The Heights of Zervos (17 page)

On the open deck it was quieter because there were fewer searchers: Burckhardt had given strict instructions that despite the gravity of the emergency only those men who could cover their uniforms with civilian coats were to be sent up here. Even now he was not prepared to risk a British motor-torpedo boat suddenly appearing and flashing its searchlight over the deck to illuminate men in German uniform. So far as Dietrich could see there were no more than a dozen, hatless men flitting in the shadows. But here again he heard the disjointed hurrying clump of those heavily nailed boots pounding the wooden deck. It was quite dark now, the impenetrable pitchblackness of the night before dawn, and a cold wind was blowing along the gulf. He leant against the ventilator amidships to light his cigar and a soldier came round the side and cannoned into him. When he saw the silhouette of the hat against the match-flare he apologized and hurried away. Dietrich sighed. Again he had seen the lift of the rifle prior to recognition. He went to the stern and looked over the rail where the screw churned the sea a dirty white colour, stumbled over a piled loop of rope, and went back along the deck to the illuminated safety of the bridge. It was 4.45 AM.

The ten-kilogram composite demolition charge swayed at the end of the rope. The vibrations of the ship's engines shuddered it in mid-sway and the rock of the ship's movements reproduced themselves in the sway itself. The charge thudded regularly against the metalwork as it continued its endless pendulum motion, but the sound of the thuds was camouflaged by the same engine beats which shook it. A man standing close by might not have heard those warning thuds as the charge dangled and swayed and shuddered. The clock was set and the mechanism was ticking, but the most vital sound - the ticking - was muffled by the larger noises. Occasionally the vessel plunged its bows a little deeper into the waters of the gulf and then the charge would strike the metal heavily, its rhythmic sway temporarily upset by the unexpected jolt. For a minute or more it would sway erratically, its pendulum balance disturbed, then it would recover its poise and resume the same even swing backwards and forwards with the regularity of a metronome. It was suspended a long way down the shaft, suspended from an Alpenkorps scabbard which still held its bayonet, a scabbard which had been jammed inside the shaft at an angle which might hold it there indefinitely. And as it went on swaying none of the hatless men who thumped along the open deck in growing desperation had, as yet, carefully examined the ventilator shaft amidships.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Sunday, Dawn

'The Greek has escaped - I have instituted an immediate and intensive search of the ship.' Hahnemann reported the news to Burckhardt whom he had found on the bridge standing next to Dietrich. He waited nervously for the colonel's reaction, but Burckhardt, holding a pair of field-glasses, simply looked at him as he asked the question.

'How did it happen, Hahnemann? He was tied up in the hold and Private Kutzel was standing guard over him.'

'He must have freed himself in some way.' Hahnemann hesitated: the next item of news was bound to provoke an explosion. 'Kutzel is dead - I found him on the floor of the hold with his neck broken.'

'And his rifle?'

Dietrich smiled grimly to himself as he heard the question and he gave the colonel top marks for competence under stress. The weapon, of course, was vital, could make all the difference to the degree of menace posed by the escaped Greek.

'I found that on the floor close to his body...'

'Good. He shouldn't be difficult to round up. You said an "intensive" search, Hahnemann. How intensive? How many men?'

'Fifty, sir.' Hahnemann at least felt confident that he had organized the hunt for Grapos on a sufficiently massive scale, even though there was something else which he dreaded mentioning. He wished to heaven that the Abwehr man wasn't standing there with his hands behind his back, his great shoulders hunched forward as he took in every word the lieutenant was saying. The colonel's reaction gave him an unpleasant shock.

'Fifty? You mean you have taken fifty men off the search for the missing demolition charge?' Burckhardt was facing the unfortunate Hahnemann now, his hands on his hips as he went on bitingly. 'When will you get your priorities right? An explosive with a time fuse has been planted somewhere aboard this vessel, an explosive powerful enough to sink us in the middle of the gulf before we ever go ashore. That, since it appears you don't realize it, is a far greater risk than one unarmed Greek civilian who is probably gibbering with fright in some cupboard. You will tell off no more than twenty men to look for him - the other thirty must immediately resume the search for that demolition charge.'

'He is armed, sir - with a rifle ...'

'You said you had found Kutzel's rifle."

'That is correct, sir.' Hahnemann's rigid stance reflected the extent of his unhappiness as he went on stolidly. 'I think the Greek must have surprised Private Wasserman also when he was asleep in a cabin on the lower deck ...'

'Asleep!' Burckhardt changed the direction of his attack: what a soldier had been doing asleep during these vital hours was something he could inquire into later. Doubtless Wasserman had sneaked off into the cabin hoping no one would find him there. 'What has happened to Wasserman?'

'He's dead - strangled as far as we can tell. And his rifle and ammunition belt are missing so the Greek must have them.'

Burckhardt paused only briefly while he wished to God that the Abwehr man wasn't listening to all this, but he was still perfectly clear as to what must be done. 'You will still use only twenty men to hunt for the Greek. Issue a general warning that he's armed.'

'I have done that already, sir.'

'Then issue a special warning to those on the open deck -we don't want them starting to loose off at each other.' As Hahnemann hurried away he thought no, that would be the final disaster - to incur further casualties with the men shooting one another. Taking up a firmer stance, he stared ahead to where the searchlight beam shone down the gulf. It was 5.15 AM. A quarter of an hour to disembarkation. Coldly, he catalogued in his mind the risks and setbacks which had bedevilled the expedition since he had come aboard the
Hydra
.

