Hand of God by Philip Kerr Page A

City’s first choice goalkeeper until an accident had forced him to quit the game; he’d hit his head on the post in a match against Tottenham the previous January. He wasn’t long out of hospital after making an only partial recovery.
    ‘You know I have a house in Greece,’ said Bekim. ‘On the island of Paros. As a matter of fact it’s not so very far from the place in Turkey where I’m originally from. Before we moved to Russia.’
    I shook my head. ‘I didn’t know that.’
    ‘I bought it when I was playing for Olympiacos. It’s just a thirty-minute hop on a plane from Athens. Very quiet. When I’m there the local people leave me alone – in fact, I think they really don’t know who I am at all – you can’t imagine how wonderful that is. I go there several times a year. By the way, you must stay at the Grande Bretagne Hotel; it’s the best hotel in Athens. And while you’re there – yes, this is the reason I came here today – you must meet this woman I know and take her to dinner. Her name is Valentina and she is the most beautiful woman in all Athens, although originally she’s from Russia. I’ll text you her number and email. Seriously, Scott. You won’t be disappointed. She makes every other woman look quite ordinary and she’s great company. You should take her to Spondi, the best restaurant in Athens. I know she likes it there.’
    I knew Bekim’s reputation as a ladies’ man. Before meeting his current girlfriend and the mother of his child, Alex, he’d had a string of glamorous girlfriends, including the Storm supermodel Tomyris, and the singer Hattie Shepsut. In an interview with GQ magazine he’d admitted to sleeping with a thousand women, which, if it was true, meant he was basing his opinion of his friend Valentina on a fairly significant statistical sample and was perhaps something that needed to be taken seriously.
    He took out his iPhone again. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a picture of her on my phone.’
    He swiped his way through several photographs until he found the one he was looking for.
    ‘There. What do you think?’
    ‘I’m going to watch a football match, not check out the local hookers.’
    ‘She’s not a hooker. Believe me, you won’t forgive yourself if you don’t at least take her out to dinner. I wouldn’t recommend her to you if I didn’t think you’d find her the most delightful company. She’s very sophisticated, very well read. And she knows about art. Every time I see her I learn something new.’
    ‘If she’s so sophisticated, how come she knows a sod like you?’
    ‘Does it matter? Look at her, man. She’s properly fit. A face to launch a thousand ships, eh?’ Bekim grinned. ‘Sometimes I read this phrase in the newspapers. Writers talk about a country’s best-kept secret. Well, she’s Attica’s best kept secret.’
    ‘Attica?’
    ‘The historical region that encompasses Athens.’
    ‘I see. So, when I’m in Attica, I’m going to look up Helen of Troy, is that it?’
    Bekim grinned. ‘That’s right. It couldn’t do you any harm, could it?’
    ‘No, I suppose not.’
    ‘Life is more than just football, Scott. Even for you. You have to remember that.’
    ‘You’re right. I forget that sometimes. But with two games a week – three if we get through the play-offs for the Champions League – there’s not much time for life.’
    ‘In this game of ours, it’s easy to forget everything else.’
    ‘Yes. It is.’
    ‘I’ll tell her you’re coming, shall I? And that you’re staying at the Grande Bretagne on Syntagma Square. The rooftop bar and restaurant has the best view in all of Athens. Take her there before you go to Spondi and put the bill on my tab.’
    ‘Why not?’
    I agreed just to humour him, as if he really was a child, and then forgot all about it.
    ‘But be careful, Scott,’ he added, ‘and I don’t mean with lovely Valentina. There are two teams in Attica. Olympiacos and Panathinaikos, and they are