‘Oh, Katerina.’ Her mother kissed her on the cheek.

  ‘Theo?’ Katerina asked, without looking at her mother. ‘Mama? Did you invite him? I have work to do.’

  Her mother, clearly adamant that she would avoid the question, returned to the stove. ‘A better day today? No more bodies?’ Her laugh was strained and inappropriate. ‘Ah, I mean, you did not need to work so late today. I was worried last night, Katerina, you have no idea what a mother’s imagination is capable of…’

  Ah, there. The first reference to motherhood of the evening. Katerina made for the fridge and grabbed a bottle of beer. Her mother narrowed her eyes but did not say anything. Sighing and despite her better judgement, she held a bottle out to Theo, careful not to graze his fingers as he took it.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, in a tone her mother would call humble and Katerina would call saccharine. He had no shame.

  She held her beer to the ceiling. ‘Well cheers, then,’ and took a long, gulping sip. ‘Theo has told you, Mama, that we are on the same team again?’ Katerina opened her laptop on the kitchen counter and found Sofia’s documents. ‘He turned up to our meeting today.’

  ‘Oh,’ her mother began, eyeing her daughter’s drinking with small and disapproving eyes. ‘Well, that is… good news! Theo has come over to share a meal with us. He telephoned me, can you imagine? Think of the moral fibre a man possesses to telephone his pethera–’

  ‘You are not his pethera,’ Katerina said flatly.

  Her mother ignored her, speaking rapidly over the sizzling tomatoes, ‘…the bravery, the remorse.’ She had rehearsed this. Katerina took another long swig. ‘He is a man of courage, Katerina. He has come to make amends.’ Her mother turned to her, spatula in hand. ‘What could I say? Did you want me to push him back onto the streets? Alone? They are not safe nowadays…’

  ‘Metaxourgeio?’ Katerina could not help smiling. ‘Afraid a guerrilla gardener will chase him with a spade?’ She ate her smile. ‘And Theo can handle himself, he’s a policeman too.’

  Her mother smirked at her, widening her eyes innocently. ‘Your cases have spooked me, what can I say?’

  Katerina sighed deeply, beginning to read a university transcript from 1972. Laurence-Sinclair was intelligent, it seemed. He had scored almost full marks in his final-year examinations. He had been a star student. She clicked on a file entitled ‘Written reports’; the screen loaded and she swore aloud.

  ‘Daughter!’ her mother scolded.

  ‘Sorry, Mama. I need to read this, Sofia has asked me to, but it is a scanned document written in English.’

  ‘You should have focused on your English studies.’

  ‘I know, Mama!’ Katerina took another swig of her beer. ‘But I need to read this now. I need to impress Sofia. I have a meeting with her in the morning.’

  ‘I wouldn’t tie yourself in knots trying to impress that woman,’ Theo said.

  ‘Oh?’ Katerina’s mother raised an eyebrow. ‘Katerina speaks very highly of Ms Sampson.’

  ‘I suppose if you like that sort of thing. Are all English women that tarty by the way? There are plenty of Greeks who need jobs, and here she comes, landing direct from London and pretty much falling into one of the most senior positions in the force.’

  Katerina squinted at her screen, trying her best to block Theo out. ‘She’s half-Greek,’ she said, distracted by the document. ‘I think she is wonderful; she deserves your loyalty. That’s the end of the matter.’

  ‘Wonderful!’ Theo burst out laughing, causing her mother to jump. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Galanis,’ he said. ‘Your daughter is precious!’

  Katerina took a steady breath and opened another document, trying not to pay attention to Theo. This one was an old newspaper clipping, again, in English, though Sofia had encircled a few phrases in what Katerina recognised as ancient Greek with a question mark. One of them being γλαυκῶπις. ‘Interesting,’ Katerina said aloud.

  ‘What?’ Theo’s head moved towards her screen as she closed it shut.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Katerina, exiting the document. ‘Theo, I feel that we have said enough. You are welcome to stay to dinner if Mama has invited you, but if we are to work together, then we must… respect each other’s space.’

  She crossed her arms as Theo began to speak. ‘I would rather we spoke in private.’ He looked at her mother’s back, nudging his head towards the hallway. Of course, he preferred privacy.

