Jeffrey Siger_Andreas Kaldis 02 (19 page)

Andreas gestured no. “I’d call it something else. Old-fashioned, simple magic. He got them focused on the hat, not the man, and into the rhythm of expecting both to show up exactly as they’d been conditioned to expect. All it took was an instant of distraction and—” Andreas slammed his hands together. “
Poof!
Surprise, all gone.”

Andreas leaned back in his chair. “I can guess why they called you and not me.”

“They know you don’t kill the messenger.”

“Not until now. So, what
do
we have on the mysterious man on the train?”

“They didn’t get a good look at him. There wasn’t any reason to notice him.”

Andreas put up his hand. “If you know what’s good for you, stay as the messenger. The guy who bumped into Demosthenes was the first person to have any contact with him since he showed up across from the Arch—
and you’re telling me that’s not a reason to notice him
.” His anger had escaped.

Kouros looked away from Andreas and started biting at his lip. “I get your point.”

Andreas picked up a pencil and tapped it against his cheek. “Good. Now, as you were saying.”

Kouros swallowed hard. “All Angelo remembered was that the guy was very short.”

“How short?”

“Less than five feet and very broad-shouldered, but not like a dwarf or a midget, more like a Sardinian.”

Andreas tapped the pencil to his forehead and shook his head. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Kouros looked at Andreas but started shifting weight from one foot to the other. “I had an Italian girlfriend. She was from Sardinia. She was short, less than five feet, but I’m not that tall, so it was fine and—”

Andreas snapped the pencil in half. “
Yianni!
Please, get to the goddamned point.”

Kouros took a quick breath. “She told me she wasn’t used to being with such a tall man. Most of the men she knew from Sardinia weren’t much taller than she. She said it’s a national trait.”

Andreas rubbed his eyes. No reason to be taking his frustration out on Yianni. This mess was no more Yianni’s fault than his own, or just as much. “Okay, let’s assume your old girlfriend was right and they’ve made contact. Now what? They could be bombing Parliament for all we know.”

“We’re covering all the apartments. When he shows up we might hear something.”

“You mean
if
he shows up.”

“Why, do you think he knows we’re on to him?”

“I doubt it. But this Efisio is one cautious son of a bitch. My guess is this metro tour was all his idea. If he feels threatened, no telling what he might do.”

“So, what do we do?”

“Not much we can do but wait to see what turns up. Demosthenes or his body.”

***

Demon got into the Fiat, Efisio slid onto the seat beside him, and the car pulled away. Demon’s heart was racing. He wondered what this little man with the burning black eyes would do next. His size was deceptive. Efisio was at least twice the size of a massive pit bull and larger than a giant rottweiler. Efisio held out his hand. “Give me the phone.”

Demon did as he asked. “Why?”

Efisio tore off the back, pulled out the battery and SIM card, rolled down the window, and tossed out the parts piece by piece. “In case someone’s tracking you. Now, take off your clothes.”

That didn’t surprise Demon. He’d do the same thing. Can’t be too careful about a stranger asking you to do something nasty. He pulled off his shirt. “I’m not wired.”

“We’ll see. Now the pants, shoes too.”

A few minutes later Demon was dressed again. He thought to keep track of where the driver was headed but decided it didn’t matter.

“So, tell me about the forty million.” Efisio had switched to English, Demon assumed so the two in front wouldn’t understand.

“Your English is very good.”

“The forty million.” Not angry, not pleasant either.

Demon decided not to waste more time on grease. “I need you to kidnap very valuable property.”

“Must be very important to be so valuable.”

“They’re children, two, of a very rich man.”

He nodded. “How much do you want of the forty?”

“Me?” Demon sounded surprised. “Nothing. It’s all yours.”

Efisio stared at him for a full minute. “If you don’t want money, it must be power.” He stared some more. “Or you’re crazy.”

Demon shrugged. “How soon can you do it?”

“Depends whether you care how sloppy we are.”

“As long as the mother is left behind alive.”

“To convince the father to pay?”

Demon nodded. “You should know that they’re expecting something like this.”

