Jeffrey Siger_Andreas Kaldis 02 by Assassins of Athens Page A
Authors: Assassins of Athens
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top floor. He didn’t bother looking for a buzzer. He wanted to surprise her.
Andreas noticed only two apartments per floor. That meant several rooms for each apartment. He wondered if someone else lived with her. That could be a problem. Just one of many things that could go wrong.
Andreas was at her door. Time to decide. He felt his crotch. That’s where he hid his gun in an American designed holster that fit around his hips under his jeans and held the gun flat against his family jewels.
He listened for a sound but heard nothing. He knocked lightly. “Anna.” He whispered the word.
No answer. He knocked slightly harder and whispered again, “Anna.”
He heard something move inside. He listened. The sound came toward the door.
“Anna.” He whispered without knocking.
He heard a sleepy, “Who is it?”
“Andreas.”
“Andreas who?”
“From the other night.”
“I don’t know you.” The voice sounded more slurred than sleepy.
“Sure you do. We met at the Angel Club.” He braced for a reaction. None came. “Anna, open up. You know who I am.”
She practically yelled, “Leave, or I’ll call the police!”
She must be panicked, he thought. That was about the worst possible thing she could have said if the guy at the door was involved in the murder. “Bingo, my love, you guessed who it is.” He no longer whispered. “Look through your peephole at my ID.”
He heard her moving away from the door. “ Get back here. ” It was his official, cop voice. “If you don’t cooperate, in five minutes I’ll have cops all over this place, and you know what that means.” Andreas held his breath and stepped to the side of the door just in case something other than an eyeball aimed through the peephole. He heard her step forward and fidget with the cover on the inside of the door. There was no lens, just an opening the size of an egg.
“Where are you, I can’t see you?” she said.
He leaned in from the side and saw an almond-shape, light-green eye, then stepped in front of the door and held the badge around his neck up for her to see. “Andreas Kaldis, Special Crimes Division, Athens Police.” No reason to scare her with his title. “You know why I’m here, open up.”
He heard a chain fumble along a channel, and the click of a dead bolt. The door opened slightly. He thought of going for his pistol, just in case, but didn’t.
A dim light flickered inside, and only the eyes and hair of a woman’s head showed around the edge of the door. She looked different from her picture, almost vulnerable. Her hair was auburn. He could tell she’d been crying.
“Come in.” She said the words without looking at him.
Andreas immediately looked behind the door, did a quick scan of the room, and opened the only closet in it. There was no one else there, at least in that room. A well-worn gray couch sat against the wall across from the door, just beyond a glass-topped coffee table. Two taverna-style wood and rattan chairs stood on the other side of the table and everything sat on a faded, gray-and-red carpet. Each wall had a picture of a different saint. There were two standing lamps in the room but the only light came from a television flickering at the near end of the couch. The sound was off.
“How many rooms in here?”
“Huh?”
She was out of it. “How many rooms in this apartment?”
“Uh, this one…a bedroom…bathroom…the kitchen.” She couldn’t seem to concentrate.
“Anyone else in here with you?”
“Just Pedro.”
Andreas reached inside the front of his pants and gripped the butt of his gun. “Pedro, get out here. Now! ”
“Shhh.” She put a finger to her lips. “You’ll wake him up.”
“Get him out here.” He was in no mood to negotiate.
“He’s a baby.” She gestured for him to follow her to the bedroom.
Cautiously, Andreas studied the bedroom from the doorway. Sure enough, there was a baby, probably a six-month old, asleep in the crib. He pointed to the
Andreas noticed only two apartments per floor. That meant several rooms for each apartment. He wondered if someone else lived with her. That could be a problem. Just one of many things that could go wrong.
Andreas was at her door. Time to decide. He felt his crotch. That’s where he hid his gun in an American designed holster that fit around his hips under his jeans and held the gun flat against his family jewels.
He listened for a sound but heard nothing. He knocked lightly. “Anna.” He whispered the word.
No answer. He knocked slightly harder and whispered again, “Anna.”
He heard something move inside. He listened. The sound came toward the door.
“Anna.” He whispered without knocking.
He heard a sleepy, “Who is it?”
“Andreas.”
“Andreas who?”
“From the other night.”
“I don’t know you.” The voice sounded more slurred than sleepy.
“Sure you do. We met at the Angel Club.” He braced for a reaction. None came. “Anna, open up. You know who I am.”
She practically yelled, “Leave, or I’ll call the police!”
She must be panicked, he thought. That was about the worst possible thing she could have said if the guy at the door was involved in the murder. “Bingo, my love, you guessed who it is.” He no longer whispered. “Look through your peephole at my ID.”
He heard her moving away from the door. “ Get back here. ” It was his official, cop voice. “If you don’t cooperate, in five minutes I’ll have cops all over this place, and you know what that means.” Andreas held his breath and stepped to the side of the door just in case something other than an eyeball aimed through the peephole. He heard her step forward and fidget with the cover on the inside of the door. There was no lens, just an opening the size of an egg.
“Where are you, I can’t see you?” she said.
He leaned in from the side and saw an almond-shape, light-green eye, then stepped in front of the door and held the badge around his neck up for her to see. “Andreas Kaldis, Special Crimes Division, Athens Police.” No reason to scare her with his title. “You know why I’m here, open up.”
He heard a chain fumble along a channel, and the click of a dead bolt. The door opened slightly. He thought of going for his pistol, just in case, but didn’t.
A dim light flickered inside, and only the eyes and hair of a woman’s head showed around the edge of the door. She looked different from her picture, almost vulnerable. Her hair was auburn. He could tell she’d been crying.
“Come in.” She said the words without looking at him.
Andreas immediately looked behind the door, did a quick scan of the room, and opened the only closet in it. There was no one else there, at least in that room. A well-worn gray couch sat against the wall across from the door, just beyond a glass-topped coffee table. Two taverna-style wood and rattan chairs stood on the other side of the table and everything sat on a faded, gray-and-red carpet. Each wall had a picture of a different saint. There were two standing lamps in the room but the only light came from a television flickering at the near end of the couch. The sound was off.
“How many rooms in here?”
“Huh?”
She was out of it. “How many rooms in this apartment?”
“Uh, this one…a bedroom…bathroom…the kitchen.” She couldn’t seem to concentrate.
“Anyone else in here with you?”
“Just Pedro.”
Andreas reached inside the front of his pants and gripped the butt of his gun. “Pedro, get out here. Now! ”
“Shhh.” She put a finger to her lips. “You’ll wake him up.”
“Get him out here.” He was in no mood to negotiate.
“He’s a baby.” She gestured for him to follow her to the bedroom.
Cautiously, Andreas studied the bedroom from the doorway. Sure enough, there was a baby, probably a six-month old, asleep in the crib. He pointed to the
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