Levkas Man (Mystery)

by Hammond Innes

  "Where did they go to?" I asked.

  He shook his head. "They jus' vamoose." He smiled. I think he was pleased at remembering that word. And then he thrust his mutilated hand in front of my face. "See that? That was the first time I get the torpedo. Lucky I don't lose my fuckin arm." He was in mid-Atlantic then and it was ten minutes before I could extricate myself and visit the Port Captain's office. It was about a hundred yards further along the waterfront and there I was able to confirm Coromandel's movements. The Port Captain himself showed me the entry in his book. She had arrived at 18.30 hours on Thursday evening direct from Pylos and she had left the following morning at 08.30 bound for Port Vathy on the island of Meganisi. He did not speak English so that I was unable to question him, but just as I was leaving he indicated a poste restante box on the wall. There was a note in it addressed to me, just a line from Bert to say they would be back by Saturday evening, or at the latest Sunday morning.

  There was a local chart pinned to the wall beside the Port Captain's desk. "Meganisi?" I asked him and he pointed to an island shaped like some extraordinary crayfish with a thick, pronged body and a whiplash tail. It was about ten miles south of the Levkas Canal and separated from the island of Levkas by the narrow Meganisi Channel.

  There was a restaurant nearby and I left my suitcase there and walked out to a wooded promontory that looked across to the ruined fortress of Actium. By then a small breeze had come in and the sea glinted between the red boles of the pines. I sat at a table near a logwood kiosk that served coffee and soft drinks, watching the dredged channel. But though I stayed there until the last of the boys who had been running

  Levkas Man

  in and out of the water had gone home and the sun was slanting towards the sea, I saw only two ships come in, and both of them were caiques.

  It was almost dark by the time I got back to the restaurant and there I had the best meal I had had in weeks—huge meaty prawns, fresh-caught that morning from the sands off Preveza. I was sitting over my coffee, wondering whether I would have to find myself a room for the night, when I saw the green and red of navigation lights close off the quay, heard the rattle of an anchor chain running out. By the time I was out of the restaurant the boat had turned stern-on and was coming in fast. It was Coromandel, and I reached the edge of the quay just as Bert heaved the first warp for the waiting harbour boy to slip over a bollard. He saw me, gave a cheerful wave, and the next moment the bight of chain that carried the second warp crashed at my feet. As soon as he had made fast and the gangplank had been rigged, I went on board. Bert's hand gripped mine. "Are you alone?" he asked.

  "Yes."

  "Where's Kotiadis?"

  I began to explain, but then the glimpse of a white sweater showed for'ard and Florrie was spotlighted green as she came quickly down the starboard side. "Paul!" I suddenly found myself embraced, enveloped almost in the warmth of her emotional personality. "You're alone?"

  "Yes, of course I'm alone." But when I started to explain what had happened so that they would understand why I wanted to visit Levkas, Bert stopped me. "Something we've got to tell you, something important. When we arrived here— the morning after, that is—"

  "Not now." Florrie indicated the shadowy figures crowding the quay to look at the boat. "Wait till we're down below."

  We made the warps fast, hauled in on the chain for'ard and then went down to the saloon. "It's your father, y'see," Bert said as he opened up the drink locker. "There's a village called Vatahori out there on Meganisi—"

  "For heaven's sake," Florrie cut in. "Begin at the beginning."

  "That's what I was trying to do." He shrugged. "Oh, well, you tell him yourself then."

  She turned eagerly towards me. "You know we got in the evening before last? Well, yesterday morning it was—about five-thirty. There were footsteps on the deck. I'm a very light sleeper. I thought perhaps it was you. A voice called from the wheelhouse and I woke Bert and we went up to find this man sitting there slumped in the chart table seat. He looked like a scarecrow almost, his face drawn, his clothes hanging on him like rags. I thought for a moment he was some sort of beggar. And then he staggered to his feet, mumbled his name and said he was your father . . . and all in the same breath he asked if we'd take him out to Meganisi."

  "He said you'd sent him." Bert handed Florrie the brandy he had just poured for her. "You did send him, didn't you?"

  "I told him about your boat, how I'd got to Greece. But that's all."

