Jeffrey Siger - Sons of Sparta

Niko remained convinced that, if the threats had gone public, Calliope so despised the Ukrainian she would have launched her hot-headed brother on a murderous vendetta against the Ukrainian-giving Niko free reign in the Peloponnese as he watched his two competitors kill each other off.

But the father’s death was labeled an accident. Worse still, his cop nephew started poking around. Something Niko hadn’t figured on. That limited Niko’s options. Babis had to go because he was the only one who could have tied Niko into the hit. Maybe the girlfriend still could too, but he’d take care of her personally next week. Niko smiled. On her first New Year’s Eve in Thessaloniki.

Of course there was also Calliope, but who’d ever believe her? The crazy bitch never for a second saw the switch coming. She remained convinced to the end the Ukrainian was the target.

Niko smiled. Probably still does .

The photograph she gave him had made it all possible. All he’d had to do was show it to Babis that afternoon outside the taverna. The rest was easy. He told Babis he’d be forgiven by Niko’s family if he killed the man who’d betrayed them both. In exchange, Babis only had to stick the message in the old man’s newspaper the next morning and use the poison as directed when Niko gave him the word.

Too bad the local cops found the poison. That stuff was hard to come by. Expensive, too. One of their connected Maniot buddies would probably end up with it. Maybe he could buy it from the cops first.

Yeah, and too bad for Babis the threat messages didn’t fly. But just like Calliope, the sucker never saw it coming until given the choice of a few minutes in the sea or days of pain with Urich.

Niko looked up at the church and mumbled to himself, “Thank you, Lord, for sending me two fools.”

WHACK. Niko jerked forward from a hard smack on his back. “ Kala Kristougenna , Niko. I hear you’re moving to the Mani.”

It was another forgettable cousin of his wife offering a macho Mani greeting.

“Maybe. I’m thinking of opening a hotel over here. One with a golf course.”

“Good luck with it.”

Black clad ladies started gathering dirty paper plates off the tables. One, dressed in a nun’s veil, reached in between Niko’s in-laws.

“Sorry, sister, we’re not finished yet,” said the mother-in-law.

The woman nodded and moved away from the table.

Niko followed her with his eyes. She never turned around, just began gathering plates from another table.

WHACK. Another smack to the left of his back and a quick pinching squeeze to his neck. He turned quickly, only to see a crowd standing around the next table. It could have been any of them. He turned back to face his family.

“Who was that?” said Niko’s wife.

“I don’t know, I didn’t see him.”

“It wasn’t a ‘him.’ It was a woman dressed in black. Maybe it was the mother of one of your baby girlfriends.”

He raised his hand as if to strike her, but caught himself and forced a smile for everyone at the table. “No idea.” He moved his raised hand to rub his neck. “But whoever she is has a mean pinch.”

Three minutes later he felt a pain in the middle of his back. No wonder, after all the smacks he’d taken. He stretched his back trying to work it out, but it only grew sharper. He rubbed his stomach. Now he felt indigestion. That damn lamb didn’t agree with him. Then came the pain in his jaw, the burning vise-grip on his chest, and the rush of adrenaline as he struggled for breath and realized he was about to die.

Eyes wide open, he stared straight ahead. Two tables away his eyes locked on a priest’s staring right back at him. Next to the priest stood a woman all in black.

The priest nodded, smiled, and took Niko’s photograph.