I hit the throttle and moved the boat in a circle round the Nigerian’s head; it looked very small in the water, like a floating coconut.
‘Now then. Xerxes, the Persian king — you know about him, I guess — he sailed up here with the largest fleet that ever put to sea, in a hurry as usual. Twelve hundred ships, it was said, against about three hundred and seventy Greek ones, called triremes. And pretty much the same thing happened here as at Thermopylae. There were just too many Persian ships trying to get through these narrow straits and, much like we did the other night against Olympiacos, they lost their formation. But Themistocles, the Greek commander, he made sure that the Greeks kept theirs. Not to mention their discipline.
‘On board each Greek ship were the hoplites, armoured infantry who fought in hand-to-hand combat. These men carried a sword and a spear and, most important of all perhaps, a shield on their left arm with which they protected not just themselves but also the soldier to their left. In other words, one man relied on another for his protection. So, just as the ships kept their formation, so the hoplites kept theirs. Not all of the Greeks were friends. In fact as far as I can see the Spartans and the Athenians were old rivals and probably hated each other. But against the Persians they were united and despite overwhelming odds, the Greeks prevailed.
‘There’s your lesson. You look after the guy to the left — because the guy on your right is doing the same for you. The Greeks were a superstitious lot but when a Persian was trying to stab them in the neck with a fucking spear, they didn’t put much faith in their gods. In a battle it was the guy to your right who was going to look after your arse, and all the lucky charms and fucking prayers in the world weren’t going to alter that fact. That’s teamwork, son. That’s something you can believe in. Be it war or football, it amounts to much the same thing. You look out for the next guy; that way, when the game is over you can look your mates in the eye and know that you did everything you fucking could. Otherwise your team isn’t worth shit.’
I cut the engine and sat down near the stern.
‘Which brings us to the last part of the lesson: you, Prometheus. Now I think you could probably pray to God to pull your arse out of the sea and who the fuck knows — maybe a ship would come along and rescue you. Or you could put your trust in your fellow man, namely me. So which is it to be?’
I leaned over the side and held out my hand. ‘Me, or God?’
Prometheus grinned and took my hand.
A few minutes later he was lying on the deck of the Regulator, staring up at the sun and laughing.
‘What’s so funny?’ I asked.
‘I was thinking. That’s the most interesting history lesson I think I ever had. Maybe if I’d had a teacher like you at my school, then I might have passed a few exams instead of jail-breaking stolen smartphones.’
I shook my head. ‘Don’t worry about that, son. If you’d ever passed an exam at school, you wouldn’t be what you are now: one of the most naturally talented centre forwards I’ve ever seen. Seriously. You’re a star in the making.’
He sat up, still grinning. I had to hand it to him; he was a good-natured kid.
‘You really think so, boss?’
‘I know so. All you have to do is learn how to play for the team. There’s no limit to what you can do on the football pitch provided you don’t mind who gets the credit.’
He nodded.
‘Besides, you’ve passed the best exam there is, my friend. You’re playing Premier League football at one of the best teams in the country. You pay attention to what I tell you and you’ll go all the way, son. If that’s what you want.’
Prometheus held out his hand. I took it again. And this time there were tears in his eyes. ‘It’s all I’ve ever wanted.’ He grinned again. ‘That and a new phone.’
‘I’ll buy you one.’
‘No, it’s all right. I’ve got a couple of cheap burners in my hotel room. Just in case.’
38
‘Where have you been?’ asked Eva Pyromaglou. ‘I’ve been calling you for the last hour.’
I was back at the Astir Palace, back in my bungalow, with an hour to kill before I went on the team bus to see the Panathinaikos game, answering emails and examining the contents of Bekim Develi’s Louis Vuitton Keepall. I don’t know why I should have found it shocking that Bekim had worn Frigo No. 1 underwear, but I did; actually, I know perfectly well why I found this shocking: Frigo No. 1s are a hundred quid a pair.
‘I was on a boat,’ I said.
‘Me, I’ve spent the whole morning in the lab on this when I should have been looking after my son.’
I didn’t answer; I was getting used to Greeks complaining about one thing or another. If you let them they’ll even complain about the Romans and how they nicked everything from Greece — and that was two thousand years ago.
‘What have you got for me, doctor?’
‘You mentioned a bonus, Mr Manson?’
I laughed. ‘You should play football.’
‘Like I told you, I have a son who needs expensive medication.’
‘Actually, you didn’t tell me that, but what the hell. I said another five hundred if you found something. Did you find something?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll send the money round by courier. This morning. All right?’
I was beginning to see the problems you might have if you lived in Greece. Everything in the country had a barcode and the only unexpected item in the bagging area was something for nothing.
‘That would be quite satisfactory,’ she said, briskly. ‘So then; I have a name for you. Nataliya Matviyenko, aged twenty-six, bra size 32AA. Her implants were done at a clinic in Thessaloniki about two years ago. She paid cash.’ Eva sighed. ‘About five thousand euros.’
‘Did you find an address?’ I said.
‘Yes. It’s in Piraeus, at an apartment building on Dimitrakopoulou. That’s less than a kilometre from where her body was found in Marina Zea. There was seawater in her lungs consistent with drowning, also some diesel. Again that’s consistent with where she was found. I found traces of a lubricant in her anus — but no semen — and cocaine in her blood. If there had been any traces of semen in her mouth or her vagina the seawater would almost certainly have destroyed it; saltwater has a radical pH and is a highly effective antibiotic. I also found traces of epinephrine. My guess — and it’s just a guess — is that she was probably on antidepressants. Lots of these girls are. Although why I don’t know; they should try working in a Greek hospital.’
‘Anything else?’
‘About her? No, that’s it, I’m afraid. I’m emailing you all this right now. My address is on this email, so please remember what I said. I don’t want the cops having sight of any of my findings.’
‘If only you knew how much I disliked the police, you wouldn’t worry about that, love.’
I glanced at my Mac as an email with a Greek suffix appeared in my Inbox.
A moment later I heard a knock at the door of my bungalow.
‘I’ve got to go. Thanks a lot, doc. I’ll send your money right away. But call me if you think of anything else that might help.’
I tapped the call off and opened the door, half expecting the maid, but instead it was Simon Page with his training report and a list of possible injuries. His eyes were as bright as marble in his tanned face.
‘There’s a slim possibility that Ayrton Taylor will be fit again for Wednesday. I fucking hope so because the Nigerian lad, Prometheus — he just doesn’t seem interested in playing football right now. I’ve tried putting a rocket up his arse, but he just gives me such a look of dumb insolence that it makes me want to smack him in the mouth. At least I think it’s dumb insolence. I’ve got a terrible feeling that he’s just dumb. Seriously, I watched him trying to pull his fucking jeans on this morning and he managed to get his feet caught in all those bloody chains on his belt and fall flat on his arse like a right spaz. If he struggles with getting his kegs on, how’s he going to understand the difference between 4-4-2 and 4-3-3? He’ll think they’re both fucking ten and leave it that.’