‘Roadblock in sight,’ said one of the men from the Land Rover in the lead. ‘Approaching on foot.’

That meant the men were splitting up and heading in a wide circling movement towards the pickup that had been parked across the road. Haris stopped the Land Rover and waited. Tension in the cab rose and Mavros struggled to keep his breathing regular. If they couldn’t get beyond this first barrier, the whole plan would be compromised — although Haris had told him he had reserve options.

‘How often have you done this kind of thing?’ Mavros asked, in a low voice.

Haris smiled. ‘You aren’t taping this, I hope. Not so often, and never on as large a scale as this. Crete isn’t like the rest of Greece, my friend. We have our own ways of justice. I don’t only mean vendettas. If someone persists in anti-social and damaging behaviour, he is taught a lesson. That is not a bad thing.’

‘Unless it gets out of control.’

‘You are worried this operation will go that way? I can understand that. But you must trust me, Alex, as I trust you. That is how the Turks and the Germans were driven out — we acted in unison.’

‘Freedom or death,’ Mavros said. ‘But this time you’ll be fighting against your fellow Cretans.’

Haris shrugged. ‘Criminals and bullies are the same the world over. Someone must stand up to them.’

There was a burst of sound from his walkie-talkie.

‘Road block neutralized. WT codes obtained. No serious injuries.’

‘You see?’ Haris said. ‘Now all we need is confirmation from the advance units.’

That came in three separate messages over the next ten minutes.

‘All is ready, Alex. Are you?’

Mavros nodded. His heart was beating at a normal rate and his breathing was regular. He got out of the Land Rover and checked his equipment, then watched as the pickup containing Luke Jannet came slowly alongside. The director had been gagged with duct tape. His guard unlocked the cuff on his wrist and attached it gingerly to Mavros’s belt.

‘Is everything that needs to be turned on?’ Haris asked.

‘Yup. Thanks for everything. I’m only sorry Mikis couldn’t be here to see this.’

The Cretan nodded solemnly. ‘He would have enjoyed it, but he’s better off in his bed. Now, Alex, bring your woman and the other one back.’ He stopped himself slapping Mavros’s back just in time.

Mavros dragged Jannet into the pickup and took the wheel.

‘Keep still if you want to stay alive,’ Mavros said.

The director, who had been told what Mavros was carrying, nodded vigorously.

The pickup moved slowly up the road, past the vehicle which had been moved out of the way. Mavros saw in the mirror that Haris’s men had taken the villagers’ mandilia, jackets and shotguns. He continued at low speed, avoiding the worst potholes and ridges, until they passed the sign announcing Kornaria. It had been riddled with pellets.

‘Welcome to Hell,’ Mavros said, glancing at Jannet. ‘This is going to be better than any film you’ve shot, asshole.’ The director’s face was white around the strip of black tape.

Mavros drove up the narrow street between the white houses. The shutters on some had been thrown open to take in the early morning light, but there were no people to be seen. He pulled up in the square and hauled Jannet out, then put his hand on the pickup’s horn. It wasn’t long before heads appeared at windows and men started coming out of doors, some of them carrying shotguns.

Mavros took his captive towards the kafeneionwhere he and Mikis had talked to the mayor. It wasn’t open yet. Then a metal door a few yards down the square swung open and Dhrakakis came out, rubbing his eyes. He was wearing a singlet, blue pyjama trousers and slippers.

‘You don’t look like the man behind a multinational drugs business,’ Mavros said. ‘More like a grandfather who’s just wet himself.’

As he’d expected, the words stung the mayor. Mavros held Jannet in front of him as the Cretan approached, his cheeks red. The next few seconds were decisive.

‘You’ll pay for insulting me, you Athenian arse-bandit,’ Dhrakakis said, as he came closer. ‘Look at you, hiding behind your hostage.’

‘Come and get him then, Grandpa,’ Mavros said, with a sharp smile.

‘ Ela, Louka,’ the mayor said, his arm extended towards Jannet.

Mavros waited as long as he could, and then pulled out the other handcuff attached to his belt and snapped it shut around Dhrakakis’s wrist. He unzipped his jacket and took out the detonator that was wired to the explosives on his chest, his thumb over the short plunger.

‘Tell your men to keep their distance,’ he said calmly to the Cretan. ‘If any of them comes within range, we three will turn into very small pieces. If you try to take the detonator from me, ditto.’ He laughed like a madman. ‘I know what you’ll have done to my woman and to Maria Kondos. I don’t give a shit what happens to me.’

This was another critical moment. If Dhrakakis thought he was bluffing, there would be no way out.

‘No, no,’ the mayor stammered. ‘Nobody has touched your woman. I swear it.’

‘Why should I believe you?’ Mavros demanded. ‘You run the most lawless village in Crete. You’ve bribed the police, the local authorities, the politicians, the bankers, anyone you could, to keep this place in business. What I want from you is a confession. Then I’ll let you go.’

It wasn’t obvious that he was wearing a wire, but Dhrakakis was the kind of scheming bastard who would immediately think of that. Mavros was hoping that he would talk, assuming he would subsequently be able to kill Mavros and destroy any recording device before others arrived.

There was a pause, and then the Cretan started to blab. With prompting from Mavros, he started to name every person who had received money from Kornaria. Some of them were a surprise — a television channel and newspaper owner, the director of a reforestation charity, a famous actress who had slept with various politicians. Other names were to be expected: government ministers; members of parliament; local officials and policemen, including Inspector Margaritis; the owners of hotels on the coastal strip, doctors, lawyers, customs officials — all had gained benefits of various kinds from their links to the village. Mavros also extracted the names of the Greek-Americans who were involved in the drug trafficking. The Tzannetakis family was conspicuous by its presence, as was the Kondoyannis clan.

‘Have you heard enough?’ Dhrakakis demanded.

Mavros nodded. ‘Now produce the women.’

The mayor gave the order to one of his henchmen, who had a bandage round his head — Mavros recognized him as the man he had hit with the stone. Soon after, Niki and Maria Kondos appeared round the corner. They were both pale and the Greek-American was limping, but otherwise they looked uninjured.

Mavros raised a hand. ‘Stop there!’ he shouted, when they reached the middle of the square.

‘You said you’d let us go,’ Dhrakakis said impatiently.

Mavros nodded, then took out his walkie-talkie. ‘Codeword “Maleme”, repeat “Maleme”.’

‘Received,’ came Haris’s voice.

‘Now what?’ the mayor asked.

‘Hold on a minute,’ Mavros said, waiting for the first smoke to rise above the houses to the east. ‘Oh, what’s that? Even though there are no trees up here, there seems to be a forest fire.’

Dhrakakis followed the direction of his gaze. ‘What have you done, you fucking bastard? To the cultivation sheds and warehouses, all of you!’

The booted men in the square ran towards the smoke, which was now thick black and roiling.

‘You bastard,’ repeated the mayor. ‘You-’ He broke off as Haris’s Land Rover and the other vehicles roared into the square and armed men jumped out. Only a couple of shots were fired in the air to clear out the last of the villagers.

Haris and three of his men surrounded Mavros and his captives and unlocked the cuffs from his belt, before cuffing the pair together. Dhrakakis groaned as he saw smoke to the north of the village as well.