The Greek Key

'All right, come in. If you must.'

'Such a warm welcome,' she commented as he closed and locked the door. 'I thought it was time we talked.' She eyed the bed. 'I am a little tired. I don't mind where we talk.'

That makes two of us.'

Marler stood with his hands on his hips, his mind racing as she unlooped her shoulder bag, dropped it on the dressing table. She reached for the hairbrush he was holding. 'May I? I look a mess.'

She stood in front of the mirror, brushing her hair vigorously, watching him in the mirror. Putting the brush down, she turned, put her arms round his shoulders, clasped her hands behind his neck and kissed him on the mouth, pressing her strong body into his.

'To what do I owe this honour?' Marler enquired as she pulled her head away from his, still grasping his neck. He watched her greenish eyes, his expression bleak and showing no excitement. She arched her thick eyebrows, half-closed her eyes, presenting to him her open front. Marler remained still, without reacting. Let her make the running. Her right hand slid inside his robe, felt his naked chest, moved down.

'I took a fancy to you when I saw you at Zea. I thought that you'd taken a fancy to me. You did wave.'

Her English was perfect. Her technique for rousing a man was good. The roving hand took its time. She gave him her slow smile again. Then she removed the hand, used it to take off her earrings, tossing them on to the dressing table.

'We won't be needing those, will we?'

'If you say so.'

'The cool calm Englishman. I love them…'

Standing away from him, still facing him, she undid her blouse, threw it on the floor. She wore nothing underneath it. She watched for the effect she was creating as she undid her denims, slid them down her legs, threw them on top of the blouse. She kicked off her flat-heeled shoes, shoes fit for running in, for moving around with the least possible noise, Marler noted. He raised both hands, palms towards her, rested them on her bare shoulders and threw her back on the bed. Dropping his robe, he followed her, lying on top of her as she giggled and wriggled.

'My name is Christina,' she said ten minutes later as they lay side by side.

'Christina What?'

Marler lit a cigarette he didn't really want, stared at the ceiling as she pressed against him, the black mane spread over the pillow.

'Does it matter? Tell me something about the man I have just made love with.'

'I am training to be a newspaper reporter. I was in insurance before. Bored the hell out of me.'

'And what story are you working on at the moment?' She snuggled closer, her hand splayed on his flat hard stomach.

This and that.' He leaned on his elbow, stared down at her and his expression was grim. 'I like to know who I've played with. Christina What?' he repeated.

'Does it matter?' She pouted.

He jumped off the bed, told her to stand up. Puzzled, she got to her feet. She faced him, then gave the same slow smile.

'What is your relationship with Petros?' he demanded. 'Did he send you?'

'Petros? If I am going to be cross-questioned I can get that at police headquarters like you…'

She stooped to reach for her clothes. Marler grasped her by her strong pointed chin, stood her erect. 'I answered your question, now you answer mine.'

'I am going…'

Marler raised his right hand and hit her hard across the side of her face with the fiat of his hand. She reeled under the blow, fell back on the bed. Her eyes blazed. He saw now they were black with greenish flecks. She leapt to her feet. Before she could speak he hit her again on the other side of her face, the blow harder. She now had two red weals. She leapt up again, came for him with clawed hands. She had become a raging wildcat. He grasped both wrists before the fingers tore his face, forced them downwards. She aimed a knee at his groin. He turned sideways, took the thrust on his thigh, dropped both hands suddenly, then hit her with real force. She sagged on to the bed, glaring up at him.

'What is your relationship with Petros Gavalas? You're going to answer before you leave. I didn't invite you here…'

'Why don't you go and… yourself?'

She no longer spoke her perfect English. She had lapsed into Greek and he realized she was watching him closely. One tough cookie, this girl. She had taken quite a beating but still she was probing.

'I beg your pardon?'

'Nothing,' she replied in English.

She started to get up and he used one hand to push her down on the bed again, digging his fingers into her shoulder. Both their bodies were gleaming with sweat from what they had done together, from the later struggle. The heat was building up in the room and Marler felt parched.

'Can I have a drink?' she asked.

'No. What is your relationship with Petros Gavalas?' he said again.

'I am his granddaughter…'

'I know that. It isn't what I meant. 'And you know that. Did he send you here to extract information from me – by using any method?'

'He wouldn't do that! No Greek would do that to his own kith and kin…'

'So you came yourself? Why? Because you love Englishmen? I recall you said that.'

'I hate Englishmen,' she hissed, pulling her hair back from her face. 'I want to get dressed…'

'You couldn't wait to get your clothes off when you arrived. If you hate Englishmen why did you take up with Harry Masterson when he arrived?'

'Who?' She drew back as Marler broke loose. Grabbing her by her long hair, he twisted it, pulling her down on the bed as he sat on her stomach, his mouth tight, pinning her down. He jerked her hair and she opened her mouth to scream. His hand clamped flat over her lips, exerting so much pressure she couldn't use her teeth to bite him. Her dark eyes were full of hate.

'Harry Masterson,' he repeated. 'Stop lying. You were seen with him at the Hilton. Other places, too. Now, I'm going to remove my hand. Yell – try to – and I'll knock you out.'

He jumped up suddenly, walked to his jacket, took a cigarette from his pack and lit it. The unexpected change of tactics threw her off balance. She stood up warily, slowly reached for her denims, slid inside them, wriggled herself into them, watching him. Straightening up, she adjusted the slacks, still naked above the waist. She spoke quietly as she made the threat.

'I'm going to accuse you of rape. The Greek police don't like foreign men who rape Greek girls.'

'There's the phone. Call Chief Inspector Sarris. I'm sure he'd enjoy a session with us. That he'll be interested to hear how you gave the signal for a marksman down at Zea to try and kill me. The bullet missed me by inches.'

'What are you talking about? There was no shot. I would have heard it…'

Marler was certain that for the first time she was telling the truth. He kept the surprise out of his expression. She reached for her blouse and held it dangling from one hand.

'You might just have managed it,' Marler speculated.

'Managed what?'

'Driven Harry Masterson so crazy over you that he fell for it. When you lured him down to Cape Sounion so he could be killed.'

'No! No! That was something I didn't do. What do you think I am?'

That's easy to answer.' He pulled his wallet from his jacket. Taking out a sheaf of five-hundred-drachma notes, he looked at her. 'How much? What's your fee? For…' He gestured to the bed.

' You swine! You lousy bastard! '

'And I have diplomas to prove you're right,' Marler assured her.

She crammed her feet into her shoes, slipped on her blouse, hastily adjusted it. She glanced in the mirror. Her hair was a wild tangle. Marler handed her the brush he had picked up before opening the door earlier. As she used it, brushing her mane vigorously, she again stared at him in the mirror as he donned his bathrobe. This time she had a puzzled expression. His deliberate changes of mood were confusing her. He disappeared into the bathroom, returned holding a glass of water.