The pallbearers placed the coffin in front of the tafos. Wailing came in waves as they removed the lid, subsiding only long enough to hear the priestly blessing and prayer for Uncle’s soul. His blessed journey continued as the priest took Uncle’s arms crossed snuggly across his chest, drew them apart, and placed them to rest peacefully alongside his body, palms open and facing heaven. Only one tradition from this part of the Mani remained before Uncle’s coffin would be sealed and placed within the tomb. The priest picked up a full bottle of red wine and poured its contents over Uncle’s body.
Kouros’ mother stood among the crowd of women huddled close by the coffin, shrieking and crying as pallbearers sealed and lifted Uncle’s remains into the tomb. Such soulful, once-widespread traditions were rarely practiced in Greece these days, even in the Mani, but today all of them were observed, for Calliope had insisted it be so.
Kouros watched Calliope staring at the tomb. She seemed lost in thought. They hadn’t spoken today. Nor had she been active among the screaming mourners. But what surprised him most was when he’d heard she’d not participated in last night’s mirologia. Whatever her thoughts she seemed determined to keep them tightly locked inside. He hoped she was okay.
As if reading his thoughts Calliope looked up, let her eyes run wild across the crowd of mourners, raised her hands above her head, and screamed, “It is time.” All eyes turned to her and she began to chant.
It made no sense. This was not the proper time or place for mirologia. But no one dared stop her. She tearfully welcomed and thanked all who’d come to honor her father, taking special care to mention each dignitary by name. Her weeping grew into wailing, a sign to other women mourners to join her. They looked at each other, unsure of what to do. Kouros’ mother stepped forward and began chanting alongside Calliope. Others joined her, and soon one emotional outburst fed another as wailing women pulled at their hair, scratched their faces, and shouted blessings for the departed.
The brothers looked down at their feet, as if embarrassed by the scene at their father’s grave. But there was nothing they could do. This was their sister’s time.
Calliope drew one hand down from pulling at her hair and began pounding on her chest in keeping with the slow rhythmic beat of her mirologia to her father:
Kouros couldn’t believe he’d just heard Calliope stand at her father’s gravesite and in front of the entire community call out her brothers to seek vengeance for his death.
Looks like I’ve been worried about the wrong cousin starting a war.
Chapter Seven
Orestes had promised to give Andreas a list of persons to investigate. What he actually sent him seemed more like a compilation of the world’s largest Fortune 100 companies having anything to do with the exploration, extraction, processing, or delivery of natural gas. It looked like something Orestes’ secretary had pulled off the Internet by punching in “world’s largest natural gas” in front of each step in the natural gas chain. Not a single individual mentioned by name, just companies and only a few with even an address in Greece.
Andreas threw the list on his desk. Orestes was an idiot. He picked up a pencil and began tapping it on his desk. No, that’s one thing he’s not. Maybe he’s not sure yet which side might be paying him and he doesn’t want to risk naming some guy he could later end up with in bed. Andreas smiled at the thought.
He probably wanted police heat put on those companies so that he could present himself to them as their savior. He’d boast it was his influence with the police that started the investigation and claim only he could stop it. If a company he landed with that line happened to be on the list, it wouldn’t be a big deal because the world already thought every multinational corrupt at some level. The trick was not being linked to a corrupt individual at a named company. That’s what got you hung out to dry.
Andreas twirled the pencil between his fingers.
All you had to do was look at Germany’s Siemens. Despite a huge, ongoing bribery scandal over its involvement in Athens’ 2004 Summer Olympic Games and dealing with Greece’s Defense Ministry, Greece still did business with Siemens. It would be the same this time around. As long as your man on the inside wasn’t branded corrupt, you’re set. Orestes likely didn’t give a damn who won a bid as long as he got his cut. He might even try to make the same deal with competitors for the same contract. Andreas could hear Orestes now: Give me and my people a piece and I’ll get Kaldis off your back. He’s in my pocket.
“Miserable bastard.” Andreas squeezed his fist and snapped the pencil in half between his fingers.
He stared at the door to his office. “Maggie, come in. Please.”
The door swung open and Maggie’s head peeked in. “Yes, Chief, what’s up?”
“Where’s Tassos?”
“You mean my Tassos?”
“Yes.”
“He’s on Syros. The police chief there won’t let him retire.”
Andreas doubted anyone on the force would ever dare mention retirement to Tassos Stamatos, chief homicide investigator for the Cyclades islands. For Greeks obsessed with sightings of the powerful and influential, Tassos Stamatos drew about as much attention as the air they breathed. He had the sort of looks you’d expect to see on a stocky pensioner retired from hard labor that a taverna owner might hire at the last minute to tend bar when the regular guy called in sick. But in a room filled with Greece’s movers and shakers, everyone noticed Tassos, for he knew where their secrets were buried and held bushels full of favors for keeping them that way. He’d been a cop since the days of Greece’s Junta dictatorship in the late sixties and early seventies, and been making friends on both sides of the bars since his first day on the job at a Junta prison for political dissidents. To Andreas, Tassos was not just a best friend, he was a national treasure.