EYE OF THE HYDRA (complete)

CHAPTER ONE

Inspector Stratos Fotopoulos was a middle-aged man. His straight hair started to bald strongly on top of his head, which he tried to compensate with a surprisingly thick beard. His manner was rough and straightforward. Fotopoulos didn't even attempt to hide that he didn't sympathize with me but at least he believed my story. There wasn't much furniture in the white-walled office. Apart from a file cabinet and his desktop I saw nothing else in the room. Except one chair, on which I was sitting opposite the inspector.

"You are lucky to be a private detective and pure as freshly fallen snow," Fotopoulos growled, after making me wait for an hour until they checked my data. "So you didn't see anything?"

"Just what I told you already. I suppose, those two guys from the boat could tell you more."

"The problem is that we don't have any description about their appearances. However, many witnesses also claim that they saw one of them climbing out of the water in a diving suit. Only the foam they churned up remained after them. In other words, we are completely in the dark. But something else did turn out," he said, leaning closer to me. "My colleagues called the British Museum and asked about Miss Borchardt. They have never heard of her."

"What?" I couldn't believe my ears. This information was something I didn't expect.

"You heard well. Whoever she was, she lied to you, Mr. Wyatt."

"But why?"

"Good question," he nodded, then stood up and held out his hand. "You can go now. Your statement was recorded but... don't leave the town for a while!"

I said goodbye and left the building. Immersed in my thoughts, I walked through the main street of Tolo. Taverns and shops were passing by. The whole situation seemed surreal and absurd. My holiday couldn't get any worse than this. Who were you really, Jennifer? I decided to find out, so I headed straight to the Apollon Hotel.

It didn't take long to find the building, which was marked by a billboard, including a golden harp and lettering on a brown background. I arrived at its parking lot from where people could access the building through a glass door. Pleasantly cool air waited for me inside. The marble hall was furnished with a white piece suit and a large-screen TV.

Behind the reception desk, a bald bespectacled man was seated. He immediately arose as he saw me.

"Good afternoon! How can I help?" He asked in English with a slight accent, but understandable.

"Greetings! My name is Ron Wyatt. Inspector Fotopoulos sent me to look around in the room of Miss Jennifer Borchardt."

"I believe the police closed the suite already," he frowned but I didn't let myself be distracted.

"I'm here unofficially. The inspector is a good friend and a colleague of mine. You know, I'm a detective in London. Actually, he isn't satisfied with the performance of his men and asked me to help. Neither would he be happy, learning you were not willing to cooperate with the authorities. We are talking about a serious crime here, sir! But if you think, I shall make a phone call...," I shrugged my shoulders and reached for my mobile phone.

"No need for that!" Replied the man suddenly, from which I found out that he didn't wish to experience the wrath of the inspector. "Here is the room key. Second floor!"

So I went up the stairs. I could use the elevator, but two years ago I got stuck in one when a power failure happened. Since then I couldn't force myself to use the mechanism. After a few minutes I was standing on the corridor in front of the room. A yellow ribbon stretched outside the door, indicating that the police already scanned the place. Without hesitation, I tore off the ribbon and stepped inside. Then I found myself in an elegant room with a double bed and a balcony. From there one could enjoy a stunning view of the open sea. Before I entered, I took out a handkerchief to avoid leaving fingerprints and opened the cabinets and drawers.

I hoped to find something which would explain the whole situation but there wasn't much to check. It appeared she moved in recently and didn't feel like unloading her luggage. In the open suitcase only her clothes were lying. I searched through and through the room but couldn't find anything that would bring the case further. Until I discovered some strange scratches on the floor at the foot of the bed. I crouched and looked under it. To my surprise, one of the tiles was located differently in comparison with the others. The people of the authority were really careless.

I pulled aside the bed quickly and took a closer look. As I displaced the tile, an envelope caught my eyes. I picked it up and extracted an old newspaper as well as a letter with the following writing on it:

Meet me at midnight on Thursday in the port! I know why your father died. His diary is in my possession. Come alone!

Professor Alain Bergman

I was thoroughly surprised by the content of the letter. It seemed I got myself into a complicated affair, where nothing looked like what it appeared to be. I also read the newspaper's article, which was about a fire that took place on the island of Hydra, twenty years ago. A French man died in the flames but the article didn't mention his name. The rest of the newspaper was missing.

I sat down on the bed and began to wonder. Whoever was Jennifer, it is certain she didn't stumble in my way by chance. I felt it. Nevertheless, I knew how to continue the investigation. I decided to go to the meeting and see who this Professor Bergman was with my own eyes. Because today is Thursday! I needed answers and only he could provide them.

I took the contents of the envelope, put everything back its place and then left the building. The receptionist gave me a puzzled look but I didn't care about it. My thoughts were focusing on the meeting already.

Now I really regret that I didn't bring my gun with me. But who would do such a thing, when he is going on a vacation? However, Fate has yet again intervened.