‘Let go my hair and dig both your hands into the earth. If you can support yourself like that, I think I can clamber up alongside you.’
He did as she said, striving to embrace the earth with his whole body; then he closed his eyes to check another wave of nausea. To him, the next few minutes seemed an age. He could feel her beside him and now and then she laid a hand lightly on him while steadying herself in her upward climb. Once she slipped and bore heavily upon him to save herself. His heart missed a beat, but his grip on the surface of the slope held.
‘I’m up!’ she shouted suddenly. ‘I’m safe. But stay where you are. Don’t move for a moment.’
A minute later, he felt her grasp on his right ankle. Both her hands were round it, and she was pulling on it. ‘Now!’ she cried. ‘Wriggle yourself backwards.’
Again he did as she told him. As he levered himself up, hand over hand, she knelt above him, hauling with all her might on his leg. The support that gave him enabled him to thrust himself back up the steep gradient. After three minutes of frantic exertion, he rolled over beside her on the edge of the road.
Both of them were so exhausted that for several minutes they lay quite still; then he slowly sat up and muttered: ‘That was a near one for both of us.’
Stephanie propped herself on an elbow, looked at him and replied, ‘It came to that. But you didn’t have to come down for me, Robbie. I owe my life to you. I … I’m terribly grateful.’
He gave her a faint smile. ‘I owe my life to you. If you hadn’t got me out last night, by now I’d be feeding the fishes. That makes us quits. But it was a piece of luck for both of us that I was still alive and kicking to come down and get you. Up there on that cliff above us, first Cepicka did his best to murder me, then that charming husband of yours came after me with a gun.’
‘Tell me what happened after … after Václav pushed me over.’
‘I had already dealt with Cepicka. I threw him down into the road and he broke his neck. Barak didn’t know that, because it happened round the corner from where you and he were standing. About a minute later, I was looking down here and saw you having a row with him, then he gave you a shove and over you went. I yelled something and he turned. I suppose he thought that Cepicka would have made a corpse of me by that time. Anyhow, when he realised that I’d seen him murder you—or that’s what we both thought then—he pulled a gun to take a pot at me. But I dived down behind the boulders. When next I looked, he was ramming the Ford with the Mercedes, and he kept on until he had sent it over the precipice. I suppose he means to say that there has been an accident and you went over in it. When he had put an end to the Ford, he came up to put an end to me; knowing, of course, that as I had seen him do you in, unless he killed me it was a sure thing that I’d get him for murder.
‘I took cover again in a sort of outsize rabbit warren of great, tumbled rocks. Thank God, he failed to find me. But, by that time, another character had come on the scene—a goatherd whom I had noticed half a mile away up on the mountainside just after I had pitched Cepicka down into the road. Barak and the goat-herd sniffed round for a bit, then they went off together. Shortly after you ceased to play an active part in matters, and while I was under cover, Barak must have carried Cepicka’s body to his car. I saw it later, rolling about on the back seat, and it was still in the car when Barak finally drove off towards Tripolis, taking the goat-herd with him.’
After a moment, Robbie added: ‘As you are still alive, for which thank God, I can’t get him for murder now; but we can get him for attempted murder.’
‘Where was the goat-herd at that time?’ Stephanie asked. ‘Did he see everything that happened?’
‘Oh no. He was up on the mountain-side. He must have seen me throw Cepicka over the cliff, because up there our figures would have stood out clearly. But he couldn’t have seen you and Barak quarrelling down here, or Barak when he used the Mercedes to push the Ford over, because the cliff would have masked this section of road from his view.’
‘Then I’m afraid you wouldn’t get anywhere by accusing Václav of attempted murder,’ Stephanie said thoughtfully. ‘It would only be your word against his, and my testimony wouldn’t be worth much because it would be believed that I was lying to help you defend yourself by bringing a countercharge.’
‘A counter-charge?’ Robbie echoed. ‘Why should I be charged with anything?’
