Dark Side Of the Island (v5) Read online

  Lomax had been pulling on his shirt and sweater at the fire and when he turned, he found her standing just behind him holding a mug of coffee.

  She smiled shyly. "I'm afraid there isn't any sugar."

  Her face was heart-shaped with a pure white skin drawn too tightly over prominent cheekbones and there were dark sunken circles under her eyes. Her black hair was drawn back from her face and tied carelessly with a ribbon. She was perhaps sixteen or seventeen, but it was hard to be exact. She had that tired, too-old look that he had seen in the eyes of so many people recently.

  He smiled and took a sip of his coffee. "It tastes good anyway. Aren't you having any?"

  She shook her head. "My aunt will have supper waiting for me when I return."

  She wore a faded print dress which had obviously been washed and mended many times and an ancient Norfolk jacket, two sizes too big for her and belted round her slender waist.

  Lomax ran a finger lightly down one of the lapels. "Harris tweed. Nothing very Greek about that garment. Where did you pick it up?"

  She flushed and he was at once sorry knowing that in some way his words had touched her pride. "New clothes are one thing it is impossible to obtain here," she said. "I was given this coat by a friend, Mr. Van Horn."

  "You know Oliver Van Horn?" Lomax said in surprise.

  "Everyone on Kyros knows Mr. Van Horn," she said. "He's a fine man."

  "Is he still living in his villa out on the point?" Alexias demanded.

  She nodded. "The Germans don't bother him. Since old Doctor Douplos died, Mr. Van Horn has taken his place. He's the only doctor available to the islanders."

  "I'd forgotten he studied medicine as a young man," Lomax said. "Something else he has in common with Maugham. I'd give a lot to meet him."

  "Who knows, perhaps you will." Alexias cut himself a large slice of cheese. "Katina, I've decided to go into town with you. Will it be safe?"

  She nodded. "There should be plenty of people in the streets on a warm night like this."

  Alexias turned to Lomax. "I'll be back first thing in the morning. I should have got things moving by then. You and Boyd can sleep here in the loft."

  "I'll go and harness the mare," Katina interrupted. "If I'm not back soon Aunt Sarah will begin to worry."

  The door closed behind her and Lomax pulled on his tunic and reached for the night glasses. "She's got a point there. I'll give her a hand and then have a look round."

  Alexias poured himself another coffee and moved to the fire, steam rising from his sheepskin coat. "I'll be ready to leave in five minutes. Just give me time to dry out a little."

  Boyd was still making inroads into the bread and cheese as Lomax went through the kitchen and moved out on to the porch. He crossed the yard to the barn and paused in the entrance.

  An old oil lamp swung from a beam that seemed to be the mainstay of the building and in its light Katina Pavlo was harnessing the mare. A board creaked under his foot as he went forward and she turned at once, reaching for the shotgun that leaned against the end of the stall.

  She relaxed visibly. "Oh, it's you, Captain Lomax."

  "So your uncle told you my name," he said.

  She nodded. "You are younger than I had imagined. Much younger."

  He frowned slightly. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

  "Even on Kyros we have heard of the Nightcomer," she explained. "And of the things you have done in Crete. Last month all they could talk about in the cafes was of how you had kidnapped the German general on Rhodes and smuggled him out of Egypt. Even the Germans find difficulty in keeping such things secret."

  "Tales grow in the telling," he said. "Remember that."

  She slipped the bridle over the mare's head and fastened the strap quickly. "Your Greek is very good--too good for an islander."

  He grinned. "I spent five years in Athens as a boy. My father was an official at the British Embassy there."

  "I see."

  She started to lead the mare from her stall and Lomax moved forward quickly. "Can I help?"

  She nodded. "The cart's over there in the corner. If you could bring it here."

  It was a light, two-wheeled affair and he tilted it forward as she backed the mare between the long curving shafts. He strapped the harness expertly into place on one side and she did the same at the other.

  When they had finished, she smiled across at him. "You've done that before."

