Levkas Man (Mystery)

by Hammond Innes

  "Well?" she looked from one to the other of us, searching our faces. "All this time I've been waiting up there, not knowing . . ." Her voice trailed off as she stared at Gilmore.

  "Bill Holroyd is dead."

  "But Dr. Van der Voort?" She didn't care about Holroyd. His death meant nothing to her. Wide-eyed, her gaze switched from Gilmore to me. "Did you find him?"

  "Yes."

  "Then why didn't you tell me? To leave me in doubt . . ." She stopped there, conscious suddenly of the atmosphere, the sadness in Gilmore's eyes, the lack of any sense of relief that I'd found him. "He's dead—is that what you mean?"

  I didn't say anything. What could I say? I finished my drink, staring down at the empty glass, her eyes fixed on me, feeling a coldness in my stomach, seeing him still, propped against that wall, against the red belly of that bull.

  goo Levkas Man

  "Tell me," she said. "For God's sake tell me. I'm not a child."

  Her gaze had shifted to Gilmore and there was a long silence. And then finally the old man said, "I think, my dear, you have to face the fact that they're both dead."

  I felt a sense of relief then. The decision I had been groping for confirmed and taken out of my hands. But she was too determined a person to accept it without knowing the details. "But how—what happened?" She was facing me again, white-faced. "Why didn't you tell me? Something happened whilst you were down there."

  "Nothing happened," I said. -

  "Then what are you hiding from me? Why didn't you go straight ashore?"

  "Ashore?" I was confused now; the strain and the effect of the cognac. I thought she had guessed that Gilmore was lying. "Why should I go ashore?"

  "To tell them, of course. To tell Hans he needn't risk his life any more . . ."

  "You tell him," I said, and reached for the bottle.

  Her eyes widened, two angry spots of colour showing in her cheeks. "You're drunk."

  I nodded. "That's right. You expect me to stay sober after a dive like that?" The neck of the bottle was rattling on the rim of the glass.

  She frowned. "It's not the dive that's scared you."

  "No?" I couldn't stand it any more, this persistent probing. "I'm too tired to argue," I said. "I'm going to my bunk." And I went past her, walking carefully, the glass in my hand. Let Gilmore sort it out, tell her what he liked. I got to my cabin and sat on the bunk for a moment, drinking slowly, wondering what they'd do when they got through that rock fall. But my mind was comfortingly dulled, and when I'd finished my drink, I crawled naked onto my bunk. I didn't care any more. I didn't care what they did. I didn't care what they thought. I didn't even care if the wind got up and the ship broke adrift. I closed my eyes and sank into oblivion. Somebody else could deal with the whole damned mess.

  PART FIVE

  Legacy of Violence

  I

  Red beasts sprawled across my vision, their eyes staring, and a great hand was on my shoulder, restraining me, as the broken face fell back screaming, and I opened my eyes to see the face of Kotiadis, dark and stubbled, hanging above me. "You will get up please and come to the salon." My mouth was dry, my eyes unfocussed. "What is it?" I murmured. "What do you want?" My mind was still half-lost in the dream world from which he had woken me.

  "In the salon please—at once." His voice was harsh and urgent. I could hear voices, the bump of a boat alongside.

  "Okay." I rubbed my eyes, feeling like death. I'd no clothes on and the cabin was hot, my body bathed in sweat. Veins of light swam across the deck beams above my head, the shimmering reflection of sun on water coming in through the single porthole. "What's happened? Have they got through the rock fall?"

  "No. Not any more."

  "Well, what the hell is it then?"

  "All foreign yachts are to leave Greece immediately."

  I swung my legs off the bunk and sat up. "Why? What's happened?"

  "It is the order of the Government."

  "Yes, but why?"

  "I explain when you are dressed. You are to proceed now to Levkas." He left me then.

  The time was 15.18. I pumped the wash basin full of water, sluicing it over my face and body, and then, feeling a little better, I slipped on a pair of shorts and went through into the saloon. Kotiadis was standing talking to Zavelas and two officers, Sonia and Gilmore sitting silent on the far side. The place seemed overcrowded, the air acrid with the smell of Greek tobacco, and the atmosphere was tense. A sudden silence fell as I entered. "What's going on?" I asked Gilmore.

