Jeffrey Siger: Target: Tinos

“I’d rather not,” said Andreas.

“Me either,” said Tassos. “We don’t deserve it.” He stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, folks, I have a tsigani to find.”

“Happy hunting,” said Kouros.

Andreas stared at Kouros. “At times your sense of humor is worse than his.”

“Then buy me a beer. I’ll try to be funnier.”

“Deal.”

Beer was a big seller in Greece. Ouzo and retsina surely were too, and plainly the romanticized choice of tourists, but beer was the day-to-day staple. Andreas and Kouros were in plainclothes alone at a table in the back of a rundown taverna in a graffiti-covered, 19th Century, two-story neoclassical building. It was tucked away on one of the narrow commercial streets at the western end of Alexandras Avenue by the Victoria metro station. As shabby as the place was it had a certain old-world charm definitely not present in any of its late 20th Century, anonymous concrete neighbors.

“How the hell did you find this place?” said Andreas.

“A buddy brought me here a couple weeks ago. Said his father used to take him here. There aren’t many places like this left in Athens, what with all the old neighborhoods changing. I thought you might like it. Besides, it’s even cheaper than the ones across from headquarters. I figured that since you’re paying I’d help save you some money for the wedding.”

Andreas lifted his beer. “ Yamas.”

Kouros lifted his bottle and clinked on Andreas’ bottle. “ Yamas.” He took a sip. “Less than a week to go. Bet you’re nervous.”

Andreas shrugged. “Only about the dancing. Not the getting married part.”

“Come on, you have to be scared just a little bit. You know, one woman, the rest of your life.”

Andreas gestured no. “As crazy as it may sound, I feel strangely at ease.” He smiled. “Doubt you’d understand, youngster.”

“You bet. I like my life just as it is.”

“Some day, if you’re lucky, you’ll know what I mean. Until then just keep playing your kamaki games, but be careful where you put your spear, you wouldn’t want to dull it permanently.” Kamaki was the Greek name for the little trident used in hunting octopus-and slang for the Greek man’s real or imagined skills at pursuing women.

“Safe sex lecture duly noted.” Kouros took another swig of beer.

The bar area in the front of the taverna was filling up with what seemed mainly foreign workers, but the man behind the bar was Greek and spoke only Greek to his customers.

“So, what do we do while Tassos looks for a lead?” asked Kouros.

“Exactly what I planned to do before the minister popped into my office. Get ready for my wedding.”

“Terrific. But don’t forget about your bachelor party.”

“What bachelor party?”

“The surprise one on for the night after tomorrow. Remember to act surprised.”

“Anything else I should know?” said Andreas.

Kouros paused and smiled. “Your world, as you know it, is about to change.”

Andreas finished his beer. “Let’s get out of here. I want to get home before Tassaki goes to sleep.” He threw five euros on the table and headed toward the door.

“I have to take a leak,” said Kouros.

Outside the street was surprisingly quiet. Then again, it was August and that meant Athens was deserted by anyone who could get out of town. As Kouros came through the front door a man ran past them on the sidewalk screaming in a language neither cop understood at another man running fifteen yards behind him.

When the second man reached the two cops he abruptly turned and pointed a gun at them.

“ Dose mou to porto foli su! ” It was heavily accented Greek but he’d made his point.

Andreas and Kouros immediately reached for their wallets. The man held the gun in his right hand and kept waving it back and forth between Kouros to his right and Andreas to his left. Andreas held out his wallet in his right hand and Kouros did the same with his left. The man hesitated as if deciding which to take first. He reached with his left hand for Andreas’ wallet, taking his eyes off of Kouros for a split second.

Kouros’ right hand shot up and caught the barrel of the gun between his thumb and forefinger and drove it up and into the man’s forehead as he stepped in to put his right hip behind the man’s right side and force him backwards into the ground. There was the dull thud of the back of a head striking concrete.

Andreas leaned over the unconscious gunman and took back his wallet. As Kouros checked him for other weapons, Andreas walked to the front of the taverna and picked up a chair. There was the high-pitched whine of a motorbike coming up fast alongside the curb.

Andreas stepped to the edge of the sidewalk and swung the chair into the face and chest of the oncoming helmetless driver, sending both bike and driver sprawling onto the street. As the driver stumbled to his feet, Andreas delivered a Champions League quality soccer kick to the man’s midsection, putting him back on the ground. The man tried to stand again. This time Andreas hit him with a roundhouse right that put him out cold.

Andreas dragged the driver onto the sidewalk and dropped him next to the gunman. He gestured for Kouros to handcuff them both and punched in the code on his phone for “officer needs assistance.”

“What the hell was all that about?” said Kouros. “The guy you just beat the shit out of was the one the other guy was chasing.”

Andreas smiled. “Obviously, you’ve not kept up with your reading, detective.” Andreas looked at his right hand and flexed it. Nothing seemed broken. “There was a bulletin this week on a new urban crime technique. It takes advantage of our natural curiosity. One guy runs by the mark screaming at another guy, the mark stops to see what’s going on, the chaser robs the mark, the screamer returns on a motorbike, the chaser jumps on behind him, and they’re off and lost in traffic.”

“Christ. What will they come up with next?”

“Wish I knew. But there will always be something.” Andreas leaned down and checked the handcuffs as a blue and white Athens police car screeched to a halt in front of them.

“Do me a favor, Yianni. Take care of the paperwork on this. I want to go home and hug my kid.”

“No problem. Besides, I think I’ll go back inside. I could use another drink. Or three.”

Andreas put his arm around Kouros’ shoulder and smiled. “That, my friend, sums up the difference between your life and mine.”

Andreas, Lila, and Tassaki lived where no one existing on a cop’s pay could possibly afford, certainly no honest cop. It was Lila’s home when they met and, despite Andreas’ initial macho discomfort at the thought of moving into his girlfriend’s apartment, the reality of their potential living choices prevailed: either an entire, sixth-floor penthouse at perhaps Athens’ most exclusive address, next to the Presidential Palace, with unobstructed breathtaking views of both the Acropolis and its majestic sister hill, Lykavittos, or his one bedroom, slight view, maybe the elevator is working, fourth floor apartment.

Andreas was crawling on the nursery room floor watching a diaper-clad Tassaki run around him in circles. Every once in a while Andreas reached out to catch him, put him on his back, and tickle his belly until he laughed. Lila was standing at the doorway smiling.

“One of you is definitely having a good time.”

“The one with the diaper is wearing me out.” Andreas pinched Tassaki’s bottom, making him laugh even more.

“Maybe you should take him with you to your bachelor party?”

“You mean the secret one?”

“Yep, I cleared the dancers.”

“If you cleared them, I’m not sure it’s worth going.” He picked up Tassaki and handed him to Lila. “Give mommy a kiss to make up for daddy’s bad sense of humor.”