CHAPTER SEVEN
Theo Petrakis looked out into a small sea of faces. He had a lot of experience with the press and knew many of the correspondents personally, but he had rarely given press conferences. This was the most high profile case he had handled to date. Not the most important, but the most public. Usually the work of Interpol agents was conducted in anonymity and most of his colleagues preferred this. He adjusted his Boucheron cuff links and shrugged his shoulders comfortably into his tailor made suit. He had had the opportunity to have several made recently on assignment in Hong Kong. The quality was absolutely worth the time and effort to have it done.
"I have time for just one more question. John, from the BBC, go ahead." He spoke perfect English with just a hint of a Greek accent.
The senior correspondent came respectfully to his feet.
"Thank you lieutenant. Firstly, could you tell us if the operation came about as a result of a tip off, and if so, could you reveal to us the source. Secondly, can you tell us the scale of the operation and how many human organs were involved. That is to say, how many people would have had to die as a result of this shipment alone?"
"No, certainly not, no and not yet. And that was four questions, not one." He gave a friendly nod to the correspondent and then raised both hands over the pack of reporters like a Roman emperor. There was a buzz of confusion as they backtracked to link his short answers to the questions the BBC had put.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is all we have time for. I thank you very much for your time today and will let you know when we are ready to brief you again."
Mirielle Demonique watched Theo Petrakis closely from behind. She was dressed in an impeccable hand tailored business suit. She was petite, blonde, with fine features and a smooth lilting voice that swayed with southern French tones. No-one that knew her mistook this for either weakness or friendliness. The head of Interpol was a woman of ambition from the very best schools of France. Her degrees in law and economics from the Grande Ecoles and Harvard Business School meant that she could have chosen any career she wanted. International Law Enforcement had been her choice. She leaned over to the tall pink-faced plain looking Englishman next to her, Nigel Grimsby and whispered into his ear.
"He is a natural with the press, don't you think?"
Nigel looked mildly irritated.
"Loves the sound of his own voice a little too much I would say." Nigel was head of Europol and like Mirielle Demonique, despite his appearance of mediocrity and infectivity, no one who worked with him mistook this for anything other than the most superficial of impressions. Unlike Mirielle however, Nigel had not come from the Etonian halls of British education. He was a man of the people who had worked his way to the top of his profession from the streets of Islington. A career policeman who liked to get into the details of cases even now from his remote position in The Hague.
Theo turned from the crowd and smiled at his two superiors.
"One more question Lieutenant, was it really necessary to cause a bloodbath in order to break this trafficking ring?"
Theo stopped and turned to see who had asked the question. All heads in the conference pack had turned to look at one young American woman, casually dressed, neat blonde hair and fine, intelligent features.
"I mean, how many dead? Seventeen people? Was this a planned sting operation or a mass execution?"
The media pack was in silence. No-one seemed to know the young reporter.
"What media source do you represent?" Theo was still relaxed, but the young woman had intrigued him. Before she could answer Mirielle stepped in front of her star employee and gave a frosty glare to the reporter.
"There are no more questions thank you."
The pack broke out into noise again as Mirielle hustled Theo away.
"Mais Mirielle, c'est quoi le problem?"
"Silly little Americaine. She should look to her own country first where the death penalty is so popular."
"How do you know she was American?"
"What does it matter? She is one of these who worries about the human rights of the criminal and not the victim She has no idea what you have been through to make these arrests and to free these people. This operation is the biggest of its kind in the world. This is a serious interruption to the trade routes of this vile modern slave trade. Who cares how many of them have died fighting to bring people to slavery and death. This is seventeen less evil people in our world today."
They stepped into the custom built bullet proof Mercedes that would take them back to the colonnaded glass and steel Headquarters of Interpol on the quai Charles de Gaulle. Mirielle nodded to the driver and he raised the blacked out partition between the front and back seats. As soon as they had privacy she reached over to Lieutenant Petrakis and placed one slender hand between his legs. He reached out to her but she pushed his hands back.
"How many poor slave traders did you have to kill Lieutenant Petrakis, to save those dirty child sex slaves?" She imitated the young reporter with an exaggerated whine. Theo smiled.