A boatload of troops which had been very nearly capsized during the transfer from the
Rupescu
; one soldier sent into the sea by the Englishman, Prentice; one wireless set sabotaged by smashing the tuning-coil; the encounter with the destroyer which had almost proved fatal; a demolition charge of great explosive power planted somewhere in the bowels of the vessel; the escape of the armed Greek; and the death of two more Alpenkorps men during that escape. So three men out of two hundred were dead even before they set foot in Greece. Surely nothing more could happen during the remaining quarter of an hour? Actually, it was likely to be twenty-five or thirty minutes - they were behind schedule with this infernal ferry having to move more slowly because of the danger of mines -and Italian mines of all things. "Schnell had insisted on the further reduction in speed to ensure that they sighted them in time. The irony of it was they hadn't seen a single mine since entering the gulf.

'I think I'll go and have a word with Major Eberhay - if I can find him.' Dietrich was already moving away and leaving the bridge to Burckhardt's relief - the large German seemed to dominate wherever he went, to hang over the ship like a prophet of disasters to come. Barely a minute later Sergeant Volber came onto the bridge and the colonel only had to take one look at his face to know it was not good news.

'What is it, Volber?' he rapped out sharply.

'We think Private Diehl may be missing, sir'.

Burckhardt instantly thought of the Greek who was prowling about somewhere with a loaded rifle. 'You
think
? Either Diehl is missing or he isn't? Which is it?'

'We don't know, sir.' Volber lacked Lieutenant Hahnemann's capacity for telling a complete account quickly, forestalling his commanding officer's questions so far as he could, and the sergeant's habit of replying without explaining was a foible Burckhardt found intensely irritating. He felt the blood going to his head as he forced himself to reply coldly.

'What the devil does that mean?'

'He hasn't been seen for a long time - I've asked several of the men and they all thought he was somewhere else. They're very scattered ...'

'You've allowed your section to become scattered?'

'We're on the open deck and it takes time to check everyone in the dark...'

'Report to me as soon as you can whether he's definitely missing. Definitely, I said, Volber.'

The strain was telling everywhere, Burckhardt thought as the sergeant hurried away. Schnell was being over-cautious, the NCOs were getting rattled, and the men were being steadily drained of their aggressive energies as they plodded round the ship searching for time-bombs and armed Greeks. And soon they would have to fight a campaign. Armed Greeks? The thought reminded him of a few vital questions he had to put to the captain. He took a step forward which placed him at Nopagos' elbow.

'The man called Grapos has escaped,' he said harshly. 'He has taken a rifle and ammunition - can he use them? Before you reply, remember that he is a civilian with no rights in war and I shall hold you responsible for the death of any of my men if you withhold information.'

Nopagos turned and stared at the German. His skin was lined and pouched with fatigue but he still held himself erect; what little responsibility he still held for his own vessel as its pilot would only cease when they docked at Katyra. He was tempted to tell Burckhardt to go to hell but he sensed something of the tremendous pressure the colonel was undergoing and it seemed senseless to take a risk when they had almost landed. 'He has been able to use a rifle since he was a boy,' he replied.

'But he has something to do with the monastery.' Burckhardt did not understand this at all and his mouth tightened as he held the Greek's eyes.

'He was a novice monk who had no vocation. When he left the monastery it was agreed that he should do odd jobs for them - like going to Istanbul on this ferry to bring back supplies of books and things like that. He has shot birds on the peninsula from an early age. Yes, he can use a rifle,'

'Well?'

'A marksman.' Nopagos gave this reply with a certain relish.

'His limp kept him out of the army?'

'It was his greatest regret. He would be an asset to any army in the world. Has he caused any trouble yet?'

'He has killed two of my men.'

'You see what I mean, then?' For a moment Nopagos thought he had gone too far. Burckhardt stiffened and a hint of fury came into his eyes and then faded as he regained control. He was careful to keep strict control as he put his next question.

'He knows this ship well?'

'Well enough to hide until we have reached Katyra as you have not found him now.' And with this last thrust Nopagos turned away and attended to his duties once more. But he was not able to resist asking a question which he carefully put in a polite tone. 'Have they found the time-bomb yet?'

'No.'

'So, there is still time.'

This simple comment stung Burckhardt more than anything Nopagos had said previously. He had given Eberhay orders to leave assembly for disembarkation until the last possible moment so they could keep on looking for that missing demolition charge - Burckhardt's greatest fear was that it would detonate just before they landed. He was thinking about this when Schnell, almost exhausted from his long hours over the wheel, straightened up as a soldier ran along outside the bridge and came in breathless. Burckhardt recognized him as one of the two men posted as lookouts as soon as they had passed through the narrows. In his anxiety to speak the man had trouble in getting out his message.

'Mines sighted, sir ... on the port bow.'

The explosion came at 5.45 AM as the
Hydra
, listing to port, her engines beating uncertainly, began the ninety-degree turn which would take her inshore to the distant light of the Katyra landing-stage. They were almost there, Burckhardt reflected as he stood on the bridge behind Nopagos, but the last mile was likely to be the longest of the voyage. The dangers surrounding the expedition were now so overwhelming that his mind had reached the point where ft could hardly take in any more - those damnable Italian mines were growing more numerous with every quarter-mile they glided forward; an armed Greek was loose somewhere on board, and a marksman at that; and they had still failed to locate the demolition charge which might detonate at any moment. Lifting his field-glasses to focus on the circle of mines ringing the vessel, he ignored the newcomers arriving on the already overcrowded bridge. Because of the risk of imminent disaster he had ordered the British prisoners to be brought up from their cabin.

'Are we abandoning ship?' Prentice asked quietly.