by Tom Newton
Stavros indicated a spot on the deck and Franz sat down. The engine was idling gently.
Ariadne watched as the boat slipped out, leaving only the sounds of the swell and fading motor as it disappeared into the night.
31
Franz stayed in his spot without talking, Stavros was at the helm. They made their way out to sea and turned to hug the coastline. Progress was slow. Franz could make out the dim shape of the land in the distance. He had no idea where he was. No one had bothered to tell him, probably assuming he already knew, and he had forgotten to ask. He thought about how people took their location for granted, something he had always done himself until recently. Putting his observations together, he suspected that he was on a Greek island but his was a curious case, as he did not seem to be in completely the same place as the people he encountered.
It was getting cold and his limbs were stiff. The sea damp was pervasive and gave him the sensation of a second skin. The boat lights were turned off and it was dark except for a gentle phosphorescence coming off the surface of the water. He began to doze, his discomfort causing him to move in and out of sleep. As he slipped back into consciousness he saw Stavros standing over him with an iron bar.
This is what happens to German spies.
He had no time to respond before the bar came crashing down upon his forehead and then he was in the water. He felt himself get sucked down by the draught of the boat. The shock of the blow and the coldness of the sea delayed the onset of pain. All he was aware of was an excruciating struggle for air. His head rose up above the surface and he breathed in gasps, drinking brine and coughing. His only thought was to get back on the boat. He saw it near him and flailed to reach it. He had his hands upon it but could not pull himself up. The next thing he knew, he was standing in shallow water with an old boot in his hands. He let it fall and waded ashore, collapsing on the beach. He lay face down for some time, shaking and spluttering. It was not sand he lay upon but black volcanic pebbles, which pressed into his face and then the throbbing started. He rolled over on to his side and wondered why he was still alive. He saw that he was not alone. There were some children playing at the water’s edge and a few adults sitting around. He saw a swimmer in the bay. He checked his groin. The package was still there. He tried to understand what had just happened to him and the reason for it but was unable to think clearly and gave up. He lay back down, this time looking at the sky. It was daylight.
Good morning.
Two Point Seven was standing over him.
What are you doing here?
I could ask the same of you. I’ve changed my number, by the way. You can call me Nine from now on. What happened to you?
Franz explained how, after being hit over the head and thrown into the sea, he had resurfaced and clung to the side of the boat, only to discover that it was a shoe.
Flotsam is often misleading.
Franz was annoyed. He had taken too many knocks and the pain in his head exacerbated his mood.
You keep showing up and vanishing without explanation. I wonder if I am just imagining you.
It’s possible we are all imagining each other. It makes no difference, as we all seem to have the same amount of autonomy, or lack of it either way.
Franz looked up at the sky. It was mostly clear.
I’ve found someone who might help you.
Help me? How?
Well, you are always looking for answers. This person could provide you with interesting questions.
Nine told Franz about a woman he had met in the mountains. She had the ability to move among different metaphysical zones and could describe the paths between them.
What good is that?
Perhaps you would discover the Sisyphean nature of the answers you seek, and then who knows?
Franz was ambivalent.
I’ll take you up there to see her.
And then disappear again?
Possibly.
32
Alexis had been thinking about Ariadne ever since he had threatened her. He wished he could undo what he had done but it was too late now of course. He had just received word that her German friend was dead, killed by the sea captain Stavros. He knew that she bore no responsibility and that Stavros had acted alone. He had apparently beaten him and thrown him overboard. The body had not washed ashore yet, though it surely would in a matter of days. Still, the German had not been seen since, so it was obvious to presume he was dead. Stavros was a brutal man who despised Germans. Alexis did not take issue with either of these qualities, since he shared them both. There was a difference though, and that hung on the fact that Stavros was a loner who did not take kindly to orders from anyone, and that he possessed a singular lack of intelligence, except with matters maritime. For these reasons he had not been accepted into the close group of partisans who looked to Alexis as their captain. They did use him on occasion when they needed to run someone or something up the coast. They always had to pay for these services though, for Stavros owed loyalty to no one but himself and had a particularly mercenary nature. He therefore could not be trusted. This matter was further complicated because the German was involved in some kind of work for Lord Strange. Though Alexis disliked and disapproved of Strange, he had changed his mind and had decided to keep him alive. He was not pleased that their tenuous relationship could be upset by this loose cannon.
These persistent musings, along with unassuaged guilt, had brought Alexis to where he was today, lurking in the shadows near Ariadne’s house. He hoped to intercept her as she came or went. In this he was lucky, as he soon spotted her on her way home. He waited as she approached and then stepped in front of her just as she was reaching her door. He saw the look of fear.
Don’t worry, Ariadne. I won’t hurt you. I came to tell you that I no longer want you to do what I ordered the other day. You are free from any obligation and will not be harmed despite your crimes. It would probably be a good idea for you to leave here if you hadn’t already intended to.
