‘What is ceftriaxone?’ I asked.
‘That’s her just-in-case,’ he said.
‘Just in case of what?’
‘Just in case of gonorrhoea. A lot of VD is penicillin resistant in Greece, so they prescribe ceftriaxone. Or azithromycin. If you can get it. Looks like she wasn’t about to take that chance.’
‘And Levonelle?’ I asked examining a small pharmaceutical box with Greek writing. ‘What does that cure?’
‘Unwanted babies. It’s the morning-after pill.’
‘And the flunitrazepam?’ I emptied out some little blue and white tablets on the palm of my hand. ‘That’s a sedative, isn’t it? For depression.’
Charlie laughed. ‘If you could read Greek you would see that the trade name for flunitrazepam is printed on the box, also. This is Rohypnol. The so-called date-rape drug. A lot of hookers slip it into the drinks of their more badly behaved clients. No, this little girl looks like she was prepared for anything.’
‘Except the thing that happened. She wasn’t prepared for that.’
‘No, I guess not.’
Charlie swept everything back into Nataliya’s handbag. ‘No one is ever prepared for a trip to see Persephone,’ he said.
I picked up Nataliya’s iPhone 4, which was in a neat little plastic case with a gold chain that made it look like a girl’s evening bag, took off one of my latex gloves and tapped the screen. The battery was in the red but there was enough juice left in the thing to see that, like my own phone, a security code was needed to access its contents.
‘We need to get into this,’ I said. ‘We can use it to find out who she saw that night. So we’ll keep it for a little while. At least until Monday when our lawyer will have to tell the police about this place.’
‘Then we’d better take the handbag as well,’ said Charlie. ‘Otherwise that detective will think it looks strange. We can always bribe some Roma people to hand it in to your lawyer for the reward when you’re done with it. They can say they found it in a wheelie bin on the marina.’ He shook his head. ‘He’ll think it looks strange anyway when the apothecary downstairs tells him about the police having been here already. But cops in Greece are used to other cops doing a bit of freelance work. He’ll know it was you, of course; or someone you paid to do it.’ He looked at his watch. ‘So we’d better get you back to the game and your alibi for this afternoon.’
As I put the phone in my pocket, Charlie added: ‘But as to how you’re going to get past that code, your guess is as good as mine. I don’t know anyone who can break into these things.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I know just the man.’
41
About a minute after I took my seat again Panathinaikos scored the only goal of the match. It wasn’t a great goal; the OFI back four defended like they were wearing ankle weights and the goalkeeper managed to go the wrong way even though the forward in the green shirt had already telegraphed where he was planning to kick the ball. But none of that stopped the crowd from partying like it was 1999: a huge green firework exploded at the Gate 13 end, so loud it had every one of the London City players and staff — myself included — ducking down like a missile had been fired into the stadium by an Apache helicopter.
‘Christ’s arse,’ yelled Simon. ‘What the fuck was that?’
A cloud of green smoke drifted across the pitch, turning everything in the stadium opaque and, for a minute, it looked as if we were at the bottom of the sea, like those drowned sailors from the Battle of Salamis.
‘I think that was just the beautiful game, as celebrated by Zorba the Greek,’ I said.
‘Makes you wonder how they kicked off back here when they won Euro 2004. I tell you what, if I could speak Greek they’d think I was fucking Plato. Each one of those Greeks thought that someone else was going to make the tackle. Four players in the box and not one of them marking his man. Whenever another team get anywhere near our box, you know what I want? I want our back four to die in a ditch to defend those eighteen yards. That’s the way you used to defend and it’s the way I used to defend. It takes heart to play football like that, boss. And those lads just didn’t have it. Look at them: all those fucking tattoos they have on their bodies. There’s only one tattoo, only one slogan that should be inked on every great centre back’s chest: ¡No pasarán! They shall not pass. That’s what I’d have tattooed on me if I was a defender today.’
I took the coach back to the Astir Palace with the team and sat next to Prometheus.
‘What did you think of that?’ I asked.
‘Not much. And they’re racists, too. I could hear monkey chants every time one of the black players got the ball. I thought Greeks were supposed to be civilised.’
‘Whatever gave you that idea?’
‘It’s the birthplace of democracy.’
‘Perhaps. But it certainly didn’t count for much even then, I reckon. If you hear monkey noises on Wednesday night, here’s what you’re going to do. Score a goal. And then score another. That’s the best way to shut these bastards up. But as a matter of fact, if you’d been on that park you’d have scored three. Before half time.’
Prometheus grinned a big grin.
‘That lot we just saw are the Greek champions,’ I said. ‘By default, maybe. But they are a top side. Same as Olympiacos. And when we play them on Wednesday night, I want you to go and score a hat-trick, not for Bekim Develi but for yourself. As Aristotle says, “Blessed is he that opens the eyes of the blind.” So, I want to see the player I know you can be.’
‘Okay, boss.’
‘This morning you were telling me that you used to jail-break stolen phones,’ I said. ‘When you were a kid.’
He shrugged. ‘Still do. Just to keep my hand in. I love knowing about that shit.’
I handed him Nataliya’s iPhone.
‘Could you sidestep the passcode on this one? Only you’ll have to do it quietly, without talking about it, because what I’m asking you to do could get us both arrested.’
‘Wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened, boss.’
‘I don’t doubt it. But this is serious stuff now. And these are serious people. If we get caught it’ll be six months in a Greek nick.’
Prometheus took the phone from me and tapped it awake.
‘Leave it with me, boss. I’m from Nigeria. If I don’t know how to do it I can just as soon call someone at home who does.’
Back in my bungalow at the Astir Palace I checked my emails and then took another look at the contents of Bekim Develi’s Louis Vuitton Keepall and matching toilet bag; I already knew what kind of underpants he wore but I was looking for something else — a key to understanding Nataliya’s death that was going to enable me to steal a further march on the police. I guessed that just having her name and her phone wasn’t going to be enough; it seemed to me that you couldn’t have too much information when you were investigating a crime like murder.
I spread the contents of the Keepall on the floor, the same way ex-cop Charlie had done with Nataliya’s handbag. I’m a quick learner that way. I was still looking at these as if I was playing a memory game with objects on a tea tray when Skype gurgled its watery ringtone. It was Sara Gill, the Englishwoman who’d been raped and almost murdered in Athens. I’d Skyped her earlier and left a message to Skype me back.
I clicked on the little green bubble for a video call and found myself looking at an Asian woman with short brown hair who was probably in her thirties; a little overweight, she wore a white T-shirt and a grey jacket. The room she was in was typically Cotswolds, with a big fireplace and a dog sleeping on the floor behind her.
‘Hello, Mr Manson,’ she said. ‘I’m Sara Gill. You Skyped me earlier. I was in the garden at the time. Detective Inspector Considine explained your situation on the telephone. And I read about that unfortunate young woman in the newspapers, of course. So I’ll help you if I can.’