tiles were cracked and the floor dirty; the space exuded an atmosphere of deep melancholy. There was no reception and no one answered his call, so he followed the only corridor which had any lights on and by good fortune, at the end of it, was a door bearing the name of Professor Andraki. He knocked and went in.
Inside, sitting either side of a desk, were Andraki and a man with close cropped white hair. He was good looking with ayoungish face marred by a damaged right ear and deep worry lines. Andraki introduced him as Doctor Steve Watkins, an English archaeologist working at the university. He was clearly anxious that Watkins should leave the room before the police business commenced so after shaking hands he ushered him to the door. Theodrakis sensed Professor Andraki was uneasy; his hands shook and his breath carried the distinct aroma of aniseed, which indicated he’d already hit the raki.
“You must forgive me, Syntagmatarchis Theodrakis, but I do not feel well and I don’t think that I can be of any more help in this business. You must understand I am an academic, which is why I was first consulted, I have given all the help I can, I have a family you understand.”
Theodrakis didn’t understand, but knew if he remained silent Andraki would continue to talk and give him time to consider how to best steer the conversation. As he expected, after a pause, Andraki rattled on.
“Now things are becoming too much: there is Vassilis telling me I must give more interesting work to that Englishman as well as being made to be a part of these murders, and all because I supplied some helpful information.”
He came to a stop and sat in his high backed chair looking like a frightened child. Theodrakis found himself pitying the man as he continued to struggle his way through the broken narrative which obviously caused him so much anxiety.
“Listen, please, Syntagmatarchis, you must believe me, I must have been a little crazy when I told the police what I had observed at those sites. I think I am a little crazy, unwell, I cannot sleep, please, you are obviously an educated man, get them to leave me alone.”
Theodrakis used this plea as his cue.
“Professor, believe me, I am no happier to be here doing this than you are; by the way do I detect from your accent that you too are Athenian?”
“Yes, and I wish that I was still there, but you understand the way the Greek education bureaucracy works, we get moved around just like you.”
“Well, we Athenians must stick together. Listen, you tell mewhat you can to help me and I’ll do what I can to keep you out of this mess.”
“Including from that animal, Samarakis?”
“Especially from him.”
“Do I have any other choice?”
“No you don’t really have any other choice, Professor; but I think that I could persuade them that all further contact comes through me. I am sure they would agree to that, but I would need a clear understanding of what your observations actually mean and you are the only person who can give me that.”
So in this way, Theodrakis came to hear how Professor Andraki got himself tangled up in the investigation.
“When they discovered the first body, I was looking at some Neolithic burials near the Geometric period burial site in Pythagoreio. One morning I saw that one of the larger grave sites had been disturbed: well, more than disturbed, it had been vandalised, not just robbed, an attempt had been made to damage it, to desecrate it, you understand? Why do that after all these thousands of years?
“I was angry of course, and a little confused, but there wasn’t much I could do so I just filed a report and put it out of my mind. Then a few weeks later, and I am sure you can see where this is going Syntagmatarchis, one of our post graduate survey teams contacted me. Another site from the same period had been similarly desecrated. A site that is unique on the island or anywhere else for that matter. We’d kept this site a close secret
Inside, sitting either side of a desk, were Andraki and a man with close cropped white hair. He was good looking with ayoungish face marred by a damaged right ear and deep worry lines. Andraki introduced him as Doctor Steve Watkins, an English archaeologist working at the university. He was clearly anxious that Watkins should leave the room before the police business commenced so after shaking hands he ushered him to the door. Theodrakis sensed Professor Andraki was uneasy; his hands shook and his breath carried the distinct aroma of aniseed, which indicated he’d already hit the raki.
“You must forgive me, Syntagmatarchis Theodrakis, but I do not feel well and I don’t think that I can be of any more help in this business. You must understand I am an academic, which is why I was first consulted, I have given all the help I can, I have a family you understand.”
Theodrakis didn’t understand, but knew if he remained silent Andraki would continue to talk and give him time to consider how to best steer the conversation. As he expected, after a pause, Andraki rattled on.
“Now things are becoming too much: there is Vassilis telling me I must give more interesting work to that Englishman as well as being made to be a part of these murders, and all because I supplied some helpful information.”
He came to a stop and sat in his high backed chair looking like a frightened child. Theodrakis found himself pitying the man as he continued to struggle his way through the broken narrative which obviously caused him so much anxiety.
“Listen, please, Syntagmatarchis, you must believe me, I must have been a little crazy when I told the police what I had observed at those sites. I think I am a little crazy, unwell, I cannot sleep, please, you are obviously an educated man, get them to leave me alone.”
Theodrakis used this plea as his cue.
“Professor, believe me, I am no happier to be here doing this than you are; by the way do I detect from your accent that you too are Athenian?”
“Yes, and I wish that I was still there, but you understand the way the Greek education bureaucracy works, we get moved around just like you.”
“Well, we Athenians must stick together. Listen, you tell mewhat you can to help me and I’ll do what I can to keep you out of this mess.”
“Including from that animal, Samarakis?”
“Especially from him.”
“Do I have any other choice?”
“No you don’t really have any other choice, Professor; but I think that I could persuade them that all further contact comes through me. I am sure they would agree to that, but I would need a clear understanding of what your observations actually mean and you are the only person who can give me that.”
So in this way, Theodrakis came to hear how Professor Andraki got himself tangled up in the investigation.
“When they discovered the first body, I was looking at some Neolithic burials near the Geometric period burial site in Pythagoreio. One morning I saw that one of the larger grave sites had been disturbed: well, more than disturbed, it had been vandalised, not just robbed, an attempt had been made to damage it, to desecrate it, you understand? Why do that after all these thousands of years?
“I was angry of course, and a little confused, but there wasn’t much I could do so I just filed a report and put it out of my mind. Then a few weeks later, and I am sure you can see where this is going Syntagmatarchis, one of our post graduate survey teams contacted me. Another site from the same period had been similarly desecrated. A site that is unique on the island or anywhere else for that matter. We’d kept this site a close secret
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