‘Or maybe they reckoned he was clean.’

‘What is he?’ the Fat Man demanded ‘Your new best friend?’

Mavros held back from mentioning the money he’d earned from the German.

‘No, but I’ve met him and he doesn’t strike me as a hypocrite, never mind the type that has his nose up the press magnates’ arses. There’s a look in his eyes-’

‘Oh, there’s a look in his eyes,’ Yiorgos said snidely. ‘A look that your hypersensitive antennae picked up, suggesting he never did anything wrong in his life. Despite being on the Eastern Front for over three years.’

‘You finished? Did you get anything else on Waggoner?’

The Fat Man paused. ‘I did actually,’ he said dramatically, like a magician pulling a halibut out of a hat. ‘I talked to one of the old comrades who was on Crete during the occupation. He said that Waggoner was a crazy man, always pushing for the most dangerous sabotage raids. It seems he was wounded during the original battle. The Germans took him to Athens for surgery — strangely decent of them — and some months later he escaped from a train in Yugoslavia, before getting himself sent back to Crete.’

‘A man on a mission.’

‘Looks that way. He was a hard-line anti-Communist as well, like most of the British agents, and our people suspected him of “disappearing” several EAM operatives.’ EAM had been the National Liberation Front, which was largely under Communist control. ‘Of course, we never had much influence in Crete. They have their own ideology down there.’

‘I’ve noticed. What’s this about Cyprus?’

‘I found that on one of the far-right sites so I don’t know how accurate it is, but they say he was in charge of a British undercover execution squad in the late Fifties, before independence. Several innocent citizens, including a young lad of seventeen, were left in the street with their brains blown out. Eventually Waggoner got thrown out for being too much of a headcase even for the occupiers.’

Mavros wondered about that. Could it be that the former SOE man had a worse past than the German he’d accused?

‘OK, Yiorgo, I’ll go through what you’ve sent. Thanks.’

‘Oh, it’s “thanks” now, is it? Well get this, weird eye. I made a galaktobourekoand it’s even better than the old woman’s.’

Mavros had a saliva rush. ‘Save me a couple of pieces.’

The Fat Man laughed. ‘What makes you think there are any pieces left?’

Mavros cut the connection and continued scrolling down the attachments. There was an article from one of the Chania provincial papers about the house Waggoner had built outside Kornaria — it had dark stone floors and was very Spartan, which wasn’t a major surprise. There were also several pieces saying how popular the ex-soldier was, acting as godfather to numerous villagers’ children. His exploits during the war were described in heroic terms — Waggoner had led plenty of ambushes on German patrols and was said to have personally killed over thirty of the enemy.

Mavros was interrupted by his phone.

‘This is Cara. I need you.’ The words were simple, but the tone less so. Mavros picked up more than a hint of flirtation. ‘I’m in my suite.’

‘And I’m in the middle of something,’ he said. ‘Give me a few minutes, please.’

‘All right,’ the actress replied, less silkily.

Mavros called Niki. He had to wait for her to answer.

‘Hello?’

‘Oh, shit, were you asleep?’

‘It has been known to happen at this time of day.’

‘Sorry.’ Niki didn’t often take a siesta, but she was never delighted to be woken from one. ‘I’m not sure what I’ll be up to later in the evening.’

There was a rapid intake of breath. ‘If you go near any Hollywood actresses, your dick is doomed.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ve found the missing woman. I should be home soon.’

‘Oh. Well done. Are they appropriately grateful?’

‘I’m supposed to be going out with the director and his people.’

‘Would they include one Cara Parks?’ Niki asked.

‘Don’t know. Look, her assistant is in a bit of a state. She’s not talking and she may have been mistreated. I think Cara. . I mean, Ms Parks has got other things on her mind.’

Niki instantly picked up on the vagueness in his voice. ‘I’m so sorry to hear that. I hope she’s not too upset.’ Her voice hardened and rose in volume. ‘And doesn’t need consoling, especially from a man she only met the day before yesterday.’

‘Love you, dearest,’ Mavros said. ‘Got to go.’ She wouldn’t like that rapid exit, but he had a lot on his mind — not least, the growing sense that finding Maria Kondos had opened several large and evil-smelling Pandora’s Boxes.

‘How is Maria?’

Cara Parks, seated in her usual place on the sofa and wearing a short denim skirt and multicoloured silk blouse, looked at him uncertainly. ‘To tell you the truth, I’m not sure,’ she replied, beckoning him to join her and pointing to the tray of drinks on the table. ‘Give me a vodka tonic, will you? Two of the former to one of the latter, a single rock.’

Mavros obliged and poured himself a shot of Wild Turkey.

‘The doctor. . how do you pronounce his name?’

‘Stavrakakis,’ he said, raising his glass.

‘Cheers, and thanks, Alex. I really appreciate what you’ve done. Anyway, the doctor says the tests are all clear. She hasn’t sustained any head or internal injuries. She hasn’t been raped or anything like that.’

‘Great.’

‘Yeah, but she’s obviously suffered some pretty major psychological damage.’

‘She still isn’t talking? Not even to you?’

Cara Parks looked down. ‘No. I’m just back from the clinic. She turned her head to the wall. The last person I saw do that was my grandfather. He’d had chemotherapy too many times and he wanted it all to end.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Mavros watched her eyes. ‘Do you know anything about Kornaria, the village she escaped from?’

‘Only what you told me earlier.’ The reply was quick. ‘Why? Is it a nest of perverts as well as being Dopeville, Crete?’

‘Not that I know of. Stavrakakis seems like a competent type. I’m sure they’ll have English-speaking shrinks on hand.’

Cara nodded. ‘They do. But-’

There was the sound of voices in the hall. Luke Jannet came in unsteadily, followed by Alice Quincy and Rosie Yellenberg. Presumably the gorilla had admitted them.

‘Two little love birds. . how does that song go?’ the director said, heading for the drinks tray.

Alice and Rosie exchanged a glance and shook their heads.

‘So, Mavros,’ Jannet said, raising a highball glass full of Glenfiddich, ‘whatcha think of the airplanes?’

‘They were cool. Glad I wasn’t on the ground when the 109s’ bullets were real.’

The director laughed. ‘That’s what the old Brit said.’

‘Waggoner? He was wounded during the battle.’

‘Is that right? I heard he took plenty of Krauts out later.’

Mavros sipped his drink. ‘Still, making a film’s not the same as being in a war.’

There was a prolonged silence, broken by Cara Parks.

‘Luke, Maria’s still not talking.’

‘I heard that from Rosie. She’ll come round.’ Jannet’s face tightened. ‘You telling me you’re not going to show up tomorrow? Jesus, Cara, it’s the fucking massacre scene.’

Rosie Yellenberg, who had confined herself to a small glass of red wine, intervened. ‘I’ve spoken to Cara, Luke. She will be on set tomorrow.’

‘Well, thank Christ for that,’ the director said, emptying his glass. ‘Come on, we’re all going into Chania. There’s a restaurant on the harbour-front that does ace lobster.’

Mavros glanced at Cara.

‘I want to talk to Alex,’ the actress said. ‘We’ll find you later.’

Jannet raised an eye and grinned. ‘OK, you two do what ya gotta do. Come on, ladies. I get the feeling we’re cramping their style.’

‘Asshole,’ Cara said, after the trio had left.

Mavros raised his shoulders. ‘I’ve worked for worse.’

The actress held her glass out. ‘Same again, bartender. Have a refill yourself.’