The Greek Key (59 page)

'Will Newman or Marler be coming back?' She watched him through half-closed eyes.

'Not unless I summon them. I wasn't thinking of doing so.'

He had trouble keeping his eyes off her beautifully moulded shoulders. The dress fitted her snugly; her well-rounded breasts projected against the cloth. She leaned forward and kissed him full on the mouth.

'That was for starters, Tweed.'

The Greek Key?'

'A group of the most dangerous men in Greece. Shadow men who operate in the dark. The police can't find them. They live secret lives. Does that sound melodramatic?'

'Yes. But it sounds just what I'm looking for. Tell me more.'

'So you don't really need your glasses to see?'

'Only long distance. When I'm driving. Times like that. Then I forget I'm wearing them. Tell me more,' he repeated.

'I've told you too much already. You want to get me killed?'

'No. I'd go a long way to prevent that. Is Anton a member?'

She blinked, lowered her eyes. He could have sworn the suggestion came to her as a great shock. That she was thinking back over incidents she had observed - trying to link them up with his question.

'I never thought of that.' She opened her full red lips and ran the tip of her tongue along her lower lip. 'I can trust you?'

'You must decide that for yourself.'

'When my mother sent me to the university - she's dead, Petros killed her with overwork on the farm - there was an English professor, Guy Seton-Charles.'

'What about him?' Tweed asked in the same quiet tone.

'There were rumours. He came to lecture from England each year. Behind his back they called him The Recruiter.'

'Who were "they"?' His voice was very soft now, careful not to disturb her mood.

'You will protect me?' She leaned close again and her eyes were enormous. She slowly removed her earclips, placed them on the table.

'Yes,' he said. 'Providing you do exactly what I tell you when the time comes.'

'You're a nice man. Some of the students who attended the Seton-Charles lectures stopped going to them.'

'Who was he recruiting for?'

'The Greek Key.' Her smooth-skinned face was almost touching his and he caught a waft of perfume. He told himself to move back but he was frightened of breaking the spell. 'I asked what it was and they wouldn't tell me. You asked me if Anton was a member. He attended the lectures and finished the course. After that he was a changed man.'

'Changed in what way?'

'He used to lay women like rows of beans. He still kept his playboy image outwardly - but he seemed to have become colder, more purposeful - dedicated. That's it.
Dedicated
.'

'Dedicated to what?'

'I don't know. Really, I don't, Tweed. As though he'd found some mission in life. Almost like a religious conversion. But he's an agnostic. That's all I can say.'

Tweed eased his chair away. He stood up. Christina also stood up and \vaiked towards him. He had a curious gleam in his eyes. He saw his glasses still on the table, picked them up. Before he could put them on she grasped him.

'Let's do it. Now.'

He sighed, shook his head. 'Christina, I said I would protect you. I will. But I can't if we get involved with each other. I must go. Pack your things ready for a quick departure. All except your night things.'

'I have to say thank you.'

She pressed herself against him, kissed him again.

'You'll be leaving tomorrow,' he told her.

'Unless Dimitrios or Constantine or Anton reach me tonight.'

'Which do you fear most?'

'Anton. Of course . . .'

'He is no longer in Greece. And you will continue to be with someone until you leave. It may be a woman.'

'What use will she be? In an emergency?'

'More deadly than a man. I must go. Lock the door and only open it for the special knock. You do have confidence in me?'

'Completely.' She ran her hands through her hair. 'We will meet again?'

'If possible. It depends on how things develop . . .'

He waited outside the closed door until he heard her lock it. His hands were wet with perspiration. And not from the heat.

Four people sat round a table in Newman's room. Newman himself, Nick the Greek, Paula and Marler. Two litre bottles of mineral water stood on the table with four glasses. The bottles were almost empty. Tweed was introduced to Nick who clasped his hand in a firm grip and gazed straight at him. Tweed liked what he saw.

'Bob,' he said, 'take Paula along to Christina and introduce her. I want you to stay with her, Paula. Only open the door to the special knock Bob will demonstrate.'

Paula looked amused as she stood up and smoothed down her skirt. She stood close and whispered. 'Better go into the bathroom and comb your hair again. Clean up your mouth at the same time.'

Newman had reached the door with Paula when Tweed stopped them. 'Wait a moment.' He looked at Nick. 'I understand you can find weapons. We'll all be away when we go to Devil's Valley. Paula should have some protection. A small handgun. Can you obtain one for her?'

Nick, still seated, rolled up his left trouser leg and revealed the holster strapped to it. He pulled out a small gun, a .32 Browning automatic. He showed it to Paula.

'Do you know this gun?'

'Yes. It's a Browning. I've practised with it. That would do nicely.'

'And spare mags.' Nick handed her the gun and hauled the mags out of his pocket.

Paula dropped the mags into her handbag. She examined the Browning, released the magazine from the butt, made sure there was no bullet up the spout, all the time holding the weapon pointed at the wall. Nick watched with approval as she rammed the mag home again, dropped the weapon inside her handbag.

'You know the gun,' he said.

Tweed laid a hand on her shoulder. 'Only to be used in extreme emergency - if Christina's or your own life is in danger. You have no permit to use that in Greece. But if push comes to shove I'll square it with Peter Sarris. Take care.'

'And
you
take care,' she said vehemently. This whole secret expedition to Devil's Valley is madness . . .'

'Now go along with Bob and make friends with Christina.'

