things back on the table and they left. Carson was trying to figure out what was going on and, not for the first time, who the hell Cross knew in MI5. He saw Catherine looking at him, so he did what he always thought to do in such a situation. He issued an instruction designed to give anyone within earshot the impression that he was very much in charge.

  'Let me know when you hear back on the van logo.'

  Chapter 21

  Tony wasn't at his work. His secretary told the two detectives that he was at the g
ym. 'He's there more often than here, these days,' she said. As they went back to the car, Cross and Ottey took a closer look at the fleet of light blue vans then turned to each other.

  'They're wrapped,' Cross observed.

  'So that rules them out,' she agreed.

  'It would certainly seem so.'

  Danny was stretching Tony when they got to the gym. From Tony's drenched T-shirt, Danny had certainly put him through his paces. He asked them if they could wait while he showered but also made a point of asking them what they needed, as he felt he'd told them all he knew last time.

  'We'd like to talk about Hellenic,' Ottey said. Tony thought for a moment. Was he working out whether to deny any knowledge again? If he was, he obviously decided that, with them asking again, they had to know more than they did before so it would be pointless.

  'Sure. There's a café on the main road. Take a left, about a hundred yards. There in fifteen minutes?' He walked off to the showers.

  'How are you getting on?' asked Danny.

  'We're making progress, thanks,' said Ottey.

  'Do you think it had anything to do with him supplying the drugs?'

  'We're not sure. Why? Have you thought of anything since we were last here?'

  'No. But it would make sense, wouldn't it? I mean a lot of these guys aren't just selling performance-enhancers, you know; they do rec stuff as well. Maybe he trod on someone's toes,' he went on.

  'Someone came to the gym, didn't they? More than once,' Cross suggested.

  'How'd you find that out?' asked Danny.

  'You just told us,' said Ottey. He frowned a second as he tried to figure this out. 'Name?' she asked.

  'I don't know. I'd tell you if I did.'

  'Would you be willing to come down to the station and look at a few mug shots with one of the detectives who deals with that?' she asked.

  'Unfortunate choice of word,' he said, 'but sure, if it'll help. I can come down tomorrow.'

  Tony arrived in the café about ten minutes later, hair still wet from the shower. He bought himself a bottle of water and offered both of them a drink, which they declined.

  'Why did you tell us you hadn't heard of Hellenic?' Cross asked.

  'Did I? I don't remember. I don't know why I would've done that. Maybe I didn't hear you properly.'

  'What do you do for them?' asked Cross.

  'I don't know what you mean. I don't do anything for them,' he said.

  'I'm not at all sure why you're being so evasive, Mr Franopoulos,' said Cross. Tony didn't answer. 'What's your relationship with Angelo Sokratis?'

  'I don't have one. I've never even met the man.'

  'Do you meet a lot of people in your line of business?'

  'No more than anyone else.'

  'Sokratis is a big name in Greece, is he not?' Cross asked.

  'Yes.'

  'Important enough to remember whether you'd met him or not, presumably,' said Cross. Franopoulos didn't answer. Ottey opened a picture on her phone and showed him a photograph of himself with his arms around Sokratis.

  'Taken at one of your Greek fund-raising nights here in Bristol. Sokratis made a contribution of five hundred thousand pounds that night. Half a million. Do you get so many of those that they just slip your mind?’ she asked.

  'Okay, fine; why don't you just cut to the chase and ask whatever it is you want?' said Tony.

  'Well, because it would be pointless if you are either not going to answer the questions or not tell us the truth. We're happy to "cut to the chase" as you call it, if you're willing to do the same.'

  'I guess the closest thing to describe it would be that I act as a consultant for them,' he said.

  'Could you elaborate?'

  'They want to expand their business out of Greece. I mean, who wouldn't with the state of that economy?'

  'You didn't answer my question,' said Cross.

  'I keep my ears to the ground. Look out for any business or markets they might be interested in.'

  'Like the restaurant business?' Ottey asked.

  'Well, you might say that is an area of expertise for me. I have a lot of contacts nationwide in the food business. But they're interested in anything underperforming which could do better, or even businesses that are doing well, where they see room for improvement.'

  'Which is how you brought Alex to their attention.'

  'Yes.'

  'What was the plan?' asked Ottey.

  'Simple. Alex wanted to expand, as you probably know, and Angelo was interested in investing. Perfect for both sides.'

  'Something went wrong, though,' Cross suggested.

  'Alex began to have cold feet.'

  'Why?'

