The Enigmatic Greek
Eleanor shook her head, smiling. ‘The only one waiting impatiently right now is my editor. But I’m lucky enough to have good friends, and I’m close to my parents.’
‘I am most fortunate myself that way. My son may be a busy man, but he makes time for regular—if brief—visits to his mother. Do you live at home with your parents?’
Before Eleanor could reply, Alexei Drakos joined them.
Talia smiled at him warmly. ‘Sit with us for a while.’
He shook his head. ‘Stefan tells me I have calls to return. Miss Markham, has your bracelet been returned to you?’
‘No, not yet.’
‘I’ll hurry the man along.’ With an abstracted smile, he strode off again.
His mother looked after him anxiously. ‘The world does not leave him alone, even here at his retreat—though Stefan, his assistant, does his best to keep it at bay over this particular holiday.’
‘This festival is obviously important to—to your son,’ said Eleanor.
‘To me, also,’ said Talia, and looked up with an enquiring smile as a boy approached the table, holding out a package.
‘Ah, that must be for me,’ said Eleanor, and took out her bracelet, now adorned with the crystal bull. ‘Efcharisto!’ she said, pleased, and handed over a tip. She smiled guiltily as she displayed the charm. ‘Very expensive, but I couldn’t resist it after your son was kind enough to bargain the price down.’
Talia leaned closer to examine it. ‘Exquisite—and a most perfect souvenir of Kyrkiros.’
Eleanor fastened the bracelet on her wrist. ‘There. No more extravagance for me this trip.’
Alexei Drakos’ assistant came towards them, smiling respectfully. ‘Forgive me for interrupting, but Sofia says a light supper is ready, kyria Talia. She apologises it is early tonight because of the taurokathapsia.’
‘Of course,’ she said, getting up. ‘Miss Eleanor Markham, meet Stefan Petrides, Alexei’s man in Athens.’
Stefan bowed formally to Eleanor. ‘Chairo poly, kyria Markham.’
‘Pos eiste,’ she returned.
‘I am not happy leaving you alone here, my dear,’ said Talia, frowning. ‘Please join us for dinner.’
Eleanor smiled gratefully, but shook her head. ‘That’s so kind of you, but I purposely ate enough lunch to see me through the evening. Goodbye—it’s been such a pleasure to meet you.’
‘Likewise, Eleanor Markham, though the day is not over yet,’ said Talia, and with a smile went off with her escort.
Eleanor gazed after them a little wistfully, then sat down and began writing up the events of the afternoon. She was soon so deeply absorbed she jumped when someone rapped on the metal table. She looked up with a smile to find Alexei Drakos eyeing her notebook with hostility.
‘My mother is concerned about leaving you alone here,’ he said coldly. ‘But you’re obviously busy. She tells me you’re a journalist.’
Her smile died. ‘Yes, I am.’
‘And my island is providing an even richer source of material than you expected?’
Eleanor’s defences sprang to attention. ‘It is indeed.’
‘Write one word about my mother, and I will sue,’ he said with menace.
Eleanor’s chin went up. ‘I’m here solely to report on this famous festival of yours, Mr Drakos. But, since you ask so nicely, I’ll leave out my chance meeting with Talia Kazan. Though, since I would be reporting fact, suing would not be possible.’
‘Maybe not.’ His cold eyes locked on hers. ‘But believe me, Miss Markham—whatever rag you work for I can get you fired as easily as I helped you out earlier.’
He strode off, cursing at the chance that had involved his mother with Eleanor Markham. Since the notoriety Christina Mavros had brought on him, he had avoided contact with any woman other than his mother. Until today, that was, when an attractive tourist’s rueful little smile had seduced him into offering help to someone who was not only a woman but a reporter, for God’s sake!
Eleanor stared after him balefully. No chance of an interview with Talia Kazan’s baby boy, then. And no prize for guessing how Alexei Drakos had made his fortune, either. He’d probably just stepped on the necks of everyone who got in his way. Her mouth tightened. Romantic fool that she was, the chance meeting with him had been one of the major experiences of her life, whereas to him she was just a petty little problem to solve by threats.
Her eyes sparking like an angry cat’s behind her glasses, she noted that all the reserved tables were now full, other than the one adjoining hers. Everyone was eating and drinking and having a wonderful time in laughing, animated groups, which emphasized her solitary state—a common enough situation on her travels, and not one that had bothered her in the slightest up to now. Eleanor shrugged impatiently. Her blood sugars obviously needed a boost after the clash with the dragon of Kyrkiros. She walked over to the stalls, bought a couple of nut-filled honey pastries from one of them, and returned to her table to find a teenaged lad waiting there.
