Angel of Death

‘I haven’t talked to him lately.’

‘He didn’t tell you he’d sacked the girl?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Well, he has. She caused him a lot of trouble, which is why he wants to find her now. Is she here, in Athens? Does she work for you? At your boat yard?’

‘No.’

‘No?’ disbelieved Sandra, her panda eyes wide, red mouth parted and glossy. ‘So if we went along there now we wouldn’t find her?’

‘No, you would not. Everyone who works for me is Greek.’

‘Do you know where we can find her?’

He shook his head, took another oyster.

‘Well, why was she with you at Delos?’

‘I met up with her at Mykonos, recognised her, as you did. When I said I was going to Delos she said she would like to visit it too, so I invited her to sail to Delos with me.’ He hoped to God Sandra and Jack had not sailed on to Mykonos on the cruise ship, had not been there when he and Miranda landed that afternoon and strolled round the town, had not seen them together.

‘Where did you take her after Delos?’

Sandra had a sharp, insistent way of questioning that grated on him.

‘To Mykonos.’

‘Was she staying there?’

He nodded without actually answering.

‘Did she say when she was going home?’

‘No.’ He swallowed the oyster, took a sip of the cold wine. Jack watched him, shifting impatiently.

‘Time’s getting on, Sandra and I’m starving. Why don’t we get a table, have lunch here?’

‘No, I want to go into Athens, eat at a good American hotel. I don’t want any more Greek food, I’ve had enough to last me for years. Come on.’ She gave Alex a hard, almost threatening look. ‘I’ll be talking to Terry

later today. I expect he’ll be in touch.’

No doubt he would, Alex thought, watching her and Jack walking away. What bad luck running into the two of them here. The world was smaller than anyone would guess.

Well, at least Sandra clearly didn’t know about the hotel, hadn’t realised he did not live full time in Piraeus – the question was, did Terry? Terry had visited him here, in Piraeus, years ago, in the early days of their business connection. He had been very curious about Greece, never having been there before.

Alex recalled that his mother had cooked one of her wonderful Greek meals for Terry, who had been very appreciative. They had driven Terry round Athens, shown him the sights, the Parthenon, the Plaka, the beauties of the museum, the gold mask of Agamemnon, dug up in Mycenae, the bronze statues of naked athletes, the mighty bronze of Poseidon hurling his trident, god of the sea and of earthquakes, the bull god, brother of Zeus.

‘I’m not too keen on museums, normally, but I must say this is pretty spectacular,’ Terry had said. ‘How old did you say those bronzes were? Amazing, that people were so clever all that time ago. Makes you think, doesn’t it?’

The evening before he left they had taken him to an excellent restaurant where he had eaten the best food Greece could offer; had picked out a live lobster from the large tank along one wall of the room, laughed at the elastic bands on its claws, enjoyed it when it arrived cooked on a great platter, with a fresh lemon mayonnaise sauce.

They had all got on well; talked about business, politics, travel. But had they ever mentioned the other side of their family life – the island, the hotel? Alex could not remember.

He decided to sail home on Saturday morning, see Miranda, warn her that Sandra was going to tell Terry she was in Greece.

Maybe she should move on, find a new place to hide? He grimaced. He didn’t want her to leave the island, didn’t want her to go away.

That Friday evening, Miranda rang her mother and had to wait some time before the phone was answered. Dorothy sounded out of breath.