To Risks Unknown

by Douglas Reeman

  Crespin said, ‘I thought we’d be going to a base in Sicily, sir.’

  ‘Did you?’ Scarlett sounded miles away. ‘Well, that’s a job for the footsloggers now. We’ve other fish to fry.’

  There was a tap at the door and Crespin’s heart gave a leap as the girl moved across to the desk. She looked cool and very calm, and the fact that she was properly dressed in uniform further added to an impression of remoteness.

  She sat down and smiled gravely. ‘It’s nice to see you again, sir.’ That was all.

  Crespin felt Scarlett watching both of them and sensed a small warning in the girl’s eyes.

  He said, ‘Good to be here.’

  Scarlett ran his fingers through his thick hair. ‘I’ve had some of our people over in Sicily for the last two weeks collecting captured enemy weapons.’ He added bitterly, ‘Battlefield clearance stores, as they are officially titled.’

  Crespin watched him steadily. So that was why he wanted Moriarty. He had a sudden picture of the North African base, the litter of gutted vehicles and salvaged weapons.

  Scarlett continued, ‘I’ve been all over the damn place trying to drive some sense into the top brass. If it wasn’t for Rear-Admiral Oldenshaw’s support from England I honestly believe that some of these stupid dunderheads would get this force disbanded!’

  Crespin tensed. He was right. Scarlett had been trying to enlarge on his successful raid but had found no takers.

  Scarlett spread his hands with mock despair. ‘Left to them this first success would just fade into a slow infantry war, all the way from the toe of Italy to Berlin. It could take years and years, and probably end in bloody stalemate!’

  The girl said softly, ‘You’ve a conference at sixteen hundred, sir.’

  Scarlett stared at her. ‘Oh yes. Thanks.’ He pulled his thoughts together with an effort. ‘Third Officer Forbes is just trying to get me off my hobby-horse.’ He smiled at her and she bent over some clipped signals.

  Crespin could almost feel the tension between them like a steel spring.

  Scarlett said sharply, ‘Anyway, I am not without some influence. I was able to make our point of view in the right quarter, but it was a struggle.’ He walked heavily to a wall map. ‘This is top secret, but I can tell you. I haven’t any choice as it happens.’ He rested his index finger on the toe of Italy. ‘We are to invade here on the third of next month, with a second group of landings six days later further north to cut off and occupy Naples.’ The finger moved up the coastline. ‘That will be the big one, Operation Avalanche, smack into the Gulf of Salerno.’

  Crespin hid a smile. Scarlett seemed to love these names they gave to the various landings.

  Scarlett turned and rocked back on his heels. ‘Now, when this starts moving the Hun is going to realize that we’re really in earnest and going for the jackpot. He’s going to pull troops from everywhere, just as he did in a small way to combat your little raid.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Intelligence has already reported heavy movements of armour and troops from all over Italy, and what is more to the point, from other occupied countries. Well, that’s all fine and dandy for the countries in question, but it’s no help to our forces. Winter will soon be here and the Army will have enough trouble fighting its way north through Italy, what with flooded valleys, roads washed away and so forth, without facing an enemy twice as powerful as it is at this moment.’

  Crespin did not move. He could feel a fly crawling on his arm, could sense the girl’s eyes on his face, but could not even turn his head. Scarlett knew exactly what he was going to say, but for once he seemed unable to say it.

  He said calmly, ‘When we have occupied the southern part of Italy, I assume you will start moving the special service units into the Adriatic, sir? After all, the Yugoslavs have already proved they are willing and able to fight the Germans, if only they can get the weapons.’

  Scarlett studied him bleakly. ‘You are so right. Unfortunately, we cannot wait that long. By the time we have fixed a line right across Italy the damage will have been done. We must hold up the enemy’s movement of troops from the other side of the Adriatic, and that, as you so quickly observed, means Yugoslavia. We already have agents over there, and people who are doing invaluable work in liaison with the underground. But it is not enough, and this is where you come in.’ He sat on one corner of the desk and swung his leg slowly like a pendulum.