“Most today are.”

“This one particularly so.”

“I see. Is that why you’re not using your people?”

Demon could tell he was guessing. “Yes, I cannot risk any of mine getting caught. Too politically sensitive.” That was bullshit but seemed what Efisio wanted to hear.

“Where are the targets?”

“They’re with their mother. On a boat.”

“Where’s the boat?”

“Don’t know, somewhere in the Mediterranean.”

“How big is the boat?”

“Two hundred forty feet.”

“We’ll find it. What’s the name?”

“The people or the boat?”

“Both.”

“The family’s Kostopoulos, the boat’s the
Ginny Too
, named after the mother.”

“Never heard of them, but I never paid much attention to Greece. First time here.” Efisio had turned chatty.

Demon wondered why. “Really? From how well you knew your way around the metro I thought you were a native.” He smiled.

Efisio laughed; it was forced. “I have friends who do. They’re the ones to thank. I only got on the metro when you came back to Omonia. They waited for me to find you on the platform before sending you the last message. The hat was their idea, too. Made it easier for me to spot you by that Arch and for them to keep an eye on you. It was my idea to toss it. For the same reason.”

He smacked Demon once on the thigh. “So, my friend, let’s talk about the down payment.”

Demon expected that, too. “You still haven’t told me how quickly you can do it.”

Efisio nodded. “We’re fast. The moment there’s an opportunity, we take it. Figure within twenty-four hours after we locate the ship. Sooner, if it’s in port.”

“That works.”

“Good. So, I think 10 percent up front is fair.”

“I’m sure you do.” Demon paused to smile. “But I want you to do the job, not just take four million and maybe decide the rest isn’t worth the risk.”

Efisio didn’t react angrily. He must be used to this sort of negotiation. “I have an alternative offer. No money down. Just give me Anna.”

Demon knew she would come up; he just didn’t expect it this way. It was a tempting offer: if he turned her over, he wouldn’t have to raise the down payment. Too tempting in fact. If he went for it, Efisio was likely to think he was full of shit. All talk and no money behind him. Efisio was likely to take Anna and do as he promised—to her. Then simply disappear. No, Demon had to keep these negotiations confined to money. Just enough to show he’s for real, not enough to show he’s desperate.

“Like I promised before, in due time. We’re talking now about money.” Demon’s tone was all business.

Efisio stared, more like glared, but did not change his tone. “So, how much?”

“Two hundred thousand.”

Efisio shook his head no. “That’s not even one percent.”

“What’s the going rate for a one-day snatch?”

Efisio smiled. “So, you know about our business?”

Demon nodded. He didn’t, but he’d read about European businessmen kidnapped in the morning and back home in time for dinner. Assuming the ransom was paid.

“Okay, three hundred thousand.”

“Deal. How do you want the money?”

Efisio reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. “The address on the back is in Athens. You deliver the down payment there. As soon as you do, we get started. On the other side is a bank account. Wire the balance in and we let the kids go. Simple.”

“Expect the down payment tomorrow.”

Efisio stared at Demon again, then shook a finger in his face, but not in a menacing way. “You’re not crazy. No, you are far too dangerous to be crazy.”

The driver pulled over to the curb and stopped.

“This is where you get out, I believe,” said Efisio.

Demon looked around. They were on Patission Street in front of the main entrance to the university. How the hell did he know? Or was it just coincidence? Then he thought, of course, Efisio must have traced him here from his call to him this morning.

Demon said goodbye, opened the door, and got out. But before he could walk away he heard Efisio calling, “Wait.” He’d slid over and rolled down the window. “Sorry but I meant to say, ‘Thank you,
sir
.’”

There wasn’t a touch of sarcasm to the emphasized “sir.” Demon was so impressed he smiled and nodded.

Efisio smiled, too, but all toothy, like a shark. “Or should I have said ‘thank you Demosthenes Mavrakis.’” The glare was back.

And Demon’s smile was gone, along with the black Fiat.

