Jeffrey Siger - Mykonos After Midnight

“You mean don’t tell Sergey?”

“Do I have to repeat myself?”

“No, Teacher, no. Absolutely. I understand completely. Tell no one.”

“Very good. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Teacher hung up the phone and stared at the ceiling. Her eyes moved to the backs of her hands, and the black and blue marks along her arms.

She hadn’t been surprised when she’d received the news about her health. No one wanted to think such things were possible, at least not about yourself and not out of a past you’d put so far out of mind. But she’d been a prostitute, and this was to be expected. She’d battled her illness for years, but with no one to share her burdens she was growing weary of the war.

Then Sergey entered her life with what seemed the answer to her prayers.

Her eyes shifted to the photograph of the young girl. She dropped her head.

I must make inquiries.

It was early morning when the email arrived from Teacher’s colleague in Athens. It read simply: ATTACHED ARE ALL FILES ON THE APPLICATION YOU REQUESTED.

The contact was thorough. The attachments included a copy of an application for a casino license on Mykonos. It was stamped as submitted to Greece’s ministry of finance the day after the hotel owner had agreed to sell his interest in the hotel lease. Listed as the applicant was “Sergey Tishchenko.”

That was not as they had planned. It would be foolish to hold a license in a single individual’s name because the license would lapse should anything happen to that person.

Why would he do this? He surely knew better than to steal from her. Perhaps he thought of it as insurance against her killing him should she become disenchanted with him, as the license would end with him?

She smiled. She admired that sense of self-preservation. Her smile faded. As long as he did not plan to steal from her.

She read on. The application was filled with the words of lawyers.

He couldn’t have done this on his own. He had help. But from whom? Wacki? Not a chance. But there had to be others involved in preparing this application, persons she did not know. She did not like that.

Teacher cleared her throat and finished reading the application. It contained financial representations and divulged sources of funds necessary to complete the project and bond the performance obligations of the casino. She knew the accounts, they were hers that she’d put in Sergey’s name for purposes of the application.

She looked for questions about the hotel lease, but there were none. The application focused on the applicant’s financial abilities and background, not on specific details of the facility to be operated within the approved venue. That would come later, after the ministry approved the license. She read on and lingered for a moment over the signature of Sergey Tishchenko.

The next document made her pause. It was a one-line memorandum from the minister of finance to the section chief responsible for casino licenses. Above the signature of the minister was typed, DO WHATEVER NECESSARY TO APPROVE THIS APPLICATION ASAP. The directive was dated the day after the cop was kidnapped.

That document could only mean one thing. But Sergey had never told her he had Christos’ files. He’d kept that from her. There was no way this minister would have given such firm instructions in writing other than in mortal fear of what was in those files. It would also explain how the kidnapped cop was found and rescued so quickly. The cops who had Christos’ files must have turned them over to Sergey in exchange for their friend’s release, and then killed his captors as a message to any others who might consider kidnapping cops. That’s what she would have done in their position.

Why had Sergey not told her? Was he waiting to surprise her with the license?

Subconsciously, she drew a deep breath, but stopped at a wince of pain. What could he possibly be thinking?

She looked at the last document. She read it twice. It was formal approval by the minister of finance of the issuance of a license to Sergey Tishchenko authorizing him to operate a casino on the island of Mykonos, dated yesterday.

He’d not told her the license was approved. Maybe he didn’t know? No, he would have known immediately. That minister would have told him.

Teacher stroked her forehead. This was all far too strange to be true. Perhaps he believed she would die and that once she did all that was in his name he’d be able to keep for himself? How could he be so foolish? So shortsighted?

She was prepared to treat him like a son, groom him to succeed her, and he betrayed her? No, that could not be.

She shut her eyes and rocked back and forth in her chair. She would not judge him on this alone. There was another step to take. Another inquiry to be made.

It took until late afternoon before Teacher’s Athens contact got back to her with the additional information. But she now knew what had happened. It was a clever ruse, but had failed. She also knew whom to punish.

***

The lights illuminating the Acropolis had just gone on, and Lila was sitting on a sofa sipping a glass of wine and looking across to the Parthenon when Andreas walked into the apartment.

“Perfect timing,” said Lila. “Come sit with me.” She patted the seat.

Andreas walked up behind her, bent down, and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll get a glass of wine and join you.”

Lila picked up a little silver bell from the table in front of her and rang it.

“Yes, ma’am,” said Marietta, looking in from the next room.

“A glass of wine for Chief Kaldis, please.”

Marietta nodded and left.

“I know. You would have preferred to do it yourself.”

Andreas shrugged as he walked around the sofa and sat next to Lila. “I’ve given up that battle.”

“Where’s Yianni?”

“He said he had to meet a cop friend.” Andreas smiled. “I told him not to stay out too late.”

“I just heard from Maggie. The doctor said Tassos could have visitors tomorrow but only for a brief time, and only in the morning.”

“Terrific. Yianni and I will be there first thing tomorrow.”

“Any word on what’s happening with Sergey?”

Andreas gestured no. “All we can do is hope Wacki took the bait, Teacher followed up, and she believes what we planted. If she thinks she’s being conned, no telling what that maniac might do.”

“You seem concerned.”

“Trust me, I am.”

***

The next morning, a somewhat hungover Kouros and mercilessly chatty Andreas made their way to the hospital. They parked in the lot reserved for doctors and entered the hospital through the main entrance. Andreas told Kouros to “follow the color purple” for the elevators to the burn unit.

“I wonder who came up with this idea of putting colored lines in floors for directions. Pity the poor colorblind,” said Andreas.

“Could you please stop talking for just a while, Chief. I’m trying to clear my head for Tassos.”

As they reached the purple elevator bank Andreas said, “That mercy pitch won’t work. Although if you told me why you got in so late last night, perhaps I could be convinced to shut up for a while.”

“Fuck you.”

“Such language, and to your boss, no less.”

A tall man also waiting for the elevator and carrying a box of flowers looked away. Andreas couldn’t blame him. Their back and forth banter probably qualified them for outpatient status in the psycho ward.

The elevator doors opened and the three men stepped in. Andreas pushed the button for five and with his finger still poised above the panel asked the man with the flowers, “Which floor?”

The man didn’t respond but instead reached over and pressed “6.”