The Dead Travel Fast Read Online Free Page B

had on long term loan from a local car hire firm as it was no longer considered safe to rent out, it was sweltering despite the fact he’d left the windows open.
    He threw his sack onto the backseat and began the regular painful process of negotiating the cars blocking him in and thepotholes scattered across the rocky terrain. Then, after a prolonged wait at the new traffic lights, which seemed designed to hold up traffic from all directions before allowing one common thirty second window of opportunity, he turned onto the main road to Pythagoreio.
    It was a relief to be out of the town and driving through the spruce and pines that lined the steeply climbing road as it snaked its way through the ridges flanking Mount Kerkis. Here it was cooler and, apart from the speeding taxis, driven by men with one hand out of the window holding a cigarette and the other clutching a mobile phone to their right ear, the road was quiet.
    After climbing for ten minutes, the road levelled out and the sea could be seen on both sides of the island. Steve drove this road every day of the week but still hadn’t tired of the beauty of this view with the sea sparkling in the sunlight below him and the mountain looming above. For a few kilometres, the road followed the ridge through some of the best kept vineyards on Samos falling away gently on either side into the valleys.
    He was startled by the sound of a siren as three police cars, one unmarked and black, swept past him at speed on the other side of the road, almost forcing him into a ditch. As he took evasive action he caught a glimpse of the clean shaven, pale face of the man in the back, obviously the senior officer, staring out of the window at him. The man was wearing a jacket and tie, most unusual for Samos.
    He was watching this alarming cortege in his rear view mirror as it careered into the distance when a bright red sports car flashed round the bend behind him, and on seeing his old Fiat began hitting its horn and flashing its lights. The driver looked young behind his black glasses and Steve wasn’t disposed to give way, thinking that such an expensive machine would be unlikely to want to risk a collision with the shed he was driving. But he was mistaken; as Steve was trying to occupy the centre of the road going round a bend, the sports car pulled out, the driver gunning the engine and forcing him to swerve into the side verge. He had to focus all his attention into avoiding the ditch, but not before he caught a glimpse of the driver grinning through designer stubbleand giving him the finger. The sports car, a Ferrari he thought, something else not often seen here, disappeared round the bend.
    By the time Steve got his car back onto the road he was angry and shaken. The other driver had been more than just reckless: he’d enjoyed forcing the old Fiat off the road. He continued on through the vines, but the day had changed and his mood soured and wishing the sports car would crash didn’t do enough to lift it. Rounding another bend just before the sharp right turn towards Ormos-Marathakampos, he was flagged down by an old local woman in the middle of the road. She shouted to him through the car window.
    “Kirios, Kirios, come quick, bad problem.”
    She grabbed his arm and began jabbing her fingers frantically towards a copse of trees on the other side of the road. He saw tyre marks swerving off the road and the rear of the red Ferrari poking out of the undergrowth amongst the trees. The rear wheels were off the ground, the front of the car wedged at an angle into the wood. Steve moved nervously towards it, leaving the Fiat in the middle of the road, its driver’s door flapping open, the engine running.
    He heard the whimpering before he saw the man and paused, fearing what he’d find. He was pushed forward by the shouts of the woman.
    “Yes, Kirios, in there, go, you must go now. “
    The heat of the sun was reflecting off the shiny red paintwork of the Ferrari; Steve