  "Well, it doesn't matter," she said, sipping her drink. "There he was, and he was so ill-looking and weak—we brought him down here, and when he told me he hadn't eaten for a long time, I made him an omelette and some coffee. He had the sense to eat it slowly, but he was dreadfully tired. And he wouldn't go to bed—not until we'd promised to take him to Meganisi."

  "You're sure it was Meganisi, not Levkas, he wanted?" I asked.

  "Of course. The village of Vatahori on Meganisi, that's where he wanted to go—and without anyone knowing."

  "Did he tell you why?"

  She shook her head. "Not really. He kept talking about a cave, something he had to do. He wasn't very coherent."

  "He never mentioned Levkas," Bert handed me the bottle of Scotch and a glass. "And he was quite straight with us— about the risk, I mean. But he seemed so desperately urgent—"

  "We couldn't just leave him here to be picked up by the police or that man Kotiadis. Even if he was a Communist agent. Which I don't believe."

  "He told you about that, did he?" I asked.

  "Oh yes—everything. But it was all very confused. The words just poured out of him. I don't think we understood half of it, did we, Bert? He just went on talking and talking, as though he couldn't stop. And then, when Bert said we'd take him, he just collapsed. We put him to bed in your bunk, and then Bert went ashore to clear with the Port Captain's office."

  "Where is he now?" I asked.

  "I told you, at Vatahori," Bert said. "And that made it a little more risky. They haven't got a harbour official at Vatahori so I had to tell the Port Captain here we were going to Port Vathy."

  "Does he know you had a passenger on board?"

  He shook his head. "They didn't ask me about that, and where officials are concerned, I always say what the eye doesn't see . . ." He laughed. "But then it was dark when he'd come on board, and the truck that had brought him down to Preveza had gone straight on to a farm further along the coast. There was no way they could know we'd got an extra bod on board." He took a quick gulp at his whisky. "I suppose it was about eight-thirty when we cleared. A nice westerly breeze, motor-sailing all the way, right through the Levkas Canal. And no trouble at Vatahori—nobody there, just a long inlet marked on the chart as Port Atheni. You anchor in the middle and the village of Vatahori is about a mile from the end of it."

  "And you put him ashore there?"

  "Yes, after breakfast this morning." And he added, "He wouldn't let us go with him up to the village. Said he'd be all right—he had friends there."

  "He didn't need help, anyway," Florrie said. "He'd slept most of the time we were sailing. And afterwards, when we'd anchored, he had the most enormous meal—bacon and eggs, the lot." She smiled. "I thought he'd never stop eating. And

  though he looked so ill, he had enough energy to walk up the hill."

  Bert nodded. "He's tougher than he looks, that's certain."

  "He was like a kid really. I just poured food into him, and you could see him converting it into energy. And talking all the time. To himself, mostly—for his own benefit. All technical stuff. I couldn't understand half of it." And she added, "I can see him now, walking away with a brief wave of his hand, up the stony track that led to the village, a bent old man, his shoulders stooped, his eyes on the ground, and still wearing those ragged clothes. It didn't seem right—to let him go like that, all alone."

  "It's what he wanted," Bert said.

  After that they had sailed round to Port Vathy, the next bay to the west
, and made their number to the Customs man and then steamed straight back to Preveza. "Dead easy." He hesitated, looking at me a little uncertainly. "I hope we did right—taking him out to that island and leaving him there?"

  "Yes," I said. "Of course. It was very good of you. And you say he had friends at Vatahori?"

  Bert nodded. "That's what he said." And Florrie added, "We wouldn't have left him otherwise—not like that. He didn't look at all well. Very drawn and his skin a bad colour."

  "Did he say why it was so urgent?" Only a narrow strip of water separated Meganisi from Levkas and if he had friends at Vatahori they could presumably take him across there. "He must have given you a reason."

  "Oh, yes." Florrie nodded. "But as I say, it was all very confused—something he had to do—some bones. He kept talking about bones."

  "That's right," Bert agreed. "A collection of bones and artefacts they were keeping for him—his friends, I think. What was their name, Florrie? Pappa-something. They were Greeks."

  "Pappadimas."

