Santorini Caesars by Jeffrey Siger

had made that reality a struggle for him to accept. “Stop being a such a macho Greek sexist,” she’d said. “As long as we’re happy, who cares whose money it is? Besides, it saves you from all those temptations thrown at cops struggling to support their families.”
    Andreas smiled. His domestic situation did spare him all the paperwork associated with reporting attempted bribes, because no one in the know ever bothered trying to corrupt him. Don’t even try, he doesn’t need it , was the word on the street about him.
    â€œAre we just going to sit here?” came a voice from the passenger seat.
    Andreas opened his door. “Sorry, Yianni, I was day dreaming.”
    â€œDid it bring you any visions of what we might expect to run into upstairs?”
    â€œAll I know is what I told you back in the office. My guess is it has to do with implementing crowd-control measures for the demonstrations. Don’t worry, you’re just along for moral support.”
    â€œI thought I was backup.”
    â€œNah, that’s only if we’d have to kick down doors. Here we’re invited.”
    â€œThanks for explaining the difference.”
    â€œYou’re wel—”
    â€œHey, is that who I think it is heading into the building?”
    Andreas jerked his head around to look at the entrance. “Son of a bitch. It’s the Brigadier.”
    â€œI doubt it’s a coincidence.”
    â€œYeah, sort of makes you wonder what the minister has in mind.”
    Yianni nodded. “So, what do we do now?”
    Andreas stared at the entrance. “Same as before, play it by ear.”
    â€œIf you say so.”
    â€œWith one slight modification.”
    â€œBeing?”
    â€œAs of now, consider yourself backup.”

Chapter Six
    Andreas did not recognize the stern-faced secretary of indeterminate age sitting at the desk outside the minister’s office. She, too, was new to the ministry, having joined her boss when he left his position as his party’s Assistant General Secretary in charge of Event Coordination, a position the pundits often characterized as “Riot Coordinator.”
    To give the devil his due, if anyone ought to know how best to deter—if not actually control—demonstrations, it would be the rebels’ former organizer-in-chief. But that assumed Babis-the-minister was willing to risk revealing his longtime secrets to his erstwhile enemies. After all, Greek politics being what they were, today’s minister could well be tomorrow’s anti-establishment rock-tosser.
    The thought brought one of Lila’s favorite quips from a classic American cartoon character into Andreas’ mind: “We have met the enemy and he is us.” He smiled at the line.
    â€œChief Inspector Andreas Kaldis and Detective Kouros to see the minister,” he told the woman.
    She fixed a frown and her tiny bird-like eyes on Andreas’ face. “I’m not sure what has you smiling, Chief Inspector, but the minister said to send you right in.” She did not get up from behind her desk.
    â€œA swamp-living cuddly possum named Pogo. No need to show us in, I know the way.”
    She looked at him as if he were a visitor from another planet.
    Perhaps I am , he thought as he and Yianni headed toward a dark, heavy wooden door leading into what until a few months before had been his own office.
    Andreas pulled open the door and stepped inside with Yianni right behind him. Babis sat off to the left behind an ornately carved antique mahogany desk far different from the standard-issue desk of Andreas’ tenure. The Brigadier sat in one of two bottle-green leather armchairs across from the minister, and a man in a dark brown sport coat with an upturned collar sat in the other.
    â€œClose the door, Kaldis,” barked Babis.
    Yianni turned to shut the door.
    â€œNo, Yianni, let me do it.” Andreas stepped toward the door and pulled it