The Dark Side Of The Island

by Jack Higgins

  There was a sudden tenseness in the air and Lomax sensed that whatever matter the old priest intended to raise had already been discussed before his arrival.

  "Your mission here, Captain Lomax," he said. "Just how important is it?"

  Lomax knew that Van Horn was gazing at him steadily, but he never faltered. "Very important," he said calmly.

  "But how can this be?" Father John said gently. "The Germans are losing the war, the whole world knows it to be only a matter of time. Can the destruction of a radar station or whatever else it may be on one tiny island in the Aegean have any real effect on the ultimate end?"

  "If that argument were pursued to its logical end in every theatre of the war, the ending might be different," Lomax pointed out. "May I ask why you've raised this issue?"

  "As parish priest I have the welfare of my people to consider above all things," Father John said. "Forgive me for stating the obvious, but after the completion of your mission, you will leave Kyros. We, on the other hand, must remain to face the wrath of the Germans."

  "I know that, Father," Lomax said.

  "Are you also aware that when the Germans discover the identity of anyone guilty of an act of aggression, they now arrest his immediate family also and send them to the concentration camp at Fonchi on the mainland? In Katina's case, Colonel Steiner made an exception only because Mr. Van Horn and I made personal pleas for clemency on the grounds of her extreme youth. Now the child is to be involved in something infinitely worse."

  "You should come to Crete, Father," Alexias growled. "I've seen entire villages wiped out as reprisals for our success. Men and women hanging from the olive trees like ripe fruit. It only made the people hate the harder."

  "We've put up with the Germans for three years, Father," John Paros said quietly. "Kyros is a small island. Up till now there hasn't been much we could do. This is probably our only chance to make a contribution."

  Katina moved forward and dropped to one knee beside the old priest's chair. "Don't worry about me. My father gave his life. How can I offer less?"

  Father John gently touched her head, then he gazed round the room and nodded. "So be it. It becomes evident that I am on my own in this matter."

  There was an audible sigh of relief from everyone and Nikoli Aleko passed Lomax a glass of red wine. "Luck to our venture," he said with a grin.

  Lomax toasted him and Alexias said, "This is the way things go. Tomorrow is the feast of St. Anthony. As usual the whole island will make it a gala day. Every soldier who isn't actually on duty will be in town enjoying himself."

  "What about the monks?"

  "Usually most of them take part in the religious procession. Father John will make sure they all do this year. They'll leave the monastery at three in the afternoon and would normally be due back by six at the outside."

  "What's the situation at the monastery?"

  "One sentry at the main entrance in a box. During the day the gates are left open, but there's a swing bar. The tower is on the other side of a tiny square. The guard room is on the ground floor."

  "What about communication with the town?"

  "Telephone, but Paros here will cut the wires at the right time. He knows what to do. He's been working for them. There's also a short-range transmitter in the installation section of the tower. Nothing we can do about that."

  "How many on duty?"

  "Three in the guardroom, four on the installation itself. That's on the fifth floor, by the way. It can only be reached by a circular stone staircase."

  "That sounds straightforward enough," Lomax said. "How do we get in?"

  "That's where George and Yanni come in." Alexias nodded towards the two young men. "They have a shepherd's hut near the top of the mountain. Katina will take you up there sometime tonight."

  "Then what happens?"

  "There's a ration truck from the town to the monastery every afternoon at three-thirty. You know how methodical the Germans are. George and Yanni will block the road with sheep for a few minutes. It's up to you to handle the driver."

  "And we drive the truck straight into the monastery?" Lomax said.

  Alexias nodded. "George and Yanni have volunteered to go in with you. They can hide in the back. You or Boyd can wear the driver's uniform."

  "That should place us at the monastery at about three forty-five," Lomax said. "How long will it take them to reach us from town after they hear the explosion?"

  "Quite some time, because they'll be on foot." Alexias grinned. "You crossed a bridge over a deep ravine just outside town when you came in from Mr. Van Horn's villa. Tonight, Nikoli will use the explosive I asked you to bring, to mine it. The moment he hears the explosion at the monastery, he blows the bridge."

  "And that cuts the only road on this side of the mountain," Lomax said. "The Germans won't be able to use their vehicles."

  "I thought you'd like the idea." Alexias held out his glass for his wife to re-fill. "Compared to some of the jobs we've pulled on Crete, this will be easy."

  "Except for the fact that the boat that's taking us off won't put in to the bay till nine o'clock," Lomax said. "That gives us roughly five hours on the run with Steiner turning the island upside down."

  "When we took the general on Rhodes they chased us through the island for four days and still they couldn't catch us," Alexias reminded him.

  "There was room to swing in Rhodes," Lomax said. "Still, we'll see how it goes."

