Over the years, Spyros Lambrou and Constantin Demiris had carried on their charade of friendship. But each was determined that in the end he would destroy the other, Demiris because of his instinct for survival, Lambrou because of his brother-in-law’s treatment of Melina.
Spyros Lambrou was a superstitious man. He appreciated his good fortune in life, and he was anxious not to antagonize the gods. From time to time he consulted psychics for guidance. He was intelligent enough to recognize the frauds, but there was one psychic whom he had found to be uncanny. She had predicted his sister Melina’s miscarriage and what would happen to the marriage, and a dozen other things that had come to pass. She lived in Athens.
Her name was Madame Piris.
Constantin Demiris made it a habit to arrive at his offices in Aghiou Geronda Street every morning punctually at six o’clock. By the time his rivals went to work, Demiris had already conducted several hours of business with his agents in a dozen countries.
Demiris’s private office was spectacular. The view was magnificent, with picture windows putting the city of Athens at his feet. The floor was black granite. The furniture was steel and leather. On the walls was a cubist art collection, with Légers, Braques, and half a dozen Picassos. There was an enormous glass-and-steel desk and a leather throne chair. On the desk was a death mask of Alexander the Great, set in crystal. The inscription under it read: “Alexandres. The defender of man.”
On this particular morning, Constantin Demiris’s private phone was ringing when he entered his office. There were only half a dozen people who had access to the telephone number.
Demiris picked up the telephone. “Kalimehra.”
“Kalimehra.” The voice at the other end belonged to Spyros Lambrou’s private secretary, Nikos Veritos. He sounded nervous.
“Forgive me for disturbing you, Mr. Demiris. You told me to call when I had some information that you might…”
“Yes. What is it?”
“Mr. Lambrou is planning to acquire a company called Aurora International. It is listed on the New York Stock Exchange. Mr. Lambrou has a friend on the board of directors who told him that a big government contract is going to be given to the company to build bombers. This is, of course, very confidential. The stock will have a big rise when the announcement…”
“I’m not interested in the stock market,” Demiris snapped. “Don’t bother me again unless you have something important to tell me.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Demiris. I thought…”
But Demiris had hung up.
At eight o’clock, when Demiris’s assistant, Giannis Tcharos, walked in, Constantin Demiris looked up from his desk. “There’s a company on the New York Stock Exchange, Aurora International. Notify all our newspapers that the company is being investigated for fraud. Use an anonymous source, but spread the word. I want them to keep hammering at the story until the stock drops. Then, start buying until I have control.”
“Yes, sir. Is that all?”
“No. After I’ve acquired control, announce that the rumors were unfounded. Oh, yes. See that the New York Stock Exchange is notified that Spyros Lambrou bought his stock on insider information.”
Giannis Tcharos said delicately, “Mr. Demiris, in the United States, that is a criminal offense.”
Constantin Demiris smiled. “I know.”
A mile away, at Syntagma Square, Spyros Lambrou was working in his office. His workplace reflected his eclectic taste. The furniture consisted of rare antiques, a mixture of French and Italian. Three of the walls were covered with the works of French Impressionists. The fourth wall was devoted to an array of Belgian artists, from Van Rysselberghe to De Smet. The sign on the outer-office door read: LAMBROU AND ASSOCIATES, but there had never been any associates. Spyros Lambrou had inherited a successful business from his father, and over the years he had built it into a worldwide conglomerate.
Spyros Lambrou should have been a happy man. He was rich and successful, and he enjoyed excellent health. But it was impossible for him to be truly happy as long as Constantin Demiris was alive. His brother-in-law was anathema to him. Lambrou despised him. Demiris was polymichanos, a man fertile in devices, a scoundrel without morals. Lambrou had always hated Demiris for his treatment of Melina, but the savage rivalry between them had its own terrible nexus.