Sons of Sparta

Chapter Seven

Orestes had promised to give Andreas a list of persons to investigate. What he actually sent him seemed more like a compilation of the world’s largest Fortune 100 companies having anything to do with the exploration, extraction, processing, or delivery of natural gas. It looked like something Orestes’ secretary had pulled off the Internet by punching in “world’s largest natural gas” in front of each step in the natural gas chain. Not a single individual mentioned by name, just companies and only a few with even an address in Greece.

Andreas threw the list on his desk. Orestes was an idiot. He picked up a pencil and began tapping it on his desk. No, that’s one thing he’s not. Maybe he’s not sure yet which side might be paying him and he doesn’t want to risk naming some guy he could later end up with in bed. Andreas smiled at the thought.

He probably wanted police heat put on those companies so that he could present himself to them as their savior. He’d boast it was his influence with the police that started the investigation and claim only he could stop it. If a company he landed with that line happened to be on the list, it wouldn’t be a big deal because the world already thought every multinational corrupt at some level. The trick was not being linked to a corrupt individual at a named company. That’s what got you hung out to dry.

Andreas twirled the pencil between his fingers.

All you had to do was look at Germany’s Siemens. Despite a huge, ongoing bribery scandal over its involvement in Athens’ 2004 Summer Olympic Games and dealing with Greece’s Defense Ministry, Greece still did business with Siemens. It would be the same this time around. As long as your man on the inside wasn’t branded corrupt, you’re set. Orestes likely didn’t give a damn who won a bid as long as he got his cut. He might even try to make the same deal with competitors for the same contract. Andreas could hear Orestes now: Give me and my people a piece and I’ll get Kaldis off your back. He’s in my pocket.

“Miserable bastard.” Andreas squeezed his fist and snapped the pencil in half between his fingers.

He stared at the door to his office. “Maggie, come in. Please.”

The door swung open and Maggie’s head peeked in. “Yes, Chief, what’s up?”

“Where’s Tassos?”

“You mean my Tassos?”

“Yes.”

“He’s on Syros. The police chief there won’t let him retire.”

Andreas doubted anyone on the force would ever dare mention retirement to Tassos Stamatos, chief homicide investigator for the Cyclades islands. For Greeks obsessed with sightings of the powerful and influential, Tassos Stamatos drew about as much attention as the air they breathed. He had the sort of looks you’d expect to see on a stocky pensioner retired from hard labor that a taverna owner might hire at the last minute to tend bar when the regular guy called in sick. But in a room filled with Greece’s movers and shakers, everyone noticed Tassos, for he knew where their secrets were buried and held bushels full of favors for keeping them that way. He’d been a cop since the days of Greece’s Junta dictatorship in the late sixties and early seventies, and been making friends on both sides of the bars since his first day on the job at a Junta prison for political dissidents. To Andreas, Tassos was not just a best friend, he was a national treasure.

“I’ve got to talk with him.”

“He’s coming back to my place tonight.”

“Have you two finally moved in together?” It was Andreas who’d unwittingly introduced his friend and longtime widower to Maggie, not knowing he’d rekindled an old romance.

“Only when he’s in Athens. He still considers Syros his home.”

“Islanders are like that. Please, get him on the phone.”

“Will do.” Maggie disappeared behind the closing door.

A couple of minutes passed before Maggie yelled, “He’s on.”

Andreas picked up the phone. “How are you feeling, my friend?”

“Why is it that everyone asks me the same question?”

“Maybe because they care for you?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Good point. It’s probably because you look as old as the Acropolis.”

“That’s more like it.” Tassos laughed. “So what’s up? My love said you had to talk to me right away. She pulled me out of a very important meeting.”

“Is it already lunchtime on Syros?”

“No, coffee in the harbor.”

“I’ve got a problem developing here that’s touchy. How secure is your phone?”

“My cell phone I wouldn’t trust as far as I can drop it. Too many people want to know what I know and have connections at the carriers to listen in. But I’m using a landline at the taverna. Maggie thought it might be a ‘touchy’ subject.”

“How does she know these things?”

“I hope that’s not what this call is all about because that’s a subject only the gods at Delphi might be able to answer.”

“No, my problem is with someone who just thinks he’s a god.” Andreas told him of his meeting with Spiros, run-in with Orestes, and thoughts on what Orestes had in mind.

