Target: Tinos ak-4 Page 6

  They stepped inside into a tiny foyer leading to a second doorway. The man pulled the outside door closed and all street sounds vanished. It was a deja vu moment for Andreas: another tomb and another two men waving for them to enter a second doorway. Another surprise? For sure, thought Andreas. He adjusted his crotch. It’s show time.

  The room was about the size of a four-car garage turned sideways. A beat-up wooden bar ran along the front left wall just far enough to take five mismatched bar stools. Past the bar, four rectangular tables covered in white linen tablecloths and looking decidedly out of place sat lined up across the middle of the room, while two scratched and marred wooden tables along each sidewall took up the rest of the space. On the rear wall, a door to the left was marked WC and a door to the right stood open, revealing a small kitchen. A dull, uneven glow of orange light struggled to reach the floor from three very dirty and ancient overhead fixtures.

  Above the bar sat a television set. Next to it on a wall hung an out of date calendar showing a huge pair of tits surrounded by a woman.

  Seven men sat at the tables in the middle of the room, a total of ten bad guys, plus however many more might be hiding in the kitchen and the woodwork.

  The three cops stood at the end of the bar facing the tables. None of the bad guys said a word. They all stared at Andreas, as if they knew he was in charge.

  Andreas smiled, “And a very good evening to all of you.”

  A heavily bearded man in sunglasses and sitting off to Andreas’ right said in perfect Greek, “What do you want?”

  Andreas pointed over his shoulder toward the front door. “For starters, have your friends join you where I can see them. I think ten to three are good enough odds for you. Besides, it would be very bad manners if one of my colleagues had to stand with his back to you while we talked.”

  The bearded man paused for a moment before nodding for the three to come forward. They brushed by the cops and stood along the back wall, behind the men at the linen covered tables. Andreas looked at Kouros and jerked his head toward the front door. Kouros walked to the bar, picked up a barstool, and wedged it snug against the door.

  “Just so we’re not disturbed by any unexpected patrons,” said Andreas.

  “So, like I said, what do you want?” said the bearded man.

  “You already know,” said Tassos.

  “Tell us again.”

  “It’s not about you,” said Andreas. “At least I don’t think it is. For all our sakes I pray it’s not.”

  “What does that mean?” said the bearded man.

  “Hate crimes against tsigani aren’t popular these days with the E.U. They lead to investigations by Europol.”

  “What’s that got do with us?” said a fat but muscled bald man sitting at the center of the seven men.

  “I don’t care about you. I care about me. I’m in charge of what happens in Greece, not a bunch of foreign pricks. But if they give me a hard time, I give you a harder one, because you boys are suspects numero uno.” Andreas had found you could justify almost anything by claiming ego when talking to macho types.

  The bald man nodded. “As long as you understand there’s a price.”

  Andreas gestured no. “I don’t think so. I’m here to get information, not make a deal. I’ll owe no favors for anything you tell me.”

  The bald man bristled. “That’s not the way we do business.”

  Tassos said, “Sorry to tell you, but today’s payback time for past favors owed.” He turned his head toward a slim, gray-haired man on the far left. “Right, Aleksander?”

  The gray-haired man looked surprised. “Didn’t think you’d recognize me, Tassos.”

  “It’s good plastic surgery, but you still have that habit of tugging hard on your right earlobe when you’re under stress. You ought to work on it.”

  Aleksander smiled. “Thanks for the tip.” He looked at the bearded man. “Tell him what he wants to know.”

  The bald man said, “But-”

  Aleksander raised his hand, the bald man instantly shut up, and Aleksander nodded at the bearded man.

  The bearded man cleared his throat. “We had nothing to do with the two on Tinos.”

  Andreas nodded. “I’m sure. But what can you tell me about what happened there?”

  “Nothing more than you already know.”

