His phone rang.

‘Alex, is it nice down there?’

‘Hi, Niki. All right, I suppose. I haven’t had a chance to see anything of the island except from the Learjet.’

There was a sigh. ‘I wish I’d been on a Learjet.’

‘OK, I’ll get them to send it for you tomorrow morning.’

‘Ha-ha. I miss you. Is there something wrong with that?’ Niki’s voice was wistful.

‘Er, no. I miss you too,’ he said, hurriedly. He did miss her, it was just that he hadn’t had a chance to think of her since he’d arrived.

‘Making any progress?’

‘It’s too early to say. I-’ He heard the bleep that indicated he had another call. ‘Shit, I’ve got to go. Sleep tight, my love.’ He pressed the button. ‘Hello?’

‘Mr Mavros, we’d be grateful if you could some to Ms Parks’ suite.’ Rosie Yellenberg’s voice was as hard-edged as before. ‘Immediately.’

Wonderful, Mavros thought. Then again, there were things he needed from his employers.

He suddenly had a vision of the old-fashioned record player his father had insisted on keeping for his Beethoven and Mahler. It had a great trumpet for a speaker and a label showing a dog listening to a picture of the same. His Master’s Voice, he remembered: except, in his case, it was His Mistresses’ Voices.

As he left the room, he realized how unimpressed Niki would have been by that thought.

This time the gorilla opened the door to Ms Parks’ accommodation without comment. Mavros walked into the living area to be confronted by more people than he had expected. Luke Jannet was sprawled in an armchair, a glass of some dark spirit in his hand. Behind him, perched on a dining chair sat Alice Quincy, an open laptop on her knees and a hands-free connection leading from her phone to her right ear. Cara Parks was at the end of the sofa where she had been sitting earlier, while Rosie Yellenberg was at the other. The atmosphere was icy, and not just because the air con was working hard.

‘It’s Philip Marlowe,’ the director said, proving that he wasn’t completely illiterate culturally. ‘Pull up a chair, man.’ It sounded like the drink wasn’t his first.

Mavros nodded to him, and then to the others. He sat down in an excessively comfortable armchair and immediately felt his presence, such as it was, diminished. He should have remained standing.

‘Hello, Alex,’ Cara Parks said hopefully. She looked like she’d been crying.

‘Give us a progress report, Mr Mavros,’ Rosie Yellenberg said, her lips hardly opening as she spoke. ‘This time we’re all staying to hear it.’

Mavros smiled and ran through what he had been doing. The producer said he would have the names of the crew members who had been driving the vehicles he had highlighted the next morning.

‘One of them was me,’ Jannet said, slurring his words. ‘Took some of the extras out for a night on the town.’

‘Young, female extras,’ Cara said, in a low voice.

The director raised his glass to her. ‘At least they’ve been doing what their contracts say — working.’

‘Have you spoken to the resort owner?’ Yellenberg asked.

‘Yes, he’s been helpful.’

‘Should be, considering what we’re paying,’ the producer said acidly. ‘What did he give you?’

It was time to draw a line in the sand, Mavros decided. ‘This isn’t how I work, Ms Yellenberg,’ he said. ‘Most of the information I dig up turns out to be useless. I’d be wasting your time and mine if I went through it all.’

She accepted that with ill grace.

‘You do what you have to do,’ Jannet said, his eyes hardening. ‘We’re giving you another two days.’

Mavros shrugged. ‘That’s up to you. In the meantime, what can you tell me about David Waggoner?’

‘That old-’

Yellenberg raised a hand to cut the director off. ‘Alice, give Mr Mavros a summary of the appropriate file.’

The director’s assistant’s fingers flew over her keyboard. ‘David Waggoner, Colonel, the Hussars, retired. Commanded a tank during the Battle of Crete, awarded the Military Cross. Escaped to Chora Sfakion and evacuated to Alexandria. Trained with SOE and landed by submarine near Treis Ekkliseies, November 4th 1941. Officer in command of Chania and environs until April 17th 1943, when he was sent back to Egypt with a shoulder wound. Returned by parachute-’

‘That isn’t what I want,’ Mavros interrupted — he could find the old soldier’s history easily in an online encyclopedia. ‘I meant, what impression do you have of him? He told me that he knows Ms Kondos by sight.’

Luke Jannet laughed loudly. ‘You think that pompous Brit got the hots for Maria and kidnapped her?’

‘No,’ Mavros answered bluntly, seeing Cara Parks smile out of the corner of his eye. ‘There seems to be some animosity between him and Mr Kersten. Could that have any bearing on the case?’

‘I don’t see how,’ Rosie Yellenberg said, turning to the actress. ‘Do you?’

Cara shook her head. ‘I’ve only spoken to Mr — what is it? Waggoner? — a couple of times. He told me about the Cretan women who got involved in the fighting. I don’t remember Maria ever saying more than “hello” or “goodbye” to him.’

‘If I might add something,’ Alice Quincy said, her cheeks reddening. ‘I did see Mr Waggoner and Maria next to each other in the queue for coffee and doughnuts on set one morning.’

‘Were they talking?’ Mavros asked.

‘I couldn’t say for sure,’ Alice answered. ‘I think they might have been.’

Mavros smiled at her. ‘Thank you.’

‘Anything else?’ Jannet said, getting to his feet unsteadily.

‘Not at this stage,’ Mavros said.

‘Well, I’m off for an early one,’ the director said. ‘Tomorrow we’re doing some aerial shots so don’t hit the dirt if a Messerschmitt comes over at head height.’ He headed for the door. Alice Quincy followed him with her head bowed, making Mavros wonder exactly what her duties included.

‘If you wouldn’t mind, Rosie,’ Cara Parks said, holding her gaze on the producer until she too withdrew. ‘Come and sit a bit closer, Alex.’

He did so. ‘Are they giving you a hard time?’

She nodded. ‘And my agent and my lawyer and. . oh, forget it. All I want is Maria back. I appreciate what you’re doing. Are there any other angles you could follow up on?’

‘I’d recommend that laminated posters with a recent photo of Maria are put up both in the resort and on the roads and villages in the surrounding area.’

‘Good idea. The technical guys can fix that. We should give a description and say when and where she was last seen, shouldn’t we? In Greek and English?’

Mavros was impressed by the speed of her thinking. ‘Yes. I’d advise offering a reward for information leading directly to her return as well. We’ll get a lot of scam artists, but they shouldn’t be too hard to rumble. There might be one person who saw or heard something important.’

‘How much?’ the actress asked.

‘Five thousand euros?’

‘Make it ten.’

‘OK.’

They spent five minutes constructing the text, Mavros translating it into Greek.

‘The photo?’ he asked.

‘I’ve got some in my laptop. I’ll find the best. Rosie can hand over all the material to the geeks.’

‘The hotel will be able to find people to put the posters up.’

‘Right.’ Cara Parks smiled, this time less tentatively. ‘You know your job, don’t you?’

He raised a hand. ‘You might not like what I’m about to ask you.’

‘Try me.’

‘The night of August 9th 2000, Mulholland Drive.’ Mavros watched her face. Her eyes widened, but she held his gaze.

‘You havebeen busy.’

‘Wonderful thing, the Internet.’

‘If you can sort the truth from the lies. What do you want to know?’

‘Was it usual for Maria to be driving your car?’

Cara was silent for a few moments. ‘Not exactly usual, no. It happened occasionally, still does.’

‘Would you care to tell me why she was driving it that particular night?’

The actress pursed her lips. ‘Sure. If you care to tell me what it has to do with Maria going missing on Crete. You think the dead boy’s gang hired an international assassin?’