ZONE DEFENCE
by Petros Markaris
Harvill Secker, £11.99; 352pp GREECE IS A LAND OF contrasts, to say the least. It may have some of the lowest overall crime figures in Europe, but it boasts a barely concealed culture of racism (against Albanians, against Africans, against anyone) and, some say, a resigned tolerance of corruption and hypocrisy.

Petros Markaris is an Istanbul-born economist-turned-playwright who, as well as translating Brecht and Goethe into Greek, is the creator of a popular TV series.

In a recent documentary he said that he took to writing crime fiction not to show off his skills as a stylist, but rather to discuss the social problems that preoccupy his countrymen. He also said that every morning he sits down opposite his imaginary friend, Inspector Haritos of the Athens Homicide Division, sips his first coffee of the day and asks him what’s been going on. Whatever Haritos says, goes into the books.

Zone Defence, the second in the series, begins with a rant against the state. Haritos is caught in an earthquake, there is no fresh water or electricity, and everyone spends the night outside, roasting lamb, drinking, saying they’re doomed and blaming the Government. As set pieces go, this is as Greek as it gets, and sets the tone for an intelligent, warm-hearted European thriller.

Haritos, an over-worked, dicky-tickered, stuffed-tomato- eating cop in downtown Athens, is investigating the death of a crooked millionaire, gunned down outside the Bouzouki Strings nightclub. It soon transpires that the dead man had a finger in every pitta, from third-division football to political polling agencies, and may even have been involved in the footballing crime that dares not speak its name — reficide.

Athens is sweltering, the bin-men are on strike, and the Inspector’s only respite is the prospect of his wife’s cooking. However, his regular side- orders of caffeine, nicotine and Athenian smog have taken their toll, and now wife, daughter and cardiologist are all begging him take it easy. But, with new bodies turning up all over the place, he just reaches for the heart pills and presses on until the fleshpots, football leagues and polling booths of the capital are purged of this particular strain of corruption.

But no doubt there will be more where that came from. For as long as Athens smoulders with poverty and political tension, and as long as Markaris and Haritos keep their morning appointment, we can expect more energetic thrillers like this one, from an author who shines a light on the Greece that tourists never see.

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