Jeffrey Siger_Andreas Kaldis 02 by Assassins of Athens Page B

between Greece’s past and present generation of leaders, Marios seemed tense. Andreas took that to mean he was about to unload on them for keeping him waiting.
    “Chief Kaldis?” It was the voice millions knew. “I could tell it was you from where you parked.” It sounded like sarcasm, but might be a joke.
    Andreas treated it as humor. “You mean I don’t look like my photograph?” Andreas smiled and extended his hand.
    Marios did not smile but did shake hands. “Yes, your minister was kind enough to fax me a photograph of you.”
    And probably a copy of his official personnel file. This guy had access to practically everyone and everything he wanted. “Sir, this is officer Kouros.”
    They shook hands.
    “I would have preferred meeting elsewhere,” he waved his hands, “somewhere less public but…well…you’ll see.” Marios pointed to a broad steel and glass staircase leading to a mezzanine lined with floor-to-ceiling windows. “Let’s go up there.”
    The actual steps, thirty-five of them plus a landing halfway, seemed the only wood in the place. No question that steel, glass, and light were the principal design elements here and presented a decidedly modern contrast to what Andreas expected. Then again, Andreas didn’t know what to expect.
    Marios held Andreas’ arm as they walked. He gestured toward Kouros with his head. “What I have to say is very private and off the record.”
    “Officer Kouros and I work together. If it’s something involving police work he will know anyway.” He looked Marios straight in the eyes. “If it involves something else, I’m not the person to talk to at the ministry.” If this was about making Andreas one of Marios’ “unofficial official” sources, they may as well have it out right now. It was guys like this who did in his father.
    Marios stared back. “I heard you’re a hard-ass.” He let out a breath. “Okay, have it your way, but if word about what I’m about to tell you gets out, there will be hell to pay for all of us.”
    This guy sure knew how to sell. He’s about to pump me for information and makes it sound like it’s the other way around. “I understand, sir, there will be no problem.”
    Marios nodded. “Fine, just so you know it.” He made no effort to make Andreas feel comfortable in “his” presence, such as by saying, “just call me Marios.”
    At the mezzanine they turned left and entered a dark room lined with television monitors along the tops of the left and right walls. Marios said this was where visitors were told what was about to happen inside the dome.
    “When do we learn?” asked Andreas.
    “Soon.” Again, no smile. Marios led them inside the sphere.
    Eight semicircular rows of airplane-style seats descended to the base of the sphere. The screen rose up from the floor in front of the bottom row and seemed to envelope everything but the seats themselves. Marios pointed to two seats, dead center, in the next-to-top row. Each seat arm contained controls allowing the audience to vote during the course of the video on the direction the presentation should take. A bit of democracy in action in the telling of the tale of its birthplace. But the three of them had the theater to themselves and there was no doubt in Andreas’ mind that this would be all Marios’ show.
    Marios sat in a seat two rows below and directly in front of them. He turned sideways to face them. “I want you to watch something, but before it starts you need some background.” He paused for a moment, as if collecting his thoughts. “Well, we all know about the terrible tragedy that befell the Kostopoulos family.”
    No beating around the bush for this guy, thought Andreas. Better be careful; there might be microphones hidden somewhere.
    “And I’m sure you think I brought you here to pump you for information about that.”
    Andreas was expressionless.
    “Of course you would, but I assure you that’s not why I brought you here. I don’t want to