Sons of Sparta

Chapter Sixteen

Alexander never drew attention to his extramarital affairs. He kept a nondescript studio apartment in a low-profile Athens neighborhood, and unlike his buddies back in the Mani, never talked about his conquests, though he’d had many. He saw discretion as the key to success in every aspect of his life, be it public or pubic.

At the moment he was enjoying his newest lover, a lithe young thing, barely seventeen. His hands squeezed the smooth, taunt cheeks of his lover’s bottom as he thrashed on the edge of orgasm with each new deep thrust of hard flesh between arching, open buttocks. He’d never expected it to remain this exciting with each new lover.

Nor did he expect what happened next.

Alexander didn’t hear the deadbolt lock on the front door click open. Nor did he see the doorknob turn. But he did hear the exploding kick that tore the security chain away from the doorjamb and the two men coming straight at him.

Alexander tried twisting himself out from under his lover, but he got his legs tangled in the boy’s and they both rolled off the bed onto the floor at the feet of the two men.

“My, my, what do we have here?” said Andreas.

“Looks like buttfuckus interruptus to me,” said Tassos.

Alexander pushed himself off the floor and grabbed a pillow to cover his genitals. “How dare you break into my home? Do you have any idea who I am?”

Andreas nodded. “A one-time member of Parliament and full-time, full-of-shit crooked politician.”

“If you’re blackmailers, you’re wasting your time. Get out of here now or I’ll call the police.”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Kouros, stepping through the doorway. “We’re already here.”

Alexander’s mouth dropped. “What are you doing here?”

“I missed you at coffee the other day, just thought I’d drop in for a quiet chat about my uncle’s murder. Sorry about the door, but I guess your neighbors are used to noise in here.”

Alexander leaned back against the edge of the bed, still clutching the pillow.

“By the way, your building owner asked me to tell you that he apologized but it was either opening your door for us or his books for a tax audit.”

The boy cowered on the floor by the end of the bed. “I’ve got nothing to do with whatever shit this old queen’s got himself into with you. I just took his money to fuck him.”

Andreas crouched down next to the boy. “I bet.” He looked at his watch. “You’ve got thirty seconds to get out of here before I change my mind.”

The boy jumped up, grabbed his clothes off a chair, and ran out of the apartment without bothering to dress. Kouros closed the door behind him.

Alexander looked at Kouros. “Are these your cousin’s friends?” He gestured with his head at Andreas and Tassos.

“Does it matter? We’re all family. If you screw with one of us, you screw with us all.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Answers, a lot of them.” Kouros stepped between Andreas and Tassos and sat next to Alexander on the edge of the bed. “And frankly, I don’t give a damn who or how you fuck. Unless it’s me or my family.”

Alexander pulled the pillow closer.

Andreas made a fist and stuck it in Alexander’s face. “Let me at the old pusti. I’ll get him to tell us what he’s up to with Orestes.”

“Orestes? How do you know…?” He stopped himself.

Kouros shook his head. “The question isn’t how we know, it’s why you didn’t tell me. Or better yet, why you didn’t tell my cousin Mangas.”

“There’s nothing to tell. Just business.”

Kouros patted Alexander on the knee. “Come now, Alexander. I’m giving you a chance to explain. Something you’ll never get from Mangas.” He made a tsk-tsk sound. “Especially if you make it necessary for me to tell him that you were involved in his father’s murder.”

Alexander’s right eye started twitching. “I had nothing to do with your uncle’s death.”

Kouros shrugged. “But I promised Mangas I’d let him know if I found anyone I thought might have played a part in it.” He spread his arms apart, hands facing up. “And after your meeting last night with Orestes and your big, ugly Ukrainian buddy, how can I not think of you as a suspect?”

Now both of Alexander’s eyes were twitching. “I don’t know how you know about that, but you’re fishing. You have nothing to tell Mangas. That meeting had nothing to do with his family. Now, why don’t you get out of here and leave me alone?”

