On Wednesday night, he worked at the office until midnight, and then drove home. He reached his villa at one A.M.
His butler greeted him at the door. “Would you care for anything, Mr. Chotas? I can prepare some mezedes if you’re hungry, or…”
“No, thank you. I’m fine. Go on to bed.”
Napoleon Chotas went up to his bedroom. He spent the next hour going over the trial in his mind, and finally, at two A.M., he fell asleep. He had dreams.
He was in court, cross-examining a witness, when the witness suddenly started to tear off his clothes.
“Why are you doing that?” Chotas demanded.
“I’m burning up.”
Chotas looked around the crowded courtroom and saw that all the spectators were undressing.
He turned to the judge. “Your Honor, I must object to…”
The judge was taking off his robe. “It’s too hot in here,” he said.
It is hot in here. And noisy.
Napoleon Chotas opened his eyes. Flames were licking at the bedroom door and smoke was pouring into the room.
Napoleon sat up, instantly wide awake.
The house is on fire. Why didn’t the alarm go off?
The door was beginning to buckle from the intense heat. Chotas hurried to the window, choking on the smoke. He tried to force the window open but it was jammed shut. The smoke was getting thicker, and it was becoming more difficult to breathe. There was no escape.
Burning embers started to drop from the ceiling. A wall collapsed and a sheet of flames engulfed him. He screamed. His hair and pajamas were on fire. Blindly, he threw himself at the closed window and crashed through it, his blazing body hurtling to the ground sixteen feet below.
Early the following morning, state prosecutor Peter Demonides was ushered into Constantin Demiris’s study by a maid.
“Kalimehra, Peter,” Demiris said. “Thank you for coming. Have you brought it?”
“Yes, sir.” He handed Demiris the sealed envelope that Napoleon Chotas had given him. “I thought you might like to keep this here.”
“That’s thoughtful of you, Peter. Would you care for some breakfast?”
“Efharisto. That’s very kind of you, Mr. Demiris.”
“Costa. Call me Costa. I’ve had my eye on you for some time, Peter. I think you have an important future. I’d like to find a suitable position for you in my organization. Would you be interested?”
Peter Demonides smiled. “Yes, Costa. I would be very interested.”
“Good. We’ll have a nice chat about it over breakfast.”
Chapter Nine
London
Catherine spoke to Constantin Demiris at least once a week and it became a pattern. He kept sending gifts, and when she protested he assured her that they were merely small tokens of his appreciation. “Evelyn told me how well you handled the Baxter situation.” Or, “I heard from Evelyn that your idea is saving us a lot of money in shipping charges.”
As a matter of fact, Catherine was proud of how well she was doing. She had found half a dozen things in the office that could be improved. Her old skills had come back, and she knew that the efficiency of the office had increased a great deal because of her.
“I’m very proud of you,” Constantin Demiris told her.
And Catherine felt a glow. He was such a wonderful, caring man.
It’s almost time to make my move, Demiris decided. With Stavros and Chotas safely out of the way, the only person who could link him with what had happened was Catherine. The danger of that was slight but, as Napoleon Chotas had found out, Demiris was not a man to take chances. It’s a pity, Demiris thought, that she has to go. She’s so beautiful. But first, the villa in Rafina.
He had bought the villa. He would take Catherine there and make love to her just as Larry Douglas had made love to Noelle. After that…
From time to time, Catherine was reminded of the past. She read in the London Times the news of the deaths of Frederick Stavros and Napoleon Chotas, and the names would have meant nothing to her except for the mention that they had been the attorneys for Larry Douglas and Noelle Page.