Far below, half-way between the cave mouth and the invisible waters of the harbour, Mallory swung in a great arc through the rain-filled darkness of the sky, forty rushing, bone-bruising feet between the extremities of the swings. Earlier he had struck his head heavily on an outcrop of rock, all but losing consciousness and his grip on the rope. But he knew where to expect that projection now and pushed himself clear each time as he approached it, even although this made him spin in a complete circle every time. It was as well, he thought, that it was dark, that he was independent of sight anyway: the blow had reopened an old wound Turzig had given him, his whole upper face was masked with blood, both eyes completely gummed.
But he wasn't worried about the wound, about the blood in his eyes. The rope — that was all that mattered. Was the rope there? Had anything happened to Casey Brown? Had he been jumped before he could get the rope over the side? If he had, then all hope was gone and there was nothing they could do, no other way they could span the forty sheer feet between house and cave. It just had to be there. But if it were there, why couldn't he find it? Three times now, at the right extremity of a swing, he had reached out with his bamboo pole, heard the hook scrape emptily, frustratingly, against the bare rock.
And then, the fourth time, stretched out to the straining limit of both arms, he felt the hook catch on! Immediately, he jerked the pole in, caught the rope before he dropped back on the downward swing, jerked the signal card urgently, checked himself gradually as he fell back. Two minutes later, near exhaustion from the sixty-foot climb up the wet, slippery rope, be crawled blindly over the lip of the cave and flung himself to the ground, sobbing for breath.
Swiftly, without speaking, Miller bent down, slipped the twin loops of the double bowline from Mallory's legs, undid the knot, tied it to Brown's rope, gave the latter a tug and watched the joined ropes disappear into the darkness. Within two minutes the heavy battery was across, underslung from the two ropes, lowered so far by Casey Brown then hauled up by Mallory and Miller. Within another two minutes, but with infinitely more caution, this time, the canvas bag with the nitro, primers and detonators, had been pulled across, lay on the stone floor beside the battery.
All noise had ceased, the hammering of the sledges against the steel door had stopped completely. There was something threatening, foreboding about the stillness, the silence was more menacing than all the clamour that had gone before. Was the door down, the lock smashed, the Germans waiting for them in the gloom of the tunnel, waiting with cradled machine-carbines that would tear the life out of them? But there was no time to wonder, no time to wait, no time now to stop to weigh the chances. The time for caution was past, and whether they lived or died was of no account any more.
The heavy Colt .455 balanced at his waist, Mallory climbed over the safety barrier, padded silently past the great guns and through the passage, his torch clicking on half-way down its length. The place was deserted, the door above still intact. He climbed swiftly up the ladder, listened at the top. A subdued murmur of voices, he thought he heard, and a faint hissing sound on the other side of the heavy steel door, but he couldn't be sure. He leaned forward to hear better, the palm of his hand against the door, drew back with a muffled exclamation of pain. Just above the lock, the door was almost red-hot. Mallory dropped down to the floor of the tunnel just as Miller came staggering up with the battery.
«That door's hot as blazes. They must be burning—»
«Did you hear anything?» Miller interrupted.
«There was a kind of hissing—»
«Oxy-acetylene torch,» Miller said briefly. «They'll be burnin' out the lock. It'll take time — that door's made of armoured steel.»
«Why don't they blow it in — geignite or whatever you use for that job?»
«Perish the thought,» Miller said hastily. «Don't even talk about it, boss. Sympathetic detonation's a funny thing — there's an even chance that the whole damned lot would go up. Give me a hand with this thing, boss, will you?»
Within seconds Dusty Miller was again a man absorbed in his own element, the danger outside, the return trip he had yet to make across the face of the cliff, completely forgotten for the moment. The task took him four minutes from beginning to end. While Mallory was sliding the battery below the floored well of the lift, Miller squeezed in between the shining steel runners of the lift shaft itself stooped to examine the rear one with his torch and establish, by the abrupt transition from polished to dull metal, exactly where the spring-loaded wheel of the shell-hoist came to rest. Satisfied, he pulled out a roll of sticky black tape, wound it a dozen times round the shaft, stepped back to look at it: it was quite invisible.
