'Which brings us back to the Linardos family.'
'Like I said, suspect number one.' Andreas stared out the window. 'Assuming a Linardos is behind this, the only way I see of proving it is working our way link-by-link up the chain from the actual killers, most likely the two gorillas with the girl.'
Kouros nodded. 'Should we start interviewing the family members?'
'Can't think of a better way to meet a lot of very connected lawyers. We'd need something concrete before taking on one of the most powerful families in Greece, but what the hell, let's at least take a run at the head of the family. I'll have Maggie set up an appointment for this afternoon with the grandfather, the one who runs the newspaper.'
'Speaking of the papers, have they picked up on the murder?'
'Don't know, I'm sure Maggie will tell us if it's out there.' Andreas tried calling her but it wouldn't go through. 'Damn it, the phone reception here is as bad as on Lykavittos.'
'Nice language, Chief.'
Andreas smiled. 'Never mind, we're almost at the Angel Club, we'll try again when we're finished here.' He pointed to a glitzy black-glass and steel, one-story warehouse-size building on the right. 'Pull over there, and be sure to block the front door. Let's start pissing them off.'
Pissing off the crew at the Angel Club wasn't something most sane people did. At least not those who wanted to keep breathing. Those who ran it, not the owners on the license, came from one of the most ruthless and powerful clans in Greece. Notoriously short-tempered and proud, it took very little to set them off. But they worked hard at reining in their natural propensities for violence in order to profit off the more civilized city-folk they drew into their club. And profit they did, not just from its high cover charges and questionably formulated booze, but from drugs grown and processed back home in their hillside villages.
Middlemen sold their brands at a premium in Amsterdam and other drug-friendly European cities, but in Greece the consumer bought directly at the Angel Club or other hot-spot clubs in their network. Their business was so long-standing and well-organized that police rarely challenged them, and almost never back in their villages, where their power, influence, manpower, and armaments often outnumbered all but the army.
These were the guys Andreas wanted to piss off. Maggie saw from the incoming calls listed on her computer that the chief was trying to reach her. She called back but there was no answer. She had news for him on the Kostopoulos case. He wouldn't be happy. Preliminary autopsy results were back. The boy was dead by three a.m. from strangulation; the marks about his neck showed no signs of a struggle and were consistent with those on a victim trying to achieve an asphyxiation-high during intercourse; his penis was badly bruised and scraped from yet to be determined causes; and he was sodomized multiple times, by multiple partners, again with no signs of a struggle.
The media will love this. It was all the evidence they need for endless, 'Rough Sex Night Gone Bad' headlines, and he-got-what-he-deserved slants to every story. Yes, the chief definitely wouldn't be happy. 'Who the fuck do you think you are?'
Andreas looked at Kouros, then back at the pro wrestler-size giant standing in the vestibule of the Angel Club. He was dressed all in black, with a gold 'A' embroidered on the lapel of his jacket. Andreas pointed his left index finger at his own chest and said meekly, 'Us?'
The gaint gestured to a slightly smaller version of himself standing just inside the club to step into the vestibule. 'These two assholes are looking for trouble.' He glared at Andreas.
Andreas smiled and looked at Kouros. 'I guess we should introduce ourselves,' and then fixed his eyes on the giant, all the while keeping his index finger aimed at his chest. 'We're police. Yianni, please show this gentleman your credentials.'
The giant took a step toward Andreas. 'If you're cops, get the hell around the back with the rest of the help. Only paying customers come in the front.'
Andreas didn't move or say a word; just continued to smile and point at himself.
The giant was two steps from Andreas. 'Asshole, if you don't get the fuck out of here, you're gonna get hurt real bad.' The second guy stepped into the vestibule and stood facing Kouros, arms crossed and glaring. Kouros didn't budge.
The giant took another step forward and was halfway into his next when Andreas drove the heel of his left hand full-thrust up, into, and through the giant's jaw. A perfect, never-saw-it-coming knockout.
Before the giant hit the floor Andreas had turned to face the second man, now reaching for something in his jacket pocket. 'Uhh, uh,' said Andreas, waving a finger at him. 'Play nice.'
The guy paused, as if not sure what to do. But Kouros did. He delivered a Champions League-quality soccer shot directly to the man's balls. Two down.
'Nice work,' said Andreas. 'Now, smile to the camera,' pointing to the security camera above the door to the club, 'show your badge,' pulling his own out from beneath his shirt so that it hung free on the cord about his neck, 'and let's make sure they get some good shots of these,' pulling a nine millimeter semiautomatic from the belt of the giant and taking from Kouros the similar one he'd removed from the jacket of the other guy.
Andreas waved the guns in front of the camera and yelled, 'We were in mortal fear for our lives. Now get your ass down here, Giorgio!'
Everyone knew Giorgio, at least everyone in law enforcement. He ran the place for the clan back in his village. Although Greek, he preferred the Italian version of his name. Probably would have liked to hear 'Don' in front of it too.
Two minutes later a slight, trim, swarthy man dressed all in white appeared in the doorway. His head completely shaved, his three-day-old beard jet black. No way of telling if he was in his thirties or forties. Two more giants were with him. 'Andreas, my friend, come in. Please.'
Andreas nodded and stepped inside. They'd tangled before. Andreas still was holding both pistols. He handed one to Kouros as he passed him and Kouros fell into step right behind him.
All the lights were on at this hour, so that the club's faceless crew of Eastern-European workers could ready the place for the crowds of Greeks to come. In bright light there was no mystery here. The burgundy carpets and matching, bordello-style banquettes were a mash of cigarette burns, spike-heel stiletto tears, and stains from spilled drinks and God knew what else. Long, black Formica-top and metal-leg tables filled the center of the room. They were nearly as badly beaten-up as the mostly matching chairs.
Every bit of wall space was black, except for a huge video screen that dominated the wall behind the block-long bar at the far end. The club ran nonstop ads on that screen for whatever brand of cigarettes or booze was willing to pay, filled with sounds of the hottest new music and images of nearly naked, please-fuck-me-looking young girls.
'Here's fine,' said Andreas. They were about ten feet from the door. No reason to go any further, especially with three more all-in-black gorillas standing about twenty feet further inside.
Giorgio smiled. 'Nice touch, setting up those two like you did.'
'You never did much go for the brains, Georgy.' Andreas knew he hated being called Georgy.
Giorgio stopped smiling. 'Too bad they threatened you on camera.'
'Yeah, modern security cameras are a great boon to law enforcement.'
'So, what the fuck do you want?' The fangs were showing.
'Want to know about a certain lady who was in your place last night.'
Giorgio snickered. 'That narrows things down.'
'She was in probably between midnight and one, sat in your private area and "was the greatest piece of ass ever to walk into your place."'
'As they say, "Beauty's in the eyes of the beholder."' He wasn't cooperating.
'This one was all in red.'