Devil of Delphi: A Chief Inspector Andreas Kaldis Mystery by Jeffrey Siger Page A

“You have quite a reputation for so young a man.”
    “Not so young. We’re about the same age.”
    “Still, it’s quite a record you’ve amassed.”
    “I started young.”
    “So I’ve read.”
    “Then what’s there left for me to tell you?”
    “Me? Nothing. I’m just a messenger. My duty is to arrange transport for you to a meeting with my superior.”
    “You’re ex-military?”
    He nodded. “Not so sure I’d call it ex.”
    “I still haven’t heard what you want with me.”
    “Not my call. As I said, I just arrange transport.”
    “Rides with strangers can be dangerous.”
    “We have no reason to want to harm you. If we did we could have done it anytime.” The man paused. “Up where you live in Delphi.”
    Kharon smiled. “Why is it that bad guys in the movies always say, ‘If we wanted to get you we could?’ It’s not difficult to find me if someone really wants to, but I can assure you, it’s much harder to kill me.”
    “I’m sure that’s a reason you’re so attractive to my superior.”
    “Tell me about your superior.”
    “I’m not authorized. But I can offer you something as a sign of good faith. If you agree to the interview you’ll receive fifty-thousand euros whether or not you take the job.”
    “Nice promise, but they’re only words.”
    Panos waved to the bartender. “Hand me my bag, please.”
    The bartender lifted a small backpack from behind the bar and handed it to Panos, who handed it to Kharon. “This is yours.”
    Kharon opened the bag and looked inside. “Nice, very nice.” He reached in and pulled out some one hundred and a fifty-euro notes. He turned them over, rubbed them between his fingers, and held them up to a light above the bar.
    “I’m not so sure you want to be flashing that kind of cash around this neighborhood.”
    “Why not? It’s mine to do with as I wish, isn’t it? I mean assuming I go for the interview.”
    Panos looked around the room. “Yeah, but I still think you should be careful.”
    “I agree.” Kharon swung off the bar stool and carried the bag over to a table where Jacobi stood talking to a customer. “Jacobi, I need your professional opinion.” He dumped the contents of the bag onto the table, sending the customer leaping out of his chair.
    “Sorry, sir,” said Kharon to the customer, who now stared wide-eyed at the cash-covered tabletop. “Tell me, Jacobi, do you think this stuff is real?”
    The customer hurried out of the taverna as Panos ran over to the table. “Are you crazy? The whole neighborhood will be in here in a minute.”
    Kharon ignored him. “Well, is it or isn’t it?”
    Jacobi studied one, then another bill. He pulled a pen out of his pocket and rubbed it across a different bill. “Very good, but fake.”
    “You guys don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Panos.
    Kharon said, “I suggest you pack up your cash and leave before the ‘whole neighborhood’ shows up looking to take it from you. Even counterfeit has value.”
    Panos bit his lower lip and started stuffing the counterfeit cash back into the backpack. “You still need to come with me.”
    “I think not.”
    “I’ll give you the real money.”
    “Too late. You’ve lost your credibility with me.”
    “This isn’t going to play well for you.”
    Kharon took Panos’ chin in his hand and pried his attention away from stuffing the bag. “Far worse for you.” He let go of Panos’ chin. “I’d like to hear how you’re going to explain to your superior why you couldn’t get a poor young kid like me to show up for a meeting in exchange for fifty-thousand euros. My guess is curiosity will lead your superior to making inquiries, and inevitably to learning that I was offered counterfeit cash. If your superior gave you counterfeit, then all’s fine with your world.” Kharon shook his head. “But if not, and your superior begins to wonder how counterfeit got into that backpack, I think you’ll have some explaining to