The Dark Side Of The Island Page 3

  His mouth went dry and something that was almost fear moved inside him because this thing was not possible.

  "Katina!" he said hoarsely. "Little Katina Pavlo."

  She moved closer, a hand reaching out to touch his cheek and her face became that of a beautiful, mature woman in her middle thirties. In the candlelight it seemed to glow, to become alive.

  "The Germans told us you were dead," she said. "That the boat in which they sent you to Crete was sunk."

  He nodded. "It was, but I was picked up."

  She sat down beside him, so close that he could feel the warmth of her thigh through her linen dress. "I was in one of the shops buying supplies when I heard you had come in on the steamer from Athens. I couldn't believe It. I ran all the way."

  Her forehead was damp with perspiration and he took out his handkerchief and dried it gently. "It's not good to run in this hot sun."

  She smiled faintly. "Seventeen years and still you treat me like a child."

  "A moment ago I thought you still were. You made the heart move inside me, but it was only a trick of the candlelight."

  "Have I changed so little, then?"

  "Only to grow more beautiful."

  Her nostrils flared and something glowed in the dark eyes. "I think you were always the most gallant man I ever knew."

  For a moment time seemed to have no meaning, the present and the past merging into one. In some strange way it was as if they had sat here in the candlelight of the little church before, as if everything that happened was a circle turning endlessly upon itself.

  He took her hand gently and said, "How did you know I was here?"

  "Sergeant Kytros told me." She hesitated. "I heard what happened at The Little Ship. You must forgive my uncle. Sometimes I think he is no longer in his right mind. He has lived with great pain for so many years."

  "And he blames it all on me?"

  She nodded gravely. "I'm afraid so."

  "Along with everyone else around here, including Father John. Why should you be any different?"

  "Because I know you sacrificed yourself for these people," she said calmly.

  He laughed and the sound of it was harsh and ugly. "You try telling that one to Alexias and his pals and see how far it gets you."

  "I did," she said. "A long time ago, but only one person would believe me."

  He frowned. "Who was that?"

  "Oliver Van Horn."

  "They told me in Athens that he'd stayed on here after the war. I'd hoped to visit him. Does he still live in the villa out on the point?"

  "I keep house for him."

  His eyebrows arched in surprise. "You never married?"

  She shook her head. "Never."

  "He must be in his sixties now," Lomax said slowly.

  The right-hand corner of her mouth twitched slightly and there was amusement in her eyes. "We have no arrangement, if that is what's worrying you."

  "None of my business," he said, but he smiled for the first time and she smiled back. "How do the locals treat him these days? After all, he's English enough in all conscience."

  "Not to the islanders. He suffered as much as anyone. He was taken with the rest of us."

  Lomax frowned, a thought suddenly occurring to him for the first time. "And you, Katina? What happened to you?"

  She shrugged. "They took me away with the others."

  "To the concentration camp at Fonchi?"

  She shook her head. "No, to another one, but they were all the same." She leaned forward and touched his face. "You look older. Too much older. I think you have been very unhappy."

  He shrugged. "Seventeen years is a long time."

  "Are you married?"

  He hesitated briefly and then plunged straight in and it was surprising how easy it was now, almost as if he was talking about some distant relative or a casual friend who wasn't really important.

  "I had a wife and a little girl. They were both killed in an automobile accident in Pasadena five years ago."

  Her sigh echoed away into the darkness. "I knew there was something, but I wasn't sure. It still shows in the eyes." She took his hands and held them firmly. "Tell me now. Why have you come back to this place?"

  "When Father John asked me, I told him I was looking for my other self," he said. "The one who existed here in these islands so many years ago, but now I'm not so sure."

  "There is a deeper reason," she said. "Am I not right?"

  "Who knows?" he shrugged. "Van Horn once told me that life was action and passion. If that's true, there's been precious little of either in mine for quite some time. Perhaps I thought I could recapture something."