  Andreas bit at his lower lip and counted to five. “I get it, you had us come all the way out here just so you could whisper those three lovely little words in my ear, ‘we know nothing?’ Don’t take me for an idiot. Two tsigani from a clan in your backyard are incinerated in an execution that made headline news across Greece and you expect me to believe that if you knew nothing about it before it happened you simply ignored it and went merrily along without the slightest concern over who might be next? No, my friend, I don’t believe that for a minute.”

  The bearded man glared at Andreas.

  Andreas glared back. “I’m still waiting for an answer.”

  “Okay asshole.” It was the bald man. “Aleksander wants you to know the truth, so here’s the truth. We would have killed those two if we thought they were behind what’s going on.”

  “What does that mean?” said Andreas.

  The bald man looked at Aleksander, waited until he nodded, then turned to Andreas. “Someone is organizing something big. And whoever it is doesn’t want us in on it.”

  Smart thinking, thought Andreas. Let these guys inside your tent and you’re history.

  “ Ians and is from all over Athens are involved. But we can’t get a line on who’s putting it together. If we could-”

  The bearded man cut the bald man off, “We wouldn’t allow such a potential threat against our country to go forward.”

  Who’s this guy think he is, their lawyer? thought Andreas.

  Tassos shook his head. “Guys, I just want to know who whacked those two tsigani. And, frankly, so far I haven’t heard anything to convince me it wasn’t you.”

  Bald man said, “We live in Menidi among tsigani. We need each other, and besides, they’re only a small part of whatever’s going on. Singling out tsigani over this gets us into a war with everyone involved. We’re better off biding our time until we find out who’s behind it, then we’ll do what has to be done to put an end to it once and for all.”

  He smiled. “And I can assure you that when that time comes the responsible ones will be wide awake and feel the end coming.”

  How the hell did he know the two brothers were dead when they were incinerated? thought Andreas.

  “I’m still not convinced,” said Tassos.

  The bearded man nodded. “I can understand why you might think that. After all, that tsigani clan was going against our interests, so it’s only logical we would want to make an example of them.”

  He paused.

  “But the trouble with your thinking is that those two murdered tsigani were on our side. They have an older brother who sided with us against his clan, and a few days before his two brothers were killed one of them got word to us that they should have listened to their brother. They said they thought they were on to who was organizing everything and would let us know as soon as they knew for sure.”

  “Why their sudden change of heart?” said Tassos.

  “They said they didn’t want to go against the church,” said the bald man.

  “The church?” said Andreas.

  “Yes, a church on Tinos, and they wanted no part of it.”

  “Which church?” said Andreas.

  “Panagia Evangelistria.”

  “What’s supposed to happen?” said Tassos.

  “All we heard was it involved robbing Panagia Evangelistria. They died before getting us any more information.”

  “They used those words?”

  “Yes, ‘robbing Panagia Evangelistria.’”

  “And that’s all you know?” said Andreas. “No idea of when it’s supposed to go down or what they’re after?”

  “Yes, you got
it. ‘No idea,’” said the bald man.

  Andreas looked at the bearded man.

  “Yes,” said the bearded man.

  Andreas looked at the others in the room. “And you?”

  Each man nodded yes.

  Aleksander cleared his throat. “Tassos, gentlemen, have your questions been answered?”

  Tassos looked at Andreas.

  Andreas nodded. “Yes. For the moment.”

  Aleksander said, “This is the only moment you will have. Ask now, because there will never be another chance. The slates are now wiped clean.” He looked at Tassos.

  Tassos nodded yes.

  “Good, thank you.” He motioned for Tassos to come over to him. When he did Aleksander pulled him down to whisper in his ear. Tassos laughed and Aleksander did the same.

  Tassos turned and said goodbye to the bad guys and, still laughing, took Andreas and Kouros by their arms, swung them around, and headed toward the front door. He kicked the bar stool out of the way, stepped into the foyer, and said, “The second that door opens head left into the apartment building next door, down the stairs to the right, and out the back door. And move.”

