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"Be very careful what you say, because you'll blow it, you bastard!" he screamed, his face so close to the Albanian's that you didn't know whether he might kiss him or bite him. "You won't get out of here alive!"

One second he was holding him tight, and the next he let go of him. For an instant the Albanian remained in the air, but as soon as his feet touched the ground, he collapsed in a heap, quivering with fear.

"Get up!" Thanassis barked at him, just as he'd barely touched the floor. The Albanian flattened himself against the wall, of his own free will this time, and began crawling up it like a caterpillar. He managed to pull himself upright, and the climbing stopped. Thanassis immediately took hold of him again and sat him down in the chair.

"Out with it! Now!" he shouted. "Out with it!"

"I not know anything," the Albanian insisted. "I go for Pakize."

He kept a terrified watch on Thanassis, ignoring me. I'd done right to bring Thanassis with me. And I was wrong to have stopped him in the morning when he'd started getting rough with the Albanian. I should have let him get on with it. We might have learned the truth there and then, and I wouldn't have had to send a halfbaked report to Ghikas.

"What dealings did you have with Pakize's husband?" Now I was the one to get rough. "Thefts? Drugs? You quarreled over sharing the loot and you murdered him! But you didn't find the money because he'd hidden it in too safe a place!"

He latched on to what I'd just said and looked at me meaningfully. "Mehmet, husband Pakize, maybe robbery, maybe drugs," he said, "I, no. I work building, work Rendi, vegetable market. I not know Mehmet. Know Pakize only."

"You mean to tell me you were creeping around outside their house all those days and you didn't ever see them coming home in a van?"

Thanassis looked at me in astonishment. I hadn't told him that detail. He was hearing it for the first time.

"A neighbor saw a van or a very big car dropping them off outside their front door. Late one evening, in secret," I explained and turned back to the Albanian. "Who was it who brought them in the van? What's his name? Where is he? Tell us!"

"When I go, Pakize home," he said shaking. "I no see van." Then he had an idea and rapidly said: "Pakize clean houses, take care kids. Maybe boss take her in van."

Thanassis grabbed him by his collar. "You're asking for it," he threatened. "You've given us nothing, and you're going to pay for this."

"No, no!" the Albanian cried out in alarm. "I kill Pakize and husband. But not know anything."

Thanassis let him fall back into the chair. If we went on like that all night, we'd still get nothing out of him, I thought to myself, starting to tire of it. He'd confessed that he'd killed them; that was clearcut. That didn't necessarily mean that he knew about the five hundred thousand and the van. The most probable scenario was that we were dealing with a crime of passion, and that it was only by accident that we'd come up with something else, without the two things being linked. After all, we'd found the five hundred thousand, but we'd found no drugs or stolen goods or guns. They must have had some other hideaway. All that about trips to Yannina and Albania was bullshit. But how was anyone to discover what other dirty business was behind all this? Besides, it didn't concern us. Given that they were both dead, all proceedings would come to a halt.

"He's telling the truth. He knows nothing," I heard Thanassis say as he stood beside me in the lift, as if wanting to confirm my thoughts. So Thanassis, this self-confessed moron, agreed with me, and I took refuge behind that simple statement and felt relieved. The only thing still bothering me was that I had yet to alter my report.

I left Thanassis on the third floor, and I went up to the fifth. I stood and stared at the plaque: NIKOLAOS GHIKAS-CHIEF OF SECURITY. I read it maybe ten times while trying to think of some excuse for getting my report back without arousing suspicion. In the end, I put on a big smile and opened the door.

"Hello, Koula," I said cheerfully. The mannequin in uniform was sitting at her desk. She furtively bundled the mirror and tweezers she was using to pluck her eyebrows into a drawer.

"Hello, Inspector Haritos!" She had forgotten her usually cold look and was being nice because I'd caught her red-handed. "You can't go in, I'm afraid. He's busy," she said in an apologetic tone.

"Again? Ah, poor Koula, I'm amazed at how you manage with so much coming and going in here."

"You can't imagine, I don't have time to draw breath."

I was about to tell her that I could see that, that she didn't even have time to pluck her eyebrows, but instead I said: "I don't know what he'd do without you. And not only him, but us too. Everything goes through your hands."

"Do you know what time I left yesterday? Nine o'clock!"

"Shall I ask him to transfer you to my department? And pick ten of mine to put in here? Because you're worth ten."

"He wouldn't let me," she said and giggled, obviously flattered.

"He'd be mad to let you go. Where would he find anyone as sharp as you?" She was oozing with satisfaction. I leaned over her desk, lowered my voice, and said to her conspiratorially, "Koula, can I ask you a favor?"

"Of course," she said immediately, ecstatic still and willing to do anything for me.

"I have to get back the report I left this morning. I forgot to include something. But I don't want him to know."

"It's still on his desk. I'll go and get it with the things from the outtray. He won't know anything."

"Let's hope that he won't ask for it while I've got it."

"I'll tell him that I've sent it to be photocopied, and I'll call you so you can bring it back to me." She gave me a crafty smile and went into his office.

That's great, the fox and the hen have hit it off and there's no one to touch them. A moment later, she came out holding a pile of papers. She went through them, found the report, and gave it to me.

"You're a treasure," I gushed.

I wasn't in any mood to put up with the elevator, so I took the stairs. "I'm up to the ears and I'm not here if anyone calls," I shouted to Thanassis and closed my office door.

I sat down and began going through the report. As luck would have it, he hadn't read it-there were none of his notes on it. He'd read the summary I'd sent him to get it down pat for the reporters, and he'd left the report for later, like always. Fortune was on my side that day: The final page had only five lines on it. I could easily add the new information to the end. If he asked me why I hadn't mentioned the five hundred thousand in the summary, I'd tell him that was why I'd sent the report along too, so that he could read the details there. I'd have him showing himself up for not having read the report promptly. I'd earn plus points without losing any. The points system was another one of the innovations that Ghikas had brought back with him from the FBI. When you solved a case, you got positive points; when you messed up, you got negative ones. All this is recorded in your file, and when the Official Council convenes to consider promotions, they study your file and count the positive and negative points. In the end, each new government appoints its own people, and you remain in the same position with your points in hand.

I began feverishly to write the last page so as not to waste time, but I hit a snag because something else was bugging me. The old woman had told me that the Albanian girl had been holding a bundle. If she was holding it in her hands, that meant it couldn't have been large. What could have been inside it, clothes? We didn't find any clothes. Jewelry, gold, antiques? This was the most likely. How else would these gypsy immigrants have come up with five hundred thousand? They were either thieves or go-betweens taking a cut. And the hovel in Karadimas Street was their hideaway. They stayed there till they'd handed over the goods and got the money. Afterward, they moved somewhere else. The good thing about this was that it left the Albanian out of it. Certainly if he'd killed them for the loot, he wasn't going to have left the money in the cistern. No, he was a jarring note in the case; he'd killed on account of Pakize. So, the business with the Albanian was settled; we could send him all wrapped up to the prosecutor's office. As for the rest, Ghikas could read the report and decide if he wanted to continue the investigation and who he'd assign it to. I'd collect the points and end up sitting pretty.