‘Not to him. He’s African, Scott. You’d be surprised how many of them still believe in this stuff.’
‘In fucking witchcraft, you mean? The next thing you’ll be telling me is that he believes in fairies and fucking voodoo dolls. Bekim Develi had a heart attack, Kojo. Like Fabrice Muamba. Sudden Adult Death Syndrome. That’s the medical description of something that the ancient Greeks used to say: “Those whom the gods love die young.” It’s sad, but that’s just how it is.’
‘The question is, what are we going to do about it? The boy won’t eat. He can’t sleep. He really thinks Bekim’s death is down to him.’
‘Why didn’t he tell me himself? This morning, at the training session?’
‘He wanted to, but he lost his nerve.’
‘If he ever had any. I might have respected him even a little if he’d had the guts to tell me himself.’
‘In front of all the others? It’s bad enough he thinks he killed Bekim without some of the others thinking it, too. He’s not the only superstitious idiot in your team.’
‘You’ve got that right, anyway.’
‘You’re going to talk him out of this mindset he’s got himself into, aren’t you? Before the return match against Olympiacos. I mean, it’s not the sort of thing you can leave to a man like Simon Page. I doubt that he can even spell psychology.’
‘Oh, he can spell it. But his idea of a mental function is getting pissed at the Christmas party.’ I nodded. ‘I’ll speak to him, okay?’
‘Thanks, Scott. He respects you. He needs guidance, that’s all.’
‘I’ll speak to him.’
Just at this moment, Mandingo — Kojo’s client — pulled off a spectacular top-drawer save. Even I was impressed.
Kojo grinned. ‘See what I mean? Mandingo’s just twenty-two and already he’s been picked for his country.’
‘If he really is twenty-two, that’s remarkable on its own.’
‘I’m telling you, Scott, that boy is the next David James.’
I didn’t know if that was good or bad but I shrugged and said I’d think about it; and fortunately for me, Phil put his head around the door soon afterwards and asked me to dinner on the boat. Frankly, I was relieved to find an excuse to leave the room.
‘Eight thirty,’ said Phil. ‘There’ll be a tender at Marina Zea at eight to pick people up.’
‘People?’
‘I think there are some girls who are coming aboard.’
I might have said I was busy, except I wanted to ask him and Vik if we could buy Hörst Daxenberger as a replacement for Bekim Develi.
‘I’ll be there,’ I said.
My phone rang again and this time it was a Greek number I didn’t recognise.
‘Mr Manson?’
‘Yes?’
‘My name is Dr Eva Pyromaglou.’
33
Anna Loverdos crossed her bare tanned legs and handed me her business card. Like her it was Greek on one side and English on the other. But the legs were shapely and certainly more interesting than what was printed on the card. When they’re crossed a good pair of legs can distract a man from almost everything.
‘My mum is from Liverpool,’ she explained. ‘She met my dad on holiday in Corfu. It’s very Shirley Valentine. I was born here and then went to a girls’ boarding school in England.’
Anna was in her thirties; attractive and well-spoken, she wore a wrap-effect pink satin skirt, a white silk blouse, and leather wedge sandals. The glass of champagne in her hand was the same colour as her hair.
‘Then I came back here. That was before the economy went pear-shaped, of course. I had a business entertainment company. Events management for multinationals, that kind of thing. Then I worked in PR for the Investment Bank of Greece. And now I’m running the International Relations Committee of the Hellenic Football Federation. Which is a lot more fun.’
‘I can imagine. So, what team do you support, Anna?’
‘I don’t. In my job it’s best to avoid any possibility of partisanship. Greeks take the matter of what team you support very seriously.’
‘So I’ve noticed. It’s like entering a war zone.’
‘Because my mum is from Liverpool I always say I’m an Everton fan. Which is always the right team to support in Greece because it’s not Greek and they’re never in the Champions League. Better safe than sorry in this country. But I’m sure I don’t have to tell you about that.’ She shook her head. ‘Some of what’s been said in the local press about you and your team has been awful, Mr Manson. Especially in view of what happened to Bekim Develi. This used to be a kinder country. But lately the rhetoric in football has become rather more poisonous in a way I’ve not seen before. These days Greeks tend to think all sport is venal and corrupt, like everything else.’ She smiled. ‘But you don’t want to hear about that. My job is to make sure the remainder of your stay in Greece is as pleasant as possible. Yours can’t be an easy job, right now. Let’s face it, even at the best of times it’s not easy keeping discipline among so many young and eligible men.’
I grinned. ‘I’ve already had to fetch them out of a strip club on Syngrou Avenue called Alcatraz. Footballers and strippers. Footballers and escort girls. They’re all tabloid stories just waiting to happen. You don’t know the half of it.’
She laughed and drained her glass.
‘Then again,’ I added, ‘perhaps you do.’
‘No, but I can guess,’ she said.
‘I’d say you can probably do a lot more than guess, Anna.’
‘All right, perhaps you’re right,’ she said, sheepishly. ‘As a matter of fact I did go to Alcatraz once.’
‘I thought so. Did you know Bekim Develi very well?’
‘Reasonably well, poor man.’
‘And was it you who introduced him to Valentina?’
‘Who?’
‘Oddly enough, that’s what Hristos Trikoupis said, when I asked him. No, don’t say anything yet. You know the old lawyer’s principle that you should never ask a question to which you don’t know the answer? That’s the kind of question I just asked you, Anna. Only I’m not a lawyer. And you’re not on trial. Hold up, no one is accusing you of anything. But there’s no point in denying you know her.’
‘What’s all this about?’ she asked.
‘Just answer the question, please, Anna.’
She slouched back in the armchair as if someone had loosened her brassiere; her eyes looked down uncertainly at the table. I realised she was looking at her own business card.
‘All right. But to be quite accurate it was Bekim Develi who introduced Valentina to me.’
I breathed a sigh of relief which wasn’t entirely for dramatic effect. At last I felt like I was getting somewhere.
‘But what of it? I get introduced to lots of people.’ She picked up the business card and handed it to me a second time. ‘That’s what it says on the card, okay? “International Relations.” Generally speaking that requires a little more than an exchange of emails.’
‘Have another drink. You look as though you need it.’
I waved the waiter over and ordered two glasses of champagne.
‘Look, all I want is to get my team back to London. I don’t want to hurt anyone or cause them to lose their job. Least of all you. I can see you’re a nice girl, but I need to know what you know. So. Tell me about it. Tell me everything you know and then you’ll never hear about this again.’
‘I want to know why you’re asking.’
‘All right. If it makes you feel any better. I figure Valentina introduced Bekim to the escort girl now lying in the chiller cabinet at the Laiko General Hospital. She and Bekim had a little party in his room at the Astir Palace Hotel on the night before he died. As yet that girl remains unidentified. And I’m assuming Valentina can name her.’ I paused. ‘Look, you can talk to me or you can talk to the police. It’s your choice. Just remember, I don’t bite like they do.’