The men came after him and caught him before he got to the bushes. He was floored by a heavy blow above his right kidney, then grabbed and hauled back to his feet. ‘The snooper.’ The big man Rovertos Bekakos had called Mr Kloutsis leaned in close. ‘What are you doing here?’ ‘Snooping,’ Mavros gasped. He took another blow, this time to his gut, from one of the pair holding him up. He knew that catching his breath wasn’t going to be easy in the immediate future. ‘I’ll bet,’ said Kloutsis. ‘What I want to know is, where?’ In his agony, Mavros was relieved that the hard men seemed not to have seen him at Ourania’s house. ‘You want another pounding?’ Bekakos’s bodyguard demanded. ‘No problem. This time Beetroot here’ll be aiming at your balls.’ ‘Aaagh!’ Mavros’s left arm fell free. The guy who had been clutching him was prone on the road, hands at the back of his head. Blood was coming between the fingers. There was another scream and the second man, whose red face presumably had led to his nickname, was also writhing on the asphalt.