  "And what are you going to do now? Leave on the boat?"

  "That's what they all seem to want me to do. Alexias told Kytros he wouldn't be responsible for what might happen if I stayed."

  She glanced at her watch. "You would seem to have twenty minutes in which to make up your mind."

  "What would you like to see me do?"

  She shrugged. "It isn't my decision to make. It can only be your own."

  She started to get to her feet and he held her hand and frowned, because he knew that for some strange reason this was the pivot on which the whole thing would turn.

  "Do you want me to stay?"

  "It would take courage," she said. "Very great courage."

  He smiled suddenly. "But I gave you my courage a long time ago, remember?"

  She nodded, her face serious. "I remember."

  For a little while they sat there staring at each other and then she gently released his hand and stood up. "I'll only be a moment."

  He watched her go down to the altar and drop to one knee, then she stood up, selected two candles and placed them under the statue of St. Katherine. It was only as she lit them with a taper that he realised who they were for and a lump came into his throat that threatened to choke him.

  He got to his feet and walked blindly through the half-darkness to the door.

  4

  The Bronze Achilles

  Outside in the square it was very hot and he stayed in the shade of the porch and smoked a cigarette as he waited for her.

  Once, Anna appeared in the door of the hotel with a bucket and cloth as if intending to wipe down the outside tables, but at the sight of him, she drew back hurriedly.

  It was quiet and deserted, the shadows long and black as the afternoon waned, and nothing stirred. He stood there, the cigarette burning between his fingers as he stared moodily out into the square and in some strange way it was as if he was waiting for something to happen.

  There was a slight movement behind and he turned. Katina looked gravely up at him.

  He smiled gently. "It was a long time ago."

  Suddenly, there were tears in her eyes and he slipped an arm about her shoulders and held her close. They stayed there in the cool shadow of the porch for a little while and then she sighed and pushed him away.

  "We must go. If you intend to catch that boat, you're running out of time."

  He followed her out on to the steps, his mind in a turmoil. At that moment, Yanni staggered into the square from the street that led down to the waterfront.

  His clothes were torn and covered in dust and his face was streaked with tears as he sobbed uncontrollably. In his arms, he held the little black dog.

  Katina was aleady running to meet him and by the time Lomax arrived, she was on her knees in front of the boy. "What is it, Yanni? What's happened?"

  He held out the dog in his arms. Its head lolled to one side, the neck obviously broken, and there was froth on its mouth.

  "It was Dimitri," he said. "Dimitri killed him."

  "But why?" Katina demanded.

  "Because I helped Mr. Lomax," Yanni sobbed. "Because I helped Mr. Lomax."

  The rage that erupted inside Lomax was a searing flame that seemed to fuse with his whole being. He started forward and Katina said, "Hugh!"

  When he turned, her face was very white, the eyes so dark
a man could never fathom them.

  "Be careful," she said. "He's already served two years in prison for manslaughter. When he's been smoking hashish, he doesn't know what he's doing."

  He turned and walked quickly across the square and when he entered the street, he started to run. By the time he merged on the waterfront he was soaked in sweat and people turned to stare curiously at him.

  This time he could hear no music coming from The Little Ship and he went straight down the steps without pausing and came to a halt just inside the door.

  There were perhaps a dozen people sitting drinking and none of them had been there on his earlier visit. The man behind the bar was one of those who had held him across the table for Alexias, He was in the act of pouring wine into a glass and his mouth went slack in amazement.

  Every head turned and Lomax examined the faces quickly and then crossed to the bar. "I'm looking for Dimitri."

  The barman shrugged. "Why ask me? I'm not his keeper."

  He picked up a glass and started to dry it with a soiled cloth and Lomax turned slowly and crossed the room.

  Dimitri's bouzouki still leaned beside the chair where he had left it and Lomax picked it up and smashed it against the wall in a single violent gesture.

  He turned to face the room and no one moved. "I asked for Dimitri," he said calmly.

