‘Before he had gone far, he came upon a winged horse called Pegasus, and it occurred to him that this single-seater aircraft would enable him to zoom down on the Chimaera and give it the works without much risk to himself. But, try as he would, he couldn’t persuade this splendid beast to let him mount it; so, tired out, he lay down and went to sleep.
‘It was, of course, the gods who, feeling that he was being done dirt, had put Pegasus in his way. While he slept, Athene appeared to him in a dream and laid beside him a golden bridle. When he awoke, sure enough there it was. Pegasus submitted like a lamb to the bit being slipped between his teeth, and the rest was easy. Bellerophon settled the Chimaera’s business with half a dozen arrows, then made a perfect landing, cut off the beast’s head and tail, and flew back in triumph with them to Iobates.
‘The King was delighted at these proofs that the Chimaera’s goose was cooked, but more put out than ever about how to deal with his guest. Still feeling that he ought not to let down Proetus, he sent Bellerophon on two more missions: first to perform a “High Noon” act as the lone sheriff against a small army of cattle rustlers, then against the Amazons. But, looping the loop on Pegasus, Bellerophon played merry hell with both these menaces to the gracious life.
‘After that, Iobates took the view that his pa-in-law must have been one over the odds when he wrote the letter, because no one could have done what Bellerophon had done unless he was beloved by the gods; so he called it a day and gave him his daughter in marriage.
‘Unfortunately, that is not quite the end of the story. Bellerophon became so Johnny-head-in-air about his exploits that he forgot that the Chimaera would probably have made Toast Melba out of him with its breath, if it hadn’t been for Athene’s lending him Pegasus. He decided that he was entitled to the entrée into Olympus and he attempted to gatecrash without having been put up for the Club. As the oldest member present, Zeus called a committee meeting and they sent a gadfly to sting Pegasus on his plump behind. Naturally he bucked like billy-oh, Bellerophon was tossed off and hit the ground with a thump that left him lame for the rest of his life.’
‘I suppose,’ Stephanie smiled, ‘that’s where we get our expression “Pride comes before a fall”.’
As they walked back towards the car along the stone-paved streets, Stephanie remarked on one of them being buckled into a hump that rose several feet above the normal level, and asked what could have caused it.
‘An earthquake,’ Robbie replied at once. ‘The crust of the earth must be very thin right along the Gulf of Corinth, and in several other parts of Greece. As you must know, Greece has suffered a lot from earthquakes all through her history, and hardly a year goes by without some village or other being destroyed by one.’
As they drove back through the vineyards of tall-staked vines that produce the currants which have made Corinth famous, he said: ‘I think after dinner I’ll walk down to the Villa Dione. It will be too early for me to find out what type of machinery the Czechs intend to use, but I’d like to take just a peep through that postern gate I told you about and make certain that they have arrived.’
At the hotel they had a belated siesta, so they did not meet again until shortly before dinner. Over the meal Stephanie endeavoured to persuade him to give up his intention; but he was so keyed up at the prospect of it that he would not listen to her.
About half-past-nine, after they had whiled away an hour with coffee and liqueurs, he smiled good-bye to her and set off on the fifteen-minute walk to the seashore to the west of the town.
As he approached the villa, he saw that there were lights in several of the windows, and, by the light of the moon, which was just rising, that a large caique lay at anchor off the villa’s private beach.
Having secured ample evidence that the Czechs were in occupation, he was in half a mind to turn back; but the temptation to sneak into the garden and find out, if he could, where the Czechs had stored their machinery proved too much for him. Walking swiftly to the door in the wall, he pushed it open and stepped inside.
He had taken no more than a couple of paces when, with a loud shout, a figure leapt at him from out of the darkness. A blow on the side of his face sent him reeling. Next moment there came a chorus of excited cries and a little crowd of shadowy figures came tumbling out through a pair of french windows at the back of the villa.
Recovering his balance, he struck out at his assailant. It was a lucky blow. With a gasp, the man went over backward into the thick undergrowth. Spinning round, Robbie sprang back through the still open doorway and took to his heels. But the pack was after him in full cry.