  "The patrol boat from Levkas," he said. "They arrived about ten minutes ago." He seemed to have shrunk and his voice sounded tired. "They say there is going to be a war."

  "I do not say that," Kotiadis exploded. "We prepare. That is all. And it is for your own safety." He turned to me. "You will take this boat immediately to Levkas for examination."

  I looked at him warily, wondering what it was all about. "And if I refuse?"

  "Then you are under arrest and Kapetan Constantanidi will put men on board to take her there." He indicated one of the officers. "This is Kapetan Constantanidi." The police chief was a small, fierce little man, with a smile full of gold teeth. "But at the moment he has many other things to attend to, so it is better you do not refuse."

  "What about Miss Winters and Dr. Gilmore?"

  "They want us to go with the patrol boat," Sonia said, her face white, her eyes dark-ringed. "They've abandoned the search and we're to leave Greece immediately."

  "I tell you again it is for your own safety," Kotiadis repeated. "There are already some Russian ships in Leros. Our

  Government is negotiating but . . ." He gave a Gallic shrug. "All foreign nationals are to leave Greece."

  "We heard it on the wireless," Dr. Gilmore said quietly. "The Russians are requesting the use of bases in the Dodecanese. The Turks are involved too, of course, and the situation is not at all healthy."

  I stood there feeling numb and unable to grasp all the implications. Man the Killer! I could hear the old man's voice— a rogue species carrying within itself the seeds of its own destruction. And Bert, nice, simple, uncomplicated Bert, talking about Armageddon starting in the Middle East. "They know Holroyd is dead," Gilmore said. "They're presuming your father is, too." His eyes, staring at me, seemed to convey a private message.

  I didn't say anything, afraid to commit myself. Kotiadis and the police chief were watching me. And Sonia, sitting there, white-faced and still. "How do they know ..." I hesitated. "About Holroyd?"

  He turned to Zavelas and the ex-cop moved his big bulk nearer to me, explaining how they had broken through the fall about the time I had surfaced from my dive. It was a small hole and Thomasis had spoken to them from the other side. That was when they learned that Holroyd was dead. "After the fall, w^hen Professor Holerod don't return, Thomasis go down the small tunnel to search for him. His torch is not good, but he can see water below and the Professor's body floating in it." Zavelas could not say how it happened. "I guess his hands slipped on the rope as he went down, or maybe he don't find a way to get out of the water." He shrugged. "Anyway, he'd drowned down there."

  "And—my father?" The words came slowly, little more than a whisper.

  He shook his head. "Thomasis don't see anyone else. He says he called out many times, but there was no answer, so I guess he's dead too. I'm sorry." He glanced at Kotiadis. "A strange man, but we in Meganisi liked him."

  I stood there, hardly breathing, my hands trembling, while

  /'

  ''Zavelas explained how they'd widened the gap and got the Greek out, and then there had been another cave-in.

  "And what about Cartwright?" I asked. "Where is he now?"

  "Back at the camp by Tiglia, packing his gear."

  I turned to Gilmore. But he was staring at the floor, the Greek cigarette he had been smoking sending up an unheeded spiral of smoke from the ash tray beside him. He wasn't going to help me. And Sonia staring at me wild-eyed.

  The police chie
f said something in Greek, looking pointedly at his watch. Kotiadis nodded. "Well, what you decide? Constantanidi says he has many important things requiring his attention at Levkas and in the islands. Do you take the boat to Levkas or not?"

  "Paul, you can't. . ." The words seemed wrung out of her, checked by the touch of Gilmore's hand on hers.

  She knew. That was all I could think of in that moment. She'd got it out of him, and now there they sat, the two of them, both knowing the old man was still alive, both staring at me, waiting. And the terrible thing was, I knew what I was going to do. I just hadn't the guts to put it into words.

  Sonia rose to her feet, coming to me slowly as though walking in her sleep, her eyes moist. "Do something," she hissed. "For Christ's sake do something. You can't just leave him there."