‘Kyria Talia sent for you,’ he informed her, indicating the tray on the table.
Eleanor smiled warmly and asked him to convey her thanks to the lady. She sat down to pour tea into a delicate china cup and smiled when she tasted an unmistakeably British blend. The pastries were doubly delicious with the tea as accompaniment. By the time Eleanor had finished her surprise treat, lamps were glowing along the terrace, the sudden darkness of the Aegean night had fallen, a singer had joined the musicians and she had almost recovered from the blow of her encounter with Alexei Drakos. She stiffened when an audible ripple of interest through the crowd heralded the arrival of the man himself as he ushered his mother to the adjoining table. One look at him revived her anger so fiercely it took an effort to smile when Talia beckoned to her.
‘Do come and join us, Eleanor. The dancing will start soon.’
Eleanor shook her head firmly; grateful it was too dark for her feelings to show. ‘It’s very kind of you but I wouldn’t dream of intruding.’
‘Nonsense! Why sit there alone? Stefan will bring your things.’
And, short of causing a scene, Eleanor was obliged to accept the chair Alexei Drakos held out for her next to his mother. She thanked him politely and smiled at Talia. ‘And thank you so much for the tea. It was just what I needed.’
‘I hoped it might be. I made it with my own fair hands.’ The radiance of Talia’s smile contrasted sharply with the expression on her son’s face. ‘Do stop looming over us and sit down, Alexei mou—you too, Stefan.’
Eleanor tensed, her stomach muscles contracting as a bull bellowed somewhere deep inside the Kastro, loud enough to be heard above the music and the noise of the chattering crowd.
‘Ah, we begin,’ said Talia with satisfaction.
Alexei eyed Eleanor sardonically. ‘Is something wrong, Miss Markham?’
‘Nothing at all,’ she lied, but sucked in a startled breath as the lights died. They were left in darkness for several tense seconds before the torches encircling the raised wooden platform burst into flame, and bonfires ignited one after the other along the outer edges of the beach.
‘How is that for Greek drama?’ crowed Talia, touching Eleanor’s hand. ‘My dear, you are so cold. What is wrong?’
‘Anticipation,’ Eleanor said brightly. With a defiant look at Alexei Drakos, she took out her camera. ‘For my article,’ she informed him.
‘You may take as many photographs of the dancers as you wish,’ he assured her, his message loud and clear. One shot of his beautiful mother and Eleanor Markham would be thrown off his island.
‘Thank you.’ She turned her attention to the stage, intrigued to see that the musicians had exchanged their modern instruments for harps and flutes which looked like museum exhibits. Along with some kind of snare drums, they began to make music so eerily unlike anything she’d ever heard before the hairs rose on the back of her neck and her blood began to pulse in time with the hypnotic beat.
With sudden drama, the great Kastro doors were flung open and a roar of applause greeted the dancers who came out two by two, moving in a slow rhythm dictated by the drum beat as they descended to the terrace. At first sight Eleanor thought they were all men after all, but when they moved into the dramatic ring of torchlight the girls among them were obvious by the bandeaux covering their breasts. Otherwise all the dancers wore loin guards under brief, gauzy kilts, glinting gold jewellery, black wigs with ringlets and soft leather sandals laced high up the leg.
Eleanor forgot Alexei Drakos’ hostility and sat entranced. The entire scene was straight off a painting on some ancient vase, except that these figures were alive and moving. The procession circled the torch-lit stage twice in hypnotic, slow-stepping rhythm before the dancers lined up in a double row to look up at the table where Alexei Drakos sat with his guests. The leader, a muscular figure with eyes painted as heavily as the girls, stepped forward to salute Alexei and Eleanor shook herself out of her trance to capture the scene on film in the instant before the lithe figures began to dance. They swayed in perfect unison, dipping and weaving in sinuous, labyrinthine patterns which gradually grew more and more complex as the beat of the music quickened. It rose faster and faster to a final crescendo as a bull bellowed off-stage, the doors burst open again and a figure out of myth and nightmare gave a great leap down into the torchlight. The crowd went wild at the sight of a black bull’s head with crystal eyes and vicious horns topping a muscular, human male body.