Sprinting for all he was worth, he kept his lead until he was among the buildings on the outskirts of the town. Praying that he might be seen by a policeman, who would come to his rescue, he raced on. But there is no night-life in Corinth, and the side streets were deserted.
His breath was coming painfully, and with every bound he took he was conscious that his pursuers were gaining on him. They were silent now, but the rhythm of their swift footfalls on the pavement held for him a terrible menace. He knew that if they caught him he would be in for a most brutal handling.
Suddenly an outstretched hand fell on his shoulder. Swerving, he jerked it off. But he realised now that at any moment, unless he turned to fight, he might be slugged on the head. He had reached a gap between two houses of the kind often seen in Greek towns. Above a low balustrade there ran an iron railing. Beyond it was a wide pit shrouded in darkness. Down it there would be a few pillars and big slabs of stone half submerged in weeds and tall grass—the remains of some temple or small theatre that was of little importance and not worth excavating further, but was a protected site on which, by an Act of the Greek Government, it was forbidden to build.
Backing up against the parapet, he hit out at the nearest figure to him. Again it was a lucky blow. With a curse, the man went down. But there were half a dozen others and they closed in, raining blows on him. He was taller than any of them and managed to protect his face, but he was struck a dozen times about his arms and body.
Vaguely, by the moonlight, he saw another figure come panting up behind the rest, and heard a shout: ‘Leave him to me, boys. I’ll soon settle him.’ As the others drew back, he found himself face to face with the enormously broad-shouldered figure of Stoll. With a grunt, the barrel-chested Sudetenlander hurled himself at Robbie. Before he had a chance to hit out, Stoll had flung his long arms round him and seized him in a gorilla-like embrace. Desperately, Robbie strove to break free. His breath was coming in gasps. He felt himself being crushed in that terrible grip. His utmost efforts to break Stoll’s hold were of no avail. For a minute or more, they staggered backward and forward, then Stoll forced Robbie back against the parapet. Its brickwork hit him behind the knees and the iron railing bit into his back.
Suddenly, the rusty railing gave. Robbie went backward, carrying Stoll with him. As they plunged the eight feet into the thick grass below, still clasping one another in a fierce embrace, they turned threequarters of a somersault. The Sudetenlander landed on his back with Robbie on top of him. He gave a long, agonised groan and his arms fell away from Robbie. For a moment, Robbie lay panting on his gross body, then he lurched to his feet.
Stoll’s companions now lined the parapet, exclaiming excitedly together. But there was no way down into the little ruin and none of them was brave enough to face the drop. Robbie staggered away in the opposite direction. Twice he collided with large blocks of stone half hidden in the grass, and once fell with hands outstretched into a patch of stinging nettles. Oblivious of the pain, he blundered on until he reached the far side of the ruin. Beyond it, there was another street that bordered it on a lower level. Still a prey to terror that he would be caught, he somehow managed to scale the five-foot wall and climb over the parapet. Fear lending him new strength, he began to run again, and broke into a walk only when he was within a hundred yards of his hotel.
It had a small courtyard with stables which
had been converted into garages. Still panting, he came to a halt midway across the entrance to the yard, arrested by the lights of a car that was just being driven out. His head was above the level of the car lamps, so he could see clearly the couple in it. As it pulled up to avoid running him down, he saw that it was the Ford, and that Stephanie was at the wheel. A second later, he recognised the man beside her. It was Václav Barak.
16
The Biter Bit
Robbie stood rooted to the spot. The sight of Barak sitting beside Stephanie in the car left him utterly confounded. How did they come to be together? Could that be accounted for by some strange coincidence, or were they old acquaintances? And where could they have been going? But perhaps she was not driving him of her own free will. Perhaps he had come to the hotel and threatened her in some way.
Next moment there came confirmation of this last idea. The door of the car was flung open and Barak jumped out. To Robbie the inference was clear. Whatever his enemy’s plan might have been, his own unexpected arrival on the scene had nipped it in the bud.