  ‘I want you to go to the offshore islands and meet some of these partisans and find out what they’re doing.’ He saw Crespin’s unspoken question and hurried on, ‘Not with your ship. That would be out of the question of course. I have a schooner ready and waiting in the harbour. It’s full of battlefield clearance stores which will be far more use to the Yugoslavs than any of our gear. After all, anything they’ve got now is either German or Italian, so we must try and keep it that way.’

  From the corner of his eye Crespin saw the girl staring at Scarlett with something like shock. So even she had not been told about this.

  Scarlett was saying, ‘I can give you some good men, but I don’t have to tell you how risky this could be.’ He leaned forward slightly. ‘It’s an important mission, otherwise I’d have sent some madcap lieutenant. Also, while you’re there you can try and find a suitable and protected anchorage for the Thistle. For when we do move into that area in strength I want to hit the bastards where it hurts most!’

  A smart marine peered through the door. ‘The car’s ready, sir.’

  Scarlett waved him away. ‘Well, Crespin, what do you say?’

  ‘When do you want me to leave, sir?’ Crespin thought he saw a flash of relief in Scarlett’s eyes. ‘I mean, if the Germans are as edgy as you say, it might be better to get a move on right away.’

  Scarlett nodded slowly. ‘Quite right. I am glad you see it my way. I’ve made arrangements for your ship to remain at her present moorings and a normal harbour routine to be carried out. Lieutenant Wemyss can run things here until you return, and this way we will excite as little attention as possible. One whiff of rumour about what you’re up to and I’m afraid it would be serious. And I would be helpless to assist you in any way. You’re on your own, and your judgement is what I’m depending on.’ He laid one hand on Crespin’s shoulder. ‘What we’re all depending on!’

  He stood up and walked towards the door. ‘You’ll find the schooner ready to go. You can study the rest of the available details as soon as you get aboard.’ He looked Crespin gravely in the eyes. ‘Good luck.’ Then he walked through the door calling for the marine.

  The instant the door had closed the girl was round the desk and in his arms. For a long moment she pressed her face against his, her words broken and despairing. ‘You mustn’t go, John! Tell him it’s too dangerous!’

  He ran his fingers over her hair, the touch bringing back the memories and wiping away the pain of separation. ‘I have to, Penny. You must see that!’

  Then she pushed herself away and leaned back against the desk. ‘You don’t understand! He’s been like a different person all these weeks. He’s tried to get his own way, and when he couldn’t fit in with the Sicily landings he nearly went mad.’ She shook her head. ‘But I never dreamed he would suggest your going in the schooner!’ She pointed at the map. ‘Why, we don’t even know for sure which islands are in the hands of the partisans and which ones are occupied by the Germans.’

  Crespin walked towards her and held her arms against her sides. ‘I’ll be all right. Someone has to go, and I’m the obvious choice if my ship is to be the one which eventually ends up there.’

  She said, ‘He’s been trying to pump me ever since we got to Malta. I’ve not told him about us. I wouldn’t dare. He’s so possessive, so jealous of anyone who looks like challenging his position.’

  Crespin grinned. ‘I thought you admired him.’

  ‘I did.’ She shuddered. ‘But now I don’t know him at all!’

  They both turned as the door opened a few inches. It was Scarlett, his face expre
ssionless as he peered in at them.

  He said, ‘I just wanted to say that you can take the rest of the day off, Penny.’ His eyes flickered between them. ‘But I see you have already made your arrangements!’ The door shut with a sharp click.

  Crespin held her more tightly. ‘Well, I imagine he knows about us now!’

  She seemed to go limp and rested her forehead against his chest. ‘I want the whole world to know. But I’m afraid of him, John. He’s so ruthless, so filled with his own importance.’ She clutched his sleeve. ‘And I’m partly to blame, I know that now.’

  Gently he lifted her chin and studied her. ‘He wanted you, too, is that it?’ When she nodded he said quietly, ‘That’s something I won’t blame him for.’

  She reached inside her pocket and he felt her thrust a piece of paper into his hand. ‘I’ve got a room. I share it with a nurse, but she’s away most of the time.’ She was holding his arm so tightly that he could feel her fingers digging into his skin. ‘I’ll be there waiting. Please try and come before you leave.’ She looked up at him, her eyes pleading. ‘Say that you will try!’