When they had gone he excused himself. Inside the bathroom he checked his appearance in the mirror. He should have done that before he'd left Christina. His hair was mussed up; traces of lipstick showed on his mouth. Christina had deliberately let him go like that - knowing there was another woman with him. Just to show Paula. Women! Thank God he'd kept control of himself.

He had a wash, used a tissue to clean off the lipstick. When he had combed his hair he went back into the bedroom.

'What's the plan?' he asked, sitting down at the table.

'She's quite a girl, Christina,' Marler remarked cynically.

'Don't you start.' Tweed jabbed his index finger at Marler. 'I said what's the plan?'

'Crack of dawn tomorrow we start out,' Marler began in a languid tone. 'We drive to the entrance near Cape Sounion. You go in on foot with Nick. He speaks Greek, he's the interpreter, and he knows the way. And we've devised back-up ..."

Marler explained the details and Tweed listened in silence. He nodded when Marler had finished. 'You've been out here a while. You know what you're doing. At least, I hope so. I approve the plan.'

'It will be tricky - the timing,' Nick interjected. 'Dangerous, too.' He was looking at Tweed. 'What type of gun would you like? I can get most . . .'

'I never carry a gun.'

Tweed stood up. 'I have to attend to something now.' Newman came back into the room, using his key to unlock the door. 'I'm off to the Embassy,' Tweed told him. 'I have to talk to Monica, get her to contact Roberts at Lloyd's. And warn Butler Anton is probably back on his patch.'

'I'll come with you,' said Nick. 'We pass the Astir Palace on the way to the Embassy. I can pick up another Browning from under my car in the garage.'

'I can go alone. I know the way. I studied a street plan of Athens before I left London. No one will recognize me.'

'I'm corning with you,' Nick persisted. 'Petros could have men watching this hotel. They would see you arrive with Newman and make the connection.'

'You're right. Thank you.'

Tweed cursed himself inwardly for not thinking of that. Maybe the heat was getting to him. They were crossing the road to the Astir Palace when Nick made the remark.

'It will be touch and go whether we survive in Devil's Valley.'

43

Dawn was breaking over the Temple of Poseidon when the two cars pulled off the coast road close to the skeletal hotel building site. Nick drove the Mercedes with Tweed beside him. Behind them Newman drove a hired Peugeot with Marler as his passenger.

'I'll drive,' he'd told Marler when they started from Athens in the dark. 'We want to get there in one piece.'

'I was a racing driver once,' Marler informed him.

'I know. You must have been a menace to the other contestants. I don't want to end up in the sea . . .'

Tweed stepped out of the Mercedes and stretched. He was wearing a pair of mountaineer boots purchased in Kolonaki. He'd worn them for the rest of the previous day to break them in.

Nick lifted up the travelling rug on the rear seat, took hold of the twin-barrelled shotgun. He had a fresh Browning strapped to his leg, a .38 Smith & Wesson in a hip holster under his loose jacket.

'A walking armoury,' Tweed had joked.

'We'll need it,' Nick had replied without a smile.

While Nick was collecting the weapon, locking the car, Tweed gazed at the fantastic colours of sky and sea. A spectrum of rose pink, cobalt and sapphire sea. An incredible sight you wouldn't find anywhere else in the world.

'Ready?' asked Nick.

'On a job like this the thing is get moving. No palaver.'

Nick led the way behind the complex and they plunged into the wilderness of limestone bluffs looming above donkey trails which twisted and climbed. There was no sound once they'd left behind the screech of the gulls over the sea which soon vanished from view Nick placed his feet carefully, treading wherever possible on tufts of grass to deaden the sound of his footfalls. Behind him Tweed followed suit, watching for any sign of human life.

He wore a wide-brimmed straw hat, his safari jacket, tropical drill trousers tucked into the tops of his boots. Despite Nick's long sloping strides, Tweed had no trouble keeping up with him. In London he'd taken to rising very early, walking two miles round the deserted streets every day. At the weekends he drove down to Surrey, parked his Cortina and climbed the North Downs. He was in better shape than for years.

They crossed the pass and began to descend into Devil's Valley. The tortuous path twisted as it dropped rapidly round boulders of limestone. Both Nick and Tweed carried water bottles slung over their shoulders. Nick carried the shotgun in his left hand and paused as he came to each man-high boulder. He peered round it cautiously, waved to Tweed to proceed, and walked on.

The sun was climbing in a clear turquoise sky. Already it was becoming very hot: the heat from the previous day had never dissipated during the night. As they progressed deep inside the valley Tweed cast frequent glances up at the ridges enclosing them to east and west. No sign of movement. Only the occasional sheep came into view, head down as it searched for nourishment among the scrub grass.

Tweed saw a weird squat structure perched on the ridge against the eastern skyline. He guessed it was the abandoned silver mine where Newman had had his nightmare experience. They arrived at the base of the valley and the path ran to left and to right. Nick paused, drank from his water bottle, wiped sweat off his forehead. Tweed wrapped a large silk handkerchief round his own neck to mop up the sweat.

'What's that thing?' Tweed asked, pointing to a crumbling high building. A series of chutes ran at angles and all the metal was rusty. The derelict structure stood at the foot of a path climbing up the eastern slope.

The old ore-crushing plant where they extracted the silver,' Nick explained. 'Hasn't been used for years. Donkey trains brought down the ore. Have you noticed how quiet it is? And no sign of anyone.'