Jeffrey Siger - Sons of Sparta

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.

“I’ve got to talk with him.”

“He’s coming back to my place tonight.”

“Have you two finally moved in together?” It was Andreas who’d unwittingly introduced his friend and longtime widower to Maggie, not knowing he’d rekindled an old romance.

“Only when he’s in Athens. He still considers Syros his home.”

“Islanders are like that. Please, get him on the phone.”

“Will do.” Maggie disappeared behind the closing door.

A couple of minutes passed before Maggie yelled, “He’s on.”

Andreas picked up the phone. “How are you feeling, my friend?”

“Why is it that everyone asks me the same question?”

“Maybe because they care for you?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Good point. It’s probably because you look as old as the Acropolis.”

“That’s more like it.” Tassos laughed. “So what’s up? My love said you had to talk to me right away. She pulled me out of a very important meeting.”

“Is it already lunchtime on Syros?”

“No, coffee in the harbor.”

“I’ve got a problem developing here that’s touchy. How secure is your phone?”

“My cell phone I wouldn’t trust as far as I can drop it. Too many people want to know what I know and have connections at the carriers to listen in. But I’m using a landline at the taverna. Maggie thought it might be a ‘touchy’ subject.”

“How does she know these things?”

“I hope that’s not what this call is all about because that’s a subject only the gods at Delphi might be able to answer.”

“No, my problem is with someone who just thinks he’s a god.” Andreas told him of his meeting with Spiros, run-in with Orestes, and thoughts on what Orestes had in mind.

“Orestes is a chip off the old block. The only time you knew for sure that you could trust what his old man or grandfather had to say was when their lips weren’t moving. Orestes is running the same routines as those two did in hustling foreign companies to do business through them in Greece. They didn’t really need the influence they claimed as long as they got the mark thinking that they did. Once they had the deal with the company, any Greeks they actually needed to make it work fell into line because by then they had money available to spread around.”

“Wonderful system.”

“It’s not just Greece that’s like that.”

“No, but it’s a Greek bastard who’s trying to make me look corrupt.”

“I suggest you tell him to go fuck himself,” said Tassos.

“Frankly, I’d rather do it to him.”

“Sounds personal.”

Andreas didn’t want to mention Orestes’ old interest in Lila. It would sound stupid. “No, I just don’t like the guy.”

“Hell, if we spent our time trying to get back at everyone we didn’t like, we wouldn’t have time to breathe.”

“Since when have you become so Zen?” said Andreas.

“It comes with age. Besides, it’s really a waste of time looking into that Crete thing. The fix has been in for years on the gas. Now it’s just a matter of reshuffling a few chairs at the dinner table to accommodate the late arrivals.”

“Late arrivals?”

“New ones in power who could create problems.”

“You’re one hell of a cynic.”

“You mean a realist born of experience. The louder a politician screams for the rights of the people, the more he wants for himself.”

“Spare me the civics lesson. What can you tell me about what Orestes might have in mind?”

“My guess is he’s selling himself to the Russians. The Europeans already have their connections here and the Americans seem more interested in their own gas reserves. It’s the new boys on the block who need influence.”

“What about the Chinese? They’re buying up our port operations.”

“And making them profitable. But they already have their contacts. No, my bet is on the Russians, a big energy player with strong national interests in keeping the European energy markets wedded to them. They’re just hoping Greece doesn’t turn into another Cyprus. The financial catastrophe there threw a lot of light on its gas field discoveries, and drove a lot of serious players involved in exploiting Cyprus’ gas scrambling to lower national expectations. After all, if the gas fields are billed as the country’s economic salvation, that leaves a lot less cash to bury in Switzerland.”

“Are you running for office?” said Andreas.

“No, not crooked enough.”

“Jesus, Tassos, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying stay away from Crete. You’ll never be able to change what’s going on over there.”

“How can I do that?”

“Easy. Just don’t go. Get a prosecutor to subpoena records on the project from every company on Orestes’ list. Their lawyers will inundate you with enough paper to keep every lawyer in Greece busy for years. That’s how it would end up anyway, no matter what your investigation turned up. So, give it to a prosecutor and keep yourself out of the line of fire. If Orestes bitches, tell him you did precisely what he’d asked, gone after everyone on his list.”