For the first time in his life Robbie saw red. Barak had threatened him with a beating up. Stoll and those other thugs at the Villa Dione were under his orders. It must have been he who arranged for them to lie in wait there. No doubt he had counted on their victim being by now half-dead in a ditch. But that was far from being his worst offence. Somehow he had got hold of Stephanie and had threatened or lied to her. He had been caught in the very act of forcing her to drive off with him. Why, remained a mystery. But it could only be that he had some evil design in mind. The thought that he had meant to harm her drove Robbie berserk. As Barak slammed the door of the car, Robbie leapt at him.
Sudden fear showed in Barak’s eyes. Spinning round, he dashed back towards the yard. Robbie raced after him, thinking he meant to head for the side-door of the hotel in the hope of securing protection from some of the staff who might be in the kitchen quarters. But the Czech was swift in wit as well as action. As he came level with the rear of the Ford, he dodged behind it and put out his foot. Robbie tripped over it, flung out his arms and measured his length on the ground.
His hands were badly scraped on the cobbles and the breath half driven from his body. With a gasp, he pulled himself to his knees, then to his feet. By the time he was up, Barak had darted round the far side of the car and was out in the street. Sobbing now, not with pain but with rage, Robbie gave chase.
Barak had gained a fifty-yard start and was running hard along the waterfront. There were few people about for, although it was not late, the April night was chilly; so the patrons of the few small cafés were drinking inside them. Only a young couple, arm in arm, and a solitary fisherman turned to stare as Robbie pounded past them in full pursuit of his enemy.
After covering a hundred and fifty yards, Barak swerved round a corner up a street that led into the centre of the town. But it was a side-street and deserted, except for one old woman. The Czech’s legs were long, but Robbie’s were longer. When he turned the corner, he had decreased his enemy’s lead by half. As the crash of Robbie’s flying footsteps grew louder in Barak’s ears, he cast a swift glance over his shoulder, ran on another twenty paces, then dived into an alley. Fearing that, if the alley led into several others, he might lose his enemy in the darkness, Robbie forced himself into an extra spurt. Next moment, he was in the entrance to the alley. The narrow passage was shrouded in gloom. The starlight was sufficient for him to see that it was about sixty feet in length and ended in a high wall. But it was empty.
No lights showed in the buildings on either side. Unless a door had been open, Barak could hardly have had time to gain admittance to one of the houses, or to a yard. That meant there must be a turning at the end of the alley. Drawing his breath in gasps, Robbie raced on. When he had covered another thirty feet, the shadows ahead dissolved. He was right. The alley took a right-angle turn to the left, back towards the waterfront. Brushing the wall at the corner with his shoulder, he swerved round it. His heart gave a bound. The turning was a cul-de-sac, only twenty feet long, and Barak stood there, trapped in it.
Without pausing to draw breath, Robbie sprang at him and struck out at his face. Barak dodged the blow and clinched with him. Seizing Barak by the arms, he broke his grip, then flung him with all his force against the wall. For a moment, the tall Czech stood spread-eagled against it, half-dazed by the shock. Robbie hit out at his head again, but again he dodged the blow. Lurching forward, he tried to kick Robbie in the groin. Swerving sideways, Robbie took the kick on his thigh, then he stepped back and, with a murderous grin, took a swift survey of his enemy.
This was his second fight. He had learned by now that windmill blows were rarely effective, and that much better results could be achieved by thinking first at what part of one’s opponent to strike. He realised, too, that this time it was not he who was trying to escape; so time was on his side and, as he was much more powerful than Barak, he had him at his mercy.
Suddenly Barak dived sideways, but he was so close-pressed against the wall that with one swift step Robbie had crowded him back again. Robbie then went in to the attack. Feinting with his left at Barak’s stomach, he drove his right into his face. The blow took him full in the eye. With a wail, he threw up his open hands to fend off further blows and cried:
‘Have mercy! Not my face! Please, not my face.’