Why the change of heart?
She relaxed but not completely.
Just call it that, a change of heart. There is something else though. I just got a report. Your German friend was killed the other day. I’m sorry.
Her face bunched up momentarily then quickly became impassive.
What? How?
I don’t know the details. It’s something I heard but reliable enough I’m afraid.
There was nothing more Ariadne felt inclined to say. Her face was calm but her mind was spinning. She needed to be alone. She walked past him and went indoors.
33
How Franz made it to the top of the mountain in his condition was beyond him. Nine helped at times by dragging him up the steeper slopes. They came to a halt by a cracked rock, from which water dripped into a pool below.
La akvoj de rekalibrigo.
What are you talking about?
The waters of recalibration. You must drink before we continue. We are not far now.
He did not need persuading. He was weak, thirsty and aching, and sank to his knees. He drank from cupped hands. The water was exceedingly cold and refreshing. He could feel it working its way through his body. It had no taste but emitted the faint odour of bananas. He drank until he was finally sated and sat back.
What about you? Aren’t you going to drink too?
I already have. You can only drink once. To drink twice is not good.
What language were you speaking just then?
A language of peace.
It’s funny, I haven’t been conscious of language until you spoke those words.
We should rest here, while the water does its work. Sleep now.
Franz lay back and fell into a sweet and dreamless sleep, sweeter than death. He awoke feeling invigorated, his pain much diminished. Nine was sitting next to him, his arms wrapped around his legs. Either the water or the sleep had increased his powers of observation, because he had never seen Nine this way before. His head, shaven when the
y had first met, was now covered with thick white blond hair. The skin was tight on his face and his eyes were green. He exuded a glowing pallor.
I see you are ready. Let’s go.
They walked a further five kilometres uphill. Since he had drunk the water, it was much easier going for Franz. He was even brushed with a sensation of euphoria. There was a hollow at the top of the mountain, a large basin populated by coniferous trees and they walked down into it. They followed a stream until they came upon a woman perched on a stool, surrounded by large boulders. She wore a white dress. Nine stepped forward.
Saluton. Mia amiko vin bezonas.
She glanced at Franz.
Kio vi havas por mi?
Nine translated.
You must give her something.
Franz did not know what he had to give. He certainly was not going to part with Strange’s package, still firmly ensconced in his underwear. He had his gun. He had strapped it to his leg before leaving the hotel and it had managed to survive the ocean. He pulled up his trouser leg, retrieved it and handed it to her. She took it and put it into a linen bag at her side.
Nun, vorprenu viajn vestojn.
She says to take off your clothes.
What?
Just do what she says. She can’t help you otherwise. You don’t have to be prudish about your body. I don’t give a damn what you look like naked and she doesn’t either.
So Franz undressed, folding his clothes as he went. He turned away as he pulled down his underpants, discreetly hiding the package in the stack of clothes, then he turned to face her. It felt refreshing, standing there naked. She looked him up and down and beckoned him to come closer.
Venu. Masturbu en mia buŝo.
She wants you to masturbate in her mouth.
You’re not serious?
I’m not but she is.
I’m not in the mood.
The woman seemed to understand him. She lifted her dress above her hips and parted her legs.
Franz did as he was told. She took the tip of his penis in her mouth and he worked the rest. It didn’t take long. At one point he looked down on her and saw that she was very old – in her nineties perhaps. Then as he came in her mouth, she resumed her previous age. He stood back. She swilled the semen around, made a face and spat it on the ground. Then she rinsed herself with a handful of water from the stream and sat back on the stool. She looked at him for a few minutes in silence, and then started to speak in a soft monotonous voice, almost singing the words.
La stultulo ne scias kie li estas,
nek kien li iras, nek kien li estis.
Nescio de direkto inspiras libereco de loko.
La malsaĝulo kiu posedas ĉi tion liberon
liberigos la urbon de padoj implikaĵaj
sed falos de la manoj de amanto
kiu ne rekonos lin.
After this utterance, she sat still and acted as if they were not there. She said nothing more. Franz had completely forgotten that Nine had been standing at his side the whole time, a witness to the spectacle. He struggled with his clothes.
Would you mind telling me what she said?
Nine looked up from a reverie.
The fool knows not where he is,
nor where he is going, nor where he has been.
Ignorance of direction inspires freedom from place.
The unwise one who possesses this freedom
will rid the city of entangled paths
but will fall at the hands of a lover
who does not recognise him.
I don’t see the meaning of it.
It has no meaning. It’s more about an awareness of change, which is, in essence, motion.
They began to make their way back as they talked.
I assume you’ve had a consultation. Did you have to strip and commit a sex act too?
No. But everyone has different needs. You just have to absorb it. Not just the words but the whole experience, then go about your life. You might be surprised at what happens. I went off and wrote a novel about people who scrabble in the dirt.
