I preferred to call Katerina to thank her. ‘How did you come across it?’ I asked her.
‘I saw it advertised in the newspapers and I thought it might interest you.’
‘Of course it interests me. Thanks a lot.’
‘How many pages is it?’
‘From what I saw, around 300.’
She started laughing as though she found it funny. ‘I feel sorry for you,’ she said.
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s not at all your cup of tea and you’ll break out in spots trying to finish it.’
‘No, I’ll fool myself into thinking I’m reading an official file. They’re equally boring.’
She came out with the same question I had. ‘How did they manage to write and print a 300-page biography in only ten days following Favieros’s suicide?’
‘They must have had it ready and simply printed it straight after the suicide.’
‘In that case, his family must have known about it. Usually the biographer is in contact with the person he’s writing about.’
‘Brilliant, Katerina!’ I shouted enthusiastically. ‘Why didn’t I think of that!’
‘Why do you think I want to become a public prosecutor?’ she replied, laughing. ‘Kiss Mummy for me,’ she said as we were about to hang up.
‘Your daughter sends you kisses,’ I shouted to Adriani, who was talking to Fanis.
She jumped up from where she was sitting. ‘Don’t hang up, I’m coming.’
The kisses went on for around half an hour, embellished with all the day’s events in Athens and Thessaloniki. Meanwhile I was chatting with Fanis, who found the business with the biography very suspicious and was sure that the name of the biographer would turn out to be a pseudonym.
‘Why?’ I asked.
‘Because if it were a real name, he’d be doing the rounds of the TV channels, giving interviews, at this very moment. What writer would pass up the opportunity of free publicity for his book? But this Logaras hasn’t shown up anywhere. Do you find it logical?’
No, I didn’t. The biography, together with Katerina’s observations and Fanis’s comments had roused my interest and I was in a hurry to begin reading. Fanis left at around eleven thirty, Adriani went to bed and I got comfortable in the sitting room with the book in my hands.
Logaras didn’t provide much information about Favieros’s childhood; he got it out of the way in the first twenty-five pages. Favieros had been born in Koliatsou Square. His father was a lawyer and his mother a school teacher. He had gone to the local primary and secondary schools and had got into the Athens Polytechnic School with exceptional exam grades. From that point onwards, Logaras appeared to know in detail all aspects of Favieros’s student life: how good he was as a student, who he mixed with both inside and outside the Polytechnic School, which of his fellow students he was close to. Favieros was one of the leading members of the student movement and he had become involved in the struggle against the Junta from the outset. The Security Forces had arrested him in ’69, but they released him six months later. He was taken into custody again in ’72, this time by the Military Police. Logaras knew how badly Favieros had been tortured, by whom, even what kinds of torture they used. It made you wonder where he had found and gathered all this information, if not from Favieros himself. Whatever the case, the portrait that emerged from the book was that of an exemplary young man. An exceptional student, liked by everyone, politically active, in the front line of the struggle, who had been subjected to terrible torture but who hadn’t broken.
Just as I was coming to the end of Favieros’s early years, Adriani, half-asleep and in her nightie, poked her nose round the door. ‘Are you right in the head?’ she said. ‘Do you know what time it is?’
‘No.’
‘It’s three in the morning.’
‘I’d no idea. So that’s why it’s so quiet.’
‘Do you intend staying up all night?’
‘I don’t know. I want to finish the book that Katerina sent me.’
She crossed herself so the evil spirits wouldn’t visit her in her sleep and went back to bed.
Favieros’s student life came to an end roughly halfway through the book, which is where the account began of his professional life and his rise in the business world. Logaras didn’t hide the fact that Favieros received favourable treatment through his contact with ministers and people in high places in the government. He had been in the student struggle with at least four ministers and numerous party cadres. With their help, he had also met the rest of the government cabinet. He had started out with nothing: a small company that constructed pavements and drains for the Water Company, and in less than seven years he found himself the owner of Domitis Construction, plus a ready-mix concrete company, plus a company that manufactured asbestos-cement pipes. According to his biographer, however, over and above any contacts he may have had in the government, he owed all this primarily to his own entrepreneurial instincts, to the profitable operation of his businesses and to his skill in choosing the right people for the job. It was the first construction company to expand its activities in the Balkans following the collapse of the communist regimes and had projects underway in all the neighbouring countries. In short, Logaras was saying what Favieros himself had said just before committing suicide. Instead of giving information which might have helped to explain Favieros’s suicide, it merely confirmed what we already knew: namely that he had no reason for committing suicide. In general, it was a biography that flattered him outright.
Only towards the end did Logaras drop one or two hints about suspicious dealings. He devoted just two paragraphs to talk of an offshore company, with numerous international links and with somewhat shady business goals. This was the only slight stain on Favieros’s otherwise immaculate suit, even though Logaras barely touched on the offshore company and didn’t go very deeply into its activities. This was strange given that he had information on the most intimate aspects of Favieros’s life. It was as though he wanted to drop a hint and leave it dangling there.
I shut the book and looked at my watch. It was five o’clock. I wondered whether that offshore company might offer any clue. I decided that, the following day, I would send Koula back to Domitis to see if she could get anything more out of Zamanis. Of course, if we kept on questioning him, he would start to smell a rat, but I didn’t care. If the worse came to the worst, I’d direct him to Ghikas.
14
In the end, I spent all night in the armchair. I don’t know what time I fell asleep but I opened my eyes at one moment and saw that the book had slipped out of my hands and had fallen to the floor. The hot sun was pouring in through the half-open shutters. I looked at my watch and leapt to my feet. It was already nine and Koula would be there any moment. I threw some water over my face and thought about what my next moves should be. I would begin with Favieros’s offshore company. Even theoretically, there was half a chance that the reason for his suicide may lie in the overt or shady activities of the offshore company. It was the only point that Logaras left unclear and it required investigation. I wondered what was better: to search through the books of the Ministry of Trade or to go straight to Zamanis? I’d soon find what I was looking for in the records, but what use would a plain reference be to me? I’d still have to question Favieros’s associates. I decided upon the latter solution, but with a slight variation. I wouldn’t go in person, I’d send Koula. In that way, it wouldn’t be seen to be too important and people wouldn’t get suspicious. The next step, or rather the parallel step, would be to find Logaras, Favieros’s biographer. That was easily done by a simple visit to the publisher.
The kitchen was empty. My coffee was waiting for me on the table with the saucer covering the cup so that it wouldn’t get cold. Before I’d even taken the first sip, Adriani breezed in, wheeling her bag from the supermarket.