‘Too late to increase your offer now,’ Georgiades sneered. ‘Besides –’ he turned to Stelios – ‘I knew you were a fake from the start. You and your English lady friend, pretending to be French. It was only that idiot from Santorini, led by his prick as usual, who talked me into even hearing you out. And now I really must go.’

He swept grandly out and ran down the beach towards the water. But before he could get there, three whiskered fishermen materialized out of the darkness, tripped him up and proceeded to hold him down.

‘Take the statue!’ he shouted from his prone position on the beach to the driver of the speedboat. ‘Follow your orders!’

But once again he had been forestalled. The fishermen knew their business, and two of them had swum out and swiftly disabled the speedboat’s outboard engine. It simply sputtered, then stopped altogether.

The driver of the boat, whom Stelios recognized as the garden-centre owner from Santorini, dived overboard and swam frantically away. The fishermen watched him, smiling broadly.

‘Next stop Heraklion!’ one of them shouted.

‘We’ll find him round the bay in an hour. Exhausted or dead,’ shrugged the other.

‘But how did you know to come to the beach?’ Karl asked, amazed when Nell and the other fisherman arrived in the boathouse.

‘You send a recording on your phone!’ Nell informed him. ‘You’re the hero of the hour, Karl!’

‘Am I?’ Karl was bewildered.

‘Has anyone called the police?’ asked Stelios grumpily, feeling that Karl was getting too much of the credit.

‘Nikos is coming with them now.’ They saw a solitary car with a flashing light on its roof making its way along the bumpy path.

‘Ho makarios Theos! Blessed God! Not often you see that on Kyri,’ marvelled one of their rescuers, clearly thrilled to be involved in Kyri’s biggest drama of the decade.

There was a sudden shout from the man in the sea, only just audible. He had clearly got into difficulties already.

‘Shall we take the boat out and pick him up?’ the fishermen asked Stelios respectfully.

Stelios stared out to sea for a moment. ‘I think you’d better. Tempting to let him drown, and I’m sure the goddess would approve; but perhaps not humane. Go!’

Georgiades, just behind them, took advantage of the diversion to make a run for it, moments before the arrival of the police. He dashed with impressive speed towards the tamarisk grove and pulled a powerful motorbike out of its green depths. With a thousand-cc roar, it tore off in the opposite direction as its rider held up two fingers in a V-sign of angry defiance.

‘Shit!’ yelled Stelios. ‘We lost the bastard.’

‘There is nowhere he can go,’ Nikos shrugged. ‘Do not concern yourself. He will be caught. It is a pity we only have one policeman here. But there is usually no trouble on Kyri.’