  He touched her face and felt the skin hot beneath his fingers. ‘As soon as I can. And don’t worry, I’ll be all right.’

  When he reached the crowded street he looked up at the window but she had gone. Then he touched the piece of paper in his pocket and walked quickly down the hill towards the harbour. Not only would he get back, but this time he had a good reason for surviving, he thought. The best reason in the world.

  The schooner was about seventy-five feet in length and had, Crespin imagined, been afloat for the same number of years. She lay in a small silted inlet tied to a disused jetty, and looked as if she would topple on to her beam ends without its support. She was scarred and filthy, and the tan-coloured sails which were so carelessly furled on her two masts were so patched that they must surely lose more wind than they caught.

  But she was typical of the hundreds of such craft which scavenged an existence throughout the Adriatic and the Aegean.

  In peacetime you would find them as far afield as Gibraltar and Spain, although from their rough and ready appearance it was hard to know how they stayed afloat.

  A bearded, surly-looking man in a torn shirt and canvas trousers watched Crespin climb down to the littered deck. He could have been a Greek or a Cypriot, but when he spoke he obviously came from some part of London.

  He said, ‘Leading Seaman Allan, sir.’ He pointed at the hatch. ‘You’ll find the other officer below.’

  Crespin nodded. It was a good beginning. As he climbed down the rickety ladder he was conscious of the mixed selection of smells. Paraffin and petrol, bad fish and tar, and an all-enveloping one of dirt.

  The cabin was little more than an airless box. It was lined with crude bunks and lit by two oil lamps. An army officer was seated at a table, a chart spread out between a jumble of wine bottles, dirty plates and a huge chunk of cheese. He was wearing a washed-out suit of khaki drill and had a huge German Lüger strapped to one hip. As Crespin ducked between the low deck beams he stood up and gave a broad grin.

  Crespin had been immediately aware of some familiarity and the grin clinched it. It was Coutts, the Grenadier in the goatskin, whom he had supposed dead or captured. He looked very much alive and had also been promoted to captain.

  Coutts pushed a stool across the deck. ‘Park yourself, old chap.’ He saw Crespin’s expression and laughed. ‘The bad penny, you see, has reappeared!’ He poured some wine into two glasses. ‘Actually, it wasn’t too difficult. I played “dead” and the Jerries were so enraged about what you were doing by the pier that they didn’t bother to prod me with a bayonet to make sure.’ He frowned briefly. ‘There were plenty who were less fortunate.’

  ‘But how the hell did you get away?’

  ‘Walked, old boy. Just kept going until I ran into the Americans coming in the opposite direction. They were harder to convince than the Germans but, as you see, I’m back in circulation again.’

  The wine tasted sour but was very welcome nevertheless.

  Crespin said, ‘What do you think of our proposed jaunt?’

  Coutts rubbed his nose. ‘It’s far too soon of course, but we’ll just have to feel our way. I’ve been to Yugoslavia before, but things keep changing there. You’re never quite sure who is a friend.’

  There was something very reassuring about Coutts. He said, ‘This boat has a crew of ten, and the skipper is a petty officer who used to be a trawlerman before the war. A bit rough, but damn handy in a scrap.’

  Crespin leaned over the chart, his eyes taking in the details without effort. He asked, ‘How ever did you get into this game?’

  Coutts stared at the bottle. ‘I’ve been in the Long Range Desert Group. One of my ancestors was a pirate, so I suppose I just wanted to follow him. And now that the desert’s all cleared up again I’ve transferred my affections to this sphere of operations. I don’t think I’ll ever really settle down to Buckingham Palace guard duty after this!’

  Crespin chuckled. It was hard to picture this long-haired character as a red-coated Grenadier.

  At that moment the schooner’s skipper dropped noisily through the hatch. Like the man on deck he was bearded and extremely tough. But he had a gentle Scottish accent and seemed to bring a breath of the Western Isles into the sordid little cabin. He also had a way of making a few words go a long way.

