Today was his summation in a serial-murder case, but Chotas was too shaken to appear in a courtroom. "Call the judge and explain that I'm ill. Have one of the partners cover for me. No more calls."
He took a tape recorder from a desk drawer and sat there, thinking. Then he began to speak.
Early that afternoon, Napoleon Chotas appeared at the office of the state prosecuting attorney, Peter Demonides, carrying a manila envelope. The receptionist recognized him at once.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Chotas. May I help you?"
"I want to see Mr. Demonides."
"He's in a meeting. Do you have an appointment?"
"No. Would you please tell him I'm here, and that it's urgent."
"Yes, of course."
Fifteen minutes later, Napoleon Chotas was ushered into the office of the prosecuting attorney.
"Well," Demonides said, "Mohammed comes to the mountain. What can I do for you? Are we going to do a little plea bargaining this afternoon?"
"No. This is a personal matter, Peter."
"Sit down, Leon."
When the two men were seated, Chotas said, "I want to leave an envelope with you. It's sealed, and it is to be opened only in the event of my accidental death."
Peter Demonides was studying him, curious. "Are you expecting something to happen to you?"
"It's a possibility."
"I see. One of your ungrateful clients?"
"It doesn't matter who. You're the only one I can trust. Can you put this away in a safe where no one can get to it?"
"Of course." He leaned forward. "You look frightened."
"I am."
"Would you like my office to give you some protection? I could send a policeman along with you."
Chotas tapped the envelope. "This is the only protection I need."
"All right. If you're sure."
"I'm sure." Chotas rose and held out his hand. "Efharisto. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this."
Peter Demonides smiled. "Parakalo. You owe me one."
One hour later, a uniformed messenger appeared at the offices of the Hellenic Trade Corporation. He approached one of the secretaries.
"I have a package for Mr. Demiris."
"I'll sign for it."
"I have orders to deliver it to Mr. Demiris personally."
"I'm sorry, I can't interrupt him. Who is the package from?"
"Napoleon Chotas."
"You're sure you can't just leave it?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"I'll see if Mr. Demiris will accept it."
She pushed down an intercom switch. "Excuse me, Mr. Demiris. A messenger has a package for you from Mr. Chotas."
Demiris's voice came over the intercom. "Bring it in, Irene."
"He says he has orders to deliver it to you personally."
There was a pause. "Come in with him."
Irene and the messenger entered the office.
"Are you Constantin Demiris?"
"Yes."
"Will you sign for this, please?"
Demiris signed a slip of paper. The messenger laid the envelope on Demiris's desk. "Thank you."
Constantin Demiris watched his secretary and the messenger leave. He studied the envelope for a moment, his face thoughtful, then opened it. There was a tape player inside, with a tape in it. Curious, he pressed a button and the tape began to play.
Napoleon Chotas's voice came into the office. "My Dear Costa: Everything would have been so much simpler if you had believed that Frederick Stavros did not intend to reveal our little secret. I regret even more that you did not believe that I had no intention of discussing that unfortunate affair. I have every reason to think that you were behind the death of poor Stavros, and that it is now your intention to have me killed. Since my life is as precious to me as yours is to you, I must respectfully decline to be your next victim...I have taken the precaution of writing out the details of the part that you and I played in the trial of Noelle Page and Larry Douglas, and have placed it in a sealed envelope and given it to the prosecuting attorney to be opened only in the event of my accidental death. So now it is very much in your interest, my friend, to see that I stay alive and well." The tape ended.
Constantin Demiris sat there, staring into space.
When Napoleon Chotas returned to his office that afternoon, the fear had left him. Constantin Demiris was a dangerous man, but he was far from a fool. He was not going to harm anyone at the risk of putting himself in jeopardy. He's made his move, Chotas thought, and I have checkmated him. He smiled to himself. I suppose I had better make other plans for dinner Thursday.
During the next few days, Napoleon Chotas was busy getting ready for a new murder trial involving a wife who had killed her husband's two mistresses. Chotas rose early each morning and worked until late at night, preparing his cross-examinations. His instincts told him that - against all odds - he had another winner.
On Wednesday night, he worked at the office until midnight, and then drove home. He reached his villa at one A.M.
His butler greeted him at the door. "Would you care for anything, Mr. Chotas? I can prepare some mezedes if you're hungry, or..."
"No, thank you. I'm fine. Go on to bed."
Napoleon Chotas went up to his bedroom. He spent the next hour going over the trial in his mind, and finally, at two A.M., he fell asleep. He had dreams.
He was in court, cross-examining a witness, when the witness suddenly started to tear off his clothes.
"Why are you doing that?" Chotas demanded.
"I'm burning up."
Chotas looked around the crowded courtroom and saw that all the spectators were undressing.