It wasn’t easy for me to find any comforting words. Not just with Ghikas at that moment, but with Adriani and Katerina too. There are times when I pray that my sympathy shows on my face because the words stick in my throat and won’t come out. That’s how it was then. All I could say was something quite innocuous.
‘Didn’t you ask Yanoutsos for an explanation?’
‘Yes. Do you know what he replied? Orders from up above. Talk to the Secretary General.’
‘And did you?’
‘Yes, and he told me that it wasn’t his job to keep me informed and that those beneath me should have informed me earlier.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Don’t you understand?’ he cried. ‘You! They think it was you who didn’t tell me that there were orders from above to go and nab those troublemakers!’
‘Let them put themselves on the line. They won’t find a court anywhere to convict them.’
He stared at me and shook his head sorrowfully. ‘Ah, Costas. You’re right in what you say, but you don’t see clearly. They’ll put them away and they’ll start saying: “Let justice take its course.” And by the time it has taken its course and acquitted them, two years will have passed. In the meantime, the case will have been forgotten and no one will give a damn.’
He was right. At the rate that the media today come out with scandals, world-shattering revelations and exclusive reports, three times a day, like cough syrup, in two years’ time no one would remember anything about Favieros and Stefanakos.
‘You realise that I can no longer make any promises to you concerning your position,’ he said. ‘Whatever I say or do, it’ll be difficult to get Yanoutsos out of it.’
‘I realise that.’
He heaved a sigh. ‘Finish your sick leave and then come back and I’ll see where I can put you so that at least you’ll be content.’
I wouldn’t be content, but at least I appreciated his efforts. ‘And what shall I tell Koula?’
He shrugged. ‘As she’s on leave, let her finish it and then come back.’
Outside the office on my way to the lift I bumped into Yanoutsos.
‘Something reached my ears about you investigating the two suicides on the q.t.,’ he said ironically. ‘There’s no need for you to go on looking. The case is closed and you can take yourself off fishing.’
As I was opening the lift door, I heard his laughter behind me. I reflected on just how much we would miss Ghikas if he retired and Yanoutsos were to take his place.
Throughout the journey back home, my own problems gave way to Ghikas’s. The way I’d seen him, vulnerable and betrayed, I felt an unprecedented sense of solidarity with him. It was the second time I had felt that, and on each occasion for the same reason. The first time was when I had left Petroulakis’s house in Dafnomili Street. Once again, I was tormented by the question of whether I’d been wrong about him all those years. Perhaps yes, perhaps no. Yes, because I always regarded him with suspicion and doubted his good intentions. No, because when someone admits to you of his own accord that throughout his life he did whatever his superiors told him without ever questioning their orders, it meant that he couldn’t care less about you, his associate, and merely used you in keeping with the needs of the moment. Consequently, I was right to be cautious with him and to play my own game, just as he played his. Solidarity was all well and good, but those who made it their banner in the coalition government of ’89 came a cropper.
I walked into the house and found Fanis talking to Adriani. Next to them was someone unknown to me, who looked like a technician and who was looking around at the walls.
‘But, Fanis, dear, why do we need an air conditioner? I told you, I don’t like them because they dry the atmosphere in the room. We’re fine with the fan.’
‘Do I have to say it again? You have a husband with a heart problem. For heart sufferers, the heat increases the risk of death. Do you know how many cases we get in Emergency when there’s a heatwave?’
‘Maybe, but we’re leaving for a few days. We’re going to stay with my sister on the island.’
‘And what are you going to do when you get back and Athens is boiling hot?’
The technician interrupted the conversation, which was taking place in my absence, as did every conversation that had to do with me.
‘Can I just ask? Do you want it to cool the whole place?’
‘No, just the sitting room,’ Fanis replied.
‘Then 12,000 BTU will be ample.’
Fanis took the decision on his own. ‘Okay. It’s settled.’
The technician turned to leave, saw me in the doorway and halted. It was only then that Fanis and Adriani noticed me.
‘Do you have any objections to us putting in an air conditioner?’ asked Fanis. ‘It’s a special offer. You can pay in instalments and the first one is in two years’ time.’
‘Go ahead,’ I replied. With all that had been happening, I would need to take care of my heart.
Adriani walked out of the sitting room, leaving us alone. She always did that when she didn’t get her own way.
Once she had gone, Fanis leaned over to me and said confidentially: ‘It was Katerina’s idea, but I didn’t say anything because her mother would have gone into a huff.’
Before I had time to reply, the phone rang. It was Sotiropoulos. ‘Are your lot out of their minds?’ he said as soon as he heard my voice. ‘They think they can pin it all on those three yobs, do they?’
‘Don’t be ungrateful,’ I said ironically. ‘Those three yobs gave you the topic for your programme last night.’
He understood that the dig was aimed at his programme on the danger of right-wing extremism, and he didn’t reply straightaway. When he did at last open his mouth, it was one of the rare occasions that he sounded uptight.
‘I’ve got people over my head too, Haritos. And I can’t say “no” to them when they want to profit from some event, even if I disagree.’ He paused for a moment and went on: ‘So what do we do now?’
‘Nothing. We might have succeeded in doing something if I’d been able to talk to Andreadis.’
‘I tried, but he was adamant. I told you.’
‘Andreadis was adamant because he had got wind of what was cooking and he didn’t want to compromise himself.’
‘It’s possible. At any rate, keep hold of the material you’ve come up with. It won’t go wasted.’
Yes, I thought to myself. I could sell it to you to pay for the air conditioner.
‘Which Andreadis were you talking about? The politician?’ asked Fanis, who had been an unwilling listener to the conversation.
‘Yes, I wanted to ask him a few things about Stefanakos, but he refused to talk to me. Anyhow, now they’ve pinned it on those three yobs.’
As he was opening the front door to leave, Fanis bumped into Koula. I made the introductions.
‘So you’re the famous Koula who’s so impressed Mrs Haritos,’ Fanis said, laughing.
Koula blushed to her toes, mumbled a ‘she’s very kind’, and went into the house. When I had closed the front door, she stood there looking at me gravely.
‘No need for you to say anything,’ she said. ‘I saw it all on TV and I know.’
‘I saw Ghikas today.’
‘And?’
‘He said for you to finish your leave and then go back.’
‘That’s something, I suppose. At least I’ll get a bit of swimming in,’ she said with some sarcasm in her voice.
‘Are you upset about it?’ I asked.
She shrugged. ‘I have a father who paid dearly for his stubbornness and his tongue. And we paid for it along with him. It was all that upset that finished my mother off. And so I went to the other extreme. Get on with your job and whistle indifferently.’ She looked at me as if waiting for me to say something. But I had nothing to say and so she continued: ‘I came to tell you how happy I am to have met you and how much I’ll miss you. Both you and Mrs Haritos.’