“Orestes is a chip off the old block. The only time you knew for sure that you could trust what his old man or grandfather had to say was when their lips weren’t moving. Orestes is running the same routines as those two did in hustling foreign companies to do business through them in Greece. They didn’t really need the influence they claimed as long as they got the mark thinking that they did. Once they had the deal with the company, any Greeks they actually needed to make it work fell into line because by then they had money available to spread around.”

“Wonderful system.”

“It’s not just Greece that’s like that.”

“No, but it’s a Greek bastard who’s trying to make me look corrupt.”

“I suggest you tell him to go fuck himself,” said Tassos.

“Frankly, I’d rather do it to him.”

“Sounds personal.”

Andreas didn’t want to mention Orestes’ old interest in Lila. It would sound stupid. “No, I just don’t like the guy.”

“Hell, if we spent our time trying to get back at everyone we didn’t like, we wouldn’t have time to breathe.”

“Since when have you become so Zen?” said Andreas.

“It comes with age. Besides, it’s really a waste of time looking into that Crete thing. The fix has been in for years on the gas. Now it’s just a matter of reshuffling a few chairs at the dinner table to accommodate the late arrivals.”

“Late arrivals?”

“New ones in power who could create problems.”

“You’re one hell of a cynic.”

“You mean a realist born of experience. The louder a politician screams for the rights of the people, the more he wants for himself.”

“Spare me the civics lesson. What can you tell me about what Orestes might have in mind?”

“My guess is he’s selling himself to the Russians. The Europeans already have their connections here and the Americans seem more interested in their own gas reserves. It’s the new boys on the block who need influence.”

“What about the Chinese? They’re buying up our port operations.”

“And making them profitable. But they already have their contacts. No, my bet is on the Russians, a big energy player with strong national interests in keeping the European energy markets wedded to them. They’re just hoping Greece doesn’t turn into another Cyprus. The financial catastrophe there threw a lot of light on its gas field discoveries, and drove a lot of serious players involved in exploiting Cyprus’ gas scrambling to lower national expectations. After all, if the gas fields are billed as the country’s economic salvation, that leaves a lot less cash to bury in Switzerland.”

“Are you running for office?” said Andreas.

“No, not crooked enough.”

“Jesus, Tassos, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying stay away from Crete. You’ll never be able to change what’s going on over there.”

“How can I do that?”

“Easy. Just don’t go. Get a prosecutor to subpoena records on the project from every company on Orestes’ list. Their lawyers will inundate you with enough paper to keep every lawyer in Greece busy for years. That’s how it would end up anyway, no matter what your investigation turned up. So, give it to a prosecutor and keep yourself out of the line of fire. If Orestes bitches, tell him you did precisely what he’d asked, gone after everyone on his list.”

Andreas drew in and let out a breath. “There is another angle to take on this.”

“Being?”

“If you want to find the rotten apple in a barrel, follow the worm.”

“I never heard that one before.”

“Because I just made it up. But that worm Orestes inspired me. I’ll just keep an eye on him and see where it leads me.”

“Yeah, it sure sounds like it isn’t personal.”

“I don’t like being set up.”

“Just be careful. Is Kouros working on this with you?”

“He’s down in the Mani. His uncle died.”

“That uncle?”

“Yes, ‘that uncle.’”

“I knew him.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Cute, wiseass. It just so happens that back in the late 1800s, when Syros was in its heyday as the shipping capital of Greece, a businessman from Syros with roots in the Mani and a merchant from the Mani teamed up to create a commercial center in the Deep Mani port of Gerolimenas. It thrived for generations. Those days are long gone but many families from both places still remain close.”

“Yianni thinks his uncle’s death might not be the accident it seemed.”

“That should lead to some fun times in the Mani.”

“He’s worried about that, too.”

“If he needs any help, just tell him to give me a holler.”

“I’ll pass it along.”

“Notice I didn’t offer to help you,” said Tassos.

“The thought did cross my mind.”

“It’s because Yianni’s problem is capable of having a solution. Yours is not.”

“I guess that means I won’t be seeing you.”

“Of course you will. Maggie spoke to Lila while waiting for me to get to this landline and call back. We’re all having dinner tonight.”

“Why am I always the last to know?”

“I see we’re back to questions for the oracle. See you tonight. Bye.”

Andreas put down the phone. Tassos was right. He should forget about going after Orestes.

“Maggie, get me the prosecutor on the phone.”

Andreas drummed his fingers on the desktop. “And the personnel file on that cop Petro. I might just have a special assignment for him.”