Quickly he taped the ends of two rubber-covered wires on the insulated strip, one at either side, taped these down also until nothing was visible but the bared steel cores at the tips, joined these to two four-inch strips of bared wire, taped these also, top and bottom, to the insulated shaft, vertically and less than half an inch apart. From the canvas bag he removed the T.N.T., the primer and detonator — a bridge mercury detonator lugged and screwed to his own specification — fitted them together and connected one of the wires from the steel shaft to a lug on the detonator, screwing it firmly home. The other wire from the shaft he led to the positive terminal on the battery, and a third wire from the negative terminal to the detonator. It only required the anununition hoist to sink down into the magazine — as it would do as soon as they began firing — and the spring-loaded wheel would short out the bare wires, completing the circuit and triggering off the detonator. A last check on the position of the bared vertical wires and he sat back satisfied. Mallory had just descended the ladder from the tunnel. Miller tapped him on the leg to draw his attention, negligently waving the steel blade of his knife within an inch of the exposed wires.
«Are you aware, boss,» he said conversationally, «that if I touched this here blade across those terminals, the whole gawddamned place would go up in smithereens.» He shook his head musingly. «Just one little slip of the hand, just one teeny little touch and Mallory and Miller are among the angels.»
«For God's sake put that thing away!» Mallory Snapped nervously. «And let's get the heli out of here. They've got a complete half-circle cut through that door already!»
Five minutes later Miller was safe — it had been a simple matter of sliding down a 45-degree tautened rope to where Brown waited. Mallory took a last look back into the cave, and his mouth twisted. He wondered how many soldiers manned the guns and magazine during action stations. One thing, he thought, they'll never know anything about it, the poor bastards. And then he thought, for the hundredth time, of all the men on Kheros and the destroyers, and his lips tightened and he looked away. Without another backward glance he slipped over the edge, dropped down into the night. He was half-way there, at the very lowest point of the curve and about to start climbing again, when he heard the vicious, staccato rattle of machine-gun fire directly overhead.
It was Miller who helped him over the balcony rail, an apprehensive-looking Miller who glanced often over his shoulder in the direction of the gun-fire — and the heaviest concentration of fire, Mallory realised with sudden dismay, was coming from their own, the west side of the square, only three or four houses away. Their escape route was cut off.
«Come on, boss!» Miller said urgently. «Let's get away from this joint. Gettin' downright unhealthy round these parts.»
Mallory jerked his head in the direction of the fire. «Who's down there?» he asked quickly.
«A German patrol.»
«Then how in the hell can we get away?» Mallory demanded. «And where's Andrea?»
«Across the other side of the square, boss. That's who those birds along there are firing at.»
«The other side of the square!» He glanced at his watch. «Heavens above, man, what's he doing there?» He was moving through the house now, speaking over his shoulder. «Why did you let him go?»
«I didn't let him go, boss,» Miller s
aid carefully. «He was gone when I came. Seems that Brown here saw a big patrol start a house to house search of the square. Started on the other side and were doin' two or three houses at a time. Andrea — he'd come back by this time — thought it a sure bet that they'd work right round the square and get here in two or three minutes, so he took off like a bat across the roofs.»
«Going to draw them off?» Mallory was at Louki's side staring out of the window. «The crazy fool! He'll get himself killed this time — get himself killed for sure! There are soldiers everywhere. Besides, they won't fall for it again. He tricked them once up in the hills, and the Germans—»
«I'm not so sure, sir,» Brown interrupted excitedly. «Andrea's just shot out the searchlight on his side. They'll think for certain that we're going to break out over the wall and — look, sir, look! There they go!» Brown was almost dancing with excitement, the pain of his injured leg forgotten. «He's done it, sir, he's done it!»
