Petros Markaris - Deadline in Athens

"Who's there?" asked a woman's voice. From those two words alone, I knew she was foreign.

"Open up! Police!"

I got no answer and the door didn't open. All I heard was footsteps scampering away.

"Should we break down the door?" one of the SAF men asked me. "One kick and we're in."

"Wait. They might still open it."

"It's wrong for us to wait," said the other one, giving me a lesson. "If they're armed, they'll have time to organize themselves."

With all the noise, the doors of the other flats opened. In one doorway an obviously retired couple appeared and in the other a woman holding a little boy.

"Get back inside and lock your doors!" the SAF man shouted at them.

The woman pulled the boy inside and slammed the door, while the old woman cried out in real fear: "Don't! There are children inside!"

We've startled a hare, I thought to myself, while from inside the flat another voice, not foreign this time, said: "Who is it?"

"Come on, woman, get a move on. Police, open up!" I said.

"Who is it you want?"

"Will you open the door or do you want us to break it down?" said one of the SAF men, who was just looking for an excuse to play the tough TV detective.

The door opened and a tall, thin woman of around forty-five was standing there. Her hair was graying at the temples, and she wasn't wearing any makeup. She didn't seem to be startled by the SAF men and their automatic weapons.

"Who is it you want?"

I pushed her aside, without answering. The two SAF men followed behind me and closed the door. We found ourselves in a small, square hallway, facing a closed sliding glass door.

"Who gave you permission to barge into my home? I demand an explanation!" The tone of her voice had become severe, but her manner was still calm and composed.

Again, I didn't answer her. I opened the sliding door and found myself in the space of two adjoining rooms. One half was living room, the other half playroom. Opposite me in the two corners were two armchairs with a coffee table between them. The floor was covered by a grenadine carpet. Four young children, a boy and three girls, were playing on it. They seemed to be roughly the same age, two or three, and they were all poorly dressed but clean. Lying around them were dolls, toy cars, building bricks.

I squatted down next to a little girl who was playing with a doll and asked: "What's your name?" She didn't reply but pointed to her doll. "Do you like your doll?" Again, the girl didn't answer, but nodded yes. The little boy grabbed the doll from her. The girl burst into tears. They began quarreling in a language I didn't understand but that resembled Albanian.

"Will you kindly tell me what's going on?"

My silence and indifference had rankled her and she was shouting. I went on as before, ignoring her.

In the middle of the other room was a large playpen. Two toddlers were crawling around inside it, while a third was standing up, hanging on to the netting. I looked around and went back into the hall. The woman, who followed me out, realized she wasn't going to get anything out of me and turned to the SAF men.

"Who is this man? Would you mind telling me?" The SAF men pretended not to hear.

"You leave me no choice but to call the police to find out who you are and who gave you orders to barge into my home!" she said threateningly, but without carrying out her threat.

The hall opened into a corridor on the right. The kitchen was on the right of the corridor and, beside it, a closed door, presumably the bathroom. I glanced around the kitchen. A young woman was sitting with her arms resting on the table. She looked at me and was shaking all over from fear. Facing me was another room in the flat. I looked in through the open door and saw two bassinets. I went inside and saw three more, all five together in a row, all with babies in them. Infants of all ages and for every taste.

The woman had grown tired of following me around and had stayed in the hall waiting for me. I turned and went up to her. "What's your name?" I asked her abruptly, Officer Bulldog now.

"Eleni Dourou."

"So, in addition to acting as an intermediary in kidney transplants, you also take care of children, Mrs. Dourou."

She was startled, but admirably maintained her composure. "I am a qualified child care provider and my nursery is operating legally, with a license from the Ministry of Social Services."

"And what kind of children do you take care of?"

"Any child whose parents can pay my fees. I do not discriminate."

"I want the list with the children's parents. All the details. Names, addresses, and phone numbers."

"What for?"

"Don't ask questions. Asking questions is my job. Just give me the list."

For the first time she lost her presence of mind and faltered. "I'll give it to you, but their parents are all abroad."

"All of them?"

"All."

"Where abroad?"

"I don't know where exactly. They go away for a length of time… weeks… months… and because they don't have anywhere to leave their children, I take care of them till they get back."

There was a telephone on the coffee table in the living room. I called Thanassis. "Send a female officer immediately to Thirty-four Koumanoudi Street in Gizi. Third floor. Name is `The Foxes: And phone the Ministry of Social Services. Get them to send a child carer to the same address. Do it right away, it's urgent."

"What's all that for?" Dourou said, when I hung up.

"You and the girl are coming with me to the station."

"Are you arresting me? On what charge?" Every time she felt threatened, her composure and audacity returned.

"For the present, all I want is to ask you a few questions. I'll decide on the rest later."

I wanted to jump for joy, but Dourou was smart and I held back so as not to give myself away. Leaving her in the dark would increase her anxiety and insecurity.

"Sit down," I said to Dourou. "We'll be off as soon as the female officer and child carer arrive."

She hesitated for a moment. Then she decided to put on a show of being unconcerned. We sat silent in the two armchairs, with the kiddies playing at our feet. Every so often, one of the kids would come up to her and show her a toy. She caressed them and talked to them. And when two of them started fighting, she'd take one into her arms to comfort them. I was surprised at how tenderly she behaved toward the kids. Standing opposite me were the two SAF men. They'd lowered their automatic weapons and were holding them discreetly at their sides. As soon as they got back to their base, they'd make me a laughing stock at the station for having got the SAF involved in an all-out assault on a nursery.

Half an hour later, the female officer arrived with the child carer. While I was giving instructions to the former, Dourou was telling the latter what to do. When to feed the children, when to change the babies' diapers, showing her the ropes.

"Let's go," I said, when we'd both finished. I shouted to the SAF men for one of them to bring the girl, who he'd been guarding in the kitchen.

The girl looked like a frightened animal.

"Don't be afraid, it's nothing," Dourou said to her in Greek, but the girl didn't appear convinced.

While we were waiting for the elevator, the girl suddenly broke free of the SAF man and bolted toward the stairs. The SAF man caught her on only the third step and brought her back.

The balconies and windows of the surrounding buildings were full of people taking in the spectacle. A band of reporters and cameramen had blocked the street in front of the buildings. They made straight for me, holding out their microphones. They were all speaking together and I couldn't hear what anyone was saying.

"No comment," I said, in answer to all of them, and I walked toward the van that the SAF men had brought right up to the door. The reporters ran after me and continued with their questions, but I pretended to neither see nor hear.