When the two men were settled inside the small office with Cuban cigars and a glass of whiskey, Jack regarded his father without expression.
He had plenty of questions – first and foremost, what the hell did Nikkos have to do with Jools’s disappearance? – but he knew his father and he knew this was another of the games he was so fond of playing.
“So tell me, Dad.” The last word was tinged with contempt. “What are you doing here in Dalston? Running a kebab shop-slash-nightclub is a bit beneath you. What happened to your shipping empire, the family compound on Mykonos?”
Nikkos shrugged. “I have them still. The shipping business is doing well, better than ever. But I have…other interests now. Angelos Holdings has become…how do they say? Diversified.”
“Oh, is that what they’re calling it nowadays? Diversification?” Jack took a sip of his whiskey. It went down smoothly, but he wasn’t surprised. The old man always stocked top-shelf hooch. “Good to know.”
Nikkos let out a bark of laughter, but his expression hardened. “You always had a smart mouth, Jakkos Angelos. That much hasn’t changed.”
“And I see you’re still up to your ears in criminal activity,” Jack returned, unperturbed. “But a man’s got to earn his drachmas – or Euros, or whatever the hell currency they’re using in Greece these days – however he can. Prostitution, money-laundering, drugs…”
Nikko’s fist slammed down on the desk. “How dare you speak to me so!” he snarled. “I’m your father! You owe me respect!”
Jack didn’t even flinch. He was used to the old man’s eruptions. “Spare me the righteous indignation. I see your temper hasn’t changed, either. It’s one of the reasons why I left. One of many,” he added.
“Bah! You were spoiled, you and your brother. Always coddled and indulged by your mother, given everything. You wanted for nothing. Nothing!”
Jack met the older man’s eyes. “When I was seventeen, I stole the keys to your brand-new Maserati and took it out for a drive one night. I wanted to impress a girl. I spun out on a patch of gravel coming home, and I lost control and wrecked. We hit an olive tree and the front end crumpled. We weren’t hurt, either of us; but I was scared shitless. Do you remember that?”
“I remember.” Nikkos’ expression was shuttered.
“And do you remember what you did to me?” Jack asked conversationally. Before his father could reply, he went on, “You broke my arm. Yanked it up behind my back until the fucking bone snapped and I passed out at your feet.” Jack paused. “Yeah, you were a great dad, all right. I don’t know how Mum stood it for as long as she did. But I never blamed her for leaving me behind; I’m just glad she got away.”
“You listen to me.” Nikkos leaned forward over the desk, palms resting against its surface, his swarthy face suffused with anger. “Your mother, she had the smart mouth, like you. Always she had questions, arguments. It got her into trouble. She didn’t understand the Greek way.”
“The Greek way?” Jack echoed, and let out a short bark of laughter. “You mean the physical abuse? The intimidation? The humiliation? Tell me, Dad. Are those things the ‘Greek way’?”
Nikkos glared at him, and the moment stretched perilously between them, tight with hostility. Then he leaned back in his chair once again, and the fury on his face smoothed itself out into a bland smile. “Always you bring out the worst in me, my son. Why do you do this, eh? I only want to talk with you. Discuss a matter of business.”
“What business might that be?” Jack enquired. “I’ve no interest in pimping out underage girls or peddling drugs or whatever it is you do these days to turn a profit.”
“Now who’s being self-righteous?” his father demanded.
“You’re an arms dealer, Jakkos! You sell weapons to despots and dictators, to mercenaries and murders; it makes no difference to you. And yet you have the arrogance to criticize me?” His laugh was harsh and mirthless. “The weapons and ammunition you sell don’t only kill soldiers. But you prefer not to think about that, don’t you? You like to think you have principles.” He spat. “But you don’t. You delude yourself.”
Slowly, feeling as though he’d been punched in the gut, Jack sucked in his breath. He’d never admit it, not in a thousand years, but he knew his father was right.
He was Nikkos Angelos’ son, after all.
“I want to share ownership of Hawkins InterArms, Jakkos.” Nikkos clipped the end off his cigar with a leisurely motion. “Say, twenty-five percent. In exchange, I’ll provide shipping and pump serious money into your operation. Working together, we can grow Hawkins IA into the biggest arms dealership in the world.”
Jack regarded him impassively. “And what do I get out of this deal? Besides giving over a sizeable chunk of my business, that is.”
Nikkos drew on his cigar, and the pungent fragrance filled the air. “I get to work with my son,” he said gruffly. “I get to help you make more money, and strengthen your shipping reach. I’m Greek, after all, Jakkos.” He expelled a cloud of smoke. “Family is everything, no?”
“Well, that’s all very touching,” Jack said, “but Hawkins InterArms is a legitimate business…for the most part. And I intend to keep it that way.”
“Legitimate?” Nikkos echoed. “You delude yourself. Your business is every bit as dirty as mine. More so.” He crushed out his cigar. “I’ve work to do. Stop wasting my time and tell me, what is your answer to be?”
“Well, as I see it,” Jack said, “I have something you want – Hawkins InterArms. And you have something I want.”
Nikkos’s smile was indulgent. “And what is that? You have only to name it, my son.”
Jack leaned forward. “I want my niece returned. I know you have her stashed somewhere. I want Jools back.”
“Who?” Nikkos asked, puzzled. “Who is this ‘Jools’ you speak of?”
“That’s what I figured you’d say.” Jack thrust his chair back and leaned over his father’s desk, his palms flat on the surface and his face inches from Nikkos’s. “You won’t hand over my niece? No worries. But you’ll have to turn hell into a skating rink before I give you even one-tenth of one percent of my business.”
Nikkos laughed. “I thought you might say that, as well. We’re both so predictable, are we not? In truth, I’d be surprised if you didn’t turn me down.” He turned away to pour himself more whiskey. “I don’t have the girl. I cannot give you what I don’t have.”
“You’re lying. We both know it. But I’ll find her, with or without your cooperation.” Jack turned to leave.
“Perhaps you need more time to consider the advantage such a partnership could bring.”
“About the same advantage I’d get from selling my soul to the devil, I imagine.” Jack made his way to the door. “No thanks.”
And with a curt nod, he opened the door and left.