  ‘You can say anything in front of Mama that you want to say to me. She knows everything.’

  ‘Everything?’ His eyes twinkled. She did not rise to his bait. ‘The wedding is in two months,’ he began.

  ‘The wedding was in two months,’ Katerina corrected him. ‘We have had this conversation.’

  Theo drained his beer and squeezed the empty bottle in his hands, flexing his muscles. Even now, he could not resist a chance to show off. Her mother turned around at the noise of glass grating on her slate countertop and frowned. ‘Another?’ Katerina asked him, attempting to keep the peace.

  ‘Um, yes, please.’ He did not offer to get up himself.

  Opening his beer, he continued, ‘I know I made a mistake, I have said a thousand times that I am sorry, Katerina!’ He banged his fist on the counter; tiny glassy vibrations filled the air. Her mother, back still turned, moved sideways towards Katerina, and began inspecting the bread oven. Theo composed himself, unravelling his fist. ‘We cannot continue like this. I am glad you did not just roll over. You showed strength of character in moving out – but it’s gone too far, Katerina, we must move past this. We can, I know it.’

  Katerina narrowed her eyes at him as she tipped her head back to finish her bottle. He could make things so difficult. ‘I’m very busy, Theo. I don’t have time to reorganise a wedding, even if I wanted to.’

  His face creased with indignation. ‘With work?’

  ‘Yes.’ She shrugged.

  ‘She is always busy,’ her mother added, turning to put an arm around her daughter. ‘She works hard, like her father.’ Katerina placed a hand on her mother’s plump and dark forearm.

  ‘She should know her allies,’ Theo said.

  Katerina frowned. ‘I thought we were on the same side.’ Theo said nothing, shrugging his shoulders.

  ‘Please, Theo.’ Katerina was suddenly overcome with exhaustion. She needed to finish reading Sofia’s notes before their meeting tomorrow, as well as come up with a sensible explanation for breaking her word. ‘Can we do this another time?’

  He chuckled. ‘Need to call Michail?’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I need to work and then sleep.’

  ‘You like him, don’t you? I saw you together today, beavering away, looking at graphs, having the time of your lives. Jesus, Kat, he used to be our joke.’

  ‘Enough.’ Katerina stood, red in the face. ‘That’s enough, Theo, please.’ Then, because she was tired and needed him to leave, ‘I don’t owe you anything else. It’s over.’

  Theo drew himself away from her abruptly and chucked his beer bottle into the bin. ‘I can see I have overstayed my welcome,’ he said. Her mother looked like she might reply, but Katerina shot her a look. ‘Don’t work too hard, Kat,’ he said, seeing himself out. ‘You can dig too deep, you know.’

  ‘Tomatoes?’ her mother said, offering the plate.

  As she slipped into her bed, the same single bed she had slept in as a child, Katerina’s face was lit up by the light of her phone. She hugged her knees to her chest, nervous about her meeting with Sofia tomorrow. She hoped Sofia would not have a problem with Theo; it was over between them, after all. And visiting Christos Panagos? Well, this she was less sure about. She did feel a certain pride in her own tenacity; this sort of forthrightness was surely what a good police officer needed? Sofia was bound to understand that. She had done what was required. Now they had a proper lead.

  She moved over to her desk and ran a finger over the file, laid open. Here were photos of Marius Zamfir in various locations, all seemingly in the Exarcheia district. There was a long shot of him sitting smoking in a makeshift artists’ café, there he was spied through a window, his beautiful profile distracted, unaware. There he was passed out in the corner of a warehouse, his lips gently parted like they had been on his corpse, sleeping, intoxicated. It looked as if someone had stalked him. Who had given the Hellenakratia these? A handwritten note accompanied the images:

  ‘A portrait of a parasite’ or any other title you wish to invent. Recent events have certainly ‘awoken’ public interest. Send the Hellenakratia’s regards to the Special Violent Crime Squad. Christos Panagos (Editor-in-Chief).

  Arachne

  Sofia was furious. She fought the tiny convulsions in her neck, observing the girl from her leather chair, her fingers gripping its arms. Her department had been sucked straight into Christos’s twisted power games, despite her extremely clear and direct orders.