Sure enough, Mallory saw, the patrol had broken away from their shelter in the house to their right and were running across the square in extended formation, their heavy boots clattering on the cobbles, stumbling, falling, recovering again as they lost footing on the slippery wetness of the uneven stones. At the same time Mallory could see torches flickering on the roofs of the houses opposite, the vague forms of men crouching low to escape observation and making swiftly for the spot where Andrea had been when he had shot out the great Cyclops eye of the searchlight.
«They'll be on him from every side.» Mallory spoke quietly enough, but his fists clenched until the nails cut into the palms of his hands. He stood stock-still for some seconds, stooped quickly and gathered a Schmeisser up from the floor. «He hasn't a chance. I'm going after him.» He turned abruptly, brought up with equal suddenness: Miller was blocking his way to the door.
«Andrea left word that we were to leave him be, that he'd find his own way out.» Miller was very calm, very respectful. «Said that no one was to help him, not on any account.»
«Don't try to stop me, Dusty.» Mallory spoke evenly, mechanically almost He was hardly aware that Dusty Miller was there. He only knew that he must get out at once, get to Andrea's side, give him what help he could. They had been together too long, he owed too much to the smiling giant to let him go so easily. He couldn't remember how often Andrea had come after him, more than once when he had thought hope was gone… . He put his hand against Miller's chest.
«You'll only be in his way, boss,» Miller said urgently. «That's what you said …»
Mallory pushed him 'aside, strode for the door, brought up his fist to strike as hands closed round his upper arm. He stopped just in time, looked down into Louki's worried face.
«The American is right,» Louki said insistently. «You must not go. Andrea said you were to take us down to the harbour.»
«Go down yourselves,» Mallory said brusquely. «You know the way, you know the plans.»
«You would let us all go, let us all—»
«I'd let the whole damn' world go if I could help him.» There was an utter sincerity in the New Zealander's voice. «Andrea would never let me down.»
«But you would let him down,» Louki said quietly. «Is that it, Major Mallory?»
«What the devil do you mean?»
«By not doing as he wishes. He may be hurt, killed even, and if you go after him and are killed too, that makes it all useless. He would die for nothing. Is it thus you would repay your friend?»
«All right, all right, you win,» Mallory said irritably.
«That is how Andrea would want it,» Louki murmured. «Any other way you would be—»
«Stop preaching at me! Right, gentlemen, let's be on our way.» He was back on balance again, easy, relaxed, the primeval urge to go out and kill well under control. «We'll take the high road — over the roofs. Dig into that kitchen stove there, rub the ashes all over your hands and faces. See that there's nothing white on you anywhere. And no talking!»
The five-minute journey down to the harbour wall — a journey made in soft-footed silence with Mallory hushing even the beginnings of a whisper — was quite uneventful. 'Not only did they see no soldiers, they saw no one at all. The inhabitants of Navarone were wisely observing the curfew, and the streets were completely deserted. Andrea had drawn off pursuit with a vengeance. Mallory began to fear that the Germans had taken him, but just as they reached the water's edge he heard the gun-fire again, a good deal farther away this time, in the very north-east corner of the town, round the back of the fortress.
Mallory stood on the low wail above the harbour, looked at his companions, gazed out over the dark oiliness of the water. Through the heavy rain he could just distinguish, to his right and left, the vague blurs of caiques moored stern on to the wall. Beyond that he could see nothing.
«Well, I don't suppose we can get much wetter than we are right now,» he observed. He turned to Louki, checked something the little man was trying to say about Andrea. «You sure you can find it all right in the darkness?» «It» was the commandant's personal launch, a thirty-six-foot ten-tonner always kept moored to a buoy a hundred feet offshore. The engineer, who doubled as guard, slept aboard, Louki had said.
«I am already there,» Louki boasted. «Blindfold me as you will and I—»
«All right, all right,» Mallory said hastily. «I'll take your word for it. Lend me your hat, will you, Casey?» He jammed the automatic into the crown of the hat, pulled it firmly on to his head, slid gently into the water and struck out by Louki's side.