  Andreas and Kouros asked no questions. They were out one door and though the other in three seconds.

  Tassos yelled as they ran toward the stairs, “Outside to the left there’s a grey Fiat with a Blue Star ferry sticker on the driver’s side rear window. Keys are under the floor mat. Yianni, you drive.”

  They went through the downstairs door and out into the parking lot. “What the hell is going on?” said Andreas.

  “Bomb in the van.”

  “Maybe in the Fiat, too,” said Kouros.

  “Sure as hell hope not,” said Tassos.

  They’d just reached the Fiat when they heard the downstairs door crash open, followed by the unmistakable sound of a Kalashnikov.

  Andreas pulled his gun and ducked behind the front end of a tiny pickup. “Yianni, get the car moving.”

  It was the three men who’d been standing in the back throughout the meeting, one with an assault rifle and two with handguns. All were using the spray and pray method of marksmanship. Andreas was more focused, kept his eye on the front sight, and squeezed. He caught the one with the Kalashnikov in the throat. Not quite where he was aiming, but close enough. The abrupt silence startled the other two shooters, and before the one closest to the AK-47 could reach it, Andreas had put a round in his thigh. That’s where he was aiming, because he assumed they were also wearing vests. Shooter number three turned and ran back into the building. Andreas heard Kouros and Tassos yelling for him to get in the car.

  Andreas jumped onto the back seat and Kouros spun the wheels on the gravel getting out of the parking lot. “What the hell were you doing back there? Couldn’t you hear us screaming for you to get in?” said Kouros.

  Andreas leaned his head back against the seat. His heart was pounding. “As a matter of fact, no.” It was instinctive. His hearing had shut down at the sudden life or death confrontation. All his senses focused on eliminating the threat and nothing else. Andreas shut his eyes, drew in and let out a deep breath. “Anybody following us?”

  “Not yet,” said Tassos.

  “Yianni, call for backup,” said Andreas.

  “I’m a little busy driving at the moment, Chief,” said Kouros.

  Andreas opened is eyes, pulled out his cell phone, and hit the code for officer needs assistance. “Let them track us on GPS.”

  “Tassos, what the hell did that guy tell you?” said Kouros.

  “He said that no matter what he told me I should laugh all the way out the door. He said that the bald guy was a real hothead bad ass and only agreed that nothing would happen to us in the meeting. Once outside we were on our own and Aleksander was certain that by now whatever we’d come in was wired to explode. The Fiat was his final payment on a major favor owed.”

  “Which was?” said Andreas.

  “Let’s just put it this way, if I told you who he is-or from the way he now looks was-I will have reneged on a promise that just saved our lives.”

  Andreas sat quietly for a moment. “Sometimes you are a very difficult man to understand.” He paused again. “But thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  On the trip out of Menidi no beggar stepped in front of the Fiat. They were too busy diving out of its way as Kouros swerved, sped, and slid like a drunken tourist on holiday to the Greek islands.

  About a half-mile from the National Road, two police cars were waiting on the shoulder, and the cops inside were waving for them to pull over.

  “Finally, reinforcements,” said Kouros.

  “Don’t stop,” said Tassos. “They may not be friendly.”

  “What are you talking about? We sent out a GPS distress call,” said Kouros.

  “I know, but we’re no longer in distress and no reason to risk it.” Tassos looked back at Andreas. “The bearded guy in the sunglasses, he’s a cop.”

  Andreas opened his eyes. “I thought he might be.”

  “I don’t know him but I’m sure I’ve met him before,” said Tassos.

  “Son of a bitch, I thought I recognized his voice,” said Kouros. “The beard’s a phony.”

  “That’s how bald guy knew the tsigani were already dead when they were incinerated,” said Andreas.

  Tassos nodded. “He’s owned by the Albanians. They probably had him here to watch out for ‘cop tricks.’”

  “Then why didn’t they search us?” said Kouros.