  ‘Did you not hear me?’ Sofia attempted to seem calm out of professionalism but was aware of the angry tremor in her voice. Katerina Galanis’s mouth was wide open. ‘Close your mouth, girl!’ Sofia cried, holding a rigid finger up to Katerina’s face so that she didn’t say anything that would make her even angrier. The file was placed open on her desk. Photographs, details, his place of birth, his family – all deceased. There was just enough information to tantalise but nothing concrete: no address or anything like that. She snapped it shut.

  ‘You mean to suggest a newspaper does better work than us? That simpering Christos Panagos,’ she said the name through gritted teeth, ‘is better than my team?’

  ‘No, Sofia–’

  ‘Quiet!’ Sofia sat back in her chair, her mind calculating, pacing. ‘I should have you off the case.’

  ‘Sofia, please–’

  ‘I said quiet!’ Sofia ran a fingernail across the thick brown file containing Marius’s details. There was no innocent reason why that man would have released this information to Katerina; he had no fear of the law. Christos was forever scheming. This was a message. A taunt. ‘They let you in, no questions?’

  Katerina shrugged. She did not seem to comprehend the severity of her actions. ‘I went to their offices and buzzed up. The receptionist, Lena, was frosty at first but then let me through. He is…’ She held her hands out.

  ‘If you say enchanting, I will sack you immediately.’

  ‘No!’ Katerina’s eyes widened. ‘No! I meant to say that he is creepy. It is like an invasion, the way he speaks. I… I can see how he has gained such popularity. If I didn’t know better, I could be mesmerised by him.’

  ‘He is dangerous.’ That was all Sofia was willing to offer the girl. She nodded curtly towards the file. ‘And he gave you this without so much as a greeting?’

  ‘No. He spoke about divine intervention.’ Sofia rolled her eyes. ‘And he mentioned you.’

  Sofia was very careful not to flinch. She squinted across her desk at Katerina. ‘Me?’

  ‘He said he knew you.’

  Sofia nodded. Katerina seized the silence. ‘It was easier than I thought. You are not pleased?’

  Sofia massaged her temples. ‘Too easy,’ she replied, clicking her tongue. Katerina said nothing. Sofia sighed. ‘Must I explain to you why we do not exchange information with the press, let alone that sort of press?’ She noted that Katerina had dark circles beneath her eyes. Sofia tried her best to understand. She had been young once. She had mistaken stupidity for tenacity. This was no ordinary case. The girl had justice in her heart, at least. And she did not know that justice was as rare as tanzanite, even in the special force. She continued in a softer voice, ‘We do not know for whom they work. Our agenda is to bring safety to the streets, to hold people to account–’

  ‘Then why don’t you?’ The girl’s shoulders were held back, her chest pushed out. The young ones were full of confidence. ‘It is hard to know what to think when you ignore the obvious lines of enquiry. Corruption is everywhere: those were your words! I remember them from the Academy lecture. It is hard to know whom to trust, Sofia. I went with my instincts and, look!’ She scooped the file from the desk. ‘I was right. They have an entire file on him, this will help us.’

  Sofia waited for the end of the girl’s speech, which no doubt she thought was righteous. She pursed her lips and stood, holding a steady eye. She moved her mouth purposefully, as if it was separate from the words she spoke. Each syllable hung stagnant in the air as she said, ‘You came very close to accusing me of something, Officer Galanis. I have always striven for justice. I can speak for myself. The press – the Hellenakratia in particular – are the mouthpiece for all sorts of unsavoury organisations, as you know. My department will not work with them; we cannot trust them. I would treat the information in that file with caution and I would warn you against accusing your superiors.’ She flared her eyes at the girl. Such insolence could not be tolerated.

