The Green Lady (37 page)

Lykos didn't answer, his eyes on the ascending road.

The Son put the muzzle of his Glock against the back of the young man's head. ‘We need to know that, kid. You might be leading us into the jaws of a very big trap.'

‘I . . . I can't say. My tongue will be torn out.'

The Son laughed. ‘What do you think a bullet at point blank range will do to it?'

‘I . . . my aunt.'

‘Tatiana Roubani?' Mavros said, amazed. ‘So she was killing two birds with one stone – pressurising Poulos and finding a sacrificial victim.'

‘He may have been misled,' the Son said, ‘but the Father always told me the Communists were godless.'

‘My aunt . . . she has her own way.'

Mavros looked round at the Son. ‘Maybe you should give me a weapon. Who knows how many crazy cultists might be waiting for us?'

‘I don't think so. As I've already proved, I can cope very well with poor odds.'

‘The people in Paradheisos didn't even know you were there,' Lykos scoffed. ‘See how you like it when . . .' He broke off as the Son replaced the pistol with a combat knife, its point drawing a line of blood beneath the ecologist's hair.

‘You'll give me plenty of cover, won't you?'

Shortly afterwards Lykos drove into Chrysso, then immediately turned left up a dirt track with only a few houses on it. A minute later, he pulled up by a ruined farm building.

‘They're . . . they're in the outhouse,' he said, trying to lean away from the knife.

‘Let's move before the natives start gathering,' said the Son, putting the Glock in his belt and shouldering the sniper's rifle. He removed the knife-point from Lykos's neck long enough for them both to get out, and then grabbed the young man around the upper chest, the blade against his throat.

Mavros followed them past shattered stone walls and collapsed roof beams. In what would have been the livestock shed, there was a long heap of earth, with the edges of a corrugated iron sheet beneath it. On the earth, at regular intervals, were three small terracotta figures of women with their arms raised. Two shovels stood against the wall.

‘Dig,' the Son ordered, stepping back. ‘Both of you.' He took out his pistol.

Mavros and Lykos did as they were told, the young man removing the figurines carefully, bowing his head to each one. The earth wasn't compacted, so it didn't take long to clear. They took opposite ends of the metal and lifted it up.

‘What do you see, Alex Mavro?' the Son said.

‘Two girls in white robes with a small marble statue between their heads.' Mavros jumped down and struggled to loose the ropes on the victims' wrists and ankles. Strips of cloth had been tied tightly around their mouths. Their eyes were closed, their faces pale and their skin cold. At first he thought they were dead, then Ourania's eyelids flickered and opened.

‘I need that knife,' he called. ‘At least one of them's alive.'

There was silence, then the blade dropped point down into the earth by his foot. He cut the ropes and gags, helping Ourania to sit up. She coughed and asked for water in a croaky voice.

‘Hold on while I get Lia up,' Mavros said, turning to the other girl. Her lower abdomen was swollen and her bladder had voided. ‘Lia? Wake up.' He put two fingers against her throat and got a weak pulse. ‘Lia?'

Suddenly she shook violently and opened her eyes. Her hands went straight to her belly and cradled it. ‘Are we . . . are we safe?'

Then Mavros understood. She was pregnant, presumably by her father. He pulled her and Ourania up, their legs as unsteady as new-born lambs', and asked Lykos to help them out. He did so reluctantly, the Son's pistol on him. The girls stood on the opposite side of their grave, Mavros climbing out and supporting them. They trembled at the sight of the heavily armed man.

The Son pointed at Lia. ‘You're the one.' He moved his gaze to Mavros. ‘All right, I've fulfilled my original commission. Unfortunately for you, I've since had new orders. That's why I killed the people in Paradheisos. You're last on my list. Come on.'

Mavros squeezed the girls' arms. ‘Hold on,' he said, ‘you can't leave them with Lykos. He'll just bury them again.'

‘Not my problem. Come
now
or I'll shoot the pair of them.' The Glock was aimed at Lia's burgeoning belly.

Mavros moved round the piles of earth, then realised the girls were being pushed after him by Lykos.

‘Stop!' the Son ordered.