"You know she's right of course you bad boy. Seventeen is a record, even for you." Mirielle grinned as she sank lower into Theo's lap. It would take at least thirty minutes to reach the quai Charles de Gaule. Theo sat back into the plush seats and relaxed.
"Wait stop!" He banged urgently on the partition, Mirielle hurriedly raised her head as the partition slid down. "Henri, please stop the car, pull over here."
"Theo, what is it?"
"I just saw someone I used to know."
The car pulled over and Theo jumped out. A man about his own age was sitting by the side of the road with sign that read 'will work for food'. He looked up at the well dressed agent without recognition.
"Herve, don't you recognize me?" The man seemed too dazed to register the question. "Come with me, you don't look well, what has happened to you?"
Still Herve did not register. Theo tried to pick him up but the man resisted.
"Who are you? Take your hands off me."
Theo let him go. "Herve..."
The man sat back down onto the cold pavement. Theo took out his wallet and emptied it of bills. The homeless man stared at the money as Theo held out his hand.
"Take it. Go on." There were about 200 Euro The man snatched at the bills but Theo drew back. "The money is yours but you have to take this too. It's my number. Call me." He pushed the bills and the phone number into the man's hands. "I have to go Herve, but I will be back. I know you. A bientot." He walked back to the car.
"Who was that?" Mirielle was not happy about her interrupted advance.
"Someone I went to school with. I cannot believe my eyes. He was brilliant, a good person, talented. I can't imagine what has happened to him."
"Leave it for later." Mirielle said softly. The partition had been raised again. Her hands sought him out as the car pulled away. Her head went low again as Theo turned to take one last look at his old friend.
Just a few hours later the lovers were on Santorini looking out over the caldera from the balcony of Theo's luxury apartment on the island. Their liaisons had to be clandestine, not because of spouses or partners but because of their professional relationship. They had promised themselves this break for months and now that it had come they were determined to take it. Even if it was only for a few hours. Theo looked out over the glittering sea as the beautiful Mirielle sipped coffee next to him. Both wore thick white bath robes.
"Have you ever been to Ireland?" Theo said.
Mirielle nodded her beautiful head. "Not yet." She said.
"Such a pity it is a crime that will take me back to that beautiful country. And so soon after our success here in Europe."
"It never stops, Theo. You know that. Besides, it's your specialty." Her large eyes peered over the wide brim of her coffee cup. "Skin."
"I know, what a shame. They have been lucky until now."
"Well, maybe you haven't been in the loop quite as much lately, with your time off and being in the far east." Her voice had a captivating musicality that Theo loved.
"Oh really? Why? What has been happening?"
"Or maybe Europol has just been too slow, as usual." Theo worked for both agencies with direct responsibility to Europol and the Interpol hierarchy above that.
A mocking smile crossed Mirielle’s lips. "You really should forget this Europol thing and come back to work directly for us again."
"Come on, don't be such a tease. Tell me what you know. You are supposed to be briefing me Mirielle. Or do you want me to make you tell me?"
She smiled again.
"Sure. Go ahead and make me." She put down the coffee cup and sat back into the chair allowing her bath robe to fall open. "If you can." Theo checked his watch.
"You know I have to be on a plane in under an hour."
She allowed the robe to fall open a little more. "You had better be busy then. And you had better be good."
He reached out to take her by the wrist but she pulled her hand quickly away.
"I don't know Theo, you know that information is never free. It will need to be very good this time or you can rely on Nigel for what you need to know."
"Mirielle..." he pleaded.
She smiled seductively at him. "Go on. Leave me. Enjoy your time with the English pork sausage." She briskly turned her head away, snapping a copy of Le Monde open in front of her face.
Theo sat for a moment. He had no time for this. But on the other hand, he couldn't afford to be without Mirielle's information. What she chose to reveal was invariably better than the inter-intelligence communiqués where one agency often hid detail from another in order to maintain tactical advantage. Their casual, consensual, informal and strictly forbidden exchanges of secret intelligence had been the secret of their remarkable successes for years, even when Mirielle had been a junior intelligence officer.
