Jeffrey Siger - Mykonos After Midnight

“So much for the element of surprise,” said Andreas.

“It gets worse. The road turns east at the base of the first mound and runs between a gauntlet of one-story buildings on both sides. Mainly private homes, rooms to rent, and a couple of fish tavernas. Everything is owned by one family that likes its isolation.”

“The perfect setting for a major shootout,” said Andreas.

“They must plan on getting away by boat,” said Tassos.

“Makes sense,” said Kouros. “Just past the second taverna is a turn off to the left that brings you down to a cove behind the taverna. There’s a tiny concrete pier with its far end and west side open to the sea. It’s barely long enough for two small fishing boats to tie up alongside. Fishermen use it to unload their catch.”

“Sounds like a boat’s in their plan,” said Andreas.

“What’s ours?” said Kouros.

Andreas smiled. “The usual.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“Improvise?” said Tassos.

Andreas nodded. “And pray.”

***

The distinctive, green three-wheel hauler with an extended truck bed hadn’t seen a repair shop in decades. But its owner knew how to keep the tiny thing’s 1300cc engine running. Those Mazda three-wheelers, with their generally oversized drivers crammed into tiny cabs up front, were once a staple of transport around the old port, but modern times and methods had made that form of hauler virtually extinct.

But this three-wheeler and the old man in the driver’s seat with the steel gray fisherman’s mustache, Greek fisherman’s hat, and denim work shirt, were familiar figures in these parts. Everyday he’d drive his unmuffled hauler in along the same dirt road to pick up fish off his cousin’s boat for delivery to nearby tavernas and hotels.

The old man noticed the three men in windbreakers standing by the first building on the left at the end of the dirt road. When he reached them he saw three yellow motorcycles tucked inside a shed on the far side of the building. The old man didn’t recognize the men, but nodded to them. Two nodded back, the third kept yelling into a cell phone. He wasn’t speaking Greek and wore a backpack.

The old man drove past the three and down toward the pier. He shouted greetings spiced with obscenities at his cousin unloading fish onto the far end out of a caique taking up practically the full length of the pier. The cousins exchanged waves as the old man backed his three-wheeler halfway onto the pier, getting it as close as he could against the wall. He slid across the seat and got out the passenger’s door. He noticed one of the three men up by the tavern watching him and asked his cousin who the three strangers were.

The fisherman shrugged. “Tourists, I guess.”

The old man kept talking to his cousin as he went to the back of his hauler, undid the tarp covering the two-foot high sideboards, and rolled it forward about a foot and a half. He began loading in fish from off the pier and, as he filled one section, he’d roll the tarp about a foot further toward the cab and load in more fish. He’d just about reached the rear of the cab when he heard the high whine of a fast boat sweeping into the cove from the open sea to the east, headed right for them and coming in quickly. The three strangers sprinted toward the pier. They squeezed past the hauler and old man, kicked through the fish still on the pier, and stood behind the hauler waving frantically at the boat.

The boat sidled up next to the pier facing into the cove and, as the first of the strangers leaped into it, the old man jumped into the caique. As the second stranger landed in the boat, two fish-covered men, one wielding a shotgun and the other an assault rifle, raised up from the hauler’s truck bed shouting at the captain to cut his engines.

The stranger with the backpack still stood on the pier. He pulled a gun from his jacket, firing as he did at the two in the hauler.

The man with the shotgun instantly fired back, partially separating the gunman’s head from his body and tumbling him backward off the pier and into the boat. His two companions in the boat jerked their hands above their heads but the captain ducked down, spun the wheel, and full-throttled the twin outboard engines in a dash back to open sea. A barrage of shotgun blasts and explosive automatic rifle rounds struck the engines, killing the boat dead in the water. The captain stood with his hands raised above his head.

By the time the three marked police cars made it to the pier, three live bad guys lay cuffed face-down on the concrete and the fast boat sat tied up alongside the caique with a dead bank robber still in it.

“Quite a mess you made here,” said Tassos pointing at the body in the boat.

“Better him than us.” Andreas gave a wave that included the old man and the fisherman. “I hope your friend with the hauler is okay.”

“Petros? He’s an old combat soldier. Loves a bit of action every once in a while. It was his idea for Yianni to use explosive rounds in the rifle. Said it’s what the coast guard uses on boat engines when someone tried to run from them.”

Petros smiled and cursed Tassos.

“I owe you one, my friend. You too.” Tassos nodded at the fisherman. “I’m glad you listened when your cousin told you it was time to duck.”

“What a cockamamie plan you came up with,” said Andreas brushing fish parts out of his hair.

“Hey, it worked. When I saw Petros coming down the road, it all hit me.”

“Next time you’re inspired with a plan,” said Kouros, “make sure you end up in the back with the fish.”

“I’d have gladly partaken in the fun, but as Petros pointed out, he couldn’t possibly hide me in the back of his truck, even covered with fish.”

“We could have dressed you like a whale,” said Kouros.

Tassos burst out laughing, hugged Kouros, and slapped Andreas on the back. “They’d have gotten away without your help. These guys have been robbing banks all over the Cyclades. First time on Mykonos though.”

“Are they local?” said Andreas.

“Don’t think so. One of my guys said they’re speaking Russian to each other.”

“Christ, don’t tell me the Russians are getting into the crime business in the Cyclades, too,” said Kouros.

“Why not? They go where the money is. Always have, always will,” said Tassos. “Plus they love to party here. Who knows, it just might turn into their new romp and rob paradise.”

“Catchy slogan. Maybe the Greek National Tourist Organization would like to borrow it?” said Kouros

Andreas shot him an open palm. “Do you think this crew had anything to do with Christos’ murder?”

Tassos gestured no. “I doubt it. But we’ll do whatever is necessary to make sure. He stared at the three on the ground. “And I mean whatever.”

Andreas rolled his eyes.

“What we need is a break,” said Kouros

“Europol is looking for the girl,” said Tassos. “When they find her they’ll watch her until she hooks up with her partners and arrest them all.”

“Sounds like the sort of plan I like,” said Kouros pulling a small fish out through the back of his shirt collar. “Let the other guys do it.”

Tassos winked at Andreas. “My, my, I think our little boy’s finally figured out this cop business.”

Andreas shook his head. “I better get Yianni out of here and back to Athens before he starts thinking like you.”

Tassos handed Andreas a set of car keys. “Leave the cruiser at the station. I’ve got a lot to do here. And don’t forget the briefcase in the trunk.”

“I was hoping you’d forget.”

“Not a chance. And while we’re on the subject of the briefcase, one more thing.”

“What’s that?” said Andreas.