Sons of Sparta: A Chief Inspector Andreas Kaldis Mystery by Jeffrey Siger Read Free Book Online

the number on the piece of paper. The phone rang five times.
    “Orestes here.” There was the sound of loud music and the clatter of plates in the background.
    Andreas took a sip of wine. “Sorry to bother you, sir, my name is Andreas Kaldis and—”
    “Your minister said you’d be calling. Does it always take you so long to do what you’re told?”
    Andreas put down the wineglass. “Only when I have more important things to do.”
    “Perhaps you don’t know who you’re talking to.” There was a noticeable slur to Orestes’ words.
    “Of course I do.”
    “Then you should know you could not possibly have had anything more important to do.”
    “Well, sir, you have my attention now. So, what do you want to tell me?”
    “I’m not about to have this discussion over the phone.”
    “Fine, what if we meet at police headquarters first thing tomorrow morning?”
    “ No . I want to see you now . And HERE.”
    “Sure, anything you say. What’s the address?” Andreas marked it down as the phone went dead. He shook his head and smiled. The guy had taken the bait and lost his temper. Orestes sounded drunk and by the time Andreas got there he’d be more so, plus anxious to show Andreas just how big his dick was. No telling what he might say to prove it.
    The evening was beginning to look interesting. But it wouldn’t begin to compare to tomorrow morning, when he’d have to explain to Lila why he’d ended up in Athens’ hottest, sexiest nightclub instead of at his mother’s.

Chapter Five
    Athens’ Gazi district sat not far to the northwest of the Acropolis and encircled the city’s old natural gasworks, from which the area took its name. Today, the gasworks had transformed into a modern museum and cultural center surrounded by vibrant restaurants and cafes. Greece’s free-spending boom years had helped turn the once-blighted area into a primary destination for partiers in a city then ranked number one for the best nightlife in Europe. But things were different now. With less money to spend and Gazi’s somewhat dangerous bordering neighborhoods becoming more so, business was off. But you could still find places where no one acted as if they’d heard of the financial crisis and all paid handsomely for the privilege of maintaining the pretension that they’d not been affected by it. At the top of that list was the spot Orestes had picked for their meeting, El Malaga.
    Andreas stood on the sidewalk staring at two massive black doors, one with a florid gold “E,” the other with an equally ostentatious “M.”
    Three six-foot six-inch bodybuilders in matching black suits and white shirts stood behind a red velvet rope administered by a buxom blonde wearing a black, what-you-see-is-what-you-get Hervé Léger minidress. Andreas assumed she was the gatekeeper, the three men her attack dogs. He smiled at the woman and stepped up to the rope.
    She smiled back. “May I help you, sir?”
    “Yes, I’d like to go inside.”
    “Do you have a reservation?”
    “No, I’m meeting someone already inside.”
    “May I ask the name of the person you’re meeting?”
    “Orestes.”
    “You mean—”
    “Yes, that Orestes.”
    “And your name.”
    “Just ‘guest’ will do fine. He’s expecting me.”
    The woman’s smile faded. “I need to know your name, sir.”
    “No, you don’t. He asked to see me. If you won’t let me in, no problem. I’ll just tell him the reason I missed our meeting was that the lovely lady at the door stopped me.”
    She looked at her three men. One stepped forward. He had four inches on Andreas, forty pounds of muscle, and a scowl. “Petro, please show Mister ‘Guest’ to Orestes’ table.”
    “Thank you,” Andreas smiled.
    “And if there is some mistake,” she put on a smile, “please show him immediately back outside.”
    Andreas gave her the thumbs-up. “It’s a deal.”
    Petro opened one door and waved for Andreas to enter a dimly lit vestibule leading to another set