  “They were cocky,” said Tassos. “They didn’t care if we had weapons because there was a guy at each table holding a gun on us from the moment we walked in, probably shotguns and that AK-47.”

  “That was the reason for the tablecloths,” said Andreas.

  “Okay, but why wouldn’t the cop have them check us for a wire?” said Kouros.

  “Same cocky, macho bullshit,” said Tassos. “They probably had a jammer working in case we were transmitting to someone on the outside and figured any recorder we had on us would go up in the explosion.”

  Andreas leaned his head back against the seat. He drew in a breath. By now his pulse had returned to normal and his thoughts to what really counted. Lila and Tassaki foremost.

  But something else, too: Punka. Son-of-a-bitch had to know more than he claimed about what was going on. His brothers must have told him something. Punka’s time on the outside was over.

  “Yianni, who’s on Punka?”

  “Angelo and Christina.”

  “Fine, call them and tell them to bring him in now.”

  Chapter Seven

  Angelo was not free of prejudices. He never claimed to be. He just tried to keep his from interfering with his professional responsibilities as a cop. But Punka was making it very difficult. Angelo and his partner, Christina, had been staked out in Syntagma for hours watching Punka orchestrate a petty-crime wave in the heart of their city.

  The Athens that Angelo remembered as a child had changed dramatically. Its innocence was gone. Residents no longer dared leave their front doors open, or any door or window for that matter. His mother and everyone else’s mother now rode the metro clutching their purses. That included immigrant mothers, for they were among the most preyed upon. Many feared that with Greece in economic decline for the first time in decades, there was worse crime to come, and all prayed that whatever came would not get out of hand.

  To Angelo, Punka already was way out of hand. Cute, innocent-looking three-year-olds, five-year-olds, seven-year-olds, eleven-year-olds and every age in between raced around smiling and touching as they begged tourists and locals alike for money, and cursing those who did not give. Then there were the babies sleeping in the laps of older girls begging, but not really sleeping: drugged, so they couldn’t move or cry. And into this mix dropped the pickpockets, the opportunists. All run by Punka from a park bench and all watched as closely as a distrusting casino pit boss would his dealers.

  “I really can’
t take much more of this,” said Angelo into his transmitter. “What do you say, Christina, want to help me kick his ass?” He glanced across the square toward his partner.

  “I can do it myself, thank you.”

  “I bet you could.” He looked at his watch. He despised Punka even though he’d never met him. It wasn’t a matter of race or the notorious tsigani crimes and hustles that played out every day almost everywhere in Europe that bothered him. After all, separating suckers from their money was a time-honored tradition practiced by many groups, including businessmen and politicians. What drove his anger were the children, their exploitation.

  He looked at his watch again. “Twenty minutes until our relief gets here,” said Angelo.

  “Thank God,” said Christina. “This is worse than boring. Having to watch that bastard-”

  “Christina. Someone’s heading toward Punka. Male, late twenties, five-six, thin, dark blue zippered jacket…”

  “I see him,” said Christina.

  “Hold off until contact is made then you follow the new guy. I’ll stay with Punka in case it’s a diversion.”

  The new guy walked over to Punka and smiled. They didn’t shake hands, but talked for minute. He offered Punka a cigarette. Punka stood up, stretched, and took it. New guy reached into his right jacket pocket and pulled out a lighter. Punka leaned in for a light and new guy transferred the lighter to his left hand and…

  Angelo thought, left hand? Why would he switch it to his left hand to light the cigarette? “ Move in now, something’s wrong.”

  The stiletto was out of new guy’s right jacket sleeve and in Punka’s heart before Punka could draw a puff. It was a smooth, quick thrust with just enough twisting force to ensure Punka would not survive. He eased Punka back onto the bench and turned to walk away, the stiletto no longer in sight.

  It was Christina who reached new guy first, her gun drawn. “ Stop, police. Drop the knife.”

  He nodded, and let the stiletto fall from inside his right sleeve.