Your soft spot for the proletariat rising to the surface.
No. It’s about three classical musicians and their instruments. I wrote it in the language of mathematics. I’d show you but you would probably find it too dry.
She seemed to be implying that I was some kind of idiotic civil engineer who was to be murdered by his lover. Is that my fate?
Fate and destiny are things that one burrows out and follows at the same time.
They were reaching the top of the basin. Nine had gone. Franz was on his own again.
34
On his way down the mountain, he ran into five armed men on their way up. He greeted them to hide his nervousness. They were not fooled.
Look who we have here. The German spy, back from the dead. Unless it’s his ghost.
A rifle butt crashed into his chest and then again into his stomach.
Doesn’t feel like a ghost.
He doubled over and they quickly bound his hands then spun him around and pushed him ahead of them back up the mountain. They took him to a goat-herd shack on the side of a gorge. There was a camping gas stove out front, with a pot on it. They forced him to his knees.
We’ve brought you a gift.
Alexis came to the door of the shack, which was just a curtain. He swept it aside and Franz could see the earthen floor within.
So, the un-dead German.
He pulled Franz to his feet again and roughly placed a hand on his shoulder.
Good job. Just a few questions and a long walk. I’ll be back soon.
He winked. The others leered in response and Alexis pushed him away from the camp.
After they had gone a safe distance they stopped and Alexis cut Franz’s bonds with his knife.
You’re hurt. Sit down.
He did as he was told. Alexis went behind him and, placing both hands on his head, gently probed the wound. He had a light touch for such a fierce man.
You’ve got a hard head. You were lucky, there’s no fracture. Do you feel faint or sick? Franz nodded. It hurt.
Concussion perhaps. We’ll have to be careful.
He ran his hands over Franz’s head and down to the nape of his neck, where he let them rest, pressing upwards into the skull with his thumbs. He was feeling his way.
Is that better?
A bit. Thank you.
Listen. I’m going to take you somewhere and hide you. Your life isn’t worth shit around here.
I don’t understand.
Don’t even try.
Alexis had no idea what he was going to do with Franz. His life had become very complicated. He still had an image to maintain, though he did not know how much longer he could keep it up. He had managed to ensure that his last few victims were not present when he had visited. The unexpected arrival of this German further complicated things. It would have been easier if he had died at sea. He had to act fast. He came to a lightning decision. He would take him to that worm of a priest in the village church nearby.
He carefully helped Franz up and they continued their journey. The ground was rough and the man could barely stand, so Alexis supported him with one arm. It took them over an hour to reach the church. Alexis banged on the door. He never liked to wait at an entrance, it always irritated him. He was also concerned that they would be observed. A young priest, in black garb with a beard to match, came out. He looked at both of them with displeasure. Though he considered himself a compassionate man, that did not prevent him from despising Alexis and everything he represented. The feeling was mutual. Alexis sneered.
Good evening, Father.
What do you want?
I’ve come to call on the beneficence of the Church. I need a favour.
Who are you to ask me for a favour?
I am a sinner. I heard you liked sinners. They keep you employed. Anyway, I need you to hide this man for me in the church.
In this church? Certainly not.
You know nothing of God.
That’s true but let me rephrase. You will do as I ask if you wish to remain a priest and have a church to fatten yourself in.
It’s not right.
If you don’t hide him, he will be killed. A good Christian doesn’t sanction murder. Or maybe he does. I don’t know. But it will only be for a few days until I work out something else.
What am I to feed him?
Don’t cry poor. You have more than most with all those donations from the pious. It’s immoral. You should be ashamed of yourself.
Don’t talk to me of morality. It’s something else you know nothing about. I suppose this man’s a German, is he?
What of it? A man is a man.
Something has come over you, Alexis. You are not the person I used to know.
Perhaps the Saviour has seeped in at last. Well, will you do it?
I suppose so but only for a few days.
The priest extended his hand.
Don’t think I’m going to kiss your hand. There’s only so far that I will go. And Father...
What?
Thank you.
Alexis left Franz with the priest and took off. When he was out of sight, they heard two gunshots echo through the mountains.
35
It was Sunday and though they were in Crete, they still experienced that hebdomadal malaise which had always afflicted them growing up in England. It was a day of stasis and Noyes, a motivated individual, was studying his map, looking for a way out, metaphorically at least. They had not received any new intelligence concerning enemy airfields and radar stations for days. Aside from a few interrogations Purvis performed for the army, there was nothing much for them to do. They knew they would be posted again soon, probably back to Italy, though Purvis was due some leave. Noyes looked up from his map.
I say, Purvis, why don’t we go up to Fodele? It’s not far.
What’s up there?
It’s said to be the birthplace of El Greco. We could look around and we might find something of interest. It’s only about fifteen miles from here. We could hop in the car and make a day of it. Something to do.