  He nodded. "My grandfather was a farmer. That's all I wanted to be when I was a boy."

  "And now?"

  He shrugged. "My talents seem to run to darker things. I don't think there will be much demand for the qualities I possess after the war."

  "But what happens now doesn't count," she said. "Not for any of us. There is a saying we have--Time out of mind. That is what the war is--a dark dream that has no meaning when the morning comes."

  There was a passionate sincerity in her voice and in the soft, diffused light of the lamp, the tiredness and pain were washed away from her face and she looked very young. For a moment he wanted to tell her that life was so often not what it should be, but what it was, but he didn't have the heart.

  "Let's hope you're right," he said lamely.

  She nodded confidently. "If I wasn't, life would be a mockery."

  He paused to light a cigarette and then followed at the tail of the cart as she led the mare outside. The night air was warm and scented, the sky like a black velvet cushion scattered with diamonds.

  They stood side-by-side, shoulders touching, and she sighed with pleasure. "On a night like this it's possible to forget even the war for a little while. Oh, there is so much I could show you if things were different."

  "If I were an English tourist straight off the Athens boat?" he chuckled. "Where should we begin?"

  "That's easy," she said. "The Tomb of Achilles. We would visit it once by moonlight and again at dawn when there is mist on the mountain. Life could show you nothing more beautiful."

  "If you were there, satisfaction would be guaranteed," he said gallantly, and turned and looked at the peak dark against the night sky. "The Monastery of St. Anthony is up there, isn't it?"

  He could hear the swift intake of her breath and her body stiffened. She turned and peered up at him. "So that is why you're here?"

  "I don't understand?" he said.

  "Please, Captain Lomax. I'm not a fool. Everyone on the island knows that the Germans took over part of the monastery three months ago to use as a radar station."

  He shook his head. "Not as a radar station, Katina. It's rather more important than that."

  "I see," she said. "And you intend to destroy it? But the monks are still living there."

  "If they weren't, we'd have bombed the place long ago," he said. "That's why the Germans force them to go on living there. Typical Nazi trick. They tried it on a big scale at Monte Cassino in Italy, but it didn't work. The place was blasted off the face of the earth."

  "Then why hasn't the same thing been done here?" she demanded. "Since when have the lives of twenty or thirty old monks been important to either side in this war?"

  "Because there's no need," he said, surprised at the bitterness in her voice. "Because my way is simpler and cheaper and with any kind of luck, no one should get hurt."

  "Except possibly yourself. You forget that."

  He grinned. "Something I learned to forget about a long time ago. It doesn't pay."

  She was about to reply when he heard a sound faintly in the distance and laid a hand on her arm. "Just a minute."

  They waited, and as the sound grew louder, Katina said, "It's the patrol."

  "How many?" he demanded.

  "Usually two, but sometimes one. They follow the cliff paths in a motor cycle and sidecar."

  He raised the night glasses and as he focused them the noise of the engine grew louder and the motor cycle appeared on the rim of the valley and paused.

  The sidecar was empty, but he could clearly see the steel-helmeted
driver, strangely anonymous in his goggles as he looked down into the valley. A moment later, the engine roared into life again and the machine descended the track in a great cloud of dust.

  "Do they usually call at the farm?" Lomax said.

  She shook her head. "Occasionally they stop and ask for coffee, but not very often."

  He took her arm and they turned and ran for the house. Alexias and Boyd met them at the kitchen door and the Greek was holding one of the sub-machine guns.

  "Trouble?" he said.

  Lomax nodded. "German patrol. One man on a motor cycle."

  Joe Boyd pulled a gun from the soft leather holster that hung beneath his left armpit under his shirt. It was a Mauser automatic with an SS bulbous silencer, a weapon much favoured by German counter-intelligence agents, souvenir of an earlier affair in Crete.

  "Don't be a fool," Lomax said. "If we kill him they'll turn the island upside down. It would ruin everything.

