Fortunately, their driver displayed both, and at last the long, long road, with its innumerable bends, from the mountains down to the west side of the gulf of Navplia, had been safely negotiated. Less than a quarter of an hour later, the kindly Americans set them down in the irregular central square in Argos and wished them luck.
There were cafés there, with lights still burning and people in them; so, carrying their fibre suitcases, they made enquiries at one of them for rooms. A waiter gave one glance at their dirty and dishevelled state, then directed them further down the street to a café that was also an hotel. It was a shoddy-looking place, and Robbie demurred about going into it; but Stephanie told him that it was just the sort of cheap rooming house in which no one would look for anyone like himself. Still posing as German students, they went in, and were met by a scruffy-looking landlord in an open-necked shirt. He spoke a few words of German and took them up to two sparsely furnished rooms with thin mattresses on iron beds.
Robbie then told Stephanie that he was very anxious to have a talk with her, and asked if she was too tired to go downstairs for a drink before they turned in. She replied that she was not feeling too bad, as she had managed to sleep for an hour in the car on the way from Tripolis. At that he marvelled, as he had thought the only reason they had all kept silent for most of that perilous drive was from fear of distracting the driver.
In a dimly lit room downstairs, with a small bar at one end of it, they sat down at a bare wooden table. Several of the others were still littered with dirty glasses, but the people who had used them had gone home. Robbie asked the landlord for ouzo and he brought a bottle, two thick glasses and a carafe of water. He then dumped on the table the usual saucers of black olives, gherkins and some kind of stringy vegetable soaked in oil, and left them.
When the landlord had gone and Robbie had poured the drinks, he said:
‘Just before the Americans came along and gave us a lift, you were suggesting that I should continue trying to find out what Barak and Co. are doing, and you released me from my promise not to do so. Having thought things over, it seems to me that my case will be little worse if the police pick me up in a week or two than if I give myself up tomorrow morning. I also think that you’re right in your idea that I’d be in a much stronger position if, in the meantime, I could secure definite evidence that Barak is up to no good. But what I am not clear about yet is your attitude. Before Barak pushed you over the cliff, I heard you shout that you were sick to death of him and the Party and all its filthy works; and now you are suggesting that I should continue to spy on your own people. Am I to take it that you really mean to break with them for good?’
She drew heavily on the cigarette she was smoking, then nodded: ‘Yes. I couldn’t go back now, even if I wanted to. Since you heard me quarrelling with Václav, you probably also heard me threaten that I’d report him to a man named Janos for taking bribes. Janos’s official job is butler at the Legation; but he is the real boss, and even Havelka goes in fear of him. He could have Václav expelled from the Party, sent home and given a prison sentence. But that wouldn’t do me any good now. Cepicka will have been the only person other than Václav to see the document you signed and the letter I left behind at Pirgos; and he is dead. Václav believes me dead too, but the moment I turn up alive he will destroy both the document and my letter—if he hasn’t done so already. They were my let-out that I was acting in good faith with the Party. Without them, it will be taken for granted that, in helping you to escape, I deliberately betrayed the Party because you were my lover. That will be the version of the affair that Václav will be reporting to Janos tomorrow; so whatever I might say about Václav now, whether it’s believed or not, I’d be finished and better dead myself.’
‘I see. Yes,’ Robbie murmured. ‘You had told me before, of course, that for a long time your husband hadn’t meant anything to you. But how about the Party? Up till this afternoon, you were definitely playing for their side. When you shouted out about their filthy works, were you really fed up with the way the Communists ran their show or were you referring only to Barak having planned to murder me?’
Stephanie hesitated a moment, then she said: ‘All this having happened only this afternoon, I haven’t quite got my bearings yet. You see, my father was a Communist and I was brought up as one. I have accepted Communist principles all my life, and I still believe that, if the ideal State on Communist lines could be established, it would better the lot of the great majority of people. But the trouble is that it never works in practice. It results only in dispossessing the old ruling class and putting another in its place. If the new lot were all idealists and prepared to work for the benefit of the masses, that might be all right. But they are not. Nine out of ten of them are out only for themselves and are quite unscrupulous; so it’s a case of “dog eat dog” and every smaller dog goes in constant terror of being eaten by a bigger one. None of them dares to take any action because he believes it to be right. Instead, they spend their time spying on one another and either betraying their superiors or covering up their blunders, whichever suits their own book the better. In the meantime, they grab all the perks and privileges there are to grab and leave the masses they are supposed to represent to struggle along as best they can. Greece is a poor country, but the people here are far better off than they are in Czechoslovakia. In some of the slum areas and villages there, the poverty is appalling; yet the Party never does anything about it.’
To Robbie, it was evident that she was now pouring out thoughts which she had long kept pent-up; so he made no comment when she paused to take a drink.