‘Mercy, you rat!’ Robbie snarled. ‘You’ll be lucky if I don’t kill you! And you’re vain of your face, eh? Then I’ll do to it what you threatened to do to my body.’
For three good minutes he let his fury have full play. Cornered and confronted with Robbie’s superior strength and furious rage, Barak had already gone to pieces. Fear robbed him of the power to make more than a feeble attempt to protect himself and, when he started to shout for help, Robbie silenced him by a blow in the mouth that loosened several of his teeth. Three times he slid moaning to the ground. Three times Robbie hauled him upright again by his collar for further punishment. When Robbie at last let him drop, he was still conscious; but his face was covered with blood, both eyes were blacked, his mouth was badly cut and his nose broken.
Staring down at him, Robbie muttered: ‘That will teach you to set your thugs on me. And if I ever catch you trying anything on Miss Stephanopoulos again, I’ll kill you.’
Turning away, he set off back to the hotel. It was only about five minutes’ walk and, as he had done the outward journey at a headlong pace, when he got there he had been away from it not much more than ten. Even so, he was surprised to see the Ford standing outside it, and Stephanie still sitting at the wheel.
When he was within a few paces of the car she caught sight of him, leaned over and threw open the door. The car was not immediately in front of the lit porch of the hotel, so the light inside it was too dim for him to see her face distinctly. But her voice held a mixture of relief and anxiety as she exclaimed:
‘Oh, Robbie! Thank God you’re safe. Whatever has been happening? I’ve been terribly worried. I still am.’
‘You’ve no need to be now,’ he replied. ‘But why are you still out here, sitting in the car?’
‘I was waiting to … I thought you might want to get away in a hurry.’
‘Then it was sporting of you to stand by. But I don’t; so run back into the garage and we’ll go into the hotel.’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I want to hear what has been going on. There are some people sitting reading in the lounge, and it’s such a small one that we can’t possibly talk there. Out here we can’t be overheard.’
‘All right.’ He scrambled in beside her, and shut the door. Then he said: ‘There’s not much to tell. I was ambushed down at the villa and had to run for it. They caught up with me and there was a fight, but I had the luck to get away. What about you, though? How did you come to be in the car with that swine Barak?’
‘Is that his name?’
‘Yes. Didn’t you know?’
‘How could I? He didn
’t introduce himself, and I hadn’t been talking to him for more than a few minutes before you came on the scene.’
‘Well, that is his name, and he is my enemy No. 1. He is a Czech, and the top man in this rival oil set-up.’
‘Good gracious! I thought he was simply a friendly Greek.’
‘Friendly!’ Robbie turned to stare at her. ‘You can’t … you can’t mean that he had just scraped acquaintance with you and asked you to drive him somewhere?’
‘Of course not.’ Stephanie’s tone was indignant. ‘Even if this were my car, is it likely that I would take a strange man for a drive in it at this time of night?’
‘I know, I know. But you say he was friendly. Then he hadn’t threatened you; he wasn’t forcing you to go off with him against your will. If that is so, what the devil was he doing in the car with you?’
‘He was going to show me the way to the hospital.’
‘What in the world for?’ After a moment’s pause, Robbie added with quick concern: ‘You’re not feeling ill or anything, are you?’
‘Not unless you count frayed nerves. No; he was taking me to the hospital to see you.’
‘Me! But I wasn’t there. I don’t even know where it is.’
‘Neither did I. That’s why I asked him to show me the way to it.’
Robbie groaned. ‘I don’t understand. Please start from the beginning.’
‘Very well. About twenty minutes ago, I was sitting in that stuffy little lounge reading. Then this Mr. Barrat came in—’
‘Barak; Václav Barak.’
‘All right, Mr. Barak. He came over to me and said in a low voice: “Please come outside for a moment, I have a message for you from your husband.” Assuming he could only mean you, I went out with him to the hall. Then he said: “I’m afraid it’s not a message, but bad news. Your husband has been knocked down by a car and badly hurt. I was among those who picked him up. I chanced to see you lunching together here today and—’
Mayhem in Greece Page 27