Stephanie shook her head unhappily. ‘How Václav will handle it I don’t quite know; but he’s very clever. I’ve an idea, though, that he will soon be telling the police something like this. You took me away from him. He came after us with his friend Cepicka. They first missed us, then ran into us on this bend. I was driving and tried to pass them. There was an accident. The Zephyr went over with me in it. Remember he believes me to be dead. You managed to jump out. Naturally, you were half off your head with rage. Cepicka had been driving the Mercedes and you held him responsible for my death. He got out. There was a violent quarrel and you threatened to kill him. In an endeavour to escape you, he shinned up that gully. You went after him, seized him, threw him down into the road and broke his neck.’
Having paused for a moment, Stephanie went on: ‘You see, Robbie, that is all the goat-herd can actually have seen; so that is all the evidence he can give, and he will be an independent witness. That, I’m sure, is why Václav took him with him into Tripolis. It is a wicked twist of Fate … wicked. But we must face it. Within a few hours, the police will be hunting for you, and it is you who will be wanted for murder.’
23
On the Run
Robbie could not deny the logic of Stephanie’s reasoning. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ he admitted. ‘But, damn it all, I was acting in self-defence. If I hadn’t killed Cepicka he would have killed me.’
‘I know.’ Stephanie sat up and began to brush some of the dirt off her clothes. ‘You can’t prove, though, that it was Cepicka who chased you up that chimney, and not you who chased him. Nor can you prove that Barak forced the Zephyr over the precipice or that he did his best to kill me. And no one is going to believe what I say. After all, would you? It will be said that we ran away from Athens together and that for three weeks my husband lost all trace of me. Then he learned that we were at Olympia, and persuaded me to return to him. But, after one night, you turned up at Pirgos and carried me off again. He and his friend Cepicka gave chase; then comes his version of what happened.’
‘There is one thing that won’t fit. According to the story you suggest he will tell, the cars met by accident head on and you went over in the Ford. Only I managed to jump out. Yet you are still alive.’
‘Seeing the crash coming, I might have opened the car door and tumbled on to the slope where you found me, without any of you realising that I hadn’t gone over with the car.’
‘What about the shots Cepicka fired at me? It’s so still up here that the goat-herd must have heard them.’
Stephanie gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Oh, Robbie, be your age. Is it likely that Václav will admit that they were fired by Cepicka? He’ll say that it was you who fired them, and that it was terror of you that led Cepicka to dash round the corner of the cliff and try to get away from you by shinning up that gulley. The fact that you haven’t got a gun will cut no ice, because you could have thrown it away.’
‘I’m in the very devil of a fix, then. But if the police once start hunting for me, they are certain to get me in the end; so I suppose the best thing I can do is to go to them with my side of the story and pray to God that the truth will prevail.’
‘I wish I thought it would, but I’m afraid that our having spent three weeks together, and the independent testimony of that goat-herd, are going to weigh the scales against you. And, once you give yourself up, you’ll have no further opportunity of securing proof that you were justified in killing Cepicka.’
Robbie turned to stare at her. ‘I don’t get you. How could I possibly secure proof of that?’
‘You might, if you cont
inued your snooping. If you could get proof that Václav and the others are up to something contrary to the interests of Greece and you have been trying to find out what it was, that would provide a motive for their attempting to kill you. Your plea of self-defence would then be credible. What is more, you would have earned the gratitude of the Greek Government and have it on your side.’
‘But … but what about that document you made me sign? I promised—’
‘Forget it;’ Stephanie shook her head impatiently. ‘When you signed it my husband hadn’t tried to murder me. Anyhow, you signed it at my request; so I can absolve you from it, and I do.’
Over the mountains to the west, the last rays of the sunset were fading, and it was now almost dark. As Robbie glanced at the lingering flush on the peaks, he suddenly spotted on the road below them the lights of an approaching vehicle. Jumping to his feet, he said: ‘There’s a car or lorry coming. We must get it to give us a lift.’