  ‘Would be better to sail before five in the morning.’ He dabbed the chart with a thick, grimy finger. ‘The engine is a mite rough, but with this nor’-westerly we can get the sails on her.’ He regarded Crespin with a pair of deep-set, dog-like eyes. ‘T’would be right for you to stay in uniform, I am thinking. If caught you may be treated as a prisoner of war.’ He shook a bottle and then poured himself a glass of wine.

  Coutts grinned. ‘Petty Officer Ross will get us there. He can smell his way!’

  The skipper held up the glass to one of the swinging lamps and grimaced. ‘This wine is a thing now. A dram of Laphroaig would not come amiss, I’m thinking.’

  Coutts pointed at the chart. ‘I think we should head for this island. It is very small but quite close to the larger one of Korcula where we might make contact with the partisans.’

  Crespin studied the island in silence. It was over six hundred miles away, deep inside the enemy held waters of Yugoslavia, and only twenty-five miles from the mainland itself.

  Ross said calmly, ‘It will take us a week. Maybe more.’

  Coutts leaned back, apparently satisfied. ‘We’ve a good motor mechanic aboard so the old engine might be all right.’ He shot Crespin a meaning glance. ‘If that’s all right by you, we’ll get under way in ten hours’ time. That’ll give me the chance to check the guns and ammunition and make sure it’s all well hidden away from prying eyes.’ He held up his watch. ‘So if you want to go ashore for anything?’

  Crespin looked around the cabin. These men, these preparations all made his own raid seem easy and secure by comparison. Yet there was no boasting, no false sentiment. Ross was sitting quietly on his stool puffing a rank-looking pipe, and overhead he could hear two of the schooner’s crew stamping accompaniment to a mouth organ.

  He stood up. ‘I shall be back in four hours.’

  When he had gone Coutts smiled and said quietly, ‘Give her my love.’

  Ross looked at him for a few seconds and then said, ‘He seems a pleasant fellow to be sure.’ His eye fastened on to Coutts’ shoulder strap. ‘Not like an officer at all.’

  10. A Man Called Soskic

  IN THE DREAM the girl was lying motionless beneath him, her perfect body clearly outlined by endless darkness. But he was being pulled away, and no matter how hard he tried to hold her, those other hands seemed to be lifting him, dragging him free, while the deep shadow overlapped and covered her limbs like water.

  A voice said, ‘About time! You sailors can sleep through anything!’

  Reluctantly Crespin rolled on to his side and
opened his eyes. Barely inches away Coutts’ face shone in shaded torchlight like an unshaven genie, with no more reality than the dream.

  He asked, ‘What time is it, for heaven’s sake?’

  ‘Nearly six, old son.’ Coutts held out a chipped mug. ‘Drink this, it’ll bring the colour back to your cheeks.’

  He propped himself on one elbow sipping the bitter coffee while his mind slowly returned to life and understanding. Apart from the torchlight, the small cabin was in darkness, and he could hear the schooner’s crew snoring or turning restlessly on their bunks, while around him the hull creaked and shivered, the sea sluicing against the worn planks barely inches from his head.

  Coutts said cheerfully, ‘Dawn’s coming up.’

  Crespin peered at his watch. It was the fifth dawn since leaving Malta. For days they had pushed steadily north-east, using the sails and occasionally running the ancient engine when the wind looked like dying on them. It had been a strange and unnatural existence, with an overwhelming sense of loneliness and vulnerability as hour by hour they had watched the horizons and the sky, expecting to see a prowling aircraft or a telltale smudge of smoke, any of which could spell disaster. On the third day they altered course almost due north towards the Otranto Strait, a forty-mile bottleneck which marked the entrance of the Adriatic. It was known to be heavily patrolled by sea and air, and with Italy on one side and Albania on the other it was generally described as impossible to pass. Even submarines, the only warships which had so far penetrated into these waters, had been hard put to get out again unmolested.

  Coutts took the mug and put it on the table. ‘Thought you’d like to come on deck and take a look at the land.’ He grinned. ‘It’s quite romantic in the first light.’

  Crespin pulled on his shoes and followed him up the ladder.

  The sky was already much lighter, the breeze cool and refreshing, making the big sails crack and shiver above their heads as Coutts pointed across the starboard bulwark. ‘Corfu!’