Black widow, red hands

The summer heat clung to Kaisariani like a sweaty shirt. Myrto Zervou sat on her balcony, fanning herself with an old newspaper, watching the street below. The neighbourhood was quiet, too quiet. Even the stray cats had retreated to the shade.

Inside, her son Aris sanded down a wooden chair leg, the rasping sound filling the small apartment.

"Turn on the radio," Myrto called. "Maybe they’ll say something useful for once."

Aris wiped his forehead. "Like what, Ma? ‘Heatwave continues, more bad news’?"

Before she could retort, a sharp knock rattled the door. Myrto shuffled over and opened it to find her neighbour, Panagiota, red-faced and breathless.

"They took him!" Panagiota gasped. "They took Dimitris!"

Myrto grabbed her arm. "Who took him? Speak clearly, woman!"

"The police! They arrested him at the square, him and twenty others! They said it was an illegal assembly!"

Aris appeared behind Myrto, frowning. "Since when is talking politics a crime?"

"Since today, apparently," Myrto muttered. She grabbed her black handbag. "Come, Panagiota. We’re going to the station."

*    *    * *    *    *

The police station buzzed like a kicked beehive. Relatives crowded the front desk, demanding answers. Myrto elbowed her way to the front.

"Where is Dimitris Karamanos?" she demanded.

The officer barely glanced up. "Processing. Come back tomorrow."

Myrto leaned in. "Listen, young man. Either you tell me where he is, or I’ll start shouting so loud your chief will think the dictatorship’s back."

The officer blinked. "Who are you?"

"Someone you don’t want as an enemy."

Grudgingly, he checked his list. "Holding cell. No bail yet."

Outside, Myrto huddled with Panagiota and Aris. "This stinks worse than three-day-old fish. Since when does Athens arrest people for talking?"

Aris crossed his arms. "Since they’re scared."

Myrto’s eyes narrowed. "Then we’ll give them something real to be scared about."

*    *    * *    *    *

That night, Myrto and Aris sneaked into the square where the arrests had happened. The police had taped it off, but Myrto ducked under with a grunt.

"Ma, this is a bad idea," Aris whispered.

"Quiet. Look ...footprints." She pointed to scuffed marks leading to a café. Inside, they found leaflets stuffed behind a loose tile.

Aris unfolded one. "Protest the new assembly law tonight, 9 PM."

Myrto smirked. "So they knew people would gather. They wanted the arrests."

"But why?"

"To scare everyone. But someone tipped them off." She pocketed the leaflet. "Let’s visit the café owner."

*    *    * *    *    *

The owner, a sweaty man named Stavros, nearly fainted when Myrto slammed the leaflet on his counter.

"Who gave you these?" she demanded.

"I... I don’t know! A man, he paid me to hide them!"

"Describe him."

"Tall, sunglasses, a scar on his cheek..."

Myrto exchanged a glance with Aris. "A provocateur."

*    *    * *    *    *

By morning, Myrto had gathered her forces, Panagiota, Mary (her daughter), and even Father Nikolas from the local church. They marched to the station, a small but determined mob.

The chief, a bulldog of a man, blocked their path. "Enough! These people broke the law!"

Myrto stepped forward. "The real law says Greeks can speak freely. You arrested them because someone paid you to."

The chief’s face twitched.

Mary waved her phone. "And if you don’t release them, the press will hear how police take bribes to silence dissent."

Silence. Then, with a snarl, the chief turned. "Release them!"

*    *    * *    *    *

As the freed detainees spilled into the sunlight, Dimitris hugged Panagiota. Myrto watched, satisfied until she spotted a tall man with a scar slipping away.

She grabbed Aris. "Him!"

They chased the man down an alley, where he turned, knife flashing. Myrto didn’t flinch. "You’re not so tough without your police friends."

Aris tackled him. The man spat. "You’ll regret this."

Myrto leaned in. "As my grandmother used to say: ‘The liar’s punishment is not being believed, it’s being caught.’"

*    *    * *    *    *

That evening, back on her balcony, Myrto sipped her coffee. The neighbourhood buzzed with the day’s victory.

Aris sat beside her. "We did good, Ma."

She nodded. "For now. But men like that don’t stay gone."

"Then we’ll be ready."

Myrto smiled. "Damn right we will."

THE END