‘Of course,’ he grinned, producing a small tool kit from his pocket, ‘I imagined it would be. As a dealer in antiquities, many people think I am only one step away from being a criminal anyway.’

Karl would usually have spent a happy hour arguing the case that he was among them. In his view, antiquities should remain in the country of their discovery, rather than being sold to rich foreigners for their private collections. Stelios would, of course, have countered that the museum Karl had spent his life working for was stuffed with antiquities pilfered from Greece and other historic settings. But tonight Karl was much too scared.

Stelios turned the door handle. ‘Locked. Inevitably.’ He selected a tool similar to a small bradawl and began to fiddle with the lock until there was an audible click.

‘Open your eyes, Karl,’ teased Stelios. ‘We’re in!’

As quietly as a cat stalking a bird, Stelios began to push open the door to the large ground floor, where fishermen would pull up their small craft to protect them from winter storms. He shone his torch around the entire space, about thirty feet by twenty. It was entirely empty apart from some lengths of rope, a couple of buoys and some blue nylon netting covered in seaweed.

‘It’s not here!’ he whispered furiously. ‘Karl, go and look down the far end and double check.’

Suddenly a much more powerful flashlight illuminated the boathouse.

‘Thank you for stating the – er, bleeding obvious – as your compatriot Michael Caine might say,’ said an infuriatingly calm and contemptuous voice, with only the slightest foreign inflection. ‘You are too late, I’m afraid. The statue is in fact on board the speedboat moored just outside. We are planning to take her to a watery grave where she can sleep soundly with the nereids. I have had enough of this stupid business.’

‘Georgiades,’ Karl begged, ‘you can’t! She could be the most important discovery this island has ever had. She could bring flocks of tourists just to see her. She could outshine the Venus de Milo!’

‘Why should I care about any of that? The people here wouldn’t even let me build my house, all because of this stupid statue.’

‘Or maybe because they loved their olive grove,’ added Stelios.

‘Vlakos! Peasants! My building would have been the most beautiful on the island.’

‘Helped along by the eight million euros for the statue,’ pointed out Stelios.

Georgiades ignored him. ‘There will be no evidence for that. It was a stupid idea anyway. I am a businessman, not a burglar. Wish her goodbye now, you stupid little men.’

Karl hoped that Nell and the fishermen might have seen the flashlight beam and guessed something was up. Maybe they could do something – if only he could keep Georgiades in the boathouse for long enough.

‘Wait!’ he began, thinking desperately of some way to hold things up.