  "On the whole you agree to the plan, then?"

  Lomax walked to the window and looked out over the harbour, a slight frown on his face. After a moment, he turned.

  "Except for one thing. George and Yanni don't go in with us. They clear off as soon as they've stopped the track."

  Alexias frowned in bewilderment. "I don't understand."

  "It's quite simple. Boyd and I can manage on our own once we get bold of the truck. In any case, we're going to go in in uniform. No peasant outfits this time."

  "You must be mad!" Alexias said incredulously.

  "I'm inclined to agree with you." Lomax helped himself to some more wine. "But it does leave a faint chance that Steiner might believe we pulled it off without any local help." He turned to the priest. "Best I can do, Father."

  "I am grateful, Captain Lomax," Father John said. "You are a brave man."

  "Or a fool," said Van Horn.

  "I'll drink to that," Lomax said.

  He half-turned, raising his glass, feeling suddenly reckless, and was aware that Katina was staring at him, eyes shining. For the first time since they had met, there was colour in her cheeks.

  9

  Temple of the Night

  It was a quiet night, the only sound a dog barking fn the depths of the valley from one of the hillside farms. The night sky was incredibly beautiful with stars strung away to the horizon where the mountain lifted uneasily to meet them.

  Lomax looked at it all for several minutes and wondered why everything wasn't as simple and uncomplicated as a summer night. You only had to stand and look at it and it cost you nothing except a little time and gave so much.

  Katina turned to wait for him and he moved on and a few minutes later they came over an edge of rock and the ruins of the temple lay before them in the centre of the plateau, bare and wind-swept, crumbling with the years.

  The yellow sickle of the new moon touched the scene with a faint luminosity and the dark shadows of the half ruined pillars fell across the mosaic floor like iron bars.

  "It's over here," Katina said.

  He followed, boots clinking on loose stones, and they paused in front of a large, square tomb in chipped marble. It stood about six feet high and a half-obliterated frieze had been carved on each face.

  "So this is the Tomb of Achilles," Lomax said.

  "So they say." She turned and looked down towards the valley and the sea beyond. "What an incredible thing that on a night to thank God for, men should be occupied with thoughts of death and violence."

  He dropped t
o one knee, cupping his hands to light a cigarette When he looked up, she had moved to the far edge of the plateau.

  She turned to come back and for a moment fear touched him. The moon was directly behind her and her image blurred at the edges. She looked unreal and ethereal and utterly transitory as if she might fly away at any moment. As soon as she moved, the spell was broken.

  She sat on a stone, her back against the tomb, and he crouched beside her. "You'll have to be going soon, it's past midnight."

  She nodded and leaned forward curiously. His shirt was open at the neck and in the moonlight the coin that he wore on the end of a gold chain was clearly visible.

  "A religious medal?" she said.

  He shook his head. "An old bronze coin with the head of Achilles on it."

  She nodded as if suddenly understanding. "A good luck charm?"

  "Something like that. I got it from an old fortuneteller in a back street in Alexandria just before I went on my first operation. She told me I'd meet great danger, but always with courage as long as I wore the coin."

  "And you believed her?"

  He grinned. "Not really. If I remember rightly, even Achilles was vulnerable when it came to the final showdown."

  She hesitated and then said slowly, "When you killed the soldier at the farm last night, there was a coldness in you that frightened me. My Uncle Alexias kills because he hates the Germans. Why do you kill?"

  "God knows, I certainly don't hate them." He shrugged. "Men like Boyd and myself have a talent for it, it's as simple as that. We do it because it has to be done."

  "I see." There was another silence before she said, "Do you think you'll be successful tomorrow?"

  "One can never tell. Something unexpected always seems to happen, something not planned for. I think the real trouble will be in surviving until the boat picks us up."

  "What do you intend to do?"

  "I'm not too sure. We'll have to play it as it comes. We'll probably make for your farm and hole up somewhere near the bay where we landed. It's dark at seven-thirty. That should help a lot."

  "Two years ago my father tried to grow tobacco," she said. "He dug a curing room out of the ground under the stables. The entrance is a trapdoor in the end stall and it's usually covered with straw."

  "I suppose they'd find it soon enough if they made a thorough search of the place," he said. "But thanks for the idea." He got to his feet. "And now I think you should be moving."

  They went down the hillside together to the little hollow in which the shepherd's hut stood. George Samos sat against a boulder keeping watch, a shotgun across his knees, a large black dog curled beside him for warmth. He raised a hand in greeting and Lomax and Katina moved to the edge of the hollow and looked down into the valley.

  Strange, but he was desperately conscious that there were things he wanted to say, but they wouldn't come to mind and then this strange, secret