Chapter 20

Demon was angry with himself. He’d been sloppy. All these unanticipated problems were no excuse. He had a goal to achieve, and soon. He must be more careful. He had no ID with him so Efisio didn’t get his name from anything in his clothes. They knew before he got into the car, which meant they’d photographed him. Probably at the Arch, and while he was bouncing around Athens on his little metro odyssey they were showing his picture around the university until someone recognized him. Simple.

But there was an upside to Efisio’s bit of theatrics: it let Demon know the son of a bitch was watching his every move. Another example of why it never paid to lose your temper. Efisio could have followed him straight to Anna, which was exactly where Demon was headed at the moment.

“Shit.” He mumbled the word aloud. “I can’t see her anymore.” He decided to go home to the apartment listed in the phone book. They probably knew about that one by now anyway. He would miss her. With Anna he never had to pay the political rhetoric price one endured to screw Exarchia hangers-on. She never even complained when she got pregnant. But, what the hell, giving her up was his price for being careless. He took it as a learning experience. Which reminded him: time to raise tuition for Zanni Kostopoulos’ next lesson.

***

“He’s in the apartment, Chief.” It was Yianni.

“Anything new?”

“Not so far. He got back about ten minutes ago. No phone calls, only rock music and bathroom sounds.”

“Enjoy. But stay on your toes. He’s definitely going to do something, and I’m guessing today’s big run-around has him a lot more careful. Don’t let him sneak out a back door on you while you’re listening to a concert.”

“Will do.”

Andreas hung up and looked at his watch. It was almost nine.
My god, I haven’t called Lila!

He grabbed the phone and dialed.

“Hi, it’s Andreas.”

She laughed. “I recognized the voice.”

He thought to apologize quickly, before she started in on how inconsiderate men were. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t call sooner but—”

“Darling, I understand completely.”

He wanted to say, “You do?” but decided to keep his mouth shut.

“And I can’t believe you took the time to send me those beautiful flowers.”

Here it comes, the sarcastic build up to World War III.

“And with such a lovely note.”

Andreas decided to speak, “Lila, I know how you feel—”

“No, you don’t,” she sniffled. “You’ve been so nice, so understanding, and then…to remember to send me flowers…with so much on your mind.”

Andreas made a tactical decision. “I’m glad you liked them.” And held his breath.

“I loved them.”

They spoke for twenty minutes about everything but the case. He let her know they’d talk about that in person.

The last words Lila said before hanging up were. “Can’t wait to see you. I’ll call you tomorrow when I get back. And again, thank you for the flowers. I can’t tell you how much they meant to me.”

He put down the phone and looked out the window. It wasn’t like he was lying. He would have sent her flowers…if he’d thought about it.

But who sent them? And why? No one knew she was there but—then it hit him, Tassos knew. That bastard was teasing him. No, not Tassos; he wouldn’t think of sending flowers any more than Andreas would. Besides, he’d already let on that he knew about Lila and the hotel. Sounds more like something Maggie would do. But how did she know about Lila…and Mykonos? He leaned back and shut his eyes, but only for an instant. He sat straight up and called Maggie at home.

“Hello.”

“When did you speak to Tassos?”

“Do you ever start a conversation with a simpler question, like ‘Good evening, Maggie. How are you?’”

“I don’t have time for this.”

“It’s about the flowers, isn’t it?”

Andreas was fuming. “Yes. Well, in part. What did he tell you?”

“Not as much as this conversation is.”

He could see her smile through the phone. “
Maggie!
”

“Okay, he didn’t call me. I called him.”

“Why?”

“What did you expect? You told me he was asking about me. That meant he wanted to talk to me.”

Andreas didn’t understand the logic, but somehow he knew she was right.

“Okay, so what did you talk about?”

“Nothing about the case, I assure you.”

“Just tell me.”

“None of your business.”

He drew in and let out a breath. “Okay, tell me the part that is my business.”

“Fine. He said he bumped into you on the plane from Mykonos and got the impression you met someone there you liked but didn’t have time to see her. I asked for her name and where she was staying.”

“That’s all he said?”

“Yes, that’s all
he
said.” She snickered.

“Uhh…what about the note?”

“What about it?”

“What did it say?”