  "Why not?" I said harshly. "It's what he wanted—to be left there in that bloody charnel house of a cave."

  "But you're his son."

  "You think you know him better than I do? You weren't down there with him. You don't understand—" I laughed the way he'd laughed, that jeering sound. You don't understand. How many times had she said that to me? "There's no point,'-I muttered. And Zavelas behind me said, "Is too dangerous, that cave. And I guess we can expect mobilization any time now."

  "Hans and Alec," she said, her eyes fixed on my face. "They'd try. You've only got to tell them—" Zavelas's big hand

  reached out and patted her arm. "Like this guy says, there's no point—just to bring his body out of one hole in the ground to bury it in another."

  "Who said anything about a body? Dr. Van der Voort is alive."

  His hand dropped, his blue eyes staring. "How can you say that? You don't know."

  "But he does," she said fiercely. And when Zavelas shook his head, bewildered, she cried out in a high-pitched hysterical voice, "Ask him. Ask him whether his father is alive." Gil-more had risen. His hand was on her arm. She shook it off. "He was in that cave this morning, diving with an aqualung. Ask him."

  Zavelas turned to me. The room was silent. They were all watching. "Is that right? Is the Doctor alive?"

  "No," I said. I heard the hiss of her breath, saw the appalled blaze in her eyes and knew that Gilmore hadn't told her the whole of it. My hands clenched and my voice was hard and angry as I told Kotiadis I'd like a word with my friends alone. "Then they can go and I'll take the boat up to Levkas for you."

  He nodded, said something to Constantanidi, and then the two officers left. "He is putting men on your ship to clear the bow line and lift the anchor. You have perhaps two or three minutes, then you will please start the engine."

  He left us then and Zavelas followed him. But at the foot of the companionway he paused, his big bulk filling the gap. "This country is not like America or England, you know. We are a small peoples with many difficulties, many enemies. I guess you know that. But remember, we are also very obstinate. If necessary we shall fight. Holerod is dead, and even if the Doctor were alive, you don't have a hope in hell of saving him now. I'm sorry." He stared at us a moment and then he heaved himself up the companionway.

  We were alone then and I turned to Gilmore. "You should have told her."

  He nodded, his head moving slowly without any of his

  usual alertness, his eyes sad. "But my dear fellow . . ." He reached for his cigarette, puffed at it briefly and then stubbed it out. "Yes, I suppose so. But it's not so easy. Miss Winters— Sonia is very fond of him and . . ." He shook his head unhappily.

  "All right," I said angrily. "If you won't tell her, I'll have to." She had been staring at me all the time, her breath coming in quick pants, her small breasts moving against the thin nylon of her shirt. Footsteps pounded on the deck, orders in Greek coming to us from above. Bluntly I told her the facts, how I'd found Holroyd, drowned in that cave, his head split open, probably by that Stone Age lamp, and the old man sitting there, alone, knowing it was the end, that for him there was no way out. But she didn't believe me. She didn't want to believe me. "It was an accident." She breathed. "He fell— from the rope ..."

  "Into a pool of water," I said. "Water doesn't give a man a gash in the head."

  "He might have slipped. Bert slipped and broke an arm. Or perhaps a piece of rock from the roof ..." She was beginning to cry. She knew there was no way round it, that what I'd told her was the truth. Suddenly she wasn't fighting it any more. "So you'll just leave him there."

  "He was very weak," I said quietly.

  "To die—alone—in the dark." She was sobbing wildly. "How can you be so cruel—your own father? And his discovery, that cave . . ."

  "It was what he wanted." More orders and the sound of feet moving aft. "I have to go and start the engine now. They're about to heave the anchor in."

  She didn't say anything. There was nothing to say, anyway. "You'd better get your things."

  She nodded dumbly. Gilmore followed her. "I'm so sorry," he murmured ineffectually. "So terribly sorry."

  I went up to the wheelhouse and pressed the starter button. The deep throb of the diesel filled the ship with sound, the deck planking drumming at my feet. The patrol boat had

  been standing by to cast off. Kotiadis stepped back on board as the anchor came up. "Constantanidi is going first to Spiglia so I come with you."