***

Kouros stood at the entrance of a one-story gray and brown stone taverna built along the road just above the beach at Marmari. Its heavy, dark brown wooden door bore the word “Entrance” in English. Uncle had come to this taverna every morning to meet his friends for coffee and he died on his way home from here. His children thought it only fitting that they host the traditional post-funeral meal of fish soup and fish in the place that had played such a large part in their father’s life.

Kouros saw the taverna as something quite different. A crime scene. Here Uncle received a death threat delivered in his morning newspaper and, if his death were not an accident, the most likely spot that led to his end. Kouros turned his head and stared back up the road toward the cemetery and the place of his uncle’s crash. But I’m not a cop today, he thought. I’m family.

What better time to start an investigation?

“Yianni, get your ass in here,” yelled one of his cousins from the taverna’s doorway. “The priest wants to say a blessing and Mangas won’t let him start until you’re inside.”

“Okay, I’m coming.”

Kouros jogged the few paces to the front door and down four stone steps into a room the size of a deep, three-car garage filled with empty, well-worn, square-top tables and tattered, lattice-seat taverna chairs. Stone walls and floors made the practically windowless room look much the same as it must have a hundred years before. But no one was in the room.

Directly across from Kouros a wide stone archway opened into a much larger modern room overlooking the sea through broad, wood-framed spaces shielded from the winds by transparent, retractable shades anchored to the floor. Lines of long tables ran parallel to the sea, packed with guests who’d come to pay their respects.

The instant Kouros appeared in the doorway the priest began his prayer and Mangas waved for Kouros to sit beside him at the far end of the row of tables closest to the sea.

“Thanks for coming, Yianni.”

Kouros nodded.

“Your mother looks well.”

“Puh, puh, puh. Yes, she does.”

“You’re lucky to still have her.”

Kouros nodded again. “I know.”

Mangas patted Kouros on the back. “What did you think of Calliope’s mirologia performance?”

“She’s very talented.”

Mangas smiled. “I thought you were a cop, not a diplomat.”

Kouros shrugged. “What else can I say, it’s her father’s funeral. She has every right to be emotional.”

“What about me? Should I be emotional too?” There was no anger in Mangas’ voice.

“If it makes you feel better.”

“Good. I’ll take that as a blessing from you that I should find someone to kill to make my sister happy.”

“Since when have you ever listened to your sister?”

Mangas laughed. “Can you stay for a few days? You make me laugh.”

“I will if you want me to, but first a question.”

Mangas nodded.

“What the hell’s going on?”

Mangas rocked his head from side to side. “It’s pretty clear Calliope’s upset. I don’t know what was going through her mind to chant a mirologia at the funeral. Especially that mirologia, but despite what she said, the mechanic found nothing wrong with our father’s car, and according to the coroner who did the autopsy, he died from a massive heart attack.”

Kouros shook his head. “A real tragedy.”

“I’d like you to take a look at the autopsy report. Just to see if you agree.”

“Sure. But if it’s technical, I might have to send it on to Athens.”

Mangas nodded. “No problem.”

“Don’t you trust the guy who did the autopsy?” said Kouros.

“I trust him, but he’s not a big-time criminal investigator like my cousin, Athens Yianni. And before I go head-to-head with Calliope over her craziness about our father being murdered, I want to make sure she’s not right.”

“Understood.”

Both reached for shot glasses of whiskey sitting in front of them. “Theos singhorese ton,” each said before clinking glasses and gulping down the shots.

God forgive his soul indeed, thought Kouros.

***

The afternoon dragged on slowly for the family. Though many of the guests had left, the family lingered, as if reluctant to return to a world without Uncle’s presence. Most sat staring out to sea, adding one story after another to what was fast becoming the legend of Uncle. Not the least of the tales were of Uncle’s way with the ladies. Stories his sons took pride in retelling and his daughters feigned to ignore.

At the other end of the same table, five men of about Uncle’s age sat drinking, toasting, and laughing. None of them seemed in a hurry to leave.

“Who are they?” said Kouros, nodding in their direction.

“His coffee buddies,” said Mangas. “They met for coffee here every morning. Been doing that since long before the new owner took over.”

“How long ago did he take over?”

Mangas shrugged. “Six years or so? Why do you ask?”

“Just my natural cop curiosity. I’ll be right back.” Kouros slid his chair back from the table, stood, and walked over to the five men.

“Yia sas. Mind if I sit down?”

A chubby, bald man with a bulbous red nose and fisherman’s cap said, “Of course not. Our friend’s favorite nephew is always welcome here.”

