Maria picked up her working sheets and the finalised manifest and put them in the top right-hand drawer of her desk. Then she locked it carefully, with the key that she always kept safely in her bag; Berger had had a new lock installed, and the only other key was with him.
On Friday morning Maria was late into the office – her bus had hit a dog (which, miraculously, had survived); the dog’s owner had threatened the bus driver; the driver had blamed the owner; a crowd had formed; someone had called the police, who took twenty minutes to arrive and then insisted on interviewing the passengers. It all seemed very Greek to Maria, and it was almost ten o’clock when she got to work.
There was no sign of Mr Limonides. He was probably outside having a fag, thought Maria as she sat down at her desk and checked the drawer. It was still securely locked. She opened it with her keys and checked the pages of the manifest. All present and correct.
Hers was a new desk, a modern one made of wood laminate and metal, its top a single sheet of laminate supported by the two upright sides. As she unlocked the drawer, the desktop rocked very slightly and slid a little to one side. Puzzled, she pushed one end of the desktop with both hands. It gave again, almost imperceptibly. Odd.
Maria got up, walked to the door and looked down the corridor. No one in sight. Out on the rear fire escape Mr Limonides stood by himself, mournfully smoking an Egyptian cigarette.
She returned quickly to her desk. Down on all fours, she peered up at the overhanging desktop. It was attached to the sides at each corner by metal brackets, held in place by two screws. One screw in the corner nearest her was loose and hanging halfway out of its hole; looking more closely, Maria could see fresh scratches in the laminate. Someone had been fiddling with the screws.
Then she understood. Removing the brackets had freed the desktop; removing the desktop left the top drawer exposed from above. The intruder could have read the papers in the drawer, put them back safely, apparently untouched, and then replaced the desktop. No one would have been any the wiser – if the screws had been put back properly.
How clever, thought Maria, then felt suddenly chilled as she realised that this must mean there really was a spy here in the Athens office of UCSO.
Maria went straight away to Berger’s office to tell him about her discovery. But to her dismay she found that the American was taking the day off – he had gone on a long weekend to one of the islands. So, with some hesitation, she rang Bruno Mackay at the embassy, but was answered by his secretary, who explained that Bruno, too, was away for a long weekend. The secretary offered to get Mr Mackay to telephone Maria back but she didn’t want to seem panicky, so she said no, it could wait till Monday.
Then Mr Limonides returned, and began quietly working on the special report about UCSO’s overheads that Berger had commissioned, while Maria wondered what to do next. There seemed no point in moving the papers in her drawer to a safer place. In one sense the damage had been done; in another, of course, the bait had been taken. But what was supposed to happen next? And how was she meant to narrow down the list of possible suspects?
Anastasia and Falana were waiting for her at a table in the bar. They’d already acquired a pitcher of sangria, and Falana poured out a large glass for Maria as soon as she sat down. The place was noisy, filling up quickly with young people celebrating the start of the weekend. In the background techno dance music throbbed. Not much chance of serious conversation here, thought Maria.
She had agreed to meet the two girls after Anastasia had bumped into her at lunchtime and asked if she’d join them that evening; caught on the hop, and distracted by the discovery that her desk had been tampered with, Maria had said yes. All afternoon she had kicked herself for agreeing, but having said yes, she didn’t see how she could get out of it without being gratuitously rude.
She had gone home first, showered and changed into tight jeans and a sparkly top – she was expecting to find the girls done up in their latest finery. She swapped her office shoes for strappy sandals, and her handbag for a little shoulder bag, then she closed the windows, put down the blinds and left her flat.
‘Do you always come here?’ Maria now asked.
Anastasia nodded. ‘We usually have something to eat in this place, then go on to the clubs nearby.’