Kouros laughed. “Leave you alone? My friend, we’re way past that. Your meeting was all about the hotel project the Ukrainian planned on doing with Mangas’ father. Good luck on selling your ‘nothing to do with his family’ bullshit to him once he hears the tape.”

Kouros grabbed Alexander’s thigh and squeezed hard. “Knowing him as we both do, there’s no upside in this for you but to tell me what I want to know.” He released his grip. “Otherwise, my friend over there beats the shit out of you until you tell us, or, if by some miracle you don’t talk, I tell Mangas what I know and he slices and dices you until either he believes you or you die.”

Kouros patted Alexander on the shoulder. “Your choice.”

Alexander brought his hands up to his face and rubbed at his eyes. The pillow didn’t move. He talked between his hands, his fingers pressing hard against his eyes. “Your uncle asked me to help get whatever approvals were necessary to build the resort project. I told him no problem. He introduced me to the Ukrainian. Told me to deal with him directly. Never said why. But once I realized who the Ukrainian was, I knew this involved a lot more than just a hotel. And I also understood your uncle wanted nothing to do with any of that. He left the political maneuvering to me.”

“You mean the bribes,” said Kouros.

Alexander dropped his hands to the pillow. “Yes. At least he didn’t want to think he was involved. But all I had to do was mention I was acting on your uncle’s behalf and any favor I wanted was a done deal. Everybody owed your uncle.”

“And now what?”

“Now nothing. When your uncle died, his influence and the deal died with him.”

“Then what the fuck were you doing playing footsies with Orestes and the Ukrainian?” asked Tassos.

Alexander studied Tassos’ face and shrugged. “Trying to resurrect it.”

“For yourself?” said Kouros.

“How could I? The property isn’t mine.”

“Maybe you were looking to sell him another property?” said Andreas.

He gestured no. “That property was the only one the Ukrainian was interested in.”

“So you did try to sell him something else?” said Kouros.

“I made suggestions. But only after your uncle died. Never before.”

“How did you plan on making money out of the deal since it wasn’t your property?”

“I figured your cousins would cut me in for a share of the deal if I saved it. That’s what your uncle had promised to do for me on the original deal.”

“Add another piece from the Ukrainian, plus more from your new political patron, Orestes, and you have a pretty sweet arrangement.”

Alexander shrugged. “Why not? I’d have earned it if the deal went through. That’s the way business is done.”

“Sounds to me like you had a lot to gain from the uncle’s death,” said Andreas.

Alexander raised his right hand as if swearing on a Bible. “As I said, no way I had anything to do with his death. I loved Yianni’s uncle.”

“Yeah sure,” said Tassos.

“Okay, so don’t believe me. But check the proposed contracts for the deal and you’ll see that I was in for a piece of it.” He looked at Kouros. “Your uncle believed in paying people for their services. That’s why he was so successful. I stood to make a lot of money if the project went through. And whether or not I might make more now, killing your uncle put everything at risk. It made no sense for me. On any level.”

“One last question,” said Kouros. “Why would the Ukrainian have wanted my uncle dead?”

“The Ukrainian? He was the last guy who wanted your uncle out of the picture. Your uncle was the only one who could keep the family in line and get everyone to agree on the terms.”

“My guess is Mangas could still achieve that,” said Kouros.

“And with the way the economy’s in free-fall, at a better price for the Ukrainian,” said Andreas

“I think the same way,” said Alexander. “But the Ukrainian doesn’t. He’s ready to walk away from the deal. That’s why I brought in Orestes. If this deal happens for the family it’ll be because of me.”

“Who would have wanted him dead if not the Ukrainian?” said Andreas.

“A lot of people. But I’m not one of them.” Alexander stood up, still holding the pillow in front of him, and walked over to where his clothes were neatly laid out on the dresser. He put on his shorts.

“I hope you’ll believe now, gentlemen, that I have nothing to hide.”

Tassos nodded toward Alexander’s shorts. “That’s for sure.”

***

Traffic heading in the direction of GADA ignored the police siren, and the several side streets Kouros tried offered no better route.

