“Right, we’d better get moving,” he said.
He gave Boyd a hand and got him to his feet and they worked their way up the slope to the plateau and the Tomb of Achilles.
They crossed to the far rim and looked down the mountain to the other side of the island. Boyd’s face was twisted with pain and sweat stood in great drops on his forehead. He turned despairingly to Lomax. “It’s no go, I can’t move fast enough. I’m just going to drag you down.”
Lomax ignored him and turned to Katina. “I’ll hold them here. Get him as far down the hillside as possible. In ten minutes, I’ll make a run for it and try to lead them away. Get him down to the farm. I’ll join you there after dark.”
He took the Winchester from her and handed her Boyd’s sub-machine gun. He didn’t give either of them a chance to argue, but turned and ran back to the far edge of the plateau and dropped behind a boulder that gave him a clear view of the hut.
A soldier moved cautiously over the edge of the hollow. Through the telescopic sight, Lomax could see the eagle clearly on the man’s tunic as he squeezed the trigger.
When he glanced back over his shoulder a moment later, he was alone.
No Hard Feelings, Captain Lomax
It started to rain as he went cautiously down the hillside towards the farm and fog rolled in from the sea pushed by a cold finger of wind. His mouth was dry and every bone in his body seemed to be aching.
He paused in the shelter of an olive tree and looked down into the hollow. The farm lay dark and still, rooted solidly into the ground, and he moved on down and ducked under the fence.
He paused at the horse trough, splashed water over his face with one hand and washed out his mouth. As he straightened, the barn door opened and Katina emerged.
“I was up in the loft watching for you,” she said. “I’d begun to think you were never coming.”
He sensed immediately that something was wrong and moved closer, peering down at her. “Where’s Boyd?”
There was a moment’s silence before she said slowly, “In the first stall. I couldn’t get him any further.”
Something in her voice told him what he would find, but he moved inside quickly, taking his electric torch from his pocket.
Boyd lay on his back in the straw, his sightless eyes partially retracted, the hands that had been folded neatly across his breast, already cold and stiff.
“He was all right until we reached the top of the hill,” Katina said in a dead voice. “And then he had a haemorrhage. I’ve never seen so much blood. It took me nearly an hour to get him down here.”
She started to cry and he dropped the Winchester and pulled her into his arms. Her slight body was racked with sobs and he held her close and gently stroked her hair.
After a while, she seemed to have control of herself and moved away. “I’m sorry. I’m behaving like a child. You should be getting down to the bay. You haven’t got much time.”
He was tired, more tired than he had been in four long years and nothing seemed to matter any longer. He took out a cigarette, lit it and blew out the smoke with a sigh and high up on the hillside the clear bell-like cry of a hound sounded on the night air.
She gripped his arm quickly and he said, “I thought I’d lost them in a water-course a mile back. It seems I was mistaken.”
“There’s still time,” she said urgently.
He shook his head. “For you, Katina, but not for me. I’ll try to lead them away. The moment the shooting starts slip out through the olive grove and work your way back over the mountain. I’ll leave you the Winchester. It comes to pieces so you should be able to hide it easily.”
“I won’t leave you,” she said.
He gripped her arms tightly. “Father John was right about me. Fighting and running, leaving other people to face the consequences. It’s time I took some of the blame myself.”