“‘I miss you desperately. Marry me.’”

“Maggie!”

“‘Sorry I had to leave. Hope you understand. Kisses, Andreas.’”

He paused. “Thank you. That was very nice of you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So, when are you going to see Tassos?” He knew that was inevitable.

“He’ll be in Athens tomorrow.”

“That’s quick, he must be interested.”

“Let’s hope, but he won’t have time to see me, he’s catching a plane.”

“To where?”

“Didn’t say, but my guess is Italy.”

Andreas’ pulse jumped. “Why do you say Italy?”

“Because I offered to cook dinner. He said he couldn’t make it for dinner, that he had to catch a plane but lunch was open. I said I had to work. He said ‘too bad’ because it looked like he was going to be eating only pasta for a while. See what I give up for you.”

“Thanks, Maggie,” and he hung up.

Andreas picked up a pencil with his right hand and studied it. Then he talked to it. “What are you up to, my old friend? Are you with the good guys or the bad guys? Or haven’t you decided?” His thumb was in position to snap the pencil to pieces. “Do I trust you or don’t I? Should I or shouldn’t I? To press or not to press, that is the question.”

Andreas compromised. He threw the pencil against the wall and went home.

***

Demon posted a typical Facebook message on the “wall” of an innocent account holder who had agreed to be a friend of Gertrude Louise. The account belonged to a celebrated member of Parliament with thousands of Facebook friends, most of whom the member didn’t know. But politicians didn’t say no to someone asking to be their friend. Of the thousands of other friends who might read his message, Demon only cared about the one with a computer instantly alerting him to any Facebook postings by Gertrude Louise.

Demon sat staring at his computer, waiting for a reply. He reread his message:

Demon wondered when he’d hear back. If the Old Man wanted results he’d have to pay. Demon didn’t mention the forty million because it wasn’t relevant, and the whole mess of them wouldn’t pay that much for their cause anyway. Their commitment had a financial price tag: three hundred thousand euros maybe, forty million no chance. The big payoff would come from Kostopoulos. Damn well better. Otherwise, Demon was fucked. But he wasn’t worried. Kostopoulos had the money and no choice but to pay, assuming he had a soul. Demon was willing to take that gamble. He wasn’t sure he’d take the same bet on the Old Man.

“Ping.” The message he was waiting for:

“Arrogant bastard.” He said the words aloud. Demon’s immediate reaction was to reply, but he didn’t. His first message said it all. Either the Old Man came up with the money or he didn’t. Demon couldn’t do anything more about it. But if he didn’t pay and Kostopoulos learned who was behind his son’s murder, the Old Man and a lot of others would damn well wish he had.

The more Demon thought about it, the more he saw a potential upside to Kostopoulos killing the Old Man and a few of the others. It would galvanize the rest into rallying behind him. Then he’d deal with Kostopoulos, assuming Kostopoulos didn’t take him out first and that Efisio was satisfied with Anna as his consolation for no three hundred thousand euros.

On balance, Demon decided to pray that the money turned up by tomorrow.

***

It was easy finding Tassos’ flight but not so easy finding him. Andreas finally caught up to him in the airport security office, sitting around a card table arguing over soccer with two cops.

“Afternoon, Tassos.”

Tassos looked surprised. “Andreas. What are you doing here?” He paused. “Maggie.”

Andreas smiled. “Glad she surprises you, too.”

Tassos grinned. “Always has. So, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

Andreas looked at the two cops. “Could you guys give us a few minutes?”

Andreas waited until they left. “I think the time for bullshit has passed. Why are you flying to Milan?”

“You don’t want some witty answer, do you?”

“No.”

“Our mutual friend is sending me.”

“I hope you’re talking about Kostopoulos.”

“Who else?”

“Why Milan?”

“Now you’re getting a bit too personal.”

Andreas leaned forward. “Personal is receiving bits and pieces of your wife and kids cut off with a tree-pruner.”

Tassos’ eyes narrowed slightly. “What are you talking about?”

“That’s the way it’s done by these guys.”

“What guys?”