Andreas drummed his right hand’s fingers on the passenger side dashboard. “Relax, Yianni, we’ll get there when we get there.”

“You did a great job, kid,” said Tassos leaning over from the backseat to smack Kouros on the back of his head. “I particularly liked the part about the ‘tape.’”

Kouros smiled. “Me, too. It was an easy bluff with nothing to lose. If he’d called it I’d have told him he’d get to hear it soon enough.”

“You mean like when you played it for your cousin?” Tassos smacked him on the back of the head again. “Did he even realize Andreas and I were cops? He acted as if we worked for your cousin.”

“In his part of Greece there’s not much of a difference. And the chief’s imitation of a kick-ass, bad-cop act didn’t do anything to disabuse him of that notion.”

“What do you mean imitation?” said Andreas.

“I personally thought you showed just the right combination of John Wayne and Rambo.”

Andreas lifted his right hand from the dash and flashed an open palm at Tassos. “I agree with the malaka in the backseat. You were the only one of us who had a shot at making him talk. Alexander’s not afraid of cops, but he’s scared to death of your influence with your cousin.”

“Kicking in doors is easier for me.”

“And a damn good job you did on Alexander’s,” said Tassos.

“Surprised the shit out of the landlord.”

“Not our problem. He’s who insisted on being there in case any of his tenants got curious.”

“Not one of them bothered to check on who’d just kicked in their neighbor’s front door,” said Tassos.

“My guess is the only curious one in the building is the landlord,” said Andreas. “And he just wanted to get a peek at what his ‘quiet’ tenant’s been doing with all those boys he’d been bringing up there for years.”

“As if he didn’t know,” said Tassos.

“If he didn’t before, he sure as hell does now,” said Andreas.

“Not sure who looked more surprised when I kicked in the door. Alexander or the landlord. You’d think guys like him would know better than to bring their mobile phones to places they don’t want to be found.”

“He probably thought only the Americans have GPS,” smiled Andreas.

“What do you think is Alexander’s next move?” said Tassos.

“Find another apartment,” said Andreas.

“Cute,” said Tassos.

“I doubt he’ll tell anyone about our little get-together this afternoon. There’s no upside in it for him unless he thinks we might say something to someone first. But Yianni made it crystal clear that everything Alexander said would stay just between us, as long as he didn’t have anything to do with his uncle’s murder.”

“There’s another reason for him not saying anything to my uncle’s friends about our visit. It risks they’ll find out we caught him playing Juliet to the boy’s Romeo and those old-time macho types aren’t very open-minded on the subject.”

“When you told him that what we found going on in his apartment would stay ‘just between us,’ I thought he’d kiss your feet,” said Tassos.

Kouros smiled. “At least.”

Andreas rolled his eyes. “Up until that comment I was about to compliment you on how much you’ve matured. You actually seemed to have meant it when you said, ‘I don’t give a damn who or how you fuck.’”

“Thank you, I did, and I don’t. It’s just hard acting mature with you two dragging me down.”

Andreas laughed. “My guess is Alexander’s already distancing himself from the Ukrainian. He knows we’ll keep squeezing him for information if he doesn’t, and the odds are that sooner or later someone in the deal will figure out he’s been talking to cops. Alexander is the sort of political hustler who has survived by knowing when to cut his losses and move on.”

“If neither Alexander nor the Ukrainian had anything to do with my uncle’s murder, then who did?”

Tassos shook his head. “It’s back to looking like the only one with both motive and opportunity is one very dead taverna operator.”

“Maybe,” said Andreas. “Or maybe we’re looking at this the wrong way.”

“Meaning?” said Kouros.

“Perhaps we should stop looking for someone who wanted your uncle dead, and start looking for someone who wanted the project dead?”

“That narrows down the field of potential suspects,” said Tassos.

“And fits with the death threat to my uncle if he didn’t change his ‘plans.’”

