“Nobody else there, my Captain,” Andrea reported. “Just the one gaoler, it seems.”
“Fine! Cut the others loose, will you, Andrea?” He wheeled round towards Louki, smiled at the comical expression on the little man’s face, the tentative, spreading, finally ear-to-ear grin that cut through the baffled incredulity.
“Where do the men sleep, Louki–the soldiers, I mean?”
“In a hut in the middle of the compound, Major. This is the officers’ quarters.”
“Compound? You mean–?”
“Barbed wire,” Louki said succinctly. “Ten feet high–and all the way round.”
“Exits?”
“One and one only. Two guards.”
“Good! Andrea–everybody into the side room. No, not you, Lieutenant. You sit down here.” He gestured to the chair behind the big desk. “Somebody’s bound to come. Tell him you killed one of us–trying to escape. Then send for the guards at the gate.”
For a moment Turzig didn’t answer. He watched unseeingly as Andrea walked past him, dragging two unconscious soldiers by their collars. Then he smiled. It was a wry sort of smile.
“I am sorry to disappoint you, Captain Mallory. Too much has been lost already through my blind stupidity. I won’t do it.”
“Andrea!” Mallory called softly.
“Yes?” Andrea stood in the anteroom doorway.
“I think I hear someone coming. Is there a way out of that side room?”
Andrea nodded silently.
“Outside! The front door. Take your knife. If the Lieutenant. . .” But he was talking to himself. Andrea was already gone, slipping out through the back door, soundless as a ghost.
“You will do exactly as I say,” Mallory said softly. He took position himself in the doorway to the side room, where he could see the front entrance between doot and jamb: his automatic rifle was trained on Turzig. “If you don’t, Andrea will kill the man at the door. Then we will kill you and the guards inside. Then we will knife the sentries at the gate. Nine dead men–and all for nothing, for we will escape anyway. . . . Here he is now.” Mallory’s voice was barely a whisper, eyes pitiless in a pitiless face. “Nine dead men, Lieutenant– and just because your pride is hurt.” Deliberately, the last sentence was in German, fluent, colloquial, and Mallory’s mouth twisted as he saw the almost imperceptible sag of Turzig’s shoulders. He knew he had won, that Turzig had been going to take a last gamble on his ignorance of German, that this last hope was gone.
The door burst open and a soldier stood on the threshhold, breathing heavily. He was armed, but clad only in a singlet and trousers, oblivious of the cold.
“Lieutenant! Lieutenant!” he spoke in German. “We heard the shots–”
“It is nothing, Sergeant.” Turzig bent his head over an open drawer, pretended to be searching for something to account for his solitary presence in the room. “One of our prisoners tried to escape. . . . We stopped him.”
“Perhaps the medical orderly–”
“I’m afraId we stopped him rather permanently.” Turzig smiled tiredly. “You can organise a burial detail in the morning. Meantime, you might tell the guards at the gate to come here for a minute. Then get to bed yourself–you’ll catch your death of cold!”
“Shall I detail a relief guard–”
“Of course not!” Turzig said impatiently. “It’s just for a minute. Besides, the only people to guard against are already in here.” His lips tightened for a second as he realised what he had said, the unconscious irony of the words. “Hurry up, man! We haven’t got all night!” He waited till the sound of the running footsteps died away, then looked steadily at Mallory. “Satisfied?”
“Perfectly. And my very sincere apologies,” Mallory said quietly. “I hate to do a thing like this to a man like you.” He looked round the door as Andrea came into the room. “Andrea, ask Louki and Panayis if there’s a telephone switchboard in this block of huts. Tell them to smash it up and any receivers they can find.” He grinned. “Then hurry back for our visitors from the gate. I’d be lost without you on the reception committee.”
Turzig’s gaze followed the broad retreating back.
“Captain Skoda was right. I still have much to learn.” There was neither bitterness nor rancour in his voice. “He fooled me completely, that big one.”
