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walked home. But not like this, conspiratorily .
    “ Uh huh,” Billy said and then looked around as if looking at
street names. Then he said, too loud so he could be heard by
anyone, “I think the store is over there.”
    We fell
side-by-side into a hurried walk, round the corner, towards crowded
shops and people. We were going the other way, far from the parking
building.
    I tried
to hide it, but I was anxious. Being followed by people? Some
nebulous face? I needed to make it real, to see someone. They say
that the unknown is what’s really scary, that if you familiarise
yourself with something, it doesn’t scare you anymore.
    I
rubbernecked all the time, trying to catch a glimpse of our
pursuers.
    Then I
saw them. Two guys, wearing light coloured shirts in the heat, but
they seemed the sort to favour suits. Sunglasses, short hair.
Nothing distinctive on them, no tattoos, no piercings. Average
height. They were the sort of people who would blend in easily, and
who you couldn’t recall anything specific about if you were
asked.
    Billy
was pulling me close to him, not forcefully but I would find myself
being hauled along if I tried to stop for a second.
    Two
streets down I saw them again. They were definitely following
us.
    “ What are we doing?” I whispered.
    “ We are trying to get lost in the crowd,” he said.
    “ You are too damn tall! You stand out like a
lightpost!”
    “ I know, that’s why we are going to Varvakios
Agora.”
    Varvakios, or rather its more recent name Athens Central
Market, was the biggest place to shop for perishables in Athens.
Fresh produce, meat, fish, anything you can think of is stacked in
rows of little shops, carried back and forth while people yell
loudly and speak out their sales. It is so big that it’s actually a
tourist attraction. It has a retro feel to it, a very tall ceiling,
old-style roof and metal supports with white and dark green paint.
Some shop signs are modern, some are old. High-tech aluminium open
fridges sit right along the classic drop-the-fish-into-ice-boxes
technique. Screens yell out advertisements and public-interest
messages, banners fall down from the ceiling. It’s packed with
people.
    And the
fish.
    Oh boy,
the fish.
    A
pervasive fish smell oozes out blocks away from the
place.
    And to
my joy, Billy was taking me right towards a fish
merchant.

Chapter
20
     
    I was
trying to be as ladylike I could, but it was impossible. If I could
find a clothespin I would use it in a heartbeat. I just held my
nostrils tight.
    Billy
was talking to a merchant, right next to a big stack of those
shallow wooden fish crates. Names were written at their side. As I
waited, while holding my nose of course, I read some of the
surnames from the fishermen who had brought them.
    Afovos . Fearless. Armenistis . The
wanderer. Anemos .
The wind. OK, those were probably nicknames, not surnames. But the
rest were ordinary last names.
    The
noise in the agora was intense. I couldn’t hear them speak three
meters away. So I went closer to see what was up.
    “ I can’t let you go back, I’m sorry,” the middle aged man
said. He was, in a word, weathered . Rough hands, rough face,
gentle eyes.
    Billy
was gesturing wildly. “Come on Mr. Antoni, I just need a couple of
minutes.”
    Mr.
Antoni’s eyes fell on me. At first I was rattled by that, but then
I realised he was checking me out and whispering to Billy in
approval.
    So I did
what I always do.
    I struck
a pose and took a selfie.
    I put in
my most seductive yet innocent face, as if for the camera. I could
see in my peripheral vision Mr. Antoni softening up. Billy, his
mind quick and sharp, admitted quietly that he had promised me to
show around the back.
    He let
us go past, and I thanked Mr. Antoni as we went by, holding my
breath in a nasal “Tenk yom”. He went back to selling his
fish.
    Billy
looked under a dirty metal stool and found a key. He unlocked the
back door and put the key back to its place. He kept the door