Pressing her napkin to her mouth, Ella fought back her feelings of nausea.
‘In the last three years we – The Group – have successfully targeted several of his “clients”,’ said Nikkos, taking his knife and slicing it purposefully through a tomato to indicate exactly what form this ‘targeting’ had taken.
‘But not him?’
‘No.’ Nikkos made a face, as if this fact were a particularly bitter source of personal regret. ‘Not him. Unfortunate to say, but if Athena is alive, then Makis Alexiadis is our closest remaining link to her. He may even have been in contact with her. We don’t know. But we believe that whoever put that mark on the drowned child’s heel was sending a signal to Makis as much as to us, or anybody else. A warning.’
‘What sort of warning?’ asked Ella. ‘What does the mark mean? The “L”?’
‘It was the sign Spyros Petridis used to signify his dominance over others. His power. Some believed that the “L” was for Lagonissi, Spyros’s birthplace. Perhaps it was.’
‘But?’ Ella prompted. ‘It sounds as if there’s a “but”.’
Nikkos looked uncomfortable. He should never have opened up this particular can of worms.
‘But “L” wasn’t the only ancient Greek letter used by the Petridises on their enemies or their subordinates during their heyday. From time to time there would be an alpha or an omega or a pi. We would find the signs on corpses, or sometimes even branded into living people who’d crossed them in some way. Restaurant owners, businesses who refused to pay them protection money. Even a famous Hollywood producer, a guy named Larry Gaster, reportedly had an “L” burned into his foot, as punishment for “flirting” with Athena. Before Spyros’s marriage to Athena, the “L” was definitely his mark. So maybe it did mean Lagonissi back then. But in later years, that changed. If “L” was for Lagonissi, what was the significance of “O” and “A” and “P”?’
‘Maybe they were places from Athena’s past?’ Ella suggested.
Nikkos shrugged. ‘Maybe. We don’t know. What we do know is that only Spyros or Athena ever used the letter brands, and Spyros is dead. We also know that Makis will have seen these photographs, of the boy on the beach. So the first phase of your mission will be to get close to him and gauge his reaction to those images. What has he said about them, and to whom? Was he surprised? Or did he know in advance they’d be published? Was he angry? Pleased?’
Ella nodded. ‘OK. I can do that.’
Nikkos pressed a pudgy finger onto the newspaper clipping, obscuring Makis Alexiadis’s handsome face. ‘Do not attempt to confront him. Under any circumstances. Do not compromise your cover. Find out anything you can about the pictures and about Athena’s connection to them, if there is one. Use your … you know, your brain thing … if you can.’ He pointed vaguely to his skull, just in case Ella had misunderstood. ‘Then return to Athens.’
‘Return to Athens?’ Ella raised an eyebrow. ‘Doesn’t Makis live here?’
‘Not in August he doesn’t,’ Nikkos replied. ‘Only fools and tourists stay in Athens in high summer. It’s far too hot,’ he explained, as if Ella hadn’t noticed. ‘Don’t worry. He stays at his villa on Mykonos. It’s very beautiful there and not so far. You will leave at the weekend.’
‘The weekend? Why not tomorrow?’ asked Ella.
Nikkos chuckled. ‘You will understand when you read tonight’s package. It will take a short time to put together your cover. Your new identity. And then, yes, you must practice a little bit. It is not so easy, my dear. Becoming somebody else overnight.’
That’s what I used to think, thought Ella. Before I met Gabriel.
They agreed to leave the restaurant separately, with Nikkos going first to draw the car following him safely away from Ella.
‘You’re sure the police are still outside?’ he asked, paying the bill and leaving a fat wodge of cash as a tip.
‘Quite sure,’ said Ella. ‘I’ll be fine. I’ll stay here for twenty minutes and then go back and sleep. I’ll look at whatever documents you send over in the morning, I’m too tired tonight.’
Kissing her on the cheek, Nikkos took his leave, being careful to give his disgruntled ex-lover’s table a wide berth.
She was right about the cops. They followed him all the way home, but he made no attempt to shake them. After all, it was no secret where he lived, and he hadn’t done anything illegal – yet.
Back in his modest Exarcheia apartment, Nikkos kicked off his shoes, poured himself a large ouzo and put a call in to the boss, as expected.
‘How did it go? How was she?’ Redmayne asked in his usual brusque, charmless manner.
‘She was fine.’ Nikkos rubbed his brow wearily. ‘She understands the objective. She agreed to go to Mykonos.’
‘She didn’t question it?’ Redmayne sounded surprised, but pleased.
‘No,’ said Nikkos. At that precise moment he couldn’t bring himself to say ‘sir’.
‘Did she have any questions?’
‘Not many,’ Nikkos lied. ‘She did ask about her parents, though. Whether I’d met them. What they were like.’