Lykos kept shoving until they were all close, then burst out between Lia and Ourania, one of the spades aimed straight at the Son's throat. Mavros thrust his shoulder against the young man and he fell to the left, smashing his head against a stone. The spade missed its target by only a few centimetres. The Son got a shot off, but it passed through the gap that Lykos had just made.

Mavros turned to comfort the girls, looking over his shoulder. ‘Don't kill him,' he said. ‘He wasn't on your list, after all.'

The Son glared at him. ‘Are you sure of that?'

‘Yes.'

‘You're right.' The assassin cocked his ear. The sound of a helicopter could be heard in the gorge. ‘Here comes the airborne cavalry. Well, Alex Mavro, it seems I owe you, if not my life, at least some part of my anatomy. And obviously I can't leave them alone in case that little scumbag comes round. So, although our business isn't finished, I'll let you live.' He grinned. ‘That should really piss Kriaras off.'

‘Nikos Kriaras?' Mavros said, his jaw dropping. The cop was a dubious operator, but he'd never put him down as a murderer by proxy. ‘Jesus.'

‘For what it's worth, I think the job started off with him doing favours for his friend Poulos, but as time went by that friend became more trouble than he was worth.'

Mavros watched the Son move towards the VW bus. ‘I don't suppose you're expecting me to thank you.'

‘No.' The Son threw his weapons into the front seat and climbed in after them. ‘And I don't suppose you're expecting me to say this.' He laughed cruelly. ‘Your brother's alive. And we'll meet again.'

With that he slammed the door, started the engine and drove away in a cloud of dust.

Mouth dry, Mavros raised his arms and waved at the helicopter, encouraging the girls to do the same. It could have been that he felt he owed the Son, multiple murderer though he was, the opportunity to get away, but what he really cared about was keeping him alive and at liberty so he might lead him to Andonis in the future.

The helicopter circled and then came down in a bare field fifty metres away.

Waiting for Kriaras and the tall figure of Telemachos Xanthakos, Mavros spoke softly to the girls. He told them everything would be all right. As for himself, he knew that he would be unable to rest until he found Andonis, which was doubtless the Son's intention. And there was no guarantee that his brother really was alive. He might have been in Hades' halls for over thirty years, the Son exacting the kind of revenge to be expected of a hardened hunter cheated of his prey.

The sun finally cleared the mountains of Viotia and Mavros blinked back tears. He hadn't only saved two innocent girls; he had raised his beloved brother's ghost, invisible and intangible though it remained.

‘W
hat a staggering waste of money,' the Fat Man said, as the Olympic Games closing ceremony got into full swing.

‘Mm,' Mavros said. He was sprawled on the couch in Yiorgos's
saloni
, a bottle of Amstel in one hand and a copy of Seferis's poetry in the other.

‘Don't you agree?'

‘What?'

‘And those tossers can't even sing in tune.'

Mavros looked at the screen, but he couldn't even raise a moan. He was thinking about Lia Poulou. She should have been at the Olympic Stadium with her parents, but instead her mother had taken her to a clinic in London. He was sure she would return without a fetus in her womb, not that he blamed her or Angie. His client had given him a generous bonus. He'd wanted to ask about her husband's suicide, but he didn't really care. The world was a better place without Paschos Poulos.

‘For the love of Lenin!' the Fat Man yelled, as fireworks exploded around the arena.

Mavros didn't react, unable to get the stricken face of Lia Poulou from his mind. The girl had mentioned Demeter frequently and seemed still to be under the sway of what had been drummed into her by Lykos and Angeliki, even though they had turned out to be worshippers of different cults. He hoped Lia would get over that.

As for the others, Maria Bekakou had been charged with child abuse, Telemachos Xanthakos having witnessed her with the under-fourteen in Tryfon Roufos's room. So far, she hadn't talked. Mavros was sure a deal would be done and her silence ensured. He remembered her meeting Brigadier Kriaras in the brasserie. The Father's and Son's details were in a secret police file. Mavros had tried to publicise their involvement in the gangland case when he'd first confronted them, but no newspaper would print the full story. Kriaras, perhaps under command from his political masters, had obviously brought back the younger enforcer, but he had played a dangerous game. The Son wasn't a man to cross.