  To Sofia’s surprise, Katerina held her ground. She spoke with an energetic fluency, her brow furrowed with concern, without thought, it seemed, of the consequences. Perhaps she thought that the damage was already done. ‘You didn’t want to look into the myths, like Michail suggested. Everyone is talking about it, not just the press. There are signs popping up all over Athens: #SheArises… the list is endless. Even Christos mentioned it. There are graffiti axes all over the city – like the murder weapon – wrapped in snakes. Michail says this is a symbol of Athena. Look at the bloggers: there are conspiracies popping up everywhere. Some are even saying that Athena herself is behind The Awakening. We should not ignore–’

  Sofia raised her voice. ‘All stirred up by the press whom you eagerly consulted! All a distraction from the facts at hand.’

  Finally, the girl seemed crestfallen. Her head dropped, defeated. A few seconds passed. Their breaths punctuated the dead office air in syncopated intervals. Sofia sat down again, sinking into the warm leather of her chair. She kicked off her shoes, usually something reserved for late afternoons. She reminded herself that the girl did not know the history behind this man. There was no way, however, that she would go into that now. ‘Look,’ Sofia began. ‘It’s good that we have found – think we have found – the victim’s identity. See if anything in the file is verifiable. Go to Exarcheia with Michail tomorrow and try and find out more. Remember that Christos would have revealed his source if he had really wanted to help us. This is… well, it is not straightforward. Like I say, tread carefully: it suits them for us to have this information, that much I know. As for the Athena myths…’

  Sofia could hardly believe she was entertaining the idea. Intuition was one thing, but to bend to the fancies of the public, to the vomit of extremist press; it was a descent into chaos, surely. Yet, they were struggling. There had been no success in tracking down The Awakening and its support was growing every hour. Katerina was correct, new conspiracies were beginning to surface, clouding the cyber team’s search. However, if the police enquired into such claims, then they would legitimise them, give them fuel. The two bodies materialised in her mind’s eye. The murdered man, the boy’s death, both somehow taking the public’s imagination by storm. She would be answering to the police director tomorrow. She needed momentum. She needed direction, at least. Katerina gripped the file, still standing before her. She was irritating, certainly. She was also bold. Sofia decided she liked her.

  ‘No news on Laurence-Sinclair’s whereabouts?’ Sofia asked. Katerina shook her head. ‘Very well,’ Sofia said. ‘We navigate uncharted waters. I give you permission to pursue any line you see fit. The same goes for Sergeant Mikras. Where is he?’

  The girl shifted from one foot to another, gesturing to their shared office where, no doubt, Michail was already meticulously elbow-deep in his myth research. Sofia frowned. ‘Let him know then. But Katerina, do not defy me again, or if you decide to, please inform me of your intentions beforehand.’

  Sofia could not help but smile at the look of unbridled delight on the girl’s face. ‘Oh, and Katerina?’ Sofia lowered her voice. ‘I don’t have anything to worry about between you and Constable Theo Kounos? I noticed… a certain tension yesterday.’

  ‘Nothing at all,’ Katerina replied. ‘Ancient history.’

  ‘Very well.’ Sofia nodded, gesturing to her office door. ‘I can tell you that workplace relationships are always a disastrous idea.’

  The news of Ms Sampson’s change of heart did not come as a surprise to Michail because it was the obvious and logical direction of inquiry. He was only sorry about the inordinate amount of time she had taken to reach this decision, forcing him to work covertly, which had only delayed things. At least now he could converse at length with his colleagues about his provoking and potentially groundbreaking theories. He had been busy cross-referencing a spreadsheet of key mythological words with suspicious social media posts. So far, references to spiders – and the Arachne myth – had been littering the comments. Much as it filled him with dread, Michail was sure he had identified the basis for another murder being plotted. The next trick was to decipher the specific details. He stared at his tablet, which was propped up behind his lunch tray, thinking that it would be useful to have someone to bounce ideas off.

  Unfortunately, a familiar scene had unfolded before him in the canteen, which had resulted in his new colleagues suffering from a case of temporary blindness as they scanned the communal tables for somewhere to sit. Despite him nudging the chair next to him suggestively (he had not yet summoned the courage to wave), he remained alone, picking his own brains.

  But this was not the only déjà vu about today’s lunch. Much as he tried to ignore it, a fiery voice, thrown from the far end of the canteen persisted, forcing him to break his concentration.

  ‘Mikras! What are you doing sitting alone? Mikras, come here, come here!’