“You’re not the first,” Mallory reassured him. “He’s fooled more people than I’ll ever know. . . . You’re not the first,” he repeated. “But I think you must be just about the luckiest.”
“Because I’m still alive?”
“Because. you’re still alive,” Mallory echoed.
Less than ten minutes later the two guards at the gates had joined their comrades in the back room, captured, disarmed, bound and gagged with a speed and noiseless efficiency that excited Turzig’s professional admiration, chagrined though he was. Securely tied hand and foot, he lay in a corner of the room, not yet gagged.
“I think I understand now why your High Command chose you for this task, Captain Mallory. If anyone could succeed, you would–but you must fail. The impossible must always remain so. Nevertheless, you have a great team.”
“We get by,” Mallory said modestly. He took a last look round the room, then grinned down at Stevens.
“Ready to take off on your travels again, young man, or do you find this becoming rather monotonous?”
“Ready when you are, sir.” Lying on a stretcher which Louki had miraculously procured, he sighed in bliss. “First-class travel, this time, as befits an officer. Sheer luxury. I don’t mind how far we go!”
“Speak for yourself,” Miller growled morosely. He had been allocated first stint at the front or heavy end of the stretcher. But the quirk of his eyebrows robbed the words of all offence.
“Right then, we’re off. One last thing. Where is the camp radio, Lieutenant Turzig?”
“So you can smash it, I suppose?”
“Precisely.”
“I have no idea.”
“What if I threaten to blow your head off?”
“You won’t.” Turzig smiled, though the smile was a trifle lopsided. “Given certain circumstances, you would kill me as you would a fly. But you wouldn’t kill a man for refusing such information.”
“You haven’t as much to learn as your late and unlamented captain thought,” Mallory admitted. “It’s not all that important. . . . I regret we have to do all this. I trust we do not meet again–not, at least, until the war is over. Who knows, some day we might even go climbing together.” He signed to Louki to fix Turzig’s gag and walked quickly out of the room. Two minutes later they had cleared the barracks and were safely lost in the darkness and the olive groves that stretched to the south of Margaritha.
When they cleared the groves, a long time later, it was almost dawn. Already the black silhouette of Kostos was softening in the first feathery greyness of the coming day. The wind was from the south, and warm, and the snow was beginning to melt on the hills.
CHAPTER 11
Wednesday
1400–1600
All day long they lay hidden in the carob grove, a thick clump of stunted, gnarled trees that clung grimly to the treacherous, scree-strewn slope abutting what Louki called the “Devil’s Playground.” A poor shelter and an uncomfortable one, but in every other way all they could wish for: it offered concealment, a first-class defensive position immediately behind, a gentle breeze drawn up from the sea by the sun-baked rocks to the south, shade from the sun that rode from dawn to dusk in a cloudless sky–and an incomparable view of a sundrenched, shimmering Aegean.
Away to their left, fading through diminishing shades of blue and indigo and violet into faraway nothingness, stretched the islands of the Lerades, the nearest of them, Maidos, so close that they could see isolated fisher cottages sparkling whitely in the sun: through that narrow, intervening gap of water would pass the ships of the Royal Navy in just over a day’s time. To the right, and even farther away, remote, featureless, back-dropped by the towering Anatolian mountains, the coast of Turkey hooked north and west in a great curving scimitar: to the north itself, the thrusting spear of Cape Demirci, rock-rimmed but dimpled with sand coves of white, reached far out into the placid blue of the Aegean: and north again beyond the Cape, haze-blurred in the purple distance, the island of Kheros lay dreaming on the surface of the sea.
It was a breath-taking panorama, a heart-catching beauty sweeping majestically through a great semi-circle over the sunlit sea. But Mallory had no eyes for it, had spared it only a passing glance when he had come on guard less than half an hour previously, just after two o’clock. He had dismissed it with one quick glance, settled by the bole of a tree, gazed for endless minutes, gazed until his eyes ached with strain atwhat he had so long waited to see. Had waited to see and come to destroy–the guns of the fortress of Navarone.