‘Come on,' Yiorgos said, chinking his bottle against Mavros's. ‘At last the Games are over.' He nodded at the blank screen, all the lights having been briefly turned off. ‘What's up with you, Alex? You found the girl, most of those paedophile bastards are worm-fodder, we're in the money . . .'

Mavros sighed. ‘Do you think Lia Poulou will ever be the same again? Do you think her mother will?'

‘At least that bastard Poulos can't torment them any longer.'

‘True. And maybe the aluminium plant will be cleaned up.'

The Fat Man looked dubious. ‘Maybe.'

‘What are the comrades saying about Tatiana Roubani?'

‘That her resignation was due to ill-health and her service to the party has been exemplary.'

‘My father will come back to haunt her.'

‘Is that right? Don't tell me you've become a Hades worshipper too? Typical Greeks, eh? They couldn't even agree over which defunct deities to worship.'

Mavros thought about the rival cults. Lykos had been keeping quiet, as had Angeliki, who had been picked up by the police in Thiva; she had taken refuge with a friend after escaping from Kypseli. They would be the scapegoats, sent down for long terms for the kidnapping of Lia Poulou. At least the girl had collapsed joyfully into her mother's arms when they were reunited, failing to notice the disaster area that was Angie's mouth.

‘One of the cadres must have given the cops the location of the girls' grave. Otherwise, how did Kriaras know to direct the helicopter there?'

‘Good for whoever it was,' Yiorgos said. ‘They were pawns.'

‘They could have hung around at the denouement.'

‘You think they'd have stopped the Son? I still don't understand why he didn't kill you.'

Mavros looked at his friend. ‘He wants me to suffer. Saying that Andonis is alive was the perfect way to achieve that.'

‘So you don't believe him?'

‘It doesn't matter if I believe him or not. I can't let it lie.'

The Fat Man lumbered over to the TV and turned it off. ‘What are you going to do?'

‘Exactly what the Son wants – pursue him.'

‘But you said it before – he's protected.'

Mavros smiled grimly. ‘And I know who's protecting him – or was. Plus, Kriaras added my name to the list of targets. I'm not going to let him get away with that.' His phone rang. ‘Hi, Lambi, what's up?' There was the sound of loud carousing in the background.

‘Come down to the coastal strip,' the journalist said. ‘I'm having a ball, not to mention several lovely young ladies.' Bitsos had written up a huge story about Paschos Poulos's death, although some of his copy had been struck out by his editor, under pressure from the politicians, and more delayed till after the Games. ‘I'm enjoying my new-found hero status.' The journalist hadn't been reticent about highlighting his role in the case.

‘Have a good one,' Mavros said, cutting the connection. The idea of Bitsos pawing young flesh, admittedly over the age of consent, wasn't enticing. Besides, he couldn't help thinking about the losers – Akis Exarchos, who had sacrificed himself, probably because he couldn't live with having turned traitor; Ourania, who had told her parents she couldn't live in Paradheisos any more; and Lia – how would she grow up into any kind of normal woman? And what about the Son's victims? The burned man had been identified as a high school literature teacher, who'd made the sole mistake of worshipping the Olympian gods – as had the beheaded man at Delphi and the mutilated female professor in Trikkala. They had been killed to put pressure on Lia's kidnappers, but Lykos and his aunt hadn't buckled.

Then there was his own family. They and Niki had spent a frightening couple of days before he was able to tell them the danger was over. He didn't think the Son would do anything to them now that he had Mavros well and truly hooked. At least Telemachos Xanthakos had come out of the case well. They were in touch and he hoped he'd see more of the unusual policeman.

‘So you're meeting the mad woman tomorrow,' the Fat Man said.

‘Do you mind?' Mavros had called Niki when he got back to Athens and she'd agreed to have lunch with him. His name had been prominent in Bitsos's articles and she'd congratulated him on saving Lia. There had been warmth in her voice.

‘I suppose you're going to move in with her,' Yiorgos said, heading for the kitchen.

‘It's a bit early to say, Fat Man. Even if I do, I'll still be round here all the time to sample your pastries.'

‘Speaking of which.' His friend reappeared with a mound of honey-drenched filo.