  "Yes, that's right. I remember now. A collection he'd brought out with him. The previous year. But, as Florrie says.

  Levkas Man

  it was all a bit confused like. He kept talking about a cave. And a professor came into it. He had to get to them before this professor."

  "Professor Holroyd?"

  "Yes, I think that was the name. Like I say, he seemed to have something he had to do very urgently before this professor bloke beat him to it. He kept on about time. He hadn't much time, he said. I remember that because he gave me the creeps for a moment, staring at us, his eyes shining under his shaggy brows. I thought he was . . . well, you'll excuse my saying this about your father, but I thought he was a bit off his rocker."

  "He was very tired, that's all," Florrie said. "Tired and ill."

  "Okay." Bert shrugged. "Tired and ill and a bit delirious. But it comes to the same thing. A bloke in that sort of state, you have to humour him, so we took him to Meganisi."

  I nodded. I knew what he meant. I had felt the same up there in the red dunes. "I'll have to go there," I said. "When can we leave?"

  "For Meganisi?"

  "Yes."

  He thought about ten in the morning. Florrie needed to get some fresh stores from the market and he'd have to clear again with the Port Captain's office. "They'll think I've got a ruddy girl friend there, or something."

  Florrie laughed. "Not with me on board, they won't."

  It was late by the time I had retrieved my suitcase and told them what had happened at Despotiko. But even so, I found it difficult to sleep. Partly it was the stuffiness of the cabin after camping out in the open air. But chiefly it was the old man. It was extraordinary the effect he had on people. When I had asked the Barretts why they had taken the risk of running him out to Meganisi—and it was a big risk, knowing that he was in trouble with the Security Police—all Florrie had said was, "You weren't here, Paul. If you had been, you'd understand." And Bert added, "If he'd been pleading for us to ship him out

  of the country, I wouldn't have done it. But he wasn't trying to escape. He had something urgent and positive he wanted to do. I may not understand about anthropology, but a man who's dedicated to his work and his beliefs—" He had turned then and poured himself another whisky. "You may not like him. You don't have to like him. But you respect him, even if there is something very strange about him. I felt—" His open, honest features had reflected his own puzzlement as he searched for words to express his feelings. "He sort of made me feel I was in the presence of an enormously powerful mind. Y'see, when a man is ranging over thousands of years-it's like the stars at night when you're sailing—you feel so small and insignificant. It just didn't seem important that we were taking a risk in helping him to get where he wanted."

  When I went on deck next morning it was cloudy, a grey day with the wind from the west. It looked as though we would have a good sail and after breakfast I went with Bert to the Port Captain's office. I think they knew all about me. Anyway, we had no difficulty in clearing again for Meganisi. Then, back on board, we heard the sound of women's voices in the saloon and I went below to find Sonia there. She was on the settee berth, facing Florrie across the table, and she jumped up as I came in. "Paul." Her voice was urgent. "They're packing up. They're not staying at Ayios Giorgios."

  Holroyd had spent an afternoon in the red dunes, had found nothing of real interest and had made the decision to move after supper the previous night. She had left the camp at four in the morning, walked down to the main road where she had waited over an hour before getting a lift. "I was afraid I'd miss you."

  "She wants to come with us." Florrie's tone was controlled —not openly hostile, but it was clear she didn't want another woman on her own boat.

  "Only to Meganisi," Sonia said quickly. "You see—last night—Kotiadis came up to the camp—" She was facing me, her voice, her whole manner, distraught. "The Chief of Police at Levkas had been making enquiries for him and that eve-

  ning he had phoned him at his hotel in Jannina. I've just been trying to explain to Mrs. Barrett. They know where Dr. Van der Voort is now. Kotiadis can't do anything—not at the moment. But he's passed all the information on to Professor Holroyd—where your father's staying, the locations he was working on last year, everything. And I'm scared. I'm scared of what will happen when Professor Holroyd gets there. Please—" she was leaning forward, a note of desperation in her voice. "Mrs. Barrett doesn't realize . . . please try and convince them of the urgency. They shouldn't meet—your father and Professor Holroyd—not before I've seen him, not without warning."

