Petros Markaris - Deadline in Athens

He looked at me uncertainly. He was afraid to believe it.

"I told you that if you told Mr. Haritos everything you knew, everything would work out. Go on home now," Zissis told him.

"Thanks," he said to Zissis, clutching his arm. He said nothing to me. He thought that if he said anything to me, I might change my mind and take him in. He opened the door and got out, but he didn't go back into the trees. He went in the direction of Dekelias Street, toward a bus stop.

"How did you ferret him out?" I said.

We were sitting at the table in his house, eating roast goat in a lemon sauce, and drinking retsina.

"I was surprised that you let him go, that time at the hotel."

"It was a big risk and it wasn't worth it."

"I don't imagine you did it only because of the risk involved. Deep down, you believed he was innocent."

It wasn't that I believed it. I knew it.

"Anyway, I know a lot of people in the area where you found him. They all know that for years the security police were after me too. That made it easy for me, because when I said that I wanted to help Kolakoglou, they believed me. Whoever knew anything told me. Eventually, I found out that he'd been taken in by a distant cousin of his, who lived between Petroupoli and Nea Liossia."

"I can understand those people. But how did you convince Kolakoglou?"

"I showed him these."

He put both hands inside his belt and lifted up his shirt and pullover. His back and chest were crisscrossed with scars from old wounds. I didn't need to ask him who had inflicted those wounds.

"I wanted to help him because I know what it means to be on the run," he said, tucking in his shirt. "After all, he'd paid for what he did. Why should he have to hide like a frightened hare?"

I watched him picking at the goat and eating it slowly the better to savor the taste. I remembered what he'd said to me a few days ago in the car: You're the bottom. I touched bottom and we met each other. Where? That first time in the security police headquarters on Bouboulinas Street, when we were chasing communists. Now with Kolakoglou, we were chasing pederasts. We were both sewer rats. That's why we'd met.

It was after midnight when I reached home. Usually, I can't manage more than three glasses of wine, and Zissis had poured half a gallon down me. The moment I lay on the bed, I felt the room going around. I closed my eyes and tried to find a position in which I would feel less dizzy.

I woke up with a heavy head. I made a coffee and swallowed two aspirins. Then I phoned Thanassis. I asked him for Antonakaki's number. As I was dialing it, I prayed that she wouldn't have gone away for the holidays. Mercifully, she answered, and I told her that I needed to talk to her.

"Come around. I'll be here."

"I'd prefer that we be alone."

"We will be alone. Anna has gone away with some friends and will only be back tonight."

Athens was empty still. Those who had gone away had not yet returned. Most people went away right through to the New Year. Within ten minutes I was on Chryssippou Street in Zografou. She opened the door for me and showed me through to the living room.

"Would you like me to make you coffee?"

"No, thanks, I've already had one. Some new evidence has come up and I need some additional information concerning your sister."

"Ask me what you want." She sat down opposite me.

"In 1974 you went to the offices of the Seamen's Pension Fund to take care of some contributions for your husband. Your sister was with you. Do you remember that visit?"

"I've been there countless times. How am I supposed to remember after twenty years?"

"You might remember because your sister was pregnant at the time."

Her expression froze. She opened her mouth. To say something? To shout? I don't know, because she shut it again without a sound, without a word. And then at long last: "There's some mistake. My sister was never pregnant."

"Do you know who it was who dealt with your case at that time? Petros Kolakoglou. He was an employee at the SPF before he opened his own business. He told me that your sister looked ready to give birth in 'seventy-four" I remained silent and so did she. "What happened to the child, Mrs. Antonakaki?"

She came up with the easiest explanation. "The baby died."

"If that is so, there must be a death certificate. Do you know where it is? Is it at the Athens Registry Office?"

"It died during childbirth."

"All right. I shall need the name of the doctor and the maternity clinic so that I can verify the details."

She had exhausted her imagination and stared at me in grim silence.

"The fact of the child may have a connection with your sister's murder."

"No!" she screamed, terrified. "There's no connection! I swear it! None!"

I adopted my friendly tone. "Listen, Mrs. Antonakaki. The truth is always the least painful solution. If you don't tell me what happened to the child, we'll have to start investigating ourselves. We'll go through all the maternity clinics in Greece if necessary. And we will find what we're looking for, you can be sure of that. It will take time. Meanwhile, the gossip will start spreading. The reporters will hear of the investigation and say that Yanna Karayoryi had a child and abandoned it. Wouldn't it be easier for you to tell me the truth, instead of hearing your sister's name dragged through the mud?"

She still didn't reply, but this time she burst into tears.

"What happened to the child?" I repeated, still in a friendly tone. "Where is it now?"

"Here."

"Here? Where?"

"Here, in this house. It's my Anna."

Once I was over my initial shock and I thought about it, I saw that the dates matched. When Kolakoglou saw them at the SPF, it should have been Mina who was pregnant, but it was Yanna.

"Vassos and I couldn't have any children," she said through her tears. The doctors said that Vassos was to blame, but he wouldn't accept it. He said that I was the one who was incapable. In the end, he made up his mind to divorce me. He was about to leave on a long voyage, one lasting a year and a half. He'd signed up initially to get the money together to buy this flat. Afterward, he told me that he'd put the divorce in the hands of his lawyer and would leave, so that he wouldn't be around and we could separate without any fuss. I almost went crazy. Vassos was my whole life. I'd loved him from being a young girl. If we had separated, I would have committed suicide. Then one day, Yanna came around and told me she was pregnant. You've no idea what I felt when I heard that. I was getting divorced because we couldn't have children, and she was pregnant and going to get rid of it. I screamed like a shrew, I slapped her. She waited for me to calm down and then told me to tell Vassos that I was expecting a child. I didn't realize where she was leading. She had to explain it to me. Vassos wouldn't be here for the birth. She would have the child and give it to me"

She laughed and cried together. "It was all so simple," she said. "She went into the maternity clinic under my name. And when little Anna was born, we registered her as my child. Vassos was overjoyed. He worships his daughter. There's nothing he wouldn't do for her. He's coming home on New Year's Eve so we can be together."

"Who else knows that the child is Yanna's?"

"No one! Her plan was so perfect that no one ever found out anything. But you can't count on everything and to think we were seen by that pederast!"

"Who is the real father?"

"I don't know. Yanna would never tell me."

She suddenly jumped up from her seat. She came and sat next to me on the sofa and took hold of my hands and clutched them. "I beg you, don't say a word of this to anyone," she said, weeping again. "Anna and Vassos will find out. You have a home and a family. You understand what it will mean. It will be the ruin of us all."