Turtle Hawks

Peri took the lift to the top floor, the boss’s domain, a vast area the size of a tennis court, with views of Athens and the Saronic Gulf in one direction, Mount Penteli in the other, and Mount Parnitha to the west, only interrupted by the helicopter parked on the pad outside. He was the only commuter in Athens who didn’t have to go to hell and back to get to work every morning. Peri glanced at his watch. It was 10.30. At least they wouldn’t have too long to argue if Apostolakis was planning to get to his meeting on time. He gave an assertive rap on the oak door. There was a click and Peri pushed open the door to the sanctum sanctorum of Channel 5. There was a sweet aroma of cigar smoke hanging in the air, which added the final touch of class to the elegantly furnished office. Apostolakis was standing at the window like a captain on the bridge of his ship peering out across the ocean of rooftops. When Peri approached, he turned. His face was more than usually dour. Peri wondered whether someone had informed him of his time of arrival at Channel 5, which meant Peri had deliberately kept him waiting. A flap of skin on each jaw sagged moodily. One hand directed Peri to sit. They settled into their chairs, each sitting tense and upright. ‘Quite frankly, Peri, I’m worried,’ said Apostolakis from behind a bundle of fists. Peri said nothing. He’d let the boss throw the first punch. ‘Your coverage of corruption in the civil service was quite brilliant! And the evidence incontrovertible!’ Irrelevant! Totally irrelevant! This was designed to make him drop his guard. He remained silent, shifting slightly in his chair, wondering where the first blow would come from. ‘Now targeting the country’s top surgeons is a different kettle of fish. These men devote themselves to saving lives. I don’t have to tell you how long it takes to become a top surgeon. And the responsibility is immense.’ The punch was only a jab and Peri didn’t even bother trying to deflect it. ‘And the state pays them a pittance. It’s quite despicable,’ said Apostolakis, indignantly arching his meticulously plucked eyebrows. Peri decided to let the boss tire himself out ineffectually dancing round the ring. ‘What I’m trying to say is that I feel we should drop the whole business.’ Peri felt the impact but hid the pain. ‘I disagree,’ said Peri cautiously. ‘As the country’s elite, they should be setting an example.’ ‘Come on, Peri. I thought you were a pragmatist,’ said Apostolakis with the shadow of a smile on his lips. ‘Absolutely not!’ He detested pragmatists like he detested bankers and TV network owners. ‘If I were a pragmatist, I would have become a sports journalist.’ Apostolakis hid his annoyance with a strained cough. ‘What I mean, Peri, is that you are very aware of the Greek reality.’ ‘I am and that’s what I want to change. The attitude that the Greek reality is an immutable entity is what is destroying this country. Everyone knows what needs to be done, but nobody is prepared to do anything about it.’ ‘Well, isn’t that exactly what I’m saying, Peri. Nothing is going to change, so let’s accept it.’ ‘What you’re saying is I might as well pack up and go home.’ Apostolakis shifted in his chair, looked at his watch and sighed. ‘Peri, you are one of Greece’s top journalists. I admire your guts. But can you honestly say that as a result of your efforts any permanent change has been wrought on Greek society?’ Peri received that one right in the belly. It was a question he had been avoiding for years. He had knowingly given little thought to the long-term benefits of his investigations. He liked to think it didn’t concern him. He was a journalist, after all, not a public prosecutor. However, the unpleasant question was always there lurking waiting for someone to remind him of its presence. ‘Not visibly perhaps. But corruption is not a quantifiable entity.’ He realized it was a weak riposte with no thrust behind it. ‘Peri, I love your fighting spirit and you have a great show. You’re a natural. Your ratings are consistently among the best in the country but we must focus on the real offenders, not doctors whose ultimate aim is to save lives.’ Peri was silent. Is there any point continuing this discussion? But he was not about to throw in the towel without a fight. ‘Why now?’ he said simply. Apostolakis was taken off guard by this weak stab to the arm. Peri could see the boss battling with the consequences of telling him the truth and the chances of Peri buying anything less than the whole truth. Though aware of his vulnerability to public figures like Peri, as a leading publisher and TV channel owner, Apostolakis never doubted his prerogative to impose his version of the truth on the defenceless Greek public. ‘Are you implying that someone is exerting some kind of pressure on me?’ said Apostolakis indignantly. ‘That was the gist of my question, yes.’ ‘Well, let me assure you that this is not the case. I have no personal interest in this whatsoever.’ Peri knew at once by the vehemence of his protest that someone had intervened on the doctor’s behalf. Could it have come straight from the top? A government minister? The PM himself? ‘I see,’ said Peri realising the futility of arguing. ‘I knew we’d see eye to eye, Peri,’ said Apostolakis expediting the meeting in a show of victory. He rose from his plush leather chair. ‘We always do in the end.’ Peri had been outmanoeuvred by the older man, who was abandoning the fight while he was still up on points. ‘I’m afraid I’ve got a meeting. But it’s always stimulating talking to you, Peri,’ he said with a patronizing smile. ‘You want me to kill my investigations into the doctor?’ Peri insisted. ‘I’d appreciate it if you would. I don’t know if Channel 5 can take any more heat at the moment. You understand? No need to tell you what it costs to run a quality channel like ours.’ Peri grudgingly muttered agreement, even though he couldn’t give a shit. Making money was not his business. ‘Would hate to have to lay off any colleagues,’ said Apostolakis, eying Peri surreptitiously from under his heavy eyelids. That was the coup de grace and Apostolakis knew it. Peri could be ruthless with a careless colleague but he would lay down his life for those he respected. He certainly didn’t want another Christos on his conscience. He thought for a moment. He was down, but not out. ‘I have film of him taking an envelope stuffed with cash,’ parried Peri weakly. Apostolakis turned sharply, his expression giving nothing away, but clearly eager for more details. ‘You mean the money never appears on camera.’ ‘No, but it’s quite obvious what’s in the envelope.’ ‘But no money actually changes hands.’ ‘It hardly contained a birthday card!’ Apostolakis threw a look of despair at Peri. ‘Peri, I like you. You’re a good journalist but you take chances. A lawyer worth his salt will tear you to pieces in a court of law.’ ‘But this isn’t a court of law.’ ‘But it might become one, if you have to face charges of libel. And this will reflect badly on Channel 5, even if you are the one who has to pay the price.’ ‘You’re saying I can’t use the footage.’ ‘Quite.’ ‘But..,’ ‘In fact, I’d really like you to destroy it. We don’t want it getting into the wrong hands, do we?’