Sons of Sparta: A Chief Inspector Andreas Kaldis Mystery by Jeffrey Siger

But I do wonder how you would have turned out had you not found your way to Lila.”
    “And I wonder how you would have turned out had it not been your father’s sperm that found its way to your mother.”
    Orestes’ hand shook as he squeezed his glass. Andreas had clearly struck a nerve. This man was the scion of a political family, with a prime minister or two in his ancestry. But on his own, Orestes had achieved no more than what easily came through profiting off the influence of his father’s name.
    “Easy there, you wouldn’t want to break the glass and bloody your own hands.”
    The waiter returned with a beer and placed a glass in front of Andreas.
    “In deference to your social standing, I’ll drink this beer out of a glass,” said Andreas.
    The waiter poured the beer.
    Andreas lifted his glass up toward Orestes. “ Yia sas. ”
    Orestes jerked his snifter forward, clinked Andreas’ glass, and mumbled, “ Yia sas .”
    Andreas took a sip and put down the beer. “As I see it, you need me a lot more than I need you. Your buddies over there don’t know it yet, but you’re all on the verge of becoming extinct. It’s the curse of getting what you wished for. For generations your family and others like it have been turning every government opportunity into personal jackpots. It didn’t matter what was involved. Defense, hospitals, public construction, agriculture—anything our government had a hand in, you found a way to squeeze something out of for yourselves. But that was never enough. You wanted to be ‘as rich as the Arabs’ and along came these Cretan gas fields and you thought they’d be your payday. But surprise ! Something’s happened you never anticipated. You’re used to playing in a rigged, small-time game against amateurs. But now the stakes are much larger and mega-rich big boys who play by rules far tougher and dirtier than any you ever imagined are taking over the game. You’re scared shitless of losing your money spigot.”
    Orestes waved his hand. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Really? Let’s see. Greece’s finances are under microscopic scrutiny by a host of world financial powers to whom we owe umpteen zillion euros. It has a reputation as one of the most corrupt countries in the world, a disenchanted population heading more into poverty than out, political extremists in Parliament ready, willing, and, God forbid, able to plunge the country into civil war, and you think you can continue to do your little back room ‘a bit for me a bit for you’ bullshit dance to get anything you want out of our government? Wake up and smell the coffee, man. But you’d better hurry, for soon it, too, may not be Greek.”
    “That’s just my point.”
    “What is?”
    “Greece should profit Greeks, not foreigners.”
    “I assume you mean some Greeks.”
    “Does it matter as long as the money stays in our country? If foreigners control our gas, the profits will leave our country. Greece will be nothing more than a colony, exploited to serve other countries.”
    “Spare me the political rhetoric. Money squirreled away in Swiss bank accounts isn’t helping Greece.”
    “But foreigners won’t care what happens to our beloved Greece. They’ll destroy our seas, our beaches, our very way of life to profit themselves.”
    “You’re really trying to push every button, aren’t you? Trouble is, your facts are wrong. Foreigners have shown more concern than our government at protecting our environment. Greece has been penalized so often by the EU for environmental violations that fines are considered part of the cost of doing business here.”
    Orestes impatiently waved off Andreas’ words. “I’m talking about massive, irreversible ecological disasters on the scale of what happened to America’s Gulf Coast in 2010 at the hands of disinterested foreigners. And look what the Russian geologists did to Turkmenistan in 1971. They tapped into a cavern filled with natural