  Behind me a voice said, "Paul. What happens to you now?"

  I turned. She was dry-eyed, looking more of a waif than ever, with one of Gilmore's suitcases in her hand and a pile of her own things over the other arm.

  "If there's a war, then I'll be all right. It's in times of war they need people like me, isn't it?"

  She didn't comment. Instead, she said, "I don't see why we have to go in the patrol boat."

  Gilmore had appeared, carrying his other case. "I tried to talk them out of it, but I expect they have their reasons."

  The anchor was on deck, the two boats drifting. Kotiadis looked at her. "Are you ready, Miss Winters?"

  She nodded and then turned to me. "Is there nothing—?"

  I shook my head. "He was very near the end, anyway. It's better like this."

  I don't know whether she believed me or not. I'm not even certain she understood. She stared at me a moment, standing very still, biting her lip, her eyes luminous with tears. But whether for him, or for what might have been between us, I will never know, for she got control of herself and went past me, moving towards the rail in a daze. Kotiadis took the suitcase and helped her over onto the patrol boat. Gilmore followed. "We'll see you in Levkas, I expect."

  I nodded. But I thought that very doubtful. The Greek sailors cast off and the patrol boat gathered way, heading north up the channel, a froth of white water at her stern. Sonia had not once looked back. I pushed the gear lever into forward, swung the wheel over and brought Coromandel round onto the line of the patrol boat's wake. I saw the flick of a lighter reflected in the glass of the windshield. Kotiadis was in the wheelhouse now, standing behind me, the smell of his cigarette rank in the hot air. Neither of us spoke, and abreast of the southern end of Tiglia I left the wheel and

  gio Levkas Man

  went out onto the starboard deck. Hans and Cartwright were busy dismantling the mess tent, Vassilios loading his boat. The orange sleeping tents were already struck. They didn't look up as we steamed past the southern opening to the cove, the water there a flat sheet of brilliant green, the rocks above pulsating in the heat.

  I had set the engine revs fairly low, so that we were doing no more than four knots. The time by the wheelhouse clock was 16.10. Just over four hours before it was dark. I pushed past Kotiadis to the chart table and measured off the distance to Levkas port. It was exactly 11 miles—81/^ to the entrance of the canal. Back at the wheel I steadied her on a course of 35°, which would take us just to the east of Skropio Island, and engaged the automatic pilot. "Can I get you anything?" I asked. "A drink, some coffee?"

  "Thank you—coffee." His heavy-lidded eyes were screwed up against the sun-glare, the cigarette dangling from his lip
s. He was still wearing his jacket and I wondered whether that meant he was armed.

  Down in the galley, I lit the gas ring and put the coffee percolator on. There was tinned ham in the fridge and I cut myself some sandwiches. By the time I had finished them, the coffee was made and I took it up to the wheelhouse. Skropio's wooded slopes stood like a dark hat floating above the milk calm of the water. Not a ripple anywhere and the boat thudding along as though we were on rails. "Black or white?" I asked him.

  "Black."

  He watched me as I poured it and I wondered whether he knew I was dangerous.

  "Sugar?"

  "Thank you."

  I handed him the cup and he took it with his left hand, his eyes on me all the time, his right hand free.

  I pulled the flap-seat down and sat on it. The coffee was scalding hot and the sweat trickled down my body. "Well, what happens now?" I said. "When we get to Levkas."

  "You will be sent on to England."

  "I'm from Holland, not England."

  "You have an English passport."

  "Am I under arrest?"

  He didn't say anything.

  "If you're at war, then you don't have to take any notice of Interpol."

  "We are not at war. And the English are important to us."

  "The man I killed was a Communist. You hate Communists. Doesn't that make any difference?"

  He shrugged. "I have my instructions."

  "And the boat?"

  "It will be searched. Probably impounded."

  "Why?"

  His eyes flicked open. "You ask me why? You are in Pytha-gorion on June tenth. You leave that night. Our information is that you were in the Samos Straits and that you have a rendezvous with a Turkish fishing boat. Correct?"