The Green Lady Read Free Page A

and pastry, no negotiation.’ Yiorgos went back into the furnace to make the brew. He had leased a run-down café next to the ancient market for decades and Mavros had used it as a makeshift office, mainly because the coffee was the best he’d ever found in the city. The fact that the Fat Man had known both his father and brother also played a part.
    â€˜One
sketo
for the half-breed, one
varyglyko
for the chef.’
    â€˜That’s what you’re calling yourself now, is it?’ Mavros said, after gulping down a glass of water. ‘You should cut down on sugar. Your heart must be thundering like an elephant’s.’
    â€˜Then I’d get all bitter and twisted like you,’ Yiorgos said, straight-faced.
    â€˜Ha.’
    â€˜Where are you going?’
    â€˜Meeting a client.’
    â€˜Can I come?’
    Mavros headed for the door, grabbing his sunglasses. That was one of the problems with living in the Fat Man’s house. He was fascinated by Mavros’s business and was always trying to get involved. He had succeeded once, a few years back, and they had both almost lost their lives.
    â€˜No,’ Mavros said, over his shoulder. ‘I don’t want you scaring off the lady.’
    â€˜Oh, it’s a
lady
, is it? I wouldn’t want to cramp your style, Mr Cool-as-Michael-Caine-in-linen.’
    â€˜Besides, I’m just a parasite on the hide of the capitalists,’ Mavros said, parroting his friend’s standard gibe about his profession. ‘Turn on the TV. You’ll be able to abuse Greek athletes doing their best for their country.’
    â€˜Sport is—’
    â€˜The cocaine of the masses, I know. See you later.’
    â€˜Go to the bad,’ the Fat Man said, grinning.
    Mavros walked up to Ippokratous and caught the bus to the Acropolis. The shabby thoroughfare had been tarted up because the cycling road race would be passing down it. That meant private citizens had got low-interest loans from the city council to repaint their external walls. There were also flags and bunting all over the place, some of them a hangover from the Independence Day celebrations in March. Mavros saw a scrawny cat clawing its way though bags of rubbish in a dumpster. At least it was still alive. There were rumours that the city’s stray dogs had been rounded up and gassed, though the council denied it.
    The bus turned on to Akadhimias, heading for Syndagma Square. The neoclassical buildings of the national library, university and academy looked splendid, Mavros had to admit. He still harboured a deep love for Athens and there was no question that the Olympics had stimulated regeneration. But, looking at the elderly women in black and the skinny immigrant workers, he wondered how much of that regeneration was only on the surface. No, he wasn’t going to become the Fat Man. He still believed the Olympics would do more good than bad. Then a ticket inspector got on and started bullying an old man whose mind clearly wasn’t all there.
    â€˜This ticket hasn’t been cancelled,’ the official, a young man with slicked back hair said in an outraged voice. ‘You’ll have to pay a fine.’
    There were murmurs of dissent from the other passengers.
    â€˜Name?’ the inspector demanded, pen hovering over his penalty notice pad.
    Mavros went up to him. ‘There’s no need for that,’ he said. ‘Can’t you see the old gentleman’s confused?’
    â€˜That’s what they all say. Besides, this is none of your business.’
    Mavros caught his gaze and held it. ‘Leave . . . him . . . alone,’ he said, moving closer.
    â€˜You can’t threaten a public—’
    The young man’s eyes sprang wide open as Mavros grabbed his groin.
    â€˜I’m not threatening anyone, sonny. Just let him off and see how popular you’ll be.’ He squeezed harder.
    â€˜Very well,’ the official said, his