CHAPTER TWO
ELEANOR’S relief was so intense she had to wait until her hands were steady enough to do the job she’d come for as she focused her lens on the fantastic figure. She smiled in recognition as a new player leapt into the torchlight to face the beast, the testosterone in every line of the bronzed muscular body in sharp contrast to his painted face and golden love-locks; Theseus, the blond Hellene, come to slay the Minotaur.
Eleanor took several shots then sat, mesmerised, as Theseus and the dancers swooped around the central half-man half-beast figure, taunting him like a flock of mockingbirds as they somersaulted away from his lunging horns. She gasped with the audience as Theseus vaulted from the bent back of one of the male dancers to somersault through the air over the Minotaur’s horns. He landed on his feet with the grace and skill of an Olympic gymnast, an imperious hand raised to hush the applause as the troupe launched into a series of athletic, balance-defying somersaults, spinning around the central figure while the Minotaur lunged at them in graphically conveyed fury. In perfect rhythm the dancers taunted him with their dizzying kaleidoscope of movement as again and again Theseus danced away from the menacing horns. The music grew more and more frenzied until the dance culminated in another breath-taking somersault by Theseus over the great bull’s head, but this time he snatched up a golden double-headed axe of the type Eleanor had seen in photographs of Cretan artefacts.
The Minotaur lunged with such ferocity the audience gave a great, concerted gasp again as Theseus leapt aside to avoid the horns and held the axe aloft for an instant of pure drama, before bringing it down on the Minotaur’s neck. There was an anguished bellow as the man-beast sank slowly to his knees and then fell, sprawled, the great horned head at Theseus’s feet.
To say the crowd went wild again was an understatement. But, even as Eleanor applauded with the rest, her inner cynic warned that the sheer drama of the moment would end when the beast was obliged to get to his all-too-human feet as the performers took their bow. But, though the applause was prolonged, there was no bow. Still blank-faced as figures on a fresco, the dancers formed a line on either side of the fallen figure. With Theseus and the lead dancer at the impressive shoulders, the male members of the troupe bent as one man to pick up the Minotaur and heaved him up in a practised movement to shoulder height. The women went ahead, hands clasped and heads bowed as, still in rhythm with the wailing flutes and now slow, solemn, hypnotic drumbeat, the vanquished man-beast was slowly borne around the torch-lit arena, horned head hanging, then up the steep steps and through the double doors into the Kastro, to tumultuous applause and cheers from the crowd.
‘So what did you think of our famous taurokathapsia, Ms Markham?’ asked Alexei Drakos as the musicians took up their modern instruments again. ‘You seemed nervous before it started. Were you expecting something different?’
‘Yes.’ She exchanged a rueful smile with Talia. ‘I was afraid a real live bull was involved.’
‘I rather fancied you were, but I couldn’t spoil the drama by reassuring you!’ Talia smiled indulgently and exchanged a glance with her son. ‘Was the dance originally done with an actual animal?’
‘According to myth and legend, yes, and the wall paintings on Knossos in Crete seem to bear that out. But not here.’ He looked very deliberately at Eleanor. ‘I assure you that no bulls have danced on Kyrkiros since I acquired the island. Though I can’t answer for what happened back in prehistory, Ms Markham.’ He beckoned to Yannis, who came hurrying to ask what the ‘kyrie’ desired, and Alexei turned to Stefan.
‘Join your friends now, if you like. I shan’t need you anymore tonight,’ he said in English.
‘Thank you, kyrie,’ the young man replied. ‘Kalinychta, ladies. This has been a great pleasure.’
‘Thank you for your company, Stefan.’ Talia gave him her hand. He kissed it formally, bowed to Eleanor and hurried off to the far end of the terrace, where he was absorbed into an exuberant crowd at one of the tables.
‘So, what would you like?’ asked Alexei.
Talia asked for coffee. ‘After all the emotion expended on that performance, I am not hungry. How about you, Eleanor?’
‘Coffee would be wonderful, thank you.’ Eleanor glanced at her watch as Yannis hurried off with the order. ‘I’ll be leaving soon.’
‘How are you getting back?’ asked Talia.
‘The boatman who brought me is coming to pick me up.’ Eleanor smiled at her gratefully. ‘Thank you so much for inviting me to join you.’
‘We were very pleased to have your company.’ Talia fixed her son with an imperious blue gaze. ‘Were we not, Alex?’
‘Delighted.’ He looked directly at Eleanor. ‘Do you have all you require for your article?’
