to volunteer your help? You didn’t expect to carry a torch and search the streets and marinas for Johnnie, so it must be because you have information.’
There was a moment’s pause. He wondered if she was considering how much to tell him. She nodded and smiled. It was a nice smile if a little reserved, but he didn’t blame her for that. He wasn’t exactly being friendly towards her.
‘OK, official Europol background first. Xander Andreadis, as you are already aware, is a very wealthy man. Aged thirty-seven, he is the oldest son of Christos, now in his early sixties, and brother to Giorgos, who is thirty-three. Mother died when he was eighteen. The family are worth just over six billion dollars.’
Horton emitted a low soft whistle. ‘No wonder Xander Andreadis can experiment by buying yachts for the likes of Scott Masefield without batting an eyelid. How did the family make their money?’
‘We’re not quite sure of the origins but—’
‘Dodgy?’
‘Not necessarily, but it’s true to say that Christos started with nothing. He worked on the Greek-owned Chandris fleet as a deckhand, sailing on the
Patris
, the Australian migrant ship, taking migrants from Italy and Greece to Australia during the 1960s until 1975. Christos left it while it was moored in Darwin for nine months providing emergency accommodation for those made homeless by Cyclone Tracy on Christmas Day in 1974. He took a passage working his way to Singapore then came to England where he arrived in 1977, returning to Greece in 1979 where he began to build his empire. In various articles written about him Christos claims he made a couple of shrewd investments using money he had saved while working in England. Records certainly show he worked in the Savoy as a barman and at other top-class establishments in London prior to leaving the UK, which would hardly have given him a fortune.’
‘You’ve investigated him?’ Horton asked, interested.
She shook her head. ‘No. There’s never been anything suspect about his dealings.’
‘As far as you know.’
She shrugged. ‘Perhaps he was lucky in roulette or won on the horses. Anyway, he returned to Greece in 1979 with money to invest, firstly in a couple of bars, and then he bought up a number of hotels. The golden touch, or so the articles claim. He certainly seems to have had that. The Andreadis family now own several businesses – not only hotels and clubs, but shipping, petroleum, telecommunications, computer software and hardware companies, and they seem to be thriving despite the dire economic climate and austerity cuts in Greece, which have hardly dented their fortune. And so far there’s not even a hint of corruption or tax evasion.’
‘You suspect some?’
She shrugged again.
‘But you’ve checked?’
‘Both sons entered the business, but Xander Andreadis, the more academic of the two, came to England in 1995 and gained a PhD in Economics at the London School of Economics.’
Horton paused with his coffee cup halfway to his lips.
‘Is there something wrong?’ she asked, studying him.
It was a coincidence, that was all, because the timing was years away for any connection to the men in that black and white photograph from 1967. He swallowed a mouthful of coffee. ‘Go on.’ He noted she had avoided answering his question about the Andreadis family being investigated.
‘On his return to Greece, Xander took a major role in the business, eventually taking over from his father, making it even more successful, and diversifying into the custom-built luxury mega-yacht market – both the motorized and sail type – and into private jet hire. He also indulges his passion for yacht racing, as you know.’
‘And his brother, Giorgos?’
‘He also works in the business, but the rumour has it that he’s not so keen and that Xander tolerates him. Giorgos’ passions are fine art, property, cars and women, not necessarily in that order. Divorced twice, and about to be for the
There was a moment’s pause. He wondered if she was considering how much to tell him. She nodded and smiled. It was a nice smile if a little reserved, but he didn’t blame her for that. He wasn’t exactly being friendly towards her.
‘OK, official Europol background first. Xander Andreadis, as you are already aware, is a very wealthy man. Aged thirty-seven, he is the oldest son of Christos, now in his early sixties, and brother to Giorgos, who is thirty-three. Mother died when he was eighteen. The family are worth just over six billion dollars.’
Horton emitted a low soft whistle. ‘No wonder Xander Andreadis can experiment by buying yachts for the likes of Scott Masefield without batting an eyelid. How did the family make their money?’
‘We’re not quite sure of the origins but—’
‘Dodgy?’
‘Not necessarily, but it’s true to say that Christos started with nothing. He worked on the Greek-owned Chandris fleet as a deckhand, sailing on the
Patris
, the Australian migrant ship, taking migrants from Italy and Greece to Australia during the 1960s until 1975. Christos left it while it was moored in Darwin for nine months providing emergency accommodation for those made homeless by Cyclone Tracy on Christmas Day in 1974. He took a passage working his way to Singapore then came to England where he arrived in 1977, returning to Greece in 1979 where he began to build his empire. In various articles written about him Christos claims he made a couple of shrewd investments using money he had saved while working in England. Records certainly show he worked in the Savoy as a barman and at other top-class establishments in London prior to leaving the UK, which would hardly have given him a fortune.’
‘You’ve investigated him?’ Horton asked, interested.
She shook her head. ‘No. There’s never been anything suspect about his dealings.’
‘As far as you know.’
She shrugged. ‘Perhaps he was lucky in roulette or won on the horses. Anyway, he returned to Greece in 1979 with money to invest, firstly in a couple of bars, and then he bought up a number of hotels. The golden touch, or so the articles claim. He certainly seems to have had that. The Andreadis family now own several businesses – not only hotels and clubs, but shipping, petroleum, telecommunications, computer software and hardware companies, and they seem to be thriving despite the dire economic climate and austerity cuts in Greece, which have hardly dented their fortune. And so far there’s not even a hint of corruption or tax evasion.’
‘You suspect some?’
She shrugged again.
‘But you’ve checked?’
‘Both sons entered the business, but Xander Andreadis, the more academic of the two, came to England in 1995 and gained a PhD in Economics at the London School of Economics.’
Horton paused with his coffee cup halfway to his lips.
‘Is there something wrong?’ she asked, studying him.
It was a coincidence, that was all, because the timing was years away for any connection to the men in that black and white photograph from 1967. He swallowed a mouthful of coffee. ‘Go on.’ He noted she had avoided answering his question about the Andreadis family being investigated.
‘On his return to Greece, Xander took a major role in the business, eventually taking over from his father, making it even more successful, and diversifying into the custom-built luxury mega-yacht market – both the motorized and sail type – and into private jet hire. He also indulges his passion for yacht racing, as you know.’
‘And his brother, Giorgos?’
‘He also works in the business, but the rumour has it that he’s not so keen and that Xander tolerates him. Giorgos’ passions are fine art, property, cars and women, not necessarily in that order. Divorced twice, and about to be for the
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