‘Yes; we can’t stay here all night,’ Stephanie agreed, as she stood up beside him. ‘But what are you going to do: give yourself up to the police when we get to Tripolis, or take a chance on eluding them, anyway for a time?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve not had time to think, but there’s a lot in what you have just said. We’ll talk about it later.’
‘That won’t be much good, unless you cover your tracks from the beginning,’ she said hastily. ‘You had better take a new identity right away. You speak German, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘So do I. We had better pass ourselves off as German hikers. We’ve lost our kit in an accident. Let me do the talking.’
By then, they could see that the approaching vehicle was a car. Robbie ran out into the middle of the road and held up his arms. The car slowed down to take the corner, but hooted angrily for him to get out of the way. He stood his ground and, with evident reluctance, the driver brought the car to a halt only a few yards from him.
It was a four-seater, and there were two men in it. As Stephanie stepped up to the window beside the driver she saw that they were well dressed and, from the clothes and hornrimmed spectacles they were wearing, she judged them to be Americans. In halting English, she asked if either of them spoke German.
The driver replied that he spoke a little, upon which she launched out on a piece of fiction that recalled to Robbie, a trifle grimly, the story-telling ability she had displayed when he had given her lunch at Floca’s.
She said that they had set out from Tropaia that morning with the intention of sleeping at Vitina that night and they had had a map showing the goatpaths over the mountains by which they meant to go. At midday they had selected a place to picnic, with a beautiful view. Oh, such a beautiful view. Then tragedy. It was above a sandy cliff that had a rabbit warren in it. There were hundreds of rabbit holes; yes, hundreds. Walking about up there must have disturbed the earth. Suddenly there came a landslide. They were carried down nearly forty feet and buried up to their waists. Their picnic basket, their rucksacks, everything had been lost and they were lucky to have escaped alive. Their map, of course, had been buried too; so for hours they had been lost in the mountains and only a quarter of an hour ago had sighted the main road. Would the well-born gentlemen please give them a lift?
Had it been full daylight, it might have occurred to the occupants of the car that the clothes and footwear of the two unfortunates did not at all tally with the story that they were hikers; but in the near darkness they passed unnoticed. Evidently relieved that they had not been forced to pull up by tramps or other undesirables, the Americans expressed their sympathy to Stephanie and willingly agreed to take her and her boy-friend on their way. Coats and bundles in the back of the car were re-stacked, they climbed in and within a few minutes had left behind the spot where they had so nearly lost their lives.
The Americans, with the friendly communicativeness usual in their countrymen, gave their names and said they were professors on their sabbatical vacation from a Mid-Western university. They had toured England, France, Italy and, the previous Thursday, had left their wives to amuse themselves in Athens while they made a five-day tour of the outstanding antiquities in Greece. They had done Delphi and Olympia and were on their way to Navplion from which they would do Tiryns, Mycenae and Epidauros, then do Corinth on their way back to the capital.
Robbie’s natural instinct was to tell them of things they must not miss in the places to which they had not yet been; but Stephanie kicked him into silence, fearing that he might give too much away about his real self. She had already given her name as Greta Heine and Robbie’s as Willi Muller, and she went on to say they were from Heidelberg University, that they had flown out with a party of students for ten days, at a special rate during the Easter vacation, but that they preferred hiking and seeing the country to being rushed from place to place in a coach.
Neither of the Americans spoke very good German; so, after a while, the conversation lapsed, and within a quarter of an hour they reached Vitina, with its little summer resort nearly four thousand feet up in the mountains. Their driver drew up to set them down there; but Stephanie quickly said that, as they had lost all their kit, they must now go on to a town at which they could buy more.
Soon after nine o’clock, they arrived at Tripolis, where the Americans said they planned to break their journey for dinner at the Arkadia Hotel. Robbie by now had a ravenous appetite and would have given a lot to be able to dine there, too. But he knew that to have a meal at an expensive hotel would not be in keeping with his new role; so he began to thank them for the lift, preparatory to saying good-bye.