“Even if he’s a cop,” said a silver-haired, wiry fellow with bright blue eyes.

Kouros smiled as he sat. “I see I don’t have to introduce myself.”

“We already know all about you, Athens Yianni,” said a dark-haired man with a sallow complexion, who looked the youngest of the five. “Your Uncle always talked about you. With pride. You’re always welcome here. My name is Stelios.” He extended his hand and Kouros shook it.

“I’m Konstantin,” waved the bulbous-nosed man from the other side of the table.

“And I’m Panos,” said Blue Eyes. “The two silent ones with us are Mihalis and Alexander.”

A man wearing a military-style baseball cap atop a weather-beaten face waved. “Mihalis.”

The fifth man, the only one in a suit and tie, said, “Alexander.”

“In case you don’t know, we’re all longtime buddies of your uncle,” said Panos.

“Yes, Mangas told me. On behalf of my family I want to thank you for coming. Even though I’m sure you were more like family to my uncle than I was.”

Panos gestured no. “Yes, we’re all very close, and some of us might even know each other better than our own children know us, but we are not family. Family is one thing. Everything else is something else.”

Kouros nodded. “But I’m certain you know more stories about Uncle than I’ll hear anywhere else.”

“For sure,” said Konstantin. “So, what sort of stories do you want to hear?”

“He’s a young guy, Konstantin. He’ll want to know about the women,” laughed Stelios.

They all laughed and toasted Uncle’s memory.

Panos said. “The old bastard used to hit on me for a free room a couple of times a month. He’d always say, ‘I only need it for an hour or so. After all, I’m not as young as I used to be.’”

They toasted Uncle again.

“Free room?” asked Kouros.

“Yes,” said Panos. “I have a hotel up the coast in Gerolimenas. He’d always be bringing different women around. Amazing how he attracted them.”

“And if he wasn’t banging them in your hotel, he’d be doing them on my boat,” said Mihalis. “He never went to sea. Just did his business right there tied up to the dock.”

“Created quite a few tsunamis if you believed him,” said Alexander.

More laughter and toasting.

“Hey, Athens Yianni, you’re not drinking,” said Stelios pouring him a shot of whiskey.

“I was afraid you’d notice. I’m too young to keep up with you.” Kouros downed the shot.

“Theos singhorese ton,” said all six in unison.

“So, what would you like to know, Detective Kouros?” smiled Alexander.

“Nothing more than you want to tell me.”

Panos smiled. “He’s a better politician than you, Alexander.”

“And could probably get elected honestly, too,” said Stelios.

Laughter.

“I’ll miss him,” said Alexander. “We all will. I wouldn’t be where I am in government today without him.”

“And I’d still have union troubles at my hotel without his help,” said Panos.

“On more occasions than I can remember he helped me out of jams with the coast guard over my style of fishing,” said Konstantin.

Kouros almost said, “dynamiting?” but caught himself. That undoubtedly was what he meant, and calling Konstantin on it wasn’t likely to keep him and the others talking. He wondered if by referring to it as a “style” of fishing meant that at some level he was ashamed to be among those responsible for helping to ruin fishing in Greece. Hopefully not forever.

“He brought peace to my family,” said Stelios. “Make that our families.”

Kouros gave him a puzzled look.

“I’m sure you know of the vendetta started by your great-grandfather. The boy he ordered your grandfather to kill was my father’s brother. It was my family who killed some of your own father’s siblings. It was your uncle who brought peace to our families.”

Alone, Stelios drank a toast to Uncle.

“Did Uncle ever talk of that vendetta?” asked Kouros.

“Not in decades,” said Stelios.

“At least not with us,” said Mihalis.

The others nodded.

“Would he have if it were on his mind?”

“I’d think so,” said Panos.

“We were the unofficial council of elders for the community,” said Stelios.

Panos said, “We started meeting decades ago for the purpose of making money. Helping each other make our businesses more profitable. But none of us work anymore, so…”

“I still do,” said Alexander.

“You’re a politician, you never worked, only took,” said Konstantin.

All but Alexander laughed.

“As I was saying, in recent years instead of talking business we’d meet each morning to talk about problems facing our community and try to find solutions.”

“What sorts of problems?”

“The kind people told us about or we learned from the news.”

“Including newspapers?”

“That was your Uncle’s specialty. Every morning he’d have the paper waiting for him at the table, and while we told stories he’d read it. After he finished we’d talk about whatever there was for us to worry about.”

“Did my uncle have anything to ‘worry about’?”