  So it was all coming to a head on this island of Meganisi. I sat down. "You say Holroyd knows the location of his digs?"

  She nodded. "Kotiadis told him. That's why they're moving camp this morning."

  "And the digs are on Meganisi, not Levkas?"

  "One on Meganisi—by an island called Tiglia. That's in the channel between Meganisi and Levkas. The other is across the channel, on the Levkas side—a bay. I can't remember the name now. I typed it. But it's gone for the moment."

  "What are you suggesting then?" I asked. "That he'll go for Holroyd the way he went for Cartwright?"

  She shook her head. "No, not that. But something. I don't know. I must get there first. Otherwise—" She hesitated. "Oh, it's all so stupid. And to try and explain what I feel. Can't you see? Working on his own all last year, and now ... If it isn't all to be wasted, he's got to fight this man. Not physically, I don't mean that. Not with violence. But he mustn't become another Marais. He mustn't lose out to an academic publicist, have all his work filched by a man who's never done any real basic research in his life. It's wrong, wrong—all wrong. He's got to fight back—somehow."

  She was looking anxiously at the three of us. "Please-please take me. I don't like the thought of him there alone. Anything could happen. But if he had support, people there who believed in him ..." She reached for her handbag.

  "Something else I have to tell you. Dr. Gilmore is arriving by plane this afternoon, at Corfu." She handed me a cable. "I got that just before we left Despotiko." It gave Gilmore's flight number and ETA and instructed her to contact him at the Kerkira Hotel. "I kept him informed, everything, by letter. He asked me to. And then, when I knew Professor Holroyd was coming out, I cabled him. I think Dr. Gilmore is the only man who can help your father now."

  "And you want us to pick him up at Corfu?" She nodded, her silence more pleading than words.

  IV

  The white limestone cliffs of Paxos were on our starboard bow, Corfu dropping astern, when Bert relieved me at the helm. "Are you going outside Levkas or through the canal?" I asked him. "The wind's north-westerly, increasing." It was the prevailing wind of this coast and I thought it would be force 6 by the late afternoon.

  "Oh, I think the canal," he said, without even glancing at the chart.

  "It's a dead run and a lee shore when we make the entrance."

  He nodded
. "But once inside we'll be in quiet water." He was thinking of our passenger. He had looked tired, almost frail when we had met him at the airport the previous day, and though we had had an early meal, he had insisted on staying up until he had all the facts of the situation clear in his mind. I had given him my cabin and he had not stirred from his bunk all morning.

  .58

  "It's running it a bit fine— it'll be almost dark when we get there." I handed over the wheel and took another look at Chart 1609. It was divided into two sections—the canal itself and the north and south entrances, including the whole of the island of Levkas. The northern entrance was a bight formed by the island and the mainland; it had a sand spit backed by shallows running away to the north-east, and the entrance itself was a 90° turn to starboard, close in to the shallows and flanked by sandbanks. It looked singularly unattractive for a boat running under sail before a strong north-westerly breeze. "Well, you know what it's like."

  "Yes, I know it."

  He had altered course to port, and though the jib was still full, the staysail was beginning to slat under the lee of the main. The boat was steady, but pitching slightly now that the sea was getting up. He asked me to boom the staysail out and up for'ard I was more conscious of the surge of the bows, could feel the weight of the wind. The sky was blue, but veiled with cirrus, the sea white with the break of wave-caps. When I'd rigged the boom and clipped it to the clew of the staysail I went aft and eased out the mainsheet. From the stern I could still see the Pindus Mountains, a white glint of snow at the far end of the Corfu Channel where the Albanian coast began.

  Down in the saloon Florrie and Sonia had finished their lunch. "Dr. Gilmore all right?" I asked.

  Sonia nodded. "He's had a cup of Marmite and now he's propped up in his bunk reading some abstruse paper in the American Journal of Anthropology. He said he had no idea that a small boat could be so comfortable." She smiled. "He's really remarkably chirpy. Oh, and he asked me to give you this. He thought it might help you to understand your father." She reached to the shelf behind her head and handed me a wadge of typewritten sheets. "It's an article written by one of his students." It was headed— T/j^ Tragic Life of Eugene Marais.