Hearts of Stone by Simon Scarrow

head.
    ‘A treat?’ Thesskoudis grinned. ‘And what would that be, my friend?’
    Katarides folded his hands together again. ‘I have hired Yannis Stavakis and his fishing boat. He will take us out to the islands tomorrow. I thought a final excursion would leave a favourable impression on Dr Muller, Herr Steiner and young Peter. Sufficient to tempt them back to Lefkas in due course. The cook has prepared food for the trip. It was my intention to make a day of it. And now, thanks to my dear Andreas, we will have one more crew member than I anticipated.’
    Andreas stirred uncomfortably at the barbed remark and there was a brief silence before the policeman clapped his hands together.
    ‘Capital idea! A boating trip. Why not?’
    ‘I thought you would approve,’ Katarides responded with a quick smile, then stood up and faced his guests. ‘It is late. Given that we shall be starting early, an early night is called for. I hope you will join me tomorrow on the quay at seven in the morning. Now, I am afraid, it is time to bid you all a good night.’

Chapter Seven
     
    Y annis Stavakis was sitting stroking his white beard while sitting on a mooring post and smoking a cigarette when his passengers arrived in two cars and parked them on the side of the street opposite the quay. His boat, Athena , was tied up alongside. She was one of the largest fishing boats in the harbour, over twelve metres from bow strake to stern post. A small pilot house rose from the weathered timbers of the deck and a large covered hold for the catch and nets took up most of the main deck ahead of the mast. Usually Stavakis sailed with a teenage boy to help, but this day he was intending to use the engine. His was one of a handful of powered craft amongst the fishing fleet and Stavakis maintained and spoiled his engine as if it was a delicate child. Even though he begrudged paying for fuel when he could get wind for nothing he delighted in the steady vibration of the engine and was content to charge Katarides more than sufficient to cover the cost of the diesel as well as the hire of his boat.
    As it was early in the day the air was still and the sea glassy and smooth and the dawn haze almost obscured the shore of the mainland. The rest of the fleet had departed hours earlier, at the first sign of light, to reach their fishing grounds. Stavakis drew heavily on his cigarette, making it flare with a soft hiss, then flicked the butt into the harbour. He stood up and bowed as Katarides approached with his party.
    ‘A fine morning, your honour.’
    It was universally known amongst the islanders that the poet from Athens came from a wealthy family, and more importantly, his writing had won widespread acclaim. Not that many on Lefkas had read his work. And so he was spoken to with a measure of sentimental respect by those who knew him slightly, even if he preferred to be called Mr Katarides.
    ‘That it is, Stavakis. Is your craft ready?’
    ‘Aye, your honour. Welcome aboard.’ He waved them towards the edge of the quay where the deck of the boat was a short step down. Peter quickly went first and reached out a hand to help Eleni. She smiled gratefully and went to sit on the small foredeck. The others climbed down, with Andreas carrying the hamper that held the day’s supply of food and drink. Stavakis indicated a small cupboard at the stern.
    ‘You can put it in there, sir.’
    Besides the poet, his son, Dr Muller and Peter, there was Eleni and her father. His wife had refused to come, having no liking at all for boats.
    ‘It is a shame that Herr Steiner could not join us,’ said Katarides.
    ‘Yes, quite,’ Karl Muller replied. ‘There were some final details that needed attending to. Paperwork, that sort of thing. I thought it best to ask Heinrich to deal with it rather than rush at the last moment.’
    ‘That is a pity. I dare say he would rather be with us than stuck in the house dealing with such details.’
    ‘I dare say,’ Muller