Jeffrey Siger - Target - Tinos

The men looked at each other as if waiting for one of them to make the first move.

“Like I said, ‘over here.’ And that means now. ”

One man started forward and the other two followed.

Andreas stepped out and leaned against the driver’s side of the car. “You, in the green tee shirt. Drop the hammer.”

The man kept coming and Andreas put his hand on his holster. A dark-skinned, wiry man in a white tee shirt turned to the one in green and said something in a language Andreas did not understand. The man dropped the hammer.

“Those two don’t understand Greek,” said the man in the white tee shirt.

“That could be dangerous,” said Andreas not taking his hand off his holster.

“Papers please,” said Tassos.

The man in white said something to the other two, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a passport and working permit. The other two men did the same.

“Is there a problem officer?”

“I’ll let you know,” said Tassos.

“Call them in,” said Andreas. “Let’s see what we have on them.”

Tassos reached into the car for the transmitter. Andreas slowly walked to the front of the car and leaned back against the hood. He was about six feet from where the men stopped. He stared at them for about a minute without saying a word.

“Where are you from?” said Andreas.

“They’re from Romania, I am from Pakistan.”

“I meant in Greece.”

“Athens.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Since the end of June.”

“And the other two?”

“I don’t know, about three weeks I guess.”

“Before those two tsigani were murdered?”

The man shrugged.

“How come you speak Romanian?”

“I’m good with languages. It’s how I got this job. I do the translating and they do most of the work.” He smiled.

“No outstanding warrants,” said Tassos. “But some very interesting arrest records. For all three.”

“How’d you manage to get working papers?” said Andreas.

The man didn’t respond.

“Let me guess,” said Andreas. “No convictions and friends in very low places.”

Andreas got off the hood and stepped to within a foot of the man’s face. He was a head shorter than Andreas. Andreas patted him on the shoulder. “You and GADA’s Chief of Special Crimes are about to become a 24/7 item.”

“Why are you hassling me?”

“Why are you on Tinos?” said Andreas

“To work.”

“Please don’t tell me you found religion,” said Tassos.

“Sort of.”

“ Stop fucking with us,” shouted Andreas.

The two Romanians looked at each other.

“You better tell your buddies to relax.”

The Pakistani said something to the others. “We came here because we heard we’d find work. And that if we kept out of trouble the pay would always be good.”

“Who told you there was work?” said Tassos.

“Someone I met in Athens.”

“Got a name?” said Tassos.

The man gestured no. “He said he was a ‘priest.’”

Andreas nodded. “A priest.” Andreas cleared is throat. “Was he dressed like a priest?”

“No.”

“Did you meet him in a church?”

“No. I met him on Sophocleos Street, just off Pireos.”

He’d just named perhaps the worst section of street in central Athens, a veritable no man’s land of 24/7 vice and crime. “He acted like one of those missionary types seeking converts but he wasn’t talking religion.”

“Then how did you know he was a priest?” said Andreas.

“I didn’t say I knew he was a priest, I said that’s what he called himself.”

“And you left Athens to come here based on that?”

“No, I checked with friends who were working here. They said it was legit.”

“I’m sure you have names for your friends,” said Tassos.

The man looked around, as if for a place to run.

“You won’t make it,” said Andreas. “The names.” He knew they’d be phony.

The man mumbled out four names. Tassos wrote them down.

“And where can I find those friends of yours?” said Andreas.

“I don’t know.”

“Like I said, ‘stop fucking with us.’ Where do they hang out when they’re not working?”

He looked at his feet, then up at Andreas. “Promise me you won’t tell them I told you.”

Andreas smiled. “Why, of course.”

He gave the name of a bar that he said was not far from the port. “We meet there after work.”

“You mean at three in the afternoon?” said Tassos.

“No, after they’re done at work. They don’t work construction. They work at hotels and tavernas in town. I meet them around eleven at night.”

“And what do you do between now and then?” said Andreas.

“Sleep, get something to eat.”

“How can you afford to hangout in a bar every night?” said Tassos.

“I don’t understand?”

“What do you do for money? You sure as hell can’t afford it on what you make doing this sort of work.”

“I make good money. Like I said, that’s why I came here. All I had to do was find an ‘honest job,’ and no matter what my employer pays, as long as I ‘behave’ I get enough extra cash each week to bring my earnings to nine hundred euros a month.” He nodded back at the Romanians. “They have the same deal.”

Andreas hoped his jaw hadn’t dropped. A new cop only made eight hundred a month and, after ten years on the force, twelve hundred.

“Who’s paying all that money?” said Andreas.

The man shook his head. “Don’t know. All I know is I’m in charge of paying the brothers on my crew and every Friday a package arrives at my place with envelopes for each of them. I just turn over the envelopes.”

“I bet you do,” said Tassos.

“Better believe it. A few who tried stealing from their brothers are no longer on the island. That sort of thing isn’t tolerated.”

That’s the second time he used the word “brothers,” thought Andreas.

“What happened to them?” said Tassos.

The man shrugged. “I never asked. But everyone got the message.”

“From whom?” said Andreas.

“Like I said, I don’t know.”

“Does mister ‘I don’t know’ have a name?” said Tassos.

“I never heard one.”

“What have you heard?” said Andreas.

The man looked back down at his feet. “Some tsigani were talking on a job I had when I first came here, before I hooked up with these guys, and they didn’t know I understood their language.”

“Are you now going to conveniently tell me they’re the ones who were murdered?” said Andreas.

The man looked up. His eyes were twitching. He gestured no. “But they were from the same clan, and they were talking about someone who’d come to their camp the night before to meet with their clan leader.”

“And?” said Andreas.

His voice was weak. “They talked about the visitor as ‘the money man behind everything.’”

He glanced back at the two Romanians, leaned in toward Andreas, and whispered, “They called him the ‘Shepherd.’”

“I have to call Lila and tell her I won’t be making it back to Mykonos tonight.” Andreas smacked the steering wheel with the heel of his right hand. “When I tell her I have to spend the night in a bar she’s going to kill me.”

“Wait to call until we’re back in town. We’re almost there,” said Tassos.

“Are you worried about me driving while talking on my mobile?”

“No, I’m worried about the potential nuclear fallout streaming through your phone.”

Andreas glanced at the sea. “I wish I had a handle on what’s going on. Those three guys at the dovecote weren’t churchgoers, but nor were their arrest records for violent crime.”