‘There is the Police State side of it, too,’ she went on. ‘It’s nothing like so bad as it used to be and, of course, it doesn’t affect any great number of people. Most of them have learned by now that if they do their jobs without complaining about hours, or conditions, or food shortages, and refrain from having anything to do with the occasional firebrands who want to start making trouble, they won’t be interfered with. But the fact remains that Communism has to be imposed by force. All the Iron Curtain countries would blow up, like the Hungarians did, if their peoples weren’t convinced that Big Brother in Moscow would send in his tanks. And, of course, everyone who holds a position of any importance does have to be very careful what he does and says. Anyone who is fool enough to include in a speech a few sentences implying that perhaps, after all, life was a bit jollier under the old Austro-Hungarian Monarchy, or gets so tight that he allows himself to make a dirty crack at one of the Party bosses, is still liable to disappear quietly from his home overnight. And we all know where he’s gone. He’s been sent to work in the uranium mines. That is equivalent to a sentence of death by easy stages. I gather that few of the workers in them last more than two years, and, personally, I would infinitely rather be shot.’
‘From what you say,’ Robbie commented, ‘it seems as if quite some time ago you had come to the conclusion that the old way in which the capitalist countries muddle along means a better life for most people than they would have if they lived in a totalitarian State.’
‘Yes, I suppose I had. I’ve never actually admitted it before, even to myself. But I must have recognised it subconsciously. It is the reason why I have remained with Václav for the past four years. I had nearly made up my mind to break with him, then I heard he had been nominated as our Security Chief in Greece. Although I was a dyed-in-the-wool Communist, and fully believed that in the capitalist-imperialist countries the bloated rich actually treated the poor as slaves, I wanted to see for myself what went on; so I decided to stick to him for a bit longer. The diplomatic staffs of Iron Curtain countries are not allowed to mix freely with the people in whose countries they are stationed; so it was quite a time before I realised that the Greek lower classes were really a good bit better off than most Czechs and that nobody here need fear being imprisoned, whatever he may say about the Government. But, meanwhile, I was becoming accustomed to the good food, the pretty clothes, the hair-
dos, the really worth-while cinema shows, the glossy magazines and all the other things I’d never had in my own country. To have broken with Václav would have meant being sent home. I suppose it was weak of me, but rather than have that happen I put up with his infidelities and the way he treated me, and did whatever he told me to, without argument.’
‘Given the same circumstances, I think most people would have done as you did,’ Robbie smiled. ‘But where do you mean to go from here? Up till now, you have been doing your bit to help the Communists reach the goal they have set themselves of imposing their ideology on the whole world. But, willy-nilly, you have burnt your boats with them through helping me to escape. What is more, you now admit that Communist domination brings with it misery to all classes. As you know, I’ve been trying to defeat what I believe to be one move in that direction. Did you suggest that I should carry on with that only because you like me enough not to wish to see me condemned to death for killing Cepicka, or are you prepared to give me your help?’
Stephanie took another drink, then sat silent for a little, while Robbie anxiously awaited her answer. At length, she said: ‘The more I think about life in Greece compared with life at home, the more certain I feel that the spread of Communism ought to be checked and, if possible, rolled back.’
‘Then you will help me?’ he asked eagerly. ‘Even though you would be working against your own country?’
She shook her head sadly. ‘I haven’t got a country, although perhaps I may have one again one day. Czechoslovakia is now just a part of the Soviet Bloc. Besides, as far as blood goes, I’m half and half. I told you all sorts of lies, but I was telling the truth about my mother having been English.’
‘Really!’
‘Yes. I haven’t a drop of Greek blood in me. But, like you, I’m good at languages and three and a half years in Athens have enabled me to speak Greek very fluently. I’ve still got quite an accent, though, and all along I was a bit scared that we would meet a Greek who would insist to you that I must be a foreigner.’
Robbie smiled. ‘I noticed your accent myself, but I put it down to your having spent your early years in England and always talking English with your mother.’
‘I was born in England, but I didn’t remain there for long. My father was a Czech, and a technical expert in the manufacture of pottery. The pay for such work was much higher in England than it was in Czechoslovakia and, early in the thirties, through a friend, he got a job with a firm in Staffordshire. He had always been a Communist and, although my mother wasn’t one then, she was an extreme Left-wing Socialist. Incidentally she was a school-teacher, and I owe it to her that I had a really good education. They were married in thirty-five, but I wasn’t born until thirty-eight. Then, at the time of the Munich crisis, the Czech Government called up its Army reserves. Father was naturally madly anti-Nazi, so he went back to serve and took mother and me with him.’
‘You were there all through the war, then?’
‘Yes. I don’t remember much about it, except that we were all half-starved and miserable. During the German occupation, father was in the Resistance and, as he managed to survive, he was given an administrative job when the Russians drove the Germans out. From then on, things improved for us and I was sent to a good school. Owing to the private teaching I had had from mother, I found lessons easy. Then, when the Government was taken over by the Communists, father became quite a big shot, and I was made a Youth Leader in the Young Communist Organisation. I was just seventeen when I met Václav at a Party rally. He fell for me and I was flattered, because, in his way, he is a fine-looking man and he was already regarded as quite a shining light among the younger officials of the Party. On that account my mother and father encouraged the match, and that was that.’