  "Captain Lomax is right," Katina said. "You must collect your things and go into the loft. When he arrives, I'll tell him I was just leaving."

  There was no time to argue. They moved into the living room and Boyd mounted the ladder to the loft and opened the trapdoor. Lomax and Alexias quickly passed the packs and the rest of their equipment up to him and Katina put the remnants of the supper and the dirty crockery into a cupboard in the corner.

  She extinguished the lamp, moved across to the kitchen door and turned to see if they were ready as the motorcycle roared into the yard outside. Lomax nodded briefly and went up the ladder to join Boyd and Alexias in the warm darkness.

  Boyd lowered the trapdoor, jamming it open slightly with a piece of wood. Through the crack it was possible to see a little of the room below. A corner of the fireplace, most of the table and a chair beside it, but not the door.

  They waited and Lomax thought about the girl, remembering her face as he had last seen it, very white, but strangely calm, and then they heard voices and the door opened. A moment later and the German moved into view.

  He was almost as big a man as Alexias and the kneelength black leather jacket which covered his grey uniform was coated with white dust. He took off his helmet and gauntlets, dropping them on the table, and took out a cigarette. Without the helmet he looked younger and he ran a hand over his short blond hair and called to Katina in bad Greek.

  Lomax couldn't hear what was said, but after a moment, Alexias leaned close and whispered, "She is making coffee. I can smell it."

  The German got to his feet and disappeared from view, obviously going to lean in the kitchen doorway. A few moments later he returned to the table and sat down and Katina came into view carrying a tray.

  As she reached for the coffee pot, the German grabbed her wrist and pulled her round. She tried to get away, making no sound, but he was too strong for her. He laughed once and Lomax closed his eyes and brushed sweat from his forehead.

  When he opened them again, she was half across the table, the German sprawled on top of her, his hands moving over the young body.

  Her face was bone-white and she seemed to look straight into Lomax's eyes. He felt his throat go dry and clenched his right hand and then she cried out sharply.

  Before he could move, Alexias growled like an animal, sent the trapdoor back with a crash and scrambled through the opening. As he dropped, his right foot slipped between two rungs and he lost his balance and fell heavily to the floor.

  The German turned in alarm. For a moment he stared down at Alexias in horrified surprise and then he pushed Katina away from him.

  Lomax dropped through the opening and moved in fast. The German hastily unbuttoned the flap of his holster, but he was too late. As he drew his pistol, Lomax grabbed his wrist, pushing the weapon to one side, and raised his knee into the man's crotch.

  The German grunted with pain, his head coming forward, and Lomax struck him sharply against the jaw with his right elbow, snapping the bone. The German screamed, his head going back as he fell against the table, and Lomax slashed him across the throat with the edge of his hand. The table went over with a crash and the German rolled on to his face.

  Katina was already on her knees beside her uncle and Boyd was half-way down the ladder, his Mauser ready in his hand. He slipped it back into his holster and helped her raise Alexias into a sitting position.

  The Greek's face was twisted with pain and there was a film of sweat on his forehead. "Mother of God, I think it's broken," he said.

  Lomax crossed the room quickly and between them they got him to a chair. Alexias tentatively ran his hands down the leg and winced suddenly. "I was right. There's a break just below the knee. What a stinking mess."

  Katina was near to tears. "I'm sorry," she said. "I did my best, but he wouldn't go away. He insisted that I must make him coffee."

  Boyd was on his knees beside the German and now he stood up. "One thing's for sure--he'll never bother anyone again." He glanced at Lomax, face grim. "You never do things by halves, do you? A couple of hours from now and they'll be looking for this bloke all over the island."

  "Then they must find him," Alexias put in.

  Lomax turned, a frown on his face. "What do you mean?"

  "For God's sake give me a cigarette," the Greek said. "It's simple enough. They patrol along the top of the cliffs in their motorcycles. He'll have to meet with a nasty accident, that's all."