«The engineer,» Louki said softly. «I think he will be awake, Major.»
«I think so, too,» Mallory said grimly. Again there came the chatter of machine-carbines, the deeper whiplash of a Mauser. «So will everyone else in Navarone, unless they're deaf or dead. Drop behind as soon as we see the boat. Come when I call.»
Ten seconds, fifteen passed, then Louki touched Mallory on the arm.
«I see it,» Mallory whispered. The blurred silhouette was less than fifteen yards away. He approached silently, neither legs nor arms breaking water, until he saw the vague shape of a man standing on the poop, just aft of the engine-room hatchway. He was immobile, staring out in the direction of the fortress and the upper town: Mallory slowly circled round the stern of the boat and came up behind him, on the other side. Carefully he removed his hat, took out the gun, caught the low gunwale with his left hand. At the range of seven feet he knew he couldn't possibly miss, but he couldn't shoot the man, not then. The guard-rails were token affairs only, eighteen inches high at the most, and the splash of the man falling into the water would almost certainly alert the guards at the harbour mouth emplacements.
«If you move I will kill you!» Mallory said softly in German. The man stiffened. He had a carbine in his hand, Mallory saw.
«Put the gun down. Don't turn round.» Again the man obeyed, and Mallory was out of the water and on to the deck, in seconds, neither eye nor automatic straying from the man's back. He stepped softly forward, reversed the automatic, struck, caught the man before he could fall overboard and lowered him quietly to the deck. Three minutes later all the others were safely aboard.
Mallory followed the limping Brown down to the engine-room, watched him as he switched on his hooded torch, looked around with a professional eye, looked at the big, gleaming, six-cylinder in line Diesel engine.
«This,» said Brown reverently, «is an engine. What a beauty! Operates on any number of cylinders you like. I know the type, sir.»
«I never doubted but you would. Can you start her up, Casey?»
«Just a minute till I have a look round, sir.» Brown had all the unhurried patience of the born engineer. Slowly, methodically, he played the spotlight round the immaculate interior of the engine-room, switched on the fuel and turned to Mallory. «A dual control job, sir. We can take her from up top.»
He carried out the same painstaking inspection in the wheel-house, while Mallory waited impatiently. The rain was easing off now, not much,
but sufficiently to let him see the vague outlines of the harbour entrance. He wondered for the tenth time if the guards there had been alerted against the possibility of an attempted escape by boat. It seemed unlikely — from the racket Andrea was making, the Germans would think that escape was the last thing in their minds. … He leaned forward, touched Brown on the shoulder.
«Twenty past eleven, Casey,» he murmured. «If these destroyers come through early we're apt to have a thousand tons of rock falling on our heads.»
«Ready now, sir,» Brown announced. He gestured at the crowded dashboard beneath the screen. «Nothing to it really.»
«I'm glad you think so,» Mallory murmured fervently. «Start her moving, will you? Just keep it slow and easy.»
Brown coughed apologetically. «We're still moored to the buoy. And it might be a good thing, sir, if we checked on the fixed guns, searchlights, signalling lamps, life-jackets and buoys. It's useful to know where these things are,» he finished deprecatorily.
Mallory laughed softly, clapped him on the shoulder.
«You'd make a great diplomat, Chief. We'll do that» A landsman first and last, Mallory was none the less aware of the gulf that stretched between him and a man like Brown, made no bones about acknowledging it to himself. «Will you take her out, Casey?»
«Right, sir. Would you ask Louki to come here — I think it's steep to both sides, but there may be snags or reefs. You never know.»
Three minutes later the launch was half-way to the harbour mouth, purring along softly on two cylinders, Mallory and Miller, still clad in German uniform, standing on the deck for'ard of the wheelhouse, Louki crouched low inside the wheelhouse itself. Suddenly, about sixty yards away, a signal lamp began to flash at them, its urgent clacking quite audible in the stillness of the night
The guns of Navaronne Page 29