“Why should they want an interpreter?” Turzig demanded suspiciously. “There are many British officers who speak Greek.”
“I am coming to that,” Andrea said impatiently. “How in God’s name do you expect me to finish my story if you keep interrupting all the time? Where was I? ah, yes. They forced me to come along, and their engine broke down. I don’t know what happened–I was kept below. I think we were in a creek somewhere, repairing the engine, and then there was a wild bout of drinking–you will not believe this, Lieutenant Turzig, that men on so desperate a mission should get drunk– and then we sailed again.”
“On the contrary, I do believe you.” Turzig was nodding his head slowly, as if in secret understanding. “I believe you indeed.”
“You do?” Andrea contrived to look disappointed. “Well, we ran into a fearful storm, wrecked the boat on the south cliff of this island and climbed–”
“Stop!” Turzig had drawn back sharply, suspicion flaring in his eyes. “Almost I believed you! I believed you because we know more than you think, and so far you have told the truth: But not now. You are clever, fat one, but not so clever as you think. One thing you have forgotten–or maybe you do not know. We are of the _Wurttembergische . Gebirgsbataillon_–we _know_ mountains, my friend, better than any troops in the world. I myself am a Prussian, but I have climbed everything worth climbing in the Alps and Transylvania–and I tell you that the south cliff cannot be climbed. It is impossible!”
“Impossible perhaps for you.” Andrea shook his head sadly. “These cursed Allies will beat you yet. They are clever, Lieutenant Turzig, damnably clever!”
“Explain yourself,” Turzig ordered curtly.
“Just this. They knew men thought the south cliff could not be climbed. So they determined to climb it. You would never dream that this could be done, that an expedition could land on Navarone that way. But the Allies took a gamble, found a man to lead the expedition. He could not speak Greek, but that did not matter, for what they wanted was a man who could climb–and so they picked the greatest rock-climber in the world to-day.” Andrea paused for effect, flung out his arm dramatically. “And this is the man they picked, Lieutenant Turzig! You are a mountaineer yourself and you are bound to know him. His name is Mallory–Keith Mallory of New Zealand!”
There was a sharp exclamation, the click of a switch, and Turzig had taken a couple of steps forward, thrust the torch almost into Mallory’s eyes. For almost ten seconds he stared into the New Zealander’s averted, screwed-up face, then slowly lowered his arm, the harsh spotlight limning a dazzling white circle in the snow at his feet. Once, twice, half a dozen times Turzig nodded his head in slow understanding.
“Of course!” he murmured. “Mallory–Keith Mallory! Of course I know him. There’s not a man in my _Abteilung_ but has heard of Keith Mallory.” He shook his head. “I should have known him, I should have known him at once.” He stood for some time with his head bent, aimlessly screwing the toe of his right boot into the soft snow, then looked up abruptly. “Before the war, even during it, I would have been proud to have known you, glad to have met you. But not here, not now. Not any more. I wish to God they had sent someone else.” He hesitated, made to carry on, then changed his mind, turned wearily to Andrea. “My apologies, fat one. Indeed you speak the truth. Go on.”
“Certainly!” Andrea’s round moon face was one vast smirk of satisfaction. “We climbed the cliff, as I said– although the boy in the cave there was badly hurt–and silenced the guard. Mallory killed him,” Andrea added unblushingly. “It was fair fight. We spent most of the night crossing the divide and found this cave before dawn. We were almost dead with hunger and cold. We have been here since.”
“And nothing has happened since?”
“On the contrary.” Andrea seemed to be enjoying himself hugely, revelling in being the focus of attention. “Two people came up to see us. Who they were I do not know–they kept their faces hidden all the time–nor do I know where they came from.”
“It is as well that you admitted that,” Turzig said grimly. “I knew someone had been here. I recognised the stove–it belongs to Hauptmann Skoda!”
“Indeed?” Andrea raised his eyebrows in polite surprise. “I did not know. Well, they talked for some time and–”
“Did you manage to overhear anything they were talking about?” Turzig interrupted. The question came so naturally, so spontaneously, that Mallory held his breath. It was beautifully done. Andrea would walk into it–he couldn’t help it. But Andrea was a man inspired that night.
“Overhear them!” Andrea clamped his lips shut in sorely-tried forbearance, gazed heavenwards in exasperated appeal. “Lieutenant Turzig, how often must I tell you that I am the interpreter? They _could_ only talk through me. Of course I know what they were talking about. They are going to blow up the big guns in the harbour.”
“I didn’t think they had come here for their health!” Turzig said acidly.
“Ah, but you don’t know that they have the plans of the fortress. You don’t know that Kheros is to be invaded on Saturday morning. You don’t know that they are in radio contact with Cairo all the time. You don’t know that destroyers of the British Navy are coming through the Maidos Straits on Friday night as soon as the big guns have been silenced. You don’t know–”
“Enough!” Turzig clapped his hands together, his face alight with excitement. “The Royal Navy, eh? Wonderful, wonderful! _That_ is what we want to hear. But enough! Keep it for Hauptmann Skoda and the Commandant in the fortress. We must be off. But first–one more thing. The explosives–where are they?”
Andrea’s shoulders slumped in dejection. He spread out his arms, palms upward.
“Alas, Lieutenant Turzig, I do not know. They took them out and hid them–some talk about the cave being too hot.” He waved a hand towards the western col, in the diametrically opposite direction to Leri’s hut. “That way, I think. But I cannot be sure, for they would not tell me.” He looked bitterly at Mallory. “These Britishens are all the same. They trust nobody.”
“Heaven only knows that I don’t blame them for that!” Turzig said feelingly. He looked at Andrea in disgust. “More than ever I would like to see you dangling from the highest scaffold in Navarone. But Herr Kommandant in the town is a kindly man and rewards informers. You may yet live to betray some more comrades.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I knew you were fair and just. I promise you, Lieutenant Turzig–”
“Shut up!” Turzig said contemptuously. He switched into German. “Sergeant, have these men bound. And don’t forget the fat one! Later we can untie him, and he can carry the sick man to the post. Leave a man on guard. The rest of you come with me–we must find those explosives.”
“Could we not make one of them tell us, sir?” the sergeant ventured.
“The only man who would tell us can’t. He’s already told us all he knows. As for the rest–well, I was mistaken about them, Sergeant.” He turned to Mallory, inclined his head briefly, spoke in English. “An error of judgment, Herr Mallory. We are all very tired. I am almost sorry I struck you.” He wheeled abruptly, climbed swiftly up the bank. Two minutes later only a solitary soldier was left on guard.
For the tenth time Mallory shifted his position uncomfortably, strained at the cord that bound his hands together behind his back, for the tenth time recognised the futility of both these actions. No matter how he twisted and turned, the wet snow soaked icily through his clothes until he was chilled to the bone and shaking continually with the cold; and the man who had tied these knots had known his job all too well. Mallory wondered irritably if Turzig and his men meant to spend all night searching for the explosives: they had been gone for more than half an hour already.
He relaxed, lay back on his side in the cushioning snow of the gully bank, and looked thoughtfully at Andrea who was sitting upright just in front of him. He had watched Andrea, with bowed head and hunched and lifting shoulders, making one single, titanic effort to free himself seconds after the guard had gestured to them to sit down, had seen the cords bite and gouge until they had almost disappeared in his flesh, the fractional slump of his shoulders as he gave up. Since then the giant Greek had sat quite still and contented himself with scowling at the sentry in the injured fashion of one who has been grievously wronged. That solitary test of the strength of his bonds had been enough. Oberleutnant Turzig had keen eyes, and swollen, chafed and bleeding wrists would have accorded ill with the character Andrea had created for himself.