She nodded. ‘Your festival will make a wonderful finale to my series. Of course, I’ll make it clear that this is an annual event, and stress that Kyrkiros is a private island, not a holiday destination. Was the original bull dance performed as a mid-summer celebration?’
‘According to historians it was probably a regular attraction on Crete.’
‘It is performed here at this time to commemorate the feast of St John, which also happens to be Alex’s birthday,’ said Talia, with a smile for her son.
‘Then I wish you many happy returns, Mr Drakos,’ Eleanor said with formality. ‘As I said earlier, nothing will appear in my article that you could object to.’
‘Earlier?’ said Talia sharply.
Her son shrugged. ‘I had a conversation with Ms Markham on the subject of reprisals. I told her what would happen if she mentioned your name.’
His mother stared at him, appalled. ‘You threatened her?’
‘Yes,’ he said, unmoved. ‘She may write all she wants about the festival and the island. But if there’s a single reference to you personally, I’ll sue the paper she works for.’
Crimson to the roots of her hair, Eleanor stared at her watch, willing the hands to move faster as Talia shook her head in disbelief.
‘Forgive my son, Eleanor. He is absurdly protective about me.’ She frowned at him. ‘After all, even if I was mentioned, who would remember me after all these years?’
‘Don’t be naive, Mother.’ His mouth tightened when Talia very deliberately poured only two cups of coffee.
‘We shall excuse you now, Alexei,’ she informed him sweetly. ‘You must have people to see.’
Eleanor thoroughly enjoyed the sight of Alexei Drakos dismissed with such relentless grace.
He got to his feet, and gave Eleanor a cool nod. ‘I’ll say goodbye then, Miss Markham.’
She inclined her head in cool response. ‘Goodbye.’
‘I’ll come back for you after your guest leaves,’ he informed his mother.
She smiled indulgently. ‘I am perfectly capable of walking indoors on my own, Alexei.’
‘I will come back for you,’ he said with finality.
Talia sighed as she watched him go. ‘My dear, I promise you that Alex will not carry out his threat.’
‘It won’t be necessary. I won’t say a word about you in my article—hugely tempting though it would be,’ admitted Eleanor. ‘But I confess that I’ve taken a couple of photographs of you, Ms Kazan—purely personal shots to show my mother. She was a huge fan of yours.’
Talia smiled radiantly. ‘Really? I fear she will be disappointed to see me as I am now. I would not have been brave enough for cosmetic surgery—not that I had the slightest need to bother, once I left the cameras behind. These days I use so-called miracle creams and try not to eat too many wicked things—like Sofia’s savoury pastries, which are my guilty pleasure. I should have ordered some for you to try, Eleanor.’
‘I’m sure they’re delicious, but I’m not hungry.’
Talia frowned. ‘My son upset you so much?’
Eleanor shrugged, smiling. ‘A thick skin is a basic requirement in my profession.’
Talia Kazan was so easy to talk to, Eleanor had soon described previous assignments and felt guilty when Yannis came to inform them a man was asking for the kyria at the ferry. ‘I’ve been talking so much I forgot the time!’
‘And I have enjoyed listening!’ Talia told Yannis he could go, that she would accompany her guest to the boat herself.
‘Your son won’t like that,’ said Eleanor quickly, and cast a glance along the terrace, where Alexei Drakos was talking to the troupe of dancers, who looked very different out of costume.
‘My dear, Alex can play the autocrat as much as he likes with the rest of the world, but not with me.’ Talia’s smile cleared a way for them through the crowd. ‘Yannis said the south jetty, which is odd, because it’s so much farther away. No matter; a little exercise is good, yes?’
Eleanor disagreed, growing more and more uneasy when she found that the jetty in question was on one of the beaches out of bounds to the public, with no bonfires to guide them. Her misgiving intensified once they’d moved out of range of the Kastro lights. It was hard to make out the path to the jetty and progress was slow.
‘Follow me,’ said Talia. ‘I know the way. Keep close behind—’ She gave a sudden shriek as a dark figure shot out of the shadows and snatched her up in his arms to make a run for the jetty. In knee-jerk reaction, Eleanor tore after him as Talia screamed for her son and struggled so fiercely the man stumbled, cursing, and dropped his flailing burden. Eleanor swung her tote bag at his head while he was still staggering and sent him down hard on the jetty, then jumped on him and got in a few punches before he reared up with a furious roar and kicked her into the sea. She sank like a stone and panicked for endless moments until self-preservation instincts finally kicked in. Lungs bursting, she managed to swim up to the surface, coughing and spluttering, and struggling wildly against powerful arms that restrained her.