Andreas stopped drumming his fingers. “Another hotel owner? Jealous neighbors who wanted the project for themselves?” He paused. “Or, perhaps, one of your cousins who didn’t like your uncle’s plans for sharing the inheritance with the other cousins?”

Kouros squeezed the steering wheel for an instant. “I get your point.”

“Good. But whoever we’re looking for has to be someone with real leverage on that taverna owner. Enough to get him to kill his protector and ultimately himself.”

“An even smaller universe of suspects,” said Tassos.

“And it gives us a place to start,” said Andreas.

“Namely?” said Tassos.

“Orestes.”

“Orestes?” said Kouros.

“He’s another political hustler. But unlike Alexander, he knows all the players behind the scenes in every transaction he’s involved with.” Andreas smiled. “And he’s too arrogant to cut his losses when he should.”

***

“May I help you?”

“Yes, keria. I’m here to see the man whose office is behind that door.” Andreas pointed at a dark, raised-panel, tall wooden door six feet behind the receptionist.

“I beg your pardon, sir?”

Andreas handed her his card. “Please, just give Orestes this.”

She took the card, picked up her phone, pressed a button, waited, and said, “Chief Inspector Andreas Kaldis is here to see you.”

She paused, looked up, and smiled. “He said to tell you to go to hell.”

“You’re too kind. I’m sure he really said to say, ‘Go fuck yourself.’”

She smiled again. “Whatever interpretation works for you, works for me.”

Andreas leaned in. “Just tell him his daddy might cut off his allowance when he wakes up tomorrow morning to find his pride and joy described in the press as the new butt boy for a certain Ukrainian arms smuggler, drug trader, and sex-slaver planning to set up operations in Greece. In the southern Peloponnese to be exact. And, please, my love, in your message, make sure to emphasize ‘butt boy.’”

The woman’s smile disappeared.

Andreas pointed at the phone. “Butt boy has two t’s, just in case you’re afraid to call his royal highness and prefer to email him instead.”

She jumped up, shuffled quickly to Orestes’ door, knocked, went inside, and closed the door.

Andreas heard muffled shouting from inside the office. Fifteen seconds later the door opened and the woman stepped out. She said nothing, but nodded for Andreas to go inside. He waved and smiled as he walked by her into the office. She slammed the door behind him.

“Touchy help,” said Andreas looking around the office. The walls were plastered with photographs of what looked to be every powerful person Orestes had ever met.

“Take your time. Take a good look. As you can see, I know everyone. Figure out for yourself how many ways I can bury you.”

Andreas kept looking at the walls, ignoring Orestes. The space was three times the size of Andreas’ office. “As far as I can tell, a lot of your pinup pals are in or headed to prison. You ought to be more careful whom you’re photographed with. Could ruin your reputation.”

From behind his ornate, Louis XIV desk, Orestes pointed at a lone straight-back chair in front of and facing him.

Andreas walked to the chair and without breaking stride lifted it with one hand above his head and continued around Orestes’ desk.

Orestes’ arms shot up in front of his face, “What are doing?”

Andreas dropped the chair inches from Orestes’ feet. “Rearranging the furniture.” He sat down. “Now, isn’t this cozier?”

“Get out of my office, now.”

“First, a few questions.”

Orestes played with his tie. “After screwing me in Crete, you expect me to help you?”

Andreas pointed at his own chest. “Me? I did precisely what you asked.” He pointed at Orestes and back at himself. “You and I, working together at protecting Greece from foreign predators. What more could you ask for? But don’t worry, I didn’t steal your credit. The prosecutor knows the list of suspects came from you.”

Orestes glared.

“I told him to do his best not to reveal you as the source. After all, we wouldn’t want potential clients on that list learning of your indiscretion. Might hurt business.” Andreas reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a print of a photograph captured from the DVD obtained by Petro. “Speaking of your business, what can you tell me about this?” He handed the photo to Orestes.

Orestes shrugged. “What’s there to tell?”

Andreas locked eyes with Orestes. “Short version or long?”

“Whatever version you think is going to mean more than a rat’s ass to me.”