“The ones who soon will be asking a forty million euro ransom from Kostopoulos.”

“Is this for real?”

“Picked it up from phone calls. We think we found the link between the muscle and the brains.”

“I won’t bother to ask who the link is because I know you won’t tell me, but I can’t believe these guys are dumb enough to pull this shit while they’re in the middle of negotiations with Zanni. They stand to make a lot more than forty million. At least they think they do.”

Andreas shook his head. “Different guys, brand new ones. Give me who’s negotiating with Zanni and I’ll give you what I have on the new ones for you to worry about.”

Tassos paused. “Greece’s usual suspects from the drug trade. Albanian mobsters teamed up with home-grown Greek bad boys. They work together a lot. No surprise.”

“That’s like saying they’re AEK fans. Too many of them. Give me a name.”

“I take offense to your using my soccer team for the comparison.”

“It’s the best I can say about them.” Andreas grinned.

“So, tell me a bit more.”

Tassos loved to horse-trade, but this time Andreas didn’t mind, because he intended to tell him what he knew anyway. No way he’d let Tassos fly off blind into this mess. “They’re Italians, specializing in kidnapping, living in exile away from Italian authorities somewhere in the Balkans. We have a first name for one, Efisio, about five feet tall, late thirties. Here,” Andreas handed him a photograph and pointed. “We think this one is Efisio. It was taken yesterday.”

“That’s it?”

“Fuck you.”

Tassos grinned. “The one negotiating with Zanni is tied into the Greek-Albanian crew behind the Angel Club in Athens.”

“Since when are Albanians involved in the Angel Club?”

Tassos smiled. “Consider it a simple case of consumer fraud. Albanian drugs are the kind of street shit stepped on and sold to druggies around Omonia and Exarchia. It wholesales for about one-half the price of the Angel Club boys’ homegrown Greek stuff. So, the guys behind the Angel worked out a deal where they exchange one kilo of theirs for two of the Albanians, then sell it in the club as their own pricier stuff. Most of their customers can’t tell the difference between vodka and gasoline. Makes it a no-brainer and doubles their profits.”

Andreas shook his head. “Greeks, the most adaptive entrepreneurs in the world. Anything else?” said Andreas.

Tassos pressed on the table and stood up. “No, just thanks, my friend. I appreciate the heads-up.”

But Andreas knew something else was coming. “What is it?”

Tassos smiled. “Something you won’t want to hear, but since you asked.” He put his hand on Andreas’ shoulder. “If you found the link, why not just take it out and call it a day.” He dropped his hand.

Andreas was angry. “And forget about all the other bastards involved?”

Tassos shrugged. “Whether you cut off the head or sever the spine it’s the same result. Hard for one part to regrow the other.”

“What about the ones who killed his boy? What bullshit analogy do you have for letting them go free?”

“Don’t worry about those two. Yeah, I know about them. They weren’t from Greece. It was supposed to be just another quick in-and-out job for them, just like the other times they were asked to teach a banished family a lesson. Too bad for them they became a nonnegotiable deal point. No names, no deal. Their negotiator blinked, we have the names, and like I said, don’t worry about those two.”

Andreas didn’t have to ask why. “But what about the bastard who heads this whole thing? The one who thinks he can decide who has the right to live here and who will die for staying when he says ‘leave.’ He’s the reason Zanni’s son is dead.” Andreas pointed a finger at Tassos. “You know that as well as I do.”

“Who’s talking about letting him get away?”

Andreas smacked his hands together. “Now I get it. Kostopoulos intends to take care of him in his own way. Screw the police. Who needs them? Just hire your own cops, and justice is whatever you decide. Mind telling me how that makes Kostopoulos any different from
he who decided
killing the kid would make the world a better place?”

Tassos shrugged again. “No one is trying to play God. We just have different views. Look, I’m a realist. There’s no way we’re ever going to get them all, unless they have a membership list, which we damn well know they don’t. So, all we can hope to do is find the head. And once we do, I don’t care who takes him out, as long as he disappears. That will scatter the rest until some new psycholeader appears. Hopefully, a very long time from now.”