Jeffrey Siger - Sons of Sparta

Kouros shook his head. “All these Byzantine interconnections.”

Mangas put his arm around Kouros’ shoulder. “Cousin, welcome to the real Mani.”

***

Gytheio’s history as a hideaway dated back to the Trojan War, but it had likely been longer since an Athenian cop successfully convinced a Gytheio local to turn in a family member to the police. Andreas hoped it would improve their chances that Niko had only married into the family.

Tassos met Andreas and Kouros just outside the entrance to the Gytheio port. He’d hitched a ride there on the boat of a buddy from Syros rather than accept Andreas’ offer of a lift on the helicopter Andreas had requisitioned to get him there from Athens. The three cops drove north toward Sparta for about two miles before turning right onto a narrow blacktop road at a sign marked HOTEL PETROPOULAKIS.

“The Gytheio police chief said it’s about a mile up, at the top of the hill,” said Andreas. “‘Just follow the olives,’ he said.”

Kouros took his hand from the steering wheel and waved at the gray-green groves running across Tuscan-like hills of red earth. “They’re everywhere.”

Near the top of the hill, Tassos leaned over the front seat and pointed left at the crumbled skeletons of a few fieldstone buildings just beyond the first line of trees. “Looks like they went down in an earthquake.”

Kouros smiled. “Finally, my chance to teach the teacher. Nope, they’re what are left of what the Germans bombed in 1942. This whole area was hard hit. In fact, the first villages in Greece destroyed by the Nazis in reprisal for partisan attacks on German soldiers were here. On the road north to Sparta you’ll see monuments to two villages the bastards wiped out. A lot of family trees lost entire limbs to the Nazis. They did almost as much harm as the Turks, and in a hell of a lot less time.”

Tassos shook his head. “And right smack dab in the middle of the Gytheio port, I saw a huge sign for Chrysi Avgi.”

“They have an office there,” said Kouros. “Amazing how a political party openly praising the architects of Hitler’s methods for inflicting such horrific suffering upon the Greek people has such widespread support among the children and grandchildren of the Nazis’ victims.”

“Go figure,” said Tassos.

“I’d rather not,” said Andreas. “I’d prefer guys like that and Niko simply disappear.”

“Well, you’re about to have your chance at making part of that happen,” said Kouros. Dead ahead about thirty yards off the road sat a cluster of two-, three-, and four-story brown-beige-gray stone buildings.

“I don’t see a sign,” said Andreas.

“This has to be the place.” Kouros pulled up and parked on the dirt under a huge mulberry tree close to the edge of a flagstone patio. Off to the right, an ancient three-story structure looked as if it had caught some of those World War II bombs.

Kouros pointed across the patio at an immaculately restored four-story tower about ten yards away. “That looks like it might have been a war tower for the Petropoulakis family. There’s a sign on that almond tree over by the door. Maybe it’s the office.”

Andreas put his hand on the car door handle. “I think we have about as much a chance of pulling this off as winning the lottery.”

“I prefer betting on a sure thing,” said Tassos. “Like, if we don’t get him, Yianni’s cousin sure as hell will. So, don’t worry, be happy.”

“Yeah. But there could still be other players out there. And until we know how Niko learned about the hotel deal, we won’t know for sure.”

“And then there’s the photograph of my uncle and Stella.”

“The only living soul likely to give us an answer to those questions is Niko,” said Andreas.

A dark-haired man in his mid-forties, approximately Kouros’ size, and wearing a blue shirt and dark pants stepped through the doorway of the tower and headed toward them.

“That looks like the guy the police chief told you to see. You’d better move,” said Kouros.

Andreas and Tassos jumped out the passenger side of the car and the man veered toward them, extending his right hand as he did. “Hello, I’m Mihalis Petropoulakis. I understand you want to speak to me.”

Andreas shook Mihalis’ hand. “How did you know that?”

Mihalis shrugged as he shook Tassos’ hand. “Come let’s sit and talk.” He turned and led them past the tower to a flagstone pool area lined with oleander, mulberry, and pines overlooking more Tuscan-like hills covered in olives.

“You have a spectacular place here,” said Andreas.

“Thank you. The tower was built in 1750. It’s been my dream and joy to restore it.” He pointed at a taverna table and three chairs in the shade of a mulberry tree at the far end of the pool. “There’s no one else here.” He smiled. “And I don’t expect any more surprise visitors this late in the season. Why don’t we sit over there?”

They did, and a young girl brought them a bottle of water and three glasses. Mihalis put his arm around her. “This is my daughter.” She smiled, he patted her on the back and she left. He leaned back in his chair. “So, what can I do for you?”

“I assume you know who we are.”

Mihalis nodded. “Yes, and I assume I should be honored to be visited by two such distinguished members of the police.”

Andreas smiled. “As are we that you agreed to see us.”

“Always happy to help out the police.”

Tassos waved his hand. “I don’t have as big a sweet tooth as you two guys. How about we get through this huggy-kissy time and to the point.”

Mihalis smiled. “I see your reputation is well-deserved, Chief Inspector Stamatos.”

“As is yours, Mihalis. All I want to know is how long after we spoke to the local cops did it take for them to tell you we were down here looking to talk to the ‘appropriate’ member of the Petropoulakis family about a ‘confidential matter’?”

Mihalis raised and dropped his shoulders. “Is it my fault you spoke to my second cousin?”

Andreas grinned. “No problem, Mihalis. Family is family. We understand.”

He nodded.

“In fact, that’s why we’re here. To talk to you about a member of your family.”

Mihalis pointed a finger at his chest. “My family? One of my children?”

“No, not your children. But a member of your family. Or rather someone who married into your family.”

“Who’s that?”

Andreas said Niko’s name.

Mihalis nodded. “I see. Yes, he married a second cousin.”

“You have a lot of second cousins,” said Tassos.

“Even more third and fourth, as I find out every time someone gets married in this town.”

“We need to speak with him,” said Andreas.

“I don’t know where he is. Why don’t I give you his wife’s telephone number and you can call her?”

“I doubt she’ll know where he is.”

“Then how should I?”

Andreas leaned across the table toward Mihalis. “This is not good for your family.”

Mihalis’ eyes flared for an instant. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Your second cousin’s husband is a dirtbag,” said Tassos.

“That’s between him and his wife.”

Andreas shook his head. “I don’t think so. Not when he tried to rekindle your family’s famous vendetta with another well-known Mani clan.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you know Mangas?”

“Yes, his father just died.”

“Well, this is about your second cousin’s husband setting up your family to look responsible for the murder of Mangas’ father.”

Mihalis crossed his legs. “I still don’t see what this has to do with me.”

“I’m just suggesting that if Niko should happen to show up around here looking for help from his wife’s family, perhaps they should know that the bastard was trying to get some of your family killed just to protect his business interests.”