Stephanie, however, had other plans. She was most averse to Robbie’s spending the night in Tripolis, in case Barak had already put the police there on to him; so she cut in to say that, if the well-born gentlemen would be so good as to take them on to Argos, it would be a great kindness, as they would then be able to see Mycenae from there next day. The professors agreed and dropped them in the arcaded square of the town, with the understanding that they would pick them up from the same corner at ten o’clock sharp.
On the corner where they had been set down, there was a small café-restaurant. As they were about to go into it, Stephanie said in a low voice: ‘During the war and occupation, nearly all the Greeks in the towns picked up a little German or English; so not a word of Greek. Remember we are Germans. If need be, we’ll use a few words of English to help out.’
Inside the place was fairly full, but they got a table to themselves and, with the help of an elderly waiter who had worked for some years in the United States, they ordered a meal. When they had given their order, Stephanie told the man in broken English that they had sent their suitcases on ahead by train from Argos, then cadged a lift from a lorry; but on going to the station, they had found that their luggage had not arrived. As the shops were now shut, this had put them in a nasty fix. She then asked if there was any way he could suggest by which they could buy two bags or knapsacks and things for the night.
The waiter could and would. Like all Greeks of his class, he was both obliging and ready to go to some trouble to earn a small commission. He had a friend who had a friend, etc. Two small children were despatched on missions. A quarter of an hour later, several men and women with bronzed faces and gleaming white teeth arrived. One had some inexpensive fibre suitcases to sell; another cotton pyjamas, nightdresses and dressing gowns; a third sponges, scent, soaps and certain rubber goods that, turning his back to Stephanie, he displayed to Robbie with a whispered recommendation as to their reliability.
Robbie waved him away but, at Stephanie’s urging, made as swift a selection as possible from the other items, so as to get rid of a crowd that was quickly collecting and which might have aroused the interest of a policeman. In the half hour that remained to them, Robbie managed to dispose of two taske-baps on skewers, a splinantero of fried intestines, a dish of French fries, which are good anywhere in Greece, and a hunk of white Féta cheese. Stephanie contented herself
with a so-called omelette that had chunks of highly-spiced sausage in it, and a compote of prunes and figs. After washing down these items with two large carafes of the local retsina, they both felt considerably better for their meal.
With their purchases packed inside their small, cheap suitcases, they were picked up by the Americans promptly at ten o’clock and were driven off into the darkness.
On their way to Tripolis, Robbie’s mind had been so fully occupied by the harrowing events in which he had recently been involved, and in anxious speculation about the future, that he had remained oblivious of the road they were travelling. But now, soon after they left the chief market town of Arkadia, he again became highly conscious of the perils of the road.
They met no coaches or private cars; but it seemed that, owing perhaps to come commercial arrangement, a whole fleet of lorries was taking this road into the interior by night. Sometimes they could see the approaching lights snaking along the curves of the mountain-side a mile or more ahead; at others they came upon them round a blind corner, with only the briefest warning, and it seemed that they now came head-on to one about every five minutes.
Knowing that, when passing any other vehicle, the outer wheels of the car were usually no more than three feet from the edge of a precipice, such encounters caused Robbie to shut his eyes and hold his breath. To add to his fears, the Americans were none too happy about it, either, for the lorries never used their horns when coming round a corner. The driver’s only warning of their approach was the beam that their headlamps cast on the road ahead. Moreover, when they did come rushing forward, like huge, fiery-eyed monsters, it was their custom to keep their dazzling lights still on until within fifty feet of the vehicle they were about to pass, then black them out completely. To get by in total darkness, without a scraping of the sides which might have proved fatal, or giving too wide a berth, which would have proved equally so, called for good nerves and fine judgment.
Mayhem in Greece Page 42