  For a moment, they all sat there looking at him quietly, and then an old man with white hair and a moustache burned brown by tobacco said, "He is on the pier waiting to see you leave."

  Lomax turned and went back up the steps into the hot sunlight. He crossed the road on the run and moved along the wharf.

  The steamer was almost ready to leave and he could see Papademos up on the bridge leaning out of an open window, shouting down orders to the sailors on the pier as they started to loosen the mooring ropes.

  There were perhaps two dozen people standing about in small groups. Alexias leaned against a pillar, a cigar between his teeth, and little Nikoli with the scarred face stood with him.

  It was Nikoli who saw Lomax first and he tugged at the big man's sleeve and pointed and Alexias said something quickly and every head turned.

  Half of them were young waterfront layabouts in brightly checked shirts, hair carefully curled over their collars. They were of a type to be found in every country in the world. Mean, vicious young animals who thrived on trouble.

  One of them turned and made a remark and they all laughed and then Lomax saw Dimitri at the back of them. He was leaning against a windlass, a cigarette smouldering between his lips as he shaved a piece of wood with his gutting knife.

  As Lomax approached, the crowd parted and he paused a couple of feet away from Dimitri. The bouzouki player was humming tunelessly to himself. He didn't even bother to raise his head.

  Alexias moved forward, Nikoli at his side. "This is the wrong time to seek trouble, Lomax. The boat leaves in five minutes."

  Lomax turned very slowly and looked at him contemptuously. "When I want to hear from you I'll let you know. Once you were a man, but now…"

  As he turned away, Dimitri reached to the cobbles for another piece of wood and Lomax kicked it out of his way.

  Dunitri looked up slowly. His eyes were very pale, the pupils like pin-points. He still kept on humming to himself, but a muscle twitched spasmodically at one side of his jaw.

  "With children and dogs you're quite a man," Lomax said clearly so that all could hear. "How about trying someone a little nearer your own size?"

  One moment, the bouzouki player was lolling back against the windlass, the next he had moved forward, the knife cutting upwards like molten silver in the sunlight.

  Lomax could have broken the arm with supreme ease. Instead, he pivoted and chopped down with the edge of his hand. Dimitri screamed, dropping the knife, and Lomax kicked it over the edge of the pier into the water.

  He felt completely cool and without fear. It was as if that other, younger man had returned to take over. The one who had been trained to use such methods until they were a reflex action.

  There was an ugly murmur from Dimitri's friends, but he held up a hand and shook his head. When he spoke, his voice was curiously remote and far away. "I'll break his neck as easily as I did the dog's."

  All work had ceased on the ship and everyone waited. As Lomax circled warily, he saw people hurrying along the waterfront and then an old jeep appeared from a side street and braked to a halt and Katina and Yanni got out.

  A segull cried harshly and swooped down and Dimitri jumped in close, his right fist swinging in a tremendous punch.

  To Lomax the blow seemed to travel in slow motion. He swerved slightly, allowing the bouzouki player to plunge past him, and slashed him across the kidneys with the edge of his hand.

  Dimitri screamed and fell to the cobbles. For a little while he stayed there on his hands and knees and when he got to his feet, he was slobbering like an animal.

  He lurched forward again and Lomax grabbed for his wrist with both hands and twisted it round and up so that he held him in a Japanese shoulder lock. Dimitri screamed again and still keeping that terrible hold in position, Lomax ran him head-first into a stack of iron-bound crates.

  There was a gasp from the crowd and Lomax stood back and waited. Dimitri grabbed for a chain and heaved himself to his feet. When he turned, his face was a mask of blood. His hand slipped from the chain as he took one tottering step forward and collapsed.

  There was a moment of stunned silence and then a spontaneous roar of anger from Dimitri's friends. As Lomax turned, they came forward with a rush.

  He swung a fist into the first face and then a foot caught him on the shin and he cried out and started to sag. As he bent over, a knee lifted into his face and the cobbles rose to meet him.

