‘Come, dearest,’ Hildegard said, getting to her feet. ‘You are tired. Leave the young ones to their contemplation of the night’s beauty.’

Rudolf Kersten stood up slowly, his shoulders slumped. ‘And tomorrow, Ms Parks, you film the massacre, I understand.’

Cara nodded, her expression sombre. ‘I’m not looking forward to it.’

‘Ah, but you must give of your best,’ the old man said, his face animated. ‘You will give hope to all oppressed people, you will inspire the cause of freedom around the world.’

The actress, now also on her feet, looked humbled. ‘I will try,’ she said.

‘Goodnight, Alex,’ Rudolf said. ‘Come to see us before you leave.’

Mavros nodded, finding himself almost moved to bow before the old man’s nobility of spirit.

‘You won’t be on set tomorrow?’ Cara asked.

‘He most certainly will not,’ Hildegard said, her chin jutting. ‘There are some memories he cannot live through again.’

Mavros was reluctant, but there was a question he had to ask.

‘The rakiand the waiter, which village do they come from?’

Rudolf Kersten gave him a direct look. ‘Makrymari,’ he replied. ‘Where the massacre the film is recreating took place.’

Mavros and Cara watched the old couple move slowly up the path towards the hotel. Neither of them had anything to say.

Shortly afterwards, Mavros’s phone rang.

‘Hey, private eye, where the fuck are you?’ Luke Jannet sounded like he’d consumed a barrel of Crete’s finest. ‘You gettin’ it on with Twin Peaks?’

‘No.’

‘Well, get your asses over here. I’ve kept you a couple of creatures with claws.’ He guffawed. ‘And I don’t mean Rosie and Alice.’

Mavros put his hand over the phone and looked at Cara. ‘Jannet wants us to join them in Chania.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Tell him I’m learning my lines.’

He relayed the message, then had a thought. ‘Mr Jannet, would it be possible for me to postpone my departure for a day or two?’

There was a long pause. ‘And why would you want to do that, my man?’

‘A couple of things to tie up. Besides, I’d like to see the massacre shoot that everyone’s talking about.’

As he’d suspected, that appealed to the director’s self-importance. ‘Well, if that’s the case, why not? We should be finished the run-throughs by lunchtime, so get yourself to the set by two p.m.’

‘The set in Makrymari?’

Jannet laughed. ‘Shit, no. We built our own village. The locals weren’t too keen on going through another mass shooting, even a staged one. All the drivers know where it is.’ The director rang off.

‘Let’s go,’ Cara said, getting up. ‘I really do have to look over my lines.’

Mavros signalled to the waiter, but he said that everything was on Mr Kersten.

As they walked back up the path, the actress took Mavros’s arm. ‘You don’t like me very much, do you, Alex?’

He turned to her. ‘No, I don’t. I mean, yes, I do. Shit. It’s irrelevant what I think. You’re one of my clients.’

She laughed. ‘Who said anything about thinking?’ She squeezed his arm. ‘Don’t you do feeling in this country? I thought Greeks were demonstrative and led by their emotions.’

‘I’m only half Greek, remember. The other part is a cold Scottish loch.’

‘A what?’

‘Loch. As in the Loch Ness Monster?’

‘Oh, a lock.’ She giggled. ‘Didn’t that rakiwarm you up?’ She managed to mispronounce the spirit too.

‘Oh yeah,’ he replied. ‘But the massacre talk froze me to the core.’

‘So why are you coming to the shoot?’

‘Good question. Maybe I just want to see you play a freedom fighter in a black dress.’

‘Is that right?’ They had reached the hotel entrance. ‘How about a nightcap?’

Mavros was tempted, but he had things to do and Niki to consider.

‘No, thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Cara took the rejection in her stride. ‘Goodnight, then.’ She kissed him on the cheek and headed for the stairs. Apparently he wasn’t the only resident who kept fit that way.

He was outside his room when his phone rang again.

‘Hey, Alex, it’s Mikis.’ The driver’s voice was rushed.

‘What’s up?’

‘We’ve had an episode with the bullies from Kornaria.’

‘Any casualties?’

‘Only on their side.’

‘You sure they didn’t get into the clinic?’

‘As sure as I am that two of them will wake up with broken ribs.’

Mavros glanced at his watch. It was nearly ten and his stomach was rumbling. ‘I’m coming over,’ he said. ‘Fancy something to eat?’

‘Any neo-Nazi baiting tonight?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Pity. OK, take one of our vehicles — get the driver to call me before you set off.’

‘Can’t be too careful, eh?’

‘Not in vendetta-land, no.’

Mavros went into his room and put his laptop and Nondas’s keys in his bag. He decided he’d spend the night in his brother-in-law’s place and try speaking to Maria Kondos in the morning.

After he’d gone through the procedure with the driver, a late-middle-aged man named Yerasimos, the car — a high-end saloon — swung out of the resort gate and headed east.

‘How do you find the film crew?’ he asked. Not having a car in Athens, he always talked to taxi drivers. Although some were morons, many had informed views about life and he often picked up useful information from them.

‘West Coast Americans,’ Yerasimos replied, as if that was sufficient explanation.

‘Loud, overconfident?’ Mavros encouraged.

‘Put it this way. I spent thirty years driving a cab in New York City. Californians are pussycats compared with the customers there. But I don’t think they’re very serious people.’

‘Hollywood doesn’t exactly have a reputation for encouraging intellectuals,’ Mavros said, realizing that Yerasimos would know plenty about the film crew. ‘Have you driven Cara Parks?’

‘Occasionally. She seems like a nice person. I don’t like her assistant, though. She’s got a tongue in her head.’

‘You heard she went missing?’

‘I did. Can’t say I was sorry. She’d have got on all right. She could tell anyone what she thought of them in the coarsest Greek, Cretan pronunciation and expressions included.’

That was interesting. No one had said that Maria spoke good Greek, let alone the local dialect. What might that add to the issue of her disappearance?

‘How about the director, Luke Jannet?’

Yerasimos overtook an ancient tractor smoothly. ‘Jannet? I’ve only had him a couple of times. What was that you said about loud and overconfident? I won’t be going to see his film, I can tell you that.’

‘You reckon it’ll be another Captain Corelli?’

‘Full of inaccuracies and unconvincing love affairs? Probably. But not just that. It’s an exercise in bloodsucking.’

‘Striking phrase. What does it mean, exactly?’

The driver smiled tightly. ‘You’re from Athens, right? I know that plenty of people there died during the Axis occupation, maybe you’ve even got relatives among them. But here it was different. People haven’t forgotten on Crete.’

‘You mean the massacres?’

‘Those, and the burning of villages and the torture and the beatings. It may look like everyone’s welcoming German tourists with open arms — and they are, for their money — but deep down there’s a hatred, especially among the older generation and in the villages that don’t have income from tourism.’

‘What about Rudolf Kersten?’ Mavros asked. ‘He was a paratrooper during the invasion.’

‘Ah, Mr Kersten is the exception that proves the truth of what I’m saying. He’s done so much for this part of Crete that it would take days to list everything. He’s rebuilt villages, he’s given thousands of people jobs over the decades, he’s set up scholarships for poor kids to study abroad. . he’s that rare thing, a genuinely good man.’

Mavros thought of David Waggoner. ‘But still there are some who hate him.’

‘There will always be dissenters, jealous people who got less than others.’