Gavin Lyall - Judas Country

'How's that again?' Ken mumbled, his mouth full.

'If you defraud money to – let us say – go to the Beirut races, and if you then win, remember never to try to become honest again by paying it back. You will have found a clever way to get the moneyout of the books, but who thinks it is twice as difficult to get it in? Any company expects some small unexplained losses; more money gets lost than is found. But a big mysterious payment in – that starts an investigation.'

'Let that be a lesson to us all,' Ken agreed. Then Lazaros walked in. Ken added: 'Join the night school. The subject is how to work a fraud – you might learn something."

Kapotas paled, Lazaros just smiled wearily. He looked as tired as he had two nights ago, but at least he'd changed his suit: this one was a snazzy gun-metal-blue affair in some man-made fibre, with lapels most of the way out to his shoulders and lots of raised seams. The middle button had come off.

He said:'Mia birra Keo,' to Apostólos, sat down and lit a State Express. 'Now: I know you went to Beirut. Why?'

Ken said: 'Well, there was this race meeting…'

'I hope you won.'

Ken and I looked at each other. I said: 'I'd guess we came out about even.'

'Good. Of course you did not think we could not have the inquest, without even evidence of identity? '

'Oh, come off it,' I said. 'You weren't going to have an inquest on a Saturday.'

'Did we have a choice? But why did his daughter go as well? Not for the races.'

Ken said carefully: 'No, but you know how it is? She wanted a break from sad memories and all that. And there was a bloke in Beirut she wanted to see – a friend of her father's – something about his affairs. So we gave her a lift…'

Lazaroswatched him thoughtfully, twiddling the cigarette in his stained fingers. Apostólos put the beer downm front of him and he nodded and took a gulp. Finally: 'She came back with you?'

'She's staying at the Ledra Palace this time.'

Lazarosnodded. That was a lot more sensible than suspicious. So I asked: 'Did you get the Viennese relatives rushing in?'

'Not yet one. Just a Nicosia lawyer saying he has been appointed from Vienna to represent the family. No more.'

I glanced at Ken, then said as delicately as possible: 'Well… the Professor was an old man. No parents left, probably no brothers or sisters – and the cousins and such might not want to get too close to a man with a criminal record. It must make it simpler for you, anyway.'

It didn't make it happier for him, though. He took another gulp of beer, another long drag on his cigarette.

Ken said casually: 'Do you know yet who he'd been ringing in Jerusalem that night?'

'Yes. Our consul found out for us.'He looked hard at Ken. 'Do you know Israel? – but of course you do. Do you know a man called Mohammed Gadulla?'

'A fine old Yiddish name,' Ken said sourly. 'No, I don't know any Israeli Arabs bar a couple that were in the coop with me. What's Gadulla do?'

'He has a shop for… an antiquities shop, in old Jerusalem.'

Ken just nodded.

Lazaroswent on: 'But of course Professor Spohr would know many such dealers. It need not mean anything – except that the call was made that night, just before… before he died.'

Ken got up and went to the bar to get another beer.

I said: 'Do you really want the inquest to find you a verdict of unsolved murder rather than simple suicide?'

He looked irritated. He could certainly run around saying that cancer victims don't suicide and that suicides always leave notes, and drag up some dirt from the Prof's past – and Ken's and mine, if it came to that – but if all he achieved was a murder with no murderer, then his promotion board was going to cut him off the Christmas card list.

Ken came back and sat down. All this time Kapotas had been sitting quiet, doing nothing except go pale again when I mentioned murder. We were the only people in the bar, sitting in a lonely pool of orange light, the dining end of the room dark, now. Just like the night the Prof had died.

Then Lazaros said: 'Has Papadimitriou come back yet?'

'Sergeant Papa?' Ken asked. 'Where's he gone?'

Kapotas's face sagged. 'He rang today – to say he is resigning.'

'He has left for good?'Lazaros demanded.

I said: 'He'll never get another hall porter's job. Not at his age.'

Kapotas shrugged. 'He has not been paid for so long, so perhaps I cannot blame him, but… with a full partner coming in tomorrow from Harbome, Gough…'

Ken nodded at the ledgers. 'Maybe there's something in there' he's afraid the partner will spot.'

Kapotas glanced at the stack of books. 'No. I am a good accountant. I do not say I would want to be Sergeant Papa on Judgment Day when those books learn to speak, but now they are dumb. However he cheated, he kept it small and regular… That is also good advice, if you want to juggle account books.' He took a long sip at his whisky.

Lazaroslooked stern. 'You should have told me he called you.'

Kapotas shrugged again. Ken asked: 'What did you want him for?'

'Don't you think he listened to that call to Jerusalem?'

'Yees… Bruno didn't speak much Arabic… I suppose Gadulla would speak English, running a shop like that…'

I said: 'Don't you know where Papa lives, then? '

Lazarosnodded. 'He owns a… a guest house just by Ky-renia. He makes his old mother be the housekeeper there.' That sounded like our Papa's well-known way with women, all right.

Lazaroslit another cigarette and stared at his beer. Ken asked: 'But why resign? – he may not have been paid, but he was still making money here.'

I said: 'Maybe his dear old mum finally got the staggers and he has to run the place himself.'

'Maybe he had a big inheritance,' said Kapotas gloomily. 'With his luck, he might.'

Ken looked at him sharply.

Then Lazaros said: 'Damn, I shall drive over and see him. Now.' He stood up.

'Why not ring him?' I suggested.

His long face tightened into something like a sneer. 'To give him time to invent some good lies, perhaps?' And he went out. We heard the glass front doors swing shut.

Ken took a deep breath, seemed about to say something, then didn't. Kapotas finished his whisky, collected the account books and stood up. 'I will just see that everything is secure and the cooks have not stolen the breakfast.'

'Are you staying the night?' Ken asked.

Kapotas nodded sadly. 'Without Sergeant Papa…'

'Can I make a phone call?'

'Help yourself. You will, anyway.' He went out.

'Who to?' I said quietly. 'Papa?'

He nodded. 'There must be some staff book with their private numbers.' He went and began routing under the counter in front of the switchboard.

I carefully poured the last of Lazaros's beer into my own glass, which seemed to need it, and started lighting a pipe. It still wasn't much past 9.30 and the sandwiches had mopped up most of my weariness.

I was still only on my third match when Ken came back in, looking thoughtful. I asked: 'Did you get him?'

'Yes, but… something odd. He sounded a bit strained, like. I don't think he was alone. I didn't say what it was about, but I said the Inspector was coming… rather wish I hadn't. Hell,' he shook his head in a mind-clearing gesture. 'Let's get over there. We can use Kapotas's car.'

'What can we do that Lazaros can't?'

'Get there first. He's got to go the long way round. Kapotas!' he shouted.

I'd forgotten that aspect of the routes to Kyrenia. On the map, it's on the sea about fifteen miles due north along an easy road that runs over a pass in the coastal range. But from Nicosia to the pass is all Turkish-Cypriot territory: no Greeks wanted today, thank you. So Lazaros would have to take a forty-mile swing out west, around the end of the range through Myrtou or Larnaka, and back in on the coast road.