‘Oh yeah?’ Jannet said, tightening his grip on Cara. ‘What makes you think I wasn’t going to send him straight to hell?’

Mavros felt Roufos stiffen, but he wasn’t convinced the director had come with that in mind. The dealer had seemed to slump in relief when Jannet appeared.

‘Interesting,’ Mavros said enigmatically.

‘What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?’

‘That a drug trafficker’s also concerned with antiquities smuggling.’

Jannet glared at Roufos. ‘You been talking, you piece of snake shit?’

The dealer shook his head frantically. ‘No, Luke, no, I-’ He shut up when he saw the even fiercer look on the gunman’s face.

‘Clever,’ Jannet said, grinning at Mavros. ‘Except you’ve now signed everyone else in here’s death warrant. How do you feel about that, dick?’

Mavros smiled as credibly as he could. ‘You think we came here without protection?’ He was hoping Niki would get on her phone and search for Tsifakis’s number, then text for help.

‘Bullshit,’ the director said, squeezing Cara’s left breast. ‘If you had backup, they’d already be here.’

‘You planning on killing the star of your movie, asshole?’ Cara demanded, trying to shake him off.

‘It won’t look like that, darlin’. It’ll look like Mavros here went crazy and took all of you out before he plugged himself.’ Jannet laughed. ‘One of my better storylines. And before you get all uppity, TP, consider this — pumped-up lookers like you are ten a dollar in LA. What, you think you got the job because you can act?’

Mavros kept on with the time-gaining tactic. ‘You into silver coins, Luke?’

The director stared at him blankly. ‘Hell, no. I got enough of those. I’m interested in the really old shit — Minoan axe heads, clay figures, bull’s heads, like in the Iraklion museum. People pay serious top dollar for that.’

‘And our slimy friend here has been helping you get your hands on it.’ He pressed the key against Roufos’s forehead again. ‘He won’t be much use to you without eyes.’

Tryfon Roufos let out a petrified yelp. ‘Please,’ he gasped, ‘do something, Luke. I can get you more Minoan objects, many more.’

The pistol in Jannet’s hand moved around as he tried to lock on to Mavros’s body. ‘You so much as twitch, TP, and you’ll be next,’ he said, his other arm tightening round her neck.

The noise of the door being smashed in was deafening. The top of it caught the director on the shoulder and made him let Cara go. She fell forwards, sprawling on the floor as Mikis’s friends Yannis and Christos forced their way into the suite, the former carrying a thick metal cylinder with handles that he had obviously used as a battering ram. Luke Jannet scrambled to his feet and dived towards the corridor, the pistol still in his hand. The Pig was waiting for him and relieved him of the weapon with a sharp downward movement of his hand.

‘Agh!’ the director screamed. ‘You broke my fucking arm!’

The Cretan grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him back into the suite. This time Cara Parks landed her foot between Jannet’s legs, extracting an even higher pitched squeal.

‘Dope-dealing fucker,’ she said, leaning over him, her face suffused with joy. ‘Happy you rubbed up against my ass now?’

Christos put down the ram and pulled her back gently.

Mavros handed Roufos over to Yannis and went to Niki, who was standing behind the sofa.

‘You were on your phone long before I dropped that hint, weren’t you?’ he said, kissing her.

‘I’m not a complete idiot, Alex.’ She looked over his shoulder. ‘What next?’

‘Good question.’ Mavros looked at Yannis. ‘We need to get out of here.’

The burly young man nodded. ‘Mr Tsifakis is talking to the hotel owner.’ He sat Roufos down in the armchair as if he was a rag doll. ‘This wanker will be paying for the damages.’

‘Agreed?’ Mavros asked the antiquities dealer.

‘If you leave me alone, agreed.’

‘Oh, I’ll leave you alone — as long as you’re on the night boat to Piraeus.’

Roufos signalled his agreement with a sullen nod.

‘What about this piece of shit?’ Cara demanded, glaring at Luke Jannet.

‘Another customer for the clinic,’ Mavros replied, then switched to Greek. ‘One of you guys can keep an eye on him. I don’t trust the police, at least not till I’ve got to the bottom of his ties with Kornaria.’

They left Tryfon Roufos in his now less-than-private suite, Mavros taking the cardboard file with him. That would slow his business dealings down, though he had no doubt he’d be back to work as soon as he got back to his office in Athens. He also relived him of his mobile phones, as he did with Jannet. Holding people incommunicado was a useful way of finding which rats came out of the sewers to help them, although in the director’s case it was obvious who the first one would be — his sister, Rosie Yellenberg.

‘Where to now, Saint Peter?’ Cara asked as they walked back to the Jeep, the Cretans having headed off to their pickup with Jannet, to take him to the clinic.

‘You like early Elton John?’ Mavros said, impressed. ‘You must have been about minus five when Tumbleweed Connectioncame out.’

‘Good music is good. . what the hell?’

Mavros looked ahead and his gut performed a somersault. A crowd of skinheads was moving rapidly towards them down the narrow backstreet.

‘Don’t think that bunch of keys is going to work this time,’ Cara said.

‘Back to the harbour,’ Mavros said, taking her and Niki by the hand and running.

Before they got there another line of far-right scumbags blocked the way.

Petros Lagoudhakis, the Cretan Renaissance leader forced to dig his own grave by Mavros and Mikis, was in the centre.

‘Roufos,’ Mavros said under his breath. ‘The bastard must have called in the troops on a landline.’

Then the punches started raining down on his head. He ducked as low as he could and kept driving forward. He had no idea how long the uneven contest lasted, but suddenly he found himself round the corner, the harbour and its busy cafes only a few yards away. Cara was on one knee, her chest heaving and her hair loose.

Of Niki and their attackers, after he had cleared the blood from his eyes, there was no sign at all.

Hildegard Kersten looked through the spyhole and saw her grandson outside the apartment. She undid the chain and opened the door.

‘Hallo, Grandma,’ the young man said, embracing her. ‘I’m so sorry about Grandpa.’

Hildegard held him close, unsure how real the display of emotion was. Oskar had never been demonstrative, even as a small boy.

‘Come in, child,’ she said, pushing him gently away and closing the door. ‘Did Alex Mavros give you the message to come?’

‘Mavros?’ Mesner recoiled as if he’d been jabbed with a cattle prod. ‘Why would I have seen him?’

‘He’s looking into your grandfather’s death. It wasn’t suicide, you know.’

Oskar stared at her. ‘But the police. .’

‘The police are controlled by other interests. You’re not in Germany now.’

‘What other interests?’ he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief.

‘Never mind. You won’t be here for long. It doesn’t concern you.’ Hildegard busied herself with preparing coffee.

Her grandson followed her into the kitchen. ‘Who said I wouldn’t be staying? With Grandpa gone, I thought I could look after you.’

Hildegard smiled. ‘I can look after myself. It’s time you went back to work. I know about the people you spend your time with. Fortunately for you, I didn’t tell your grandfather. He had no time for Nazis and even less for their modern followers.’

‘The war made Grandpa crazy,’ Oskar said, in a low voice.

‘Wrong!’ Hildegard said shrilly, trying to convince herself as much as Oskar. ‘The war made him a true human being, one who understood the sufferings and plight of others. It is you who betrayed his values.’ She bustled through to the living room with a full tray.