Paul Johnston - The Silver Stain

‘Mavros?’ Mesner recoiled as if he’d been jabbed with a cattle prod. ‘Why would I have seen him?’

‘He’s looking into your grandfather’s death. It wasn’t suicide, you know.’

Oskar stared at her. ‘But the police. .’

‘The police are controlled by other interests. You’re not in Germany now.’

‘What other interests?’ he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief.

‘Never mind. You won’t be here for long. It doesn’t concern you.’ Hildegard busied herself with preparing coffee.

Her grandson followed her into the kitchen. ‘Who said I wouldn’t be staying? With Grandpa gone, I thought I could look after you.’

Hildegard smiled. ‘I can look after myself. It’s time you went back to work. I know about the people you spend your time with. Fortunately for you, I didn’t tell your grandfather. He had no time for Nazis and even less for their modern followers.’

‘The war made Grandpa crazy,’ Oskar said, in a low voice.

‘Wrong!’ Hildegard said shrilly, trying to convince herself as much as Oskar. ‘The war made him a true human being, one who understood the sufferings and plight of others. It is you who betrayed his values.’ She bustled through to the living room with a full tray.

Oskar sat opposite her, his head hanging. ‘I can’t find work in Germany, Grandma. I’m not cut out for the way people work today.’

‘You’re not cut out to work at all, you mean,’ she replied tartly. ‘Well, I hope you aren’t expecting anything from your grandfather’s will.’

He lifted his head, his face white. ‘What do you mean?’

‘There’s nothing apart from the coins — and they are going to museums.’

Hildegard took out the paper she’d found in her husband’s pocket. ‘Explain this to me, Oskar. “Waggoner — Oskar to dispose of with contacts. Coins value 100K”. And don’t tell me Rudi didn’t write it — I know his hand like my own.’

‘I. . will I still get the one hundred thousand euros’ worth of coins?’

‘I might consider it,’ she replied. ‘If you tell me what happened.’

Oskar suddenly looked less pale. ‘It was after I stole the thirty coins. He called me and told me he’d give me more, but I had to arrange for the Englishman to. . to have an accident.’ He smiled weakly. ‘A fatal one.’

Hildegard put her hand to her heart. It was as she had feared. Rudi had crossed the line from victim to killer as regards their long-term tormentor. She felt sick, but managed to conceal that from her grandson.

‘And how was that to be achieved?’ she asked.

‘Well, I have some pretty dangerous friends. The plan was to burst into his place in Chania and rip it up, so it looked like a burglary that had gone wrong. But we got distracted.’

‘And were you the one who was going to kill the Englishman?’

‘I. .’ He looked away. ‘No. One of my friends from Rostock has finished off more than one ni- I mean immigrant. He likes killing.’

The widow was struggling to keep her breathing regular. ‘I see. Have you ever met this man Waggoner?’

‘No. Grandpa showed me a picture of him.’

‘Ah.’ She paused. ‘How about a man called Roufos?’

Oskar kept his eyes her. ‘No. I’ve heard of him. Your friend Mavros knows him.’

‘Indeed? Did your grandfather ever say anything to you about Alex Mavros and Kornaria?’

Oskar looked at her through narrowed eyes. ‘Only that he thought it was a pity Mavros came back from the village in one piece. He said there were people up there who would stop his interfering permanently.’

Hildegard stood up and walked slowly over to the desk. The object she wanted was in the top drawer now. She picked it up and moved back to her grandson, who was facing away from her.

‘Get up!’ she said, firmly.

Oskar Mesner turned his head and was confronted by the gleaming blade of the Wehrmacht bayonet.

‘Out, now!’ his grandmother screamed. ‘I never want to see you again!’

Oskar stood up and edged away from her, then ran for the door, slamming it behind him.

Hildegard Kersten sank to her knees, the bayonet falling from her hand. Everything she had believed about Rudi — his determination to make reparations, his generosity to the Cretans, his essential humanity — had been completely destroyed. He had conspired with far-right thugs to kill David Waggoner; he had planned to sell half his coins to Roufos — the fact that the proceeds were apparently destined for her made her feel even worse; and he had plotted the death of the very man who was investigating his murder, using violent men from the drugs village he had always purported to despise.

To her horror, she found she couldn’t weep. It had dawned on her that Rudi had deserved to be murdered. She picked up the long blade again and held it to her chest, hoping that, wherever she went, he would not be there.

Mavros called Yannis and told him what had happened. The Cretan promised to round up as many ‘helpers’ as he could find to track down the skinheads.

‘Are you all right?’ Mavros asked Cara.

She nodded. ‘They hurt worse than I do. What about you? That eye doesn’t look too good.’ She found a tissue in her pocket and held it above his right eye. ‘Needs stitches.’

‘Forget it,’ he said, moving as quickly as he could to Roufos’s hotel.

The statuesque receptionist stared at him as they went to the lift. It took only a few seconds in his suite to establish that Roufos had left — all his clothes and personal items were gone.

‘He checked out, I presume,’ Mavros said, on their way out.

‘Yes,’ replied the bewildered Minoan. ‘He took a taxi to the ferry port.’

‘Shall we go after him?’ Cara asked.

‘Forget it,’ he replied. ‘He’ll be onboard in Suda by now.’

‘What if he’s got Niki with him?’

Mavros thought about that, then was interrupted by his phone.

‘We’ve got some of them,’ Yannis said. ‘But not your friend.’

‘Can you find out where she’s been taken?’

‘Already done that. Kornaria, I’m afraid. They were hired by someone from the village. I don’t think they know his name.’

‘Shit!’ Mavros said, glancing at Cara. For all her poise, she didn’t look like a movie star right now. ‘All right, meet me at the clinic.’ He led her to the Jeep by a roundabout route, in case there were any more headbangers lying in wait. ‘You know,’ he said, as they got into the vehicle, Cara on the driver’s side, ‘I’ve got a family place round the corner from here. You could hole up there.’

‘What, you think I don’t want to be in at the end of this?’ she countered.

‘Those fuckers have got Maria, remember?’

Who was probably also in Kornaria, Mavros thought — the very place he couldn’t go if he wanted to stay alive.

He directed the actress to the clinic, asking her what she thought Luke Jannet would do if they released him.

‘Go back to the set,’ she said bitterly. ‘He’s brazen enough to deny anything we say.’

‘But how can he expect you to finish the movie after the way he treated you in Roufos’s suite?’

She laughed. ‘He’s right about there being plenty of young actresses who would do anything — and I mean anything — to take over from me. Rosie being the producer makes that even easier.’

‘What about the cost?’

She glanced at him. ‘You get the idea they’re short of money? Besides, there’s insurance if performers have breakdowns, which is no doubt what they’ll say about me. Bye bye career.’

‘Screw that. I’m not letting a bunch of dope-dealers trample over everything that’s decent on this island. Plus, your career’s worth a lot.’