Lara's Secret

from Lara's Secret - to be released June 5th. Published by DreamEngineUK.com Could the violent flames of Greek passion over Cypriot sovereignty be fanned again? Not if Pete West has anything to do with it. -

Ahmet looked into the mirror and ran a brush over his hair. Staging Aurele’s death as a suicide gave him a choice. He could either let Nico know that West had passed sensitive information on to the Frenchman and him, Ahmet, needed to silence the man, or he could keep quiet and let the suspicion fall on the KKA.

He brushed strands of grey hair from one shoulder before slipping into his white jacket. He had decided not to do either. Another course of action would buy him time to keep his son safe and rid himself of the journalists and the agent. Nico wouldn’t worry about the agent's death, but West and his companion were another matter. Their deaths would have to be at the hands of someone else. Not only that but someone who was an opponent both politically and culturally. The agent was ideal.

Ahmet left his cabin and made straight for the large lower sundeck. The agent was there every morning between six and seven should a meeting be necessary.

The sun was already above the horizon as Ahmet wound his way through the rows of blue and white sunbeds and stood by the ship’s rail. Assar, a tall man in shorts and sandals, joined him within seconds.

“You have little time left to deal with the grandson. Our committee will not be pleased if you let us down.”

Ahmet looked sideways and replied angrily. “There are other pressing matters. You are supposed to be dealing with West, yet he is still alive, causing trouble for Hrisacopolis and us. That is one reason why I have not completed my task.”

He quickly related what happened and handed over the Frenchman’s notes. While Assar scanned the papers, Ahmet kept watching across the sundeck. Several guests were sitting at the far end. He turned back to Assar, stepped closer, and spoke quietly.

Their people in the south of the island would be in danger. Ahmet pointed to the report and tapped the page headed Famagusta. The Famagusta container terminal was located just beside the Turkish border and operated by a Greek company that employed Turkish labour. If Hrisacopolis had anything to do with it, they would lose their jobs, giving him a stranglehold over Turkish farm exports. That would lead to unrest and violence. If that happened, Greece would get all the backing it needed from the EU if Turkish troops intervened.

“If UN troops are sent in, our plans to expand the Republic will be ruined, “continued Ahmet. “We have to play a clever game, Assar.”

Assar stroked his chin. “Okay, but if we kill Hrisacopolis, we would still have problems.”

“True, and think what would happen to our ambitions,” said Ahmet, shrugging.

Without the grandson or Hrisacopolis, the EU would have to find alternative shipping and distribution companies from other EU countries. The Greek government could try nationalizing Hrisacopolis’ empire to take his place, but the EU would never agree to that. The result would be a political conflict with the Greeks doing exactly what Hrisacopolis would do at Famagusta.

“I can see UN troops being pulled in as our army lines up on the border to protect our workers and our exports. The result would be the same, and we would lose everything.”

Assar carried on reading.

“Here,” said Ahmet, taking the papers and turning them over. “Look at this. West has written that the grandson might be an imposter. If that is the case, surely the KKA could turn him into a useful means of funding as in my original plan.”

Assar took the papers back and folded them.

“So how do we get what we want? You say you are going to kill Hrisacopolis.”

“Yes… At the right time, after the grandson takes control, that will not be until after we reach Athens,” said Ahmet. “We can use the imposter to our advantage, causing political turmoil at our choosing. This will allow us to invade the south before the UN can act. The toothless EU will eventually have to declare neutrality, and the island will be ours.”

“And if the grandson turns out to be genuine?”

Ahmet pulled an index finger across his throat. “I doubt he is, or Hrisacopolis would have found a use for him by now.”

He was thankful the KKA knew very little about the grandson before joining their organisation and put his plan to them. The imposter had to live.

Assar took a pack of Gauloises and a Zippo from his pocket. Removing a cigarette from the pack, he flipped the lighter. Smoke streamed sideways from his mouth.

“The journalists are going ashore when we dock in Naples,” said Ahmet, looking into Assar’s eyes. “You can leave Nico Hrisacopolis to me.” He turned and walked away.