It also helped that she was like a super model in looks and build. Even for international playboy Theo Petrakis Mirielle was something special.
What the hell, if satisfying her one more time meant arriving an hour or two later in Ireland than planned, well, it was the price he would have to pay.
His phone, buzzed on the glass surface of the breakfast table. He eyed it with irritation. He had been ignoring calls from his bank for weeks. There was always something more important to do than talk with an officious little bureaucrat Most of them were criminals anyway that he would perhaps one day enjoy putting behind bars.
Looking at the pouting and seductive Mirielle, he could think of no reason to answer the call today either.
He pulled the newspaper down into her lap and smiled, raised a single eyebrow, Roger Moore style.
"You don't even know what you have gotten yourself into little cat!" He growled. Mirielle screeched like a schoolgirl and let the chase begin.
Several hours later, but miraculously on time, thanks to a personal friend with a pilot license, Theo was in the Phoenix Park Headquarters of the Irish Police Force, An Garda Siochana. One of the few unarmed forces in the world, they had the utmost regard of the European superstar policeman; fighting a tidal wave of international organized crime with only their bare hands, hopelessly outnumbered, out-gunned and underfunded, technology from the stone age, forensics from the middle ages.
"Who are you?" The liaison officer asked.
"I am Theo Petrakis. Europol. " He showed the officer his badge.
"What can we do for you Theo?"
"Show me the crime scene."
"Nothing to see, all cleaned up already, samples taken and sent to forensics."
The rush to the airport had been a waste of time. The crime occurred less than 10 hours ago so it was unusual that things should have been wrapped up so quickly.
"The samples are here in Phoenix Park?"
"Where else?"
"Anything back yet?"
"Nothing yet."
"OK. This is a pity, I would have liked to see the scene myself. Call the morgue and let them know I will be there shortly."
"The morgue will be closed by now. Will tomorrow do?"
"Can you take me there yourself?"
The big policeman looked at his watch. Theo followed the glance down to the Garda's left hand.
"He'll still be there tomorrow. The state he's in I wouldn't worry about it.
Local office employees, pen-pushers, desk-monkeys. Rarely helpful. Theo thought dismissively. It was an old story.
"That's a nice tattoo. Where did you get it?" He asked.
The Garda was surprised. There was a small inscription just visible between his thumb and forefinger.
"Holiday in Macau."
"Do you know what it means?"
"Nah. Just a souvenir of a good time. I think it means lucky or something."
"You could say that. The first character is a negative particle meaning 'not'."
"'Not'?"
"The second character means lucky."
The Garda was confused for a moment before he put the two words together. A look of anger crossed his face.
"Don't blame the messenger." Theo smiled. He left without telling him that the last character meant 'easy to anger'.
Vlakas. Idiot. Another clueless vlaka with too much ink. He thought.
Theo decided to go to the crime scene first and alone rather than bargaining for an escort to be arranged or worse, being refused until the following morning. The co-ordinates of the location on his smart phone took him to the back of the Sunnyvale estate outside of Darklow Town, Co. Wickford. He knew the details of the crime and supposed that the body had been dumped over the wall from the forested area behind. There were footprints in the soft muddy grass but that was all. No broken branches, no evidence of a struggle, even of the effort to lift a body over the wall. Only lots of boot prints of the Garda variety. He circled around the back of the estate, staying close to the perimeter wall. Eventually the ground rose a little higher to a spot where it was easy to climb over and here he entered the supposedly secure estate.
The crime scene was directly on the other side of the wall and as the Garda Liaison officer had pointed out, there was very little to see. On the other side there was indeed little left by way of evidence. Once again there was no sign of a fight. Either the mystery man had been well secured before being murdered, or he was long dead before he arrived in Sunnyvale. Or maybe there was another reason. Theo always kept an open mind. But why leave him inside the wall? Were the gangsters just stupid? Or was there a reason? If they had left the body outside in the woods it could have been weeks or even months or years before anyone found it. Why specifically inside?
He made himself ready to leave the estate.
"Hey you!" An angry voice challenged him.
Two burly and very agitated men ran up to him, boxing him in on either side.
"Where the fuck do you think you're going?"