  He rolled desperately, face tucked into his shoulder, hands protecting his genitals, and then a shot echoed flatly across the water and then another.

  It was as if all the clocks in the world had stopped at the same moment. Dimitri's friends moved back reluctantly and Lomax scrambled to his feet.

  Father John Mikali stood a few feet away and Kytros was at his side, automatic in one hand, the other hooked into his belt. He looked very calm and completely in control.

  Lomax stood there, his body aching, the taste of blood in his mouth, and Kytros said quietly, "The boat is waiting for you, Captain Lomax."

  Lomax turned and looked at Alexias. On the big man's face was something that might almost have been respect, but there was more also. A slight frown of bewilderment as if for the first time he was unsure of himself and of the situation.

  Lomax took a deep breath to clear his head and turned. He brushed past the sergeant and walked back along the pier and the people moved silently to each side.

  From somewhere a thousand miles away he could hear Papademos shouting to his men and the rattle of the anchor chain and there was a roaring in his ears.

  Katina was there, her arms around him and Yanni, his face white with excitement. She led him to the jeep and the boy opened the door and Lomax slumped into the passenger seat.

  She climbed behind the wheel and leaned across to wipe blood from his face. "Are you all right?" she asked calmly.

  He could feel her hand trembling and he held it for a moment and smiled. "A good thing Kytros arrived when he did. I'm getting a little old to be playing that kind of game."

  She drove away quickly, scattering the crowd, and turned the jeep expertly into the narrow side street.

  "Where are we going?" he said.

  "To the hotel for your things. Afterwards I'll take you out to the villa. Oliver would want me to."

  She turned into the square and braked to a halt in front of the hotel. As she started to get out, Lomax laid a hand on her arm. "Not you, only me." He climbed down and walked round to the other side. "I could do with some time to think this thing out."

  She looked down at him gravely. "Just as you like."

  "Are you going to keep Yanni with you?"


  She nodded. "I think it would be better."

  He smiled and ran his fingers through the boy's tousled hair. "We'll find you another dog, Yanni."

  He moved between the tables and just as he reached the door she called to him. When he turned he saw that she was unfastening a chain that hung around her neck.

  She threw it to him, liquid gold in the sun, and he caught it, closing his hand over it at once, knowing what it was.

  "I give you back your courage," she said, and drove away very quickly.

  He went into the cool darkness, aware of Anna's frightened face peering at him from the kitchen doorway and the stairs seemed to stretch into eternity.

  When he reached his room, he closed the door very carefully and stood with his back against it staring at his clenched right hand with the two ends of gold chain hanging down. After a while, he opened it gently and looked at the small bronze coin that bore the face of Achilles.

  A long time ago, he thought. A hell of a long time ago. He lit a cigarette and went and lay on his back on the bed and stared blindly into the past.

  Book Two

  The Nightcomer

  5

  Cover of Darkness

  It was the throb of the diesels that brought Lomax awake with a start. He lay there for a moment on the bunk, staring up at the steel bulkhead, a slight frown on his face as he tried to remember where he was.

  After a while, something clicked and he pushed himself up on one elbow. Alexias was sprawled in a canvas chair in the far corner watching him.

  The Greek removed the cigarette that smouldered between his lips and grinned. "You talk in your sleep, my friend. Did you know that?"

  "That's all I needed," Lomax said. "Have you got one of those to spare?"

  The Greek nodded and rose to his feet. He was a big, dangerous looking man badly in need of a shave and his massive shoulders swelled under the blue reefer jacket. "I think that maybe you've been playing this game too long," he said as he gave Lomax a cigarette and struck a match.

  "Haven't we all?"

  Before the Greek could reply, the curtain was pulled back and Sergeant Boyd appeared with two cups of coffee. He gave one to Alexias and the other to Lomax who took a sip and grimaced. "Everything tastes of submarine. I don't know how they put up with it."