“Fair enough. I’ll go short and let your imagination fill in the details. You and Alexander,” Andreas pointed at a face in the photograph, “saw the chance of making a lot of money by helping this dude,” he pointed at another face, “set up operations in Greece. The fact he’s high up on NATO’s shit list didn’t matter in the least to you or,” he pointed at an oversized portrait of Orestes’ father on the wall behind his desk, “Daddy.”

Orestes smiled. “You’re right.”

“Nor do you care what the Americans might think.”

Orestes smiled again. “You’re very well informed.”

“Too bad you weren’t, before you jumped into bed with Alexander and his Ukrainian mate.” He paused. “Figuratively speaking, of course.”

Anger flashed across Orestes’ face but he said nothing.

“You see, if certain folks in the Mani learn you’ve been working with those two, you’d better be sure your life insurance premiums are paid up. And his.” Andreas pointed at the painting again.

“I assume you’re talking about your colleague Kouros’ cousins.”

Andreas nodded. “You, too, are very well informed.”

“I had absolutely nothing to do with their father’s murder.”

Andreas shook his head from side to side. “You’re missing the point, my dear friend. Whether or not you were involved in the murder isn’t the issue. It’s how hard you’re working at the cover-up that’s going to get you killed.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You and I know that either the Ukrainian killed their father or knows who did. And if I know that,” he smiled, “and Detective Kouros knows that, how long until the sons know? And when they find out…” Andreas shook his head, “I don’t have to tell you how seriously those Maniots take their vendettas.” He nodded toward the portrait, “It’s practically biblical, as in ‘An eye for an eye.’”

“You’re bluffing. All you have linking me to your bullshit story is a photograph taken at a club where every sort on Earth says hello to each other.”

“If you’re betting on Alexander riding in on his white horse to cover your ass when they start twisting his nuts, good luck.” Andreas shook his head. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s down there right now putting as much distance as he can between you, the Ukrainian, the deal, and him.” Andreas smiled, “And oh yes, let’s not forget the Ukrainian’s plans for the airstrip.”

Orestes bit at his lip.

“Personally, I’d rather have NATO and the U.S. gunning for me than that dead man’s sons.”

“Where are you headed with this?”

“Perhaps it’s time to consider taking out insurance. The kind which promises that when the sons start looking into your role in their father’s murder, a certain detective cousin of theirs tells them how you fully cooperated from the moment you realized you might know something about their father’s murder.”

Orestes bit harder at his lip. “Why should I trust you?”

Sold, thought Andreas. He patted Orestes’ knee. “Because I’m not like you.” He leaned back and yawned. “Besides, what choice do you have?”

Orestes got up out of his chair and walked around the side of his desk away from Andreas. “I really don’t like you.”

“Old news.”

“Or the nephew.”

“I’m sure Detective Kouros would be hurt by that.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Names of anyone you think might have been involved in the murder.”

“I don’t have names.”

“Too bad, because I have yours.”

“You’re pretty stupid if you had to ask me that question.”

“I’ll live with that. Just tell me.”

“The competitors of the Ukrainian.”

“Competitors?”

“Local gunrunners operating on the Peloponnese. The kind that wouldn’t take kindly to a big player moving in on their territory.”

“But the locals use boats, the Ukrainian is into planes.”

“For now. But competition is competition, and if the Ukrainian gained a foothold in the Mani through a strong business alliance with the father, his expansion into their highly profitable sea routes would be inevitable. He presented an unacceptable risk they’d prefer to nip in the bud.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because that’s what the Ukrainian told me. In private, when that old queen wasn’t around.”

“What did he say?”

“His best guess was that the local boys somehow found out about his interest in the Mani and thought if they took out Mangas’ father, the project would die with him.”

“But how did they get the taverna owner to kill him?”

“The Ukrainian had no idea. But he doubted it was a coincidence.”

Funny how cops and crooks so often think alike, thought Andreas. “Okay, which locals?”

“He didn’t say, and I don’t know.”

“For your sake, you’d better not be holding out on me.”