  "By God, he's right," Boyd said. "It's a way out"

  Lomax nodded. "The only way, but there's still a snag. They probably won't find him till daybreak. That means this is going to be an unhealthy neighbourhood for the rest of the night. In any case, Alexias needs a doctor." He turned to the Greek. "How far is it to Van Horn's place?"

  "Over the shoulder of the mountain, no more than an hour if you know the track."

  Lomax frowned. "If you think we're leaving you here, you're crazy. When the Germans turn out, they're bound to search this place."

  "I won't be here," Alexias said. "I'll be safe in town at The Little Ship. Help me on to the cart and I'll have myself there in half an hour."

  "But what about me, uncle?" Katina said.

  He managed a smile and patted her arm. "You must take them to Mr. Van Horn as soon as you can. With luck he may be able to return with you to The Little Ship tonight."

  "You seem to have it all worked out," Lomax said.

  "The way he puts it, it's all we can do," Boyd told him.

  Lomax nodded. "That's it then. Let's get him out to the cart before we do anything else. The sooner he's safe in town and off the road the better."

  He and Boyd supported the Greek between them as they went outside and Katina brought the horse and cart across to the bottom of the steps. They helped him up on to the narrow seat and he supported his injured leg on one of the shafts.

  Boyd went inside and came back with one of the sub-machine guns. Alexias slipped it under his seat and smiled down at them, teeth gleaming in the darkness.

  "Don't worry. Everything's going to be fine. I feel it in my bones. This won't make any difference to the main plan. As soon as I get things moving, I'll be in touch."

  He picked up the reins and moved away into the darkness and Lomax turned to Boyd. "We haven't got much time. Let's get our friend outside as quickly as possible."

  Katina followed them and stood in the door watching as they pulled the German's gauntlets over his stiffening fingers and strapped on his helmet. As they brushed past her with the body, she turned her face away, but a few moments later as they eased the body into the sidecar, she came out on the porch.

  "Who's going to drop him?" Boyd asked.

  "I will," Lomax told him. "You get the kit down and be ready to move as soon as we get back."

  Boyd nodded and ran up the steps into the house and Lomax turned to Katina. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to show me the nearest suitable spot."

  She came down the steps without a word and he mounted the machine and waited for her to get on to the pillion. As soon as
she was seated, he kicked the starter and let in the clutch.

  They followed a well-defined path up out of the valley and then she pressed his shoulder and pointed and he swung the machine into a track that cut across the dark earth like a white line in the night.

  The wind on his face carried the good fresh smell of the sea and he could taste the salt on his lips and then they came over a small rise and the dark line of the cliffs was no more than fifty yards below.

  He cut the motor and turned as she dismounted. "Is this the place?"

  She nodded. "The cliffs are a hundred feet high here. At their base there is an old jetty and a boathouse where my father kept his boat before the war for the fishing. Now the Germans have forbidden us to use it."

  He pulled the body from the sidecar and laid it on the ground. Then he put the machine into neutral and let it roll towards the edge of the cliffs.

  He hoisted the dead man on to his back and went down the slope. For a moment he stood at the edge, looking at the white line of surf breaking on the rocks below, and then he tossed the body down after the machine and went back to the girl.

  She was standing at the top of the rise where he had left her and he was conscious that she was looking at him through the darkness.

  "I'm sorry you had to get mixed up in this," he said awkwardly. "It's been a hell of a night by any standards."

  She stood quite still without saying anything and he moved closer. "Are you all right?"

  And then she started to cry and he put an arm round her gently, pulling her close. After a while, they started back through the darkness towards the farm.

  7

  Of Action and Passion

  Oliver Van Horn's villa was perched on the extreme end of a narrow finger of rock that jutted out into the calm waters of a secluded bay on the other side of the headland from the town. It was a two-storeyed building with a flat roof and stood in a couple of acres of garden surrounded by a high wall.

  They went down the hillside and crossed the white dusty strip of road and approached cautiously. The great, iron-bound gates stood open. They moved inside and Katina led the way along a narrow flagged path between olive trees.