during the Border War. His contact, who did a lot of work with the Russians in Cyprus (‘and I mean, a lot,’ said Crowbar) had confirmed that Regina Medved was on the island, meeting with the heads of her various businesses. Crowbar had managed to meet, if not with the dowager herself, with her number-two man, in Limassol, two days before. As a result of that meeting, he now worked ‘on contract’ for the Medved family empire. Smashing the research station had been his first task.
Crowbar finished his beer and put the empty bottle on the floor between his feet. ‘I don’t know where Rania is, Straker. But I can tell you, Regina Medved doesn’t have her. She just put a one-million-dollar price on Rania’s head.’
Fear detonated inside Clay’s chest, tore through him like fragments of mortar casing.
‘And something else. The reward for Zdravko Todorov has just gone up. Two million dead, three alive. Same as you. I think she wants to have some fun with him before they kill him.’ He glanced over at Hope, leaned in close to Clay, whispered. ‘They say she gets off on torture. Likes to watch.’
Clay looked up at him.
‘I mean, literally. She masturbates while they torture the bastards.’
Clay sat up, took a deep breath.
By now Hope was sobbing quietly in her chair, Punk’s sweater hanging from her thin frame like a lost dream.
Crowbar stood, started towards the doorway, ‘Beer, Straker?’ he said, disappearing into the kitchen.
Clay looked at Hope. ‘No wonder Rania disappeared.’
Hope looked up through her tears. ‘But she hasn’t abandoned us.’
Clay nodded. Us.
Crowbar reappeared with two cold Keo grasped in one hand, a 35mm camera with an externally fitted flash hanging by its strap from the other. He handed Clay a beer. Clay put it on the table next to the other one he’d hardly touched.
‘So why would Medved want me to destroy your research station?’ Crowbar asked Hope, cracking the top of his beer. ‘What has she got against you?’
‘I’ve never met the woman. All I know about her is from the news. A reclusive oddball oligarch obsessed with Orthodox Christian mythology, another of the great Russian carpetbaggers.’ Hope wiped her face with the sleeve of Punk’s jumper. More tears for wool. She looked at Clay. ‘What has she got against you?’
Clay shrugged.
‘He killed her brother,’ said Crowbar.
Clay shot him a stare.
Crowbar frowned. ‘You said she was okay.’
‘I am okay,’ said Hope. ‘And after yesterday, I’m not surprised either.’
‘Is it because of the Commission?’ said Clay.
Hope leaned forward. ‘Why would Regina Medved care about the Commission?’
‘Have you heard of a company called EcoDev?’ said Crowbar, fiddling with the camera.
‘Sure,’ said Hope. ‘It’s one of the biggest, most successful property development outfits in Cyprus. Arch rivals of my friend Nicos Chrisostomedes.’ She exhaled through pursed lips. ‘EcoDev has started the application process for a major resort just west of here, at Toxeflora Beach in the Agamas. It’ll never go ahead, though, because it’s on Turkish-owned land that has been incorporated into the proposed Agamas National Park, and because, after Lara Beach, it’s the last and most important remaining turtle-nesting beach in Greek Cyprus. So yes, the Commission is going to want to speak to EcoDev.’
‘Being in the park didn’t stop the Alassou Resort going ahead,’ said Clay.
‘That was one of Chrisostomedes’ deals,’ said Hope. ‘Also on Turkish land.’
Clay thought back to his meeting with Erkan, right after Rania had disappeared. ‘According to Erkan, that deal was “facilitated” by Minister Dimitriou. Even Erkan was in on it.’
Hope looked at him quizzically. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I have proof.’
Hope stared out into the night for a moment. ‘If word ever got out that Chrisostomedes had colluded with Erkan, it would mean the end for his business here. He’d become a pariah. People here have long memories and they don’t forgive. As for Dimitriou, his political career would be over.’ Then she reached to the ground, picked up the crumpled letter and started to unfold it. ‘Now this makes sense,’ she breathed, smoothing out the paper and handing it to Clay.
Hope caught a breath. ‘It’s from Nicos Chrisostomedes. He wants me to join him for dinner the day after tomorrow at his mansion in the Troodos Mountains. He wants to discuss making a major donation to the research station.’
Clay looked at the date. Yesterday. ‘I thought…’
‘Yes,’ Hope interrupted. ‘I’ve been highly critical of him in the media.’
‘When he wrote this he would have known that the station had been destroyed. Sounds like he wants to show