“Only with what to do with all the money he expected to get from his hotel project,” said Panos.

“You knew about that?”

“Of course we did,” said Alexander. “Like Panos said, we helped each other. And kept whatever we talked about to ourselves. I promised to set him up with whatever permits he needed, and Panos gave him advice on how to get the best hotel deal.”

Kouros looked at Panos. “You weren’t worried about the competition?”

“Competition? My son helps runs the hotel now, and we’d love some competition. It would bring in more tourists. Besides, my place is on the sea, your uncle’s was in the middle of rocks. I still don’t know what was on the mind of the fool who had planned on leasing the place.”

“Had planned?”

“Yes, your uncle hadn’t signed the papers yet. He died the day before the scheduled signing. Rotten luck for the family.”

“But don’t worry,” said Alexander. “I’ll make sure the deal still goes through.”

“Assuming the goddamned Ukrainian still wants to do the deal,” said Konstantin.

And that my uncle’s sons and daughters are willing, thought Kouros. “Ukrainian?”

“Yeah, your uncle said the buyer came from the Ukraine. Though he might be Russian,” said Konstantin.

“Why wouldn’t he want to go through with the deal?” said Alexander.

Konstantin’s nose was pulsing. “Because the bastard will probably see some advantage to renegotiating. To drive the price down. Those types are ruthless when it comes to business. Especially the Russians. I’ve seen them fishing.”

“Uh, yeah, but let’s not forget who he’s dealing with. Mangas ain’t exactly an Athenian pansy.” Mihalis caught himself. “Sorry, Yianni. No offense intended.”

Kouros shook his head. “None taken.”

“After all, you and I are both cops. At least I used to be, and I was a childhood friend of your father.”

“Mihalis used to be chief of police in these parts,” said Alexander.

“I see,” said Kouros. “Weren’t any of you worried that with so many powerful people meeting every morning in the same place you might be a target?”

“You mean for someone wanting to take out the competition?” smiled Alexander.

“Or just to settle a grudge,” said Kouros.

“Is that what you think happened? That someone settled an old grudge with your uncle?” Panos nodded. “It’s good to think like that. We were just talking about that same possibility.”

The others at the table nodded.

“And?” said Kouros.

“There’s absolutely no one out there we can think of with any sensible reason for going after your uncle at this point in his life.”

“No one?”

“No one,” repeated Panos.

They all nodded.

“What about someone with a nonsensible reason?”

“Good luck on finding that one,” said Mihalis.

A light-coffee skinned girl no more than twenty years old came over to their table and said in accented Greek, “Are you okay? Do you need anything else?”

“Just more of your loving,” said Konstantin.

The girl laughed and smacked him lightly on the back of his head.

“After all, with our great friend gone, who will there be to pinch your butt?” asked Mihalis slowly extending his hand in the direction of the girl’s rear. She smiled as she scooted away from his hand. Her face turned sad. “Yes, I shall miss him.”

She turned and walked away, giving Kouros a clear vision of the recent topic of discussion.

“Ah, if I were only twenty years younger,” said Konstantin.

“Forty, you mean,” said Mihalis.

“Who is she?” said Kouros.

“She works here,” said Panos. “She’s the girlfriend of the guy who runs the place. He’s a Greek from a town in the northwest Peloponnese. Pirgos,” said Mihalis.

“She’s an Arab. Probably illegal. He brought her here about a year ago. Damn fine addition too,” said Konstantin.

“Someone from immigration actually had the balls to walk in here one morning while we were here and ask for her papers,” said Mihalis.

“That was quite a morning,” laughed Panos. “The poor girl was scared to death and your uncle just sat at our table-we always sit in the front room-and motioned with his index finger for the idiot to come over to our table.”

“The stupid son of a bitch didn’t even know who your uncle was. He stormed over and demanded your uncle’s ID.” Alexander burst out laughing.

Panos said, “Your uncle calmly pulled out his wallet and handed him his identity card. The expression on the asshole’s face when he realized who he’d just called out was priceless.”

Stelios said, “Your uncle calmly said, ‘Now leave here and never, ever come back.’”

“I never saw anyone move so fast,” said Konstatin. He raised his glass. “To your uncle. There never was and shall never be another like him.”

“Theos singhorese ton.”

By the time Kouros left the taverna he was as drunk as the rest of the men in the place. How he got back to his uncle’s house was a miracle.

If he remembered in the morning all that he’d heard in the taverna it would be an even greater one.