  'I don't know. You'd have to ask him,' Tony replied, ice coldly. Cross looked at him, trying to work out whether this was just a product of irritation or a menacing challenge – implying that he had something to do with the murder and they couldn't touch him. Cross came to the conclusion that this man had nothing to hide but was getting annoyed by the questioning all the same. So he sat there in silence, and Ottey took her cue from him and said nothing. After a while it was Franopoulos who was the first to cave.

  'Look, Angelo is a major player in Greece and maybe he will be here. But the one thing he values more than anything is discretion. He could be very good for me; I don't know yet. But he's certainly someone who can open doors for me here and at home. That's why I'm being cagey with you. I don't want to piss him off. It's as simple as that.'

  'Maybe you could tell me what you were meeting him about the evening of the eighth of this month?' Cross asked.

  'I don't remember.'

  'How often do you meet with him, would you say?'

  'Every couple of months, sometimes every month.'

  'Where?'

  'If it's London, at his hotel. He takes a suite at The Connaught.'

  'And Bristol?'

  'He's normally in and out on the jet, so mostly in a hotel near the airport. The Hamptons by Hilton, I think it's called.'

  'Where were you on the eighth of this month?'

  'You know where.'

  'Well obviously we know where you were in the early evening. You were meeting Angelo and his lawyer Theo at that hotel. What was that meeting about?'

  'That would be confidential.'

  'Well, we know that it was about Alex, as he left shortly before you arrived. This is the last image of Alex alive.' Ottey showed him the CCTV footage on her phone.

  'I'm not going to say any more about the meeting. Sorry, it's private and I can assure you it won't help you with poor Alex's murder,' Tony said. Cross turned to Ottey with an expression that she knew meant he wanted her to wrap it up and for them to get out of there.

  'Mr Franopoulos, where did you go after your meeting with Hellenic?'

  'Well, that's easy. I had dinner with my wife.'

  'Where?'

  'At Paco Tapas.'

  'Very nice.'

  'Michelin Star.'

  'I know. How did you manage to get a table?'

  'How d'you think? I supply their fruit and veg.'

  'Of course you do. How can you remember it so well? No looking at your diary, no checking your phone'

  'Wedding anniversary.'

  'You won't mind if we check?'

  'Of course not. The booking was in my wife's name and we said hello to the chef after.'

  Cross looked at his phone, which had buzzed with a text, then got up abruptly and left.

  'Where's he going?' Franopoulos asked.

  'You should be encouraged; that generally means you're no longer of any interest to him, which is a good thing for you, I assure you,' she said, getting up and following her partner out of the café.

  She opened the central locking and they both got into her car.

  'Something happen? Or you just had enough?'

  'Both. I don't think Franopoulos was involved. I don't think Hellenic was involved. I think this is a dead end and the sooner we move on the more time we'll sa
ve,' he said.

  'Move on where, exactly?' she asked. He thought for a moment.

  'I have no idea,' he replied.

  'Great. I can't wait to see Carson's face,' she said.

  'I don't think he’ll be very happy.’

  ‘Exactly.'

  'Oh I see. I would've thought in the circumstances you might have more important considerations, bearing in mind we currently have nothing to go on in this murder case,' he said. She ignored him. Months ago she would have thought this kind of comment, which admittedly he used to make with more frequency, condescending and rude. She now knew it was his way of saying what he was thinking. Literally. There was no side or slight intended. It was just his way. So she let it go.

  'So what happened?' she asked.

  'Alison...'

  'The family liaison officer?'

  'Yes. Texted. Debbie's in hospital. The BRI. Miscarriage.'

  'Oh... shit. We should go down.'

  'Indeed.'

  When they arrived at the hospital, Debbie was about to go into theatre for a D&C. Cross held back and let Ottey go in and talk to Debbie. Cross was not in any way familiar with pregnancy, and the causes of lost pregnancies. But he thought it wouldn't be too far-fetched to think that maybe the murder of her boyfriend and all the related stress and anxiety of Alex's murder had played a prominent part in this. They were there to comfort and support Debbie, Ottey said. They both felt that she was best placed to do this on her own. Mainly because she was a woman and a mother, but also because Cross didn't perform well in these situations. People felt, on occasion, that he was cold and detached. Cross waited patiently outside the room until some theatre porters arrived with a trolley to take Debbie to theatre.

  Ottey was quite surprised by how calm and accepting Debbie was. She wondered, with the situation Debbie was in – estranged parents, living with her late boyfriend's family – whether maybe losing the baby might have in some way been a relief for her. She then told herself off for such an unkind thought. She sat on the edge of the bed and held Debbie's hand. Helena, Alex's mother, was also there. She had been crying. She actually looked more upset than the patient. But this would have been her first grandchild, Ottey thought, and all that she had left of her dead son. It was an awful double blow.