Petros Markaris - Deadline in Athens

"I've already congratulated Superintendent Ghikas, but I wanted to tell you personally, Inspector. You don't know how relieved I am that the case has been closed without any serious consequences for my businesses."

"The case has been partially cleared up, but it's still open," I said, correcting him. "Whoever murdered Karayoryi and Kostarakou is still walking free."

"I'm no police officer, of course, but in my mind the most likely murderer is one of the two drivers, or the customs official. The Albanians were killed to keep their mouths shut."

"The most likely culprit is Sovatzis. The others have alibis. And Dourou couldn't possibly have killed them. The murders were committed by a man."

He looked closely at me. "I have to admit that I thought of that too. That's why I phoned the superintendent and asked when the murders were committed. The first was on November 27 and the second on November 30. Mr. Sovatzis went abroad on November 25 and came back on December 2." He took a passport out of his pocket and handed it to me. "You can verify the dates from his passport."

I took it and thumbed through it. It was true. It had a stamp in Czech on November 25, another in Czech and in German on November 29, and an exit stamp in German from Vienna airport on December 2. The bastard had arranged Karayoryi's murder and made sure he was abroad on the day of the murder. Then he had given instructions to the murderer to kill Kostarakou too.

"The charge of accessory before the fact continues to weigh upon him," I said to Pylarinos. "Sovatzis is the only one who can lead us to the murderer."

"I am persuaded that Mr. Sovatzis has no involvement in the matter, Inspector," he said in a tone of voice that brooked no objection. "And I'm ashamed for having suspected him at first. You've done a wonderful job, you've arrested the guilty parties, and the case is closed. However, in order for me to put my mind totally at rest, I had Demos transferred to another position, with no administrative responsibility."

Ghikas couldn't restrain himself. "Where did you transfer him?" he said.

Pylarinos didn't answer immediately. "I made him vice president of the governing board," he said with some awkwardness, and immediately added, as if wanting to dispel an adverse impression: "It's a purely decorative position. The vice president has no executive involvement. He simply handles matters assigned to him by the chairman, and that's me. A bit like the vice president of America, who has the title, but effectively has no power." He laughed at his attempt at humor.

We were speechless. He took advantage of our surprise and got up to leave. "Gentlemen, once again, I offer you my warmest congratulations." He turned to me. "You can keep the passport to check the dates."

What was there for me to check? He'd made sure he was sitting pretty. "That won't be necessary," I said and handed it back to him.

As soon as Pylarinos was gone, I leapt to my feet. "If either you or I had done a hundredth of what Sovatzis has done," I said angrily, "we'd have been suspended right now and we'd be preparing our defense. He got promotion and a raise."

"Nothing would happen to us either if we had the minister in our hands," he said, smiling grimly.

"What does that mean?"

"Don't you see? Sovatzis knows about all the money that Pylarinos appropriated in order to become an independent businessman. He may even have concrete evidence. He threatened to reveal it and Pylarinos backed off."

True. I'd forgotten about that in my rage.

"The only thing," Ghikas went on, "is that, this way, they're pinning everything on Dourou."

I rushed to the door, as if Dourou were getting away from me. On my way out, I told Koula to call down to the cells and tell them to have her brought to me immediately.

I found her in the same seat at the end of the table. I went and sat next to her. "Eleni, I have bad news for you," I said in a friendly tone.

"Why, when did you ever have good news?" she said.

"Your little brother has sold you out, Elenitsa. He has proof that he was abroad when the murders took place. He says that you planned it all. He had no idea."

"Of course he had no idea. He didn't have any idea and I didn't plan anything. All that is your own fabrications."

"Wake up, dimwit! You've become as stupid as the Albanians you mix with! We've got the two drivers of the refrigerator trucks. We've got Hourdakis. We know that the drivers handed the kids over to Seki outside Kastoria and that he brought them in a van to your nursery. We know it all!"

"How do you know that he brought the children to me? Did you actually see him?"

"Your girl saw him and she has identified him."

"Ah, yes, the photograph," she said. "Just try proving from the photograph that this Albanian was somehow linked to me."

"We'll prove it, don't worry. Now that your little brother has made sure he's well out of it, it's you we'll settle for as an accessory to the fact for the murders of Karayoryi and Kostarakou. You'll go down for ten years at least. Your only hope is to cooperate with us. We know you didn't have anything to do with the murders. All you have to do is to tell me who your brother hired to kill the two reporters and I'll see to it that you only do half your time."

She looked at me, and it was the first time that she wasn't able to find anything to say. That was a good sign. Most likely, she'd begun to waver. I leaned toward her. "I can see that they're trying to pin everything on you and I feel sorry for you. These kinds of jobs only last as long as they do, and when they go wrong, everyone tries to save their own skin. That's what your brother is doing. Why sacrifice yourself on his account?"

She suddenly leapt up, like a wild animal. "Leave my brother out of it!" she screamed. "You don't know what he's been through! He was still in my mother's belly when she went to find my father up in the hills. She left me with my grandmother. I grew up scared stiff of policemen like you! They'd come to our house every so often and turn it upside down, terrorizing us! And when I wanted to enter the college for nursery carers, they made my grandmother sign a state ment. Can you imagine? A seventy-year-old woman! Do you know when I first saw Demos? In 1978. One day there was a knock at my door and I found myself looking at a man. `Are you Eleni?' he asked me. `I'm Demos, your brother.' I knew that my parents had been killed in an accident, about a year before Zachariadis had been deposed as secretary of the party. But I knew nothing about my brother's fate. Demos had been brought up by the party. And though I was older than him, I couldn't help him or even send a letter to him. And now you're asking me to sign a statement just to save my skin? Leave my brother out of it! He doesn't have anything to do with any of this! He's innocent!"

I stared at her and my mind went to Zissis. I wondered what he'd have done if he'd heard all that. How he would have reacted. She had a triumphant smirk on her lips. She thought she'd cut the ground from under me.

I opened the door and strode out.

Impasse = 1. a situation in which progress is blocked. 2. an insurmountable difficulty. 3. stalemate. 4. deadlock.

The meaning given by Dimitrakos suited me to a T. Liddell amp; Scott, however, gave further meaning: without outlet; unable to get out; the infinite (Aristotle Physics 3.5.2). So, according to Aristotle, impasse also meant "the infinite." In other words, I, who had reached an impasse, was spinning in infinity in my quest to nail Sovatzis. Put more plainly, I was looking for a needle in a haystack.

It was six in the evening, the day after Christmas, and I was lying on my bed with my dictionaries. The previous day had passed fairly painlessly. I'd been invited for Christmas lunch by Michos, Adriani's cousin who worked for the telephone company. I hadn't wanted to go, but Adriani and Katerina had telephoned to insist. It would not have been right for me to have said no, they would have been offended, and, in any case, it had at least passed the day. We had eaten our turkey, had a jolly time, and, at around seven, Rena, Michos's wife, had taken it upon herself to teach me gin rummy. What I know about cards begins and ends with snap, but out of courtesy I decided to comply. At some point, I thought I'd mastered it and they cleaned me out. I got home after midnight and went out like a light. I hadn't had so much as five minutes to think about Sovatzis.