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Authors: Assassins of Athens
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too. “Anything you want to say?” Andreas said it flatly, still looking straight ahead.
“No, sir.”
Andreas looked at him. “For Christ’s sake, Yianni, say something.”
“She was the greatest piece of ass I ever saw, and you’re not the first cop to stumble.”
Andreas didn’t respond, just turned his head and looked out the side window. What was there to say? That he didn’t have sex, just listened to a hooker tell her life story? To a cop that would sound worse, at least dumber, than whatever Kouros was thinking. No one would believe him anyway. He couldn’t believe it himself.
“Besides, you’re my boss, what the hell do you want me to say? That ‘every crooked politician, influence peddler and bad guy in Greece would kill for proof of what you just did. You’d be their forever get-of-jail-free card. Or ruined.’”
Andreas nodded but kept looking out the window. “In other words, if I weren’t your boss, you’d say I must be out of my mind.”
“No, sir, ‘out of your fucking mind,’ sir.”
“Well, thank you for not saying that and—” turning to look at him, “for watching my back.”
Kouros nodded. “I spoke to the other Angel Club employees, but they gave me nothing.” A few seconds later he added, “So, Chief, did you get anything interesting tonight?”
Andreas gave him a sharp look, then a grin. “Cute, very cute. Yes, as a matter of fact I did. Our likely killers aren’t Greek, but probably from one of our Balkan neighbors. I think someone from one of the places she works set her up. She waitresses at coffee shops over by the Polytechnic University.” He pointed out the window.
“Those places where anarchists and communists merrily plot away together at creating their grand new world?”
Andreas nodded. “Yes, those. Never quite understood how anarchists and communists find common ground. One’s dead-set against government, other’s all for it.”
“That’s easy, Chief, they share the same public tit.”
“Now, now, Yianni, let’s not let our personal feelings enter into this.” Andreas was smiling.
“Yeah, you’re right, Chief, I should be honored at the opportunity to bust my ass at this job every day so that some asshole who passes a national exam can stay in university forever and the state pays for it, even if the bastard never passes a course or goes to a single class.” He was worked up, but then again, so were a lot of people on both sides of that issue.
“Yianni, whoa. Not all of them are like that.”
“Yeah, but I’m still paying for the ones who are…and the ones whose deep fucking thoughts get them thinking up new reasons to riot and throw rocks and Molotov cocktails at us.” He was squeezing the steering wheel. “Then they run back to their universities to hide, so we can’t grab their asses.”
That part bothered Andreas too. A law, enacted as the result of Greece’s experience under the dictatorship of 1967 to 1974, provided that police could not enter university grounds, no matter what the reason. Needless to say, a lot of folks, students and others, some literally wearing masks, took advantage of that sanctuary for many varied and at times violent criminal purposes. They’d do their business in cafés and bars bordering universities, then scoot like rabbits back to campus when police showed up. And they got away with it, just like the veteran of the 1973 demonstrations legend had, still living in the basement of the university where it all started, producing Molotov cocktails for new generations of demonstrators.
“Relax, we have to be nice to those guys. They’re our only chance of getting anywhere with this.”
Kouros squeezed the steering wheel twice more, then let out a breath. “So, what about Anna?”
“What do you mean, ‘What about Anna?’”
“Chief, she’s involved in the murder. Shouldn’t we bring her in?”
“And achieve what? Keep her locked up so she can’t get away? Fine, if we want a quick
“No, sir.”
Andreas looked at him. “For Christ’s sake, Yianni, say something.”
“She was the greatest piece of ass I ever saw, and you’re not the first cop to stumble.”
Andreas didn’t respond, just turned his head and looked out the side window. What was there to say? That he didn’t have sex, just listened to a hooker tell her life story? To a cop that would sound worse, at least dumber, than whatever Kouros was thinking. No one would believe him anyway. He couldn’t believe it himself.
“Besides, you’re my boss, what the hell do you want me to say? That ‘every crooked politician, influence peddler and bad guy in Greece would kill for proof of what you just did. You’d be their forever get-of-jail-free card. Or ruined.’”
Andreas nodded but kept looking out the window. “In other words, if I weren’t your boss, you’d say I must be out of my mind.”
“No, sir, ‘out of your fucking mind,’ sir.”
“Well, thank you for not saying that and—” turning to look at him, “for watching my back.”
Kouros nodded. “I spoke to the other Angel Club employees, but they gave me nothing.” A few seconds later he added, “So, Chief, did you get anything interesting tonight?”
Andreas gave him a sharp look, then a grin. “Cute, very cute. Yes, as a matter of fact I did. Our likely killers aren’t Greek, but probably from one of our Balkan neighbors. I think someone from one of the places she works set her up. She waitresses at coffee shops over by the Polytechnic University.” He pointed out the window.
“Those places where anarchists and communists merrily plot away together at creating their grand new world?”
Andreas nodded. “Yes, those. Never quite understood how anarchists and communists find common ground. One’s dead-set against government, other’s all for it.”
“That’s easy, Chief, they share the same public tit.”
“Now, now, Yianni, let’s not let our personal feelings enter into this.” Andreas was smiling.
“Yeah, you’re right, Chief, I should be honored at the opportunity to bust my ass at this job every day so that some asshole who passes a national exam can stay in university forever and the state pays for it, even if the bastard never passes a course or goes to a single class.” He was worked up, but then again, so were a lot of people on both sides of that issue.
“Yianni, whoa. Not all of them are like that.”
“Yeah, but I’m still paying for the ones who are…and the ones whose deep fucking thoughts get them thinking up new reasons to riot and throw rocks and Molotov cocktails at us.” He was squeezing the steering wheel. “Then they run back to their universities to hide, so we can’t grab their asses.”
That part bothered Andreas too. A law, enacted as the result of Greece’s experience under the dictatorship of 1967 to 1974, provided that police could not enter university grounds, no matter what the reason. Needless to say, a lot of folks, students and others, some literally wearing masks, took advantage of that sanctuary for many varied and at times violent criminal purposes. They’d do their business in cafés and bars bordering universities, then scoot like rabbits back to campus when police showed up. And they got away with it, just like the veteran of the 1973 demonstrations legend had, still living in the basement of the university where it all started, producing Molotov cocktails for new generations of demonstrators.
“Relax, we have to be nice to those guys. They’re our only chance of getting anywhere with this.”
Kouros squeezed the steering wheel twice more, then let out a breath. “So, what about Anna?”
“What do you mean, ‘What about Anna?’”
“Chief, she’s involved in the murder. Shouldn’t we bring her in?”
“And achieve what? Keep her locked up so she can’t get away? Fine, if we want a quick
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