‘Stop!’ panted Alexei Drakos. ‘I’m trying to rescue you, woman.’
Limp with relief, Eleanor let him tow her through the water to thrust her up into Stefan’s grasp before heaving himself out of the water onto the jetty.
‘Is your mother safe?’ Eleanor demanded hoarsely, and then wrenched herself away from Stefan to cough up more of the Aegean as Talia pushed him aside to get to her.
‘Tell me exactly what happened, Mother!’ ordered Alexei, thrusting wet hair back from his face.
While Eleanor coughed up more water, Talia explained breathlessly up to the point where the attacker dropped her. ‘Then this brave, brave girl knocked him down with her bag and beat him up.’
‘But not hard enough. The swine kicked me into the water,’ croaked Eleanor hoarsely through chattering teeth. ‘Did he get away?’
Alexei’s smile turned her blood even colder. ‘No, he did not.’
‘Where is he?’
‘On his way to the Kastro, in company with a pair of angry jailers.’
‘Excellent! We should go inside, too,’ said Talia firmly. ‘You two need to get dry.’
Alexei turned as Yannis came hurrying to say that someone else was asking for the kyria. ‘What the devil now?’ he demanded irritably, turning on Eleanor.
‘It must be the real boatman—the one who brought me here earlier,’ she said through chattering teeth.
‘So, how did the other man contact you?’
‘Yannis told us a man was waiting at the jetty,’ explained Talia.
Alexei spoke to the boy sharply and, after listening to his explanation, gave him instructions which sent him running off into the Kastro to fetch his mother. ‘Apparently our prisoner said he was here for the lady. Yannis knew you were about to leave, Miss Markham, so assumed it was you.’
‘Then I’m to blame. I’m so sorry,’ croaked Eleanor in remorse, but Talia shook her head fiercely.
‘Nonsense, it was not your fault!’
By this time Eleanor was so desperate to get back to the taverna and a hot shower she was past caring whose fault it was. ‘Now my real ferryman has arrived, I’ll take myself off—’
‘Absolutely not, Eleanor,’ Talia said flatly, and beckoned to the woman hurrying towards them with towels. ‘This is Sofia, the housekeeper here. I’ll explain to her and then we’ll soon have you in a hot bath and into bed.’
‘But I can’t do that! I need to pay the boatman and get back to the taverna,’ protested Eleanor hoarsely, turning away to cough.
‘Stefan will see to that—also, send a message to Takis,’ said Alexei. ‘You must stay here until I interrogate the kidnapper. In the meantime, go indoors with my mother—please,’ he added.
‘My bag!’ said Eleanor in sudden alarm.
‘The assault weapon?’ His lips twitched as he handed it over. ‘Stefan rescued it, but I can’t answer for the contents.’
‘I hope your camera is undamaged!’ exclaimed Talia.
‘If not, I shall replace it,’ said Alexei, shrugging.
‘That won’t be necessary, thank you.’ Eleanor breathed more easily as she investigated. ‘My phone took a direct hit, and the glass on a picture I bought for my mother is cracked. But the camera seems all right.’ She was horribly conscious of her bedraggled appearance as Talia bundled her up in a towel. So much for looking sexy! ‘The memory card will have survived, anyway. I won’t lose any of the pictures.’
‘Excellent. Now we must go inside and get something hot into both of you.’ Talia spoke to Sofia, who nodded vigorously and hurried off.
To Eleanor’s surprise the musicians were still playing and singing on the terrace, people were talking at the tops of their voices at the tables and a large crowd was still milling around on the beach, where youngsters were shouting as they took turns in leaping over the traditional St John’s bonfires. ‘Didn’t they hear all the commotion?’
‘Too much noise, and I got there so quickly I doubt that anyone noticed,’ said Alexei, rubbing his hair. ‘I followed when I saw you leave the table with my mother and hurried after you in time to hear her scream for me. But I regret that I arrived too late to stop the intruder kicking you into the water. Stefan and a couple of my security men were behind me as I caught him, and they took charge of him while I went in after you.’
‘I wish I’d known all that when I was trying not to drown,’ said Eleanor wryly.
‘Alex dived in after you almost at once,’ Talia assured her.