“No reason to. I’m too busy to take on this project anyway. The Ukrainian will just have to find someone else to assist him or drop it.”

“Hope he’s not disappointed.”

“Not as disappointed as when he finds out that the reason his deal is dead is because the girlfriend who spent the night sitting on his lap spent the morning talking to cops.” His lip had curled into a snarl.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“The Ukrainian will.”

“Big mistake.”

“Why? Are you protecting hookers now, too?”

“No, except it wasn’t his girlfriend who talked.” Andreas winked, stood, and walked toward the door. “It was yours.”

***

Andreas didn’t bother to say good-bye to the receptionist. Nor did he wait for the elevator. He double-timed it down four flights of stairs out to the street, and jumped into the front passenger seat of a marked blue-and-white police car parked with all but its driver side wheels on the sidewalk.

“How’d it go?” said Kouros.

Andreas reached for his mobile, and hit a speed dial number. “Like charming a snake. Just drive. I’ll tell you after I speak to-Maggie, get Petro to call me ASAP in the car. It’s urgent.”

Andreas put down the phone and waited until Kouros had edged into the Formula One-style traffic on Vassilis Sofias, one of Athens’ busiest roads. “That bastard threatened to tell the Ukrainian that the girl on his lap was working with us.”

“How’d he figure that out?”

“He’s smart. But he’d do something like that even if he knew it wasn’t true, just to make us squirm.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That it wasn’t she; it was Alexander.”

“Jesus, I promised him we wouldn’t name him.”

“Yeah, I know, but Alexander can protect himself, the girl can’t. Besides, I didn’t exactly name Alexander, and that might make Orestes think twice about blaming him.”

“What did you say?”

“That it was Orestes’ ‘girlfriend’ who talked.”

“You really do like pouring gasoline on the flames, don’t you?”

“He deserves it. Besides, I wouldn’t be surprised if Orestes and Alexander had balled each other.”

“Some hard-on you have for that guy.”

Andreas turned his head and studied a smiling Kouros. “I’ll let that one pass. Orestes said the Ukrainian’s best guess was that local arms smugglers had your uncle killed. They’d figure murdering your uncle would kill the deal, too, and keep the competition from moving in.”

“Ever think that maybe Orestes told you that story in hopes it would get back to my cousins and they’d wipe out the Ukrainian’s competition?”

Andreas looked out the windshield. “That’s possible, but a very risky play by Orestes. And the Ukrainian. Pointing a finger means three others on the same hand point back at you.”

“So, which locals are involved?”

“No idea. Tassos might have one, but it’s way outside his stomping grounds, or maybe he can get his arms-dealing buddy to give us some names once he hears he’s not being asked to cross the Ukrainian.”

“Any idea on how they got Babis to kill my uncle?”

“Nope. We’ll just have to keep following the string. Sooner or later it will end somewhere.”

“Hopefully not back at the Minotaur.”

Andreas looked again at Kouros. “My literate friend, you’ve just given me an idea.”

“What kind of idea?”

“Theseus had his Ariadne to save him when all seemed bleakest. And you have your Stella.”

“The taverna owner’s girlfriend?”

“Yep. If anyone is likely to know what drove him to kill your uncle and then himself, it’s the girlfriend. Before we go anywhere else with this I want you to find out everything she knows, even things she doesn’t know that she knows. We have to make sure Orestes isn’t running us instead of the other way around.”

“You’re just pissed about what I said about your having-how shall I say it this time? — an uncommon interest in giving Orestes agita.”

“I like that better, but my thinking’s the same. I want you down in the Mani first thing tomorrow morning. And don’t come back until you’re sure who was running her boyfriend.”

The car’s speaker squawked their car number.

Andreas reached for the handset. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for me to dispatch another brave knight to save a fair damsel.”

“Yeah, but all he has to do is spend five minutes warning her to be careful and lay low for a while. I could end up spending a month with Stella and still not know any more than we already do.”

“Care for a suggestion?” Andreas smiled. “Bring flowers.”