Again she took a drink. ‘There’s no point in going into details about what followed. Within a year, it became a marriage of convenience. I was still young enough to console myself with the status that being his wife gave me, and meeting important people. He amused himself with other women, but was careful not to drive me too far, from fear that he would lose my father’s influence in helping him with his career. Then, when we came to Greece, I liked it too much here to face being sent home, and he found he could make valuable use of me. You see, there are no other wives of the Legation staff who can speak as many languages as I can and … why shouldn’t I say it?—are smart and attractive. One way and another, I was able to pick up a lot of useful information for him; and, of course, as I am half English, I was the obvious choice when your advertisement for a chauffeur-secretary appeared and it was decided to put a woman on to you.’
‘And now?’
‘I thought I’d made it plain. I daren’t let myself be sent home. About a year ago, my father died; so there’s no one there now who would protect me. I’ve decided to put the past behind me and come in with you.’
‘Thank God for that.’ Robbie refilled her glass and his own, then lifted his, saying: ‘Here’s to us,’ and they drank to one another. When he had set his glass down, he said:
‘Your decision may be the means of your saving my life for the second time—now that there is no need for us to keep any secrets from each other. For my part, I have no connection with any oil company. I came into this thing only because I speak Czech and happened, one morning out at Toyrcolimano, to overhear Barak and Nejedly discussing the oil-prospecting concession they had got from the Greeks in exchange for taking the Greek tobacco crop. When I learnt that there was no oil in Greece, I became curious and suspected that it might be cover for installing some scientific device—something that, in the event of war, could be used against the N.A.T.O forces. I told my uncle, the Ambassador, what I thought but he pooh-poohed my ideas, so I made a start on my own. I expect you already know all about the week I spent as a stooge in the Czech Travel Agency, and how I burgled the place and got away with some of Krajcir’s secret papers. Anyhow, I have no official backing and you are the only person who knows how I’ve been spending my time since we left Athens. Now it’s your turn. You have only to tell me what Barak and Co. are up to. Then, even if the police pick me up before I can secure proof of it, I’ll be able to get them to start enquiries that should lead to justifying me for having killed Cepicka.’
Stephanie shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Robbie. I wish I could tell you, but I don’t know. That is the truth. I swear it. Of course, you are right about the prospecting for oil being only a cover plan. That much Václav didn’t attempt to conceal from me. But, on these sort of jobs, no one is ever told anything that is not strictly necessary for him to know in order to carry out his work. They may be making launching sites for rockets, or perhaps a chain of radar stations to assist the Communist submarine fleet that is based on the Albanian ports. Those are just shots in the dark. Honestly, I haven’t a clue.’
‘Oh, dear!’ Robbie pulled down the corners of his mouth. ‘That’s very disappointing. Still, I quite see that they wouldn’t have let out their secret further than they had to, and your job was confined to keeping an eye on me. We must start again from the beginning, then. But your mind is much more fertile in ideas than mine. What do you suggest should be our next move?’
‘To cover up your disappearance further by every possible means we can,’ she replied without hesitation. ‘We’ve had a lucky break to start with, by being picked up by two Americans. They can’t read the Greek papers, so all the chances are against any account of this evening’s affair coming to their notice. Even if it does, I shall be reported as dead and the police will be looking for an Englishman on his own; so our American friends are most unlikely to think that one of the German hikers to whom they gave a lift might have been you. Again, the people in the café in Tripolis and the landlord here will have no reason to connect a German couple with the wanted Englishman. So, so far, so good; but we must not let the grass grow under our feet. The sooner you can get out of Greece, the better.’
‘Out of Greece!’ echoed Robbie. ‘But I’d be caught
when I showed my passport. Besides, if we are going to try—’
‘You don’t need to show your passport when going to any of the Greek islands,’ she interrupted, ‘and surely the least risky place to try to find out what Václav’s groups are up to is on one of them.’
‘You’re right,’ he agreed. ‘Which do you favour?’
She considered a moment. ‘I think it should be either Crete or Rhodes, because many more people go there than to the others. In any of the smaller ones, more notice would be taken of you as a visitor; so when your photograph is put into the papers, there would be a bigger risk of someone identifying you.’
‘That’s one thing we needn’t worry about.’ Robbie gave a little laugh. ‘I haven’t had a photograph taken since I was a small boy, except for my passport, and they won’t get hold of that because I’ve got it on me.’
‘Well, that’s a blessing. But I still favour Crete or Rhodes. There’s an air service to both, so we could get to either of them quickly. And time matters, because it’s not on our side—or won’t be, once the police start an all-out search for you.’
‘If we are to go by plane, we’ll have to return to Athens. Since so many people know me there, that will mean my running a big risk.’
‘Not if we keep to the poor parts of the city, and eat in the sort of places to which people we know never go. There is certain to be a train from here tomorrow morning and we’d better go by it. Lorry drivers and drivers of cars who give lifts would be much more likely to remember our faces than would other travellers in a third-class railway compartment. There is one thing, though. We shall need money and as soon as the police learn that you are carrying a Letter of Credit, they will notify the banks to hold you should you attempt to draw any money. It is bound to be two or three days before they get round to that; but, all the same, I suggest that you go to the bank here first thing in the morning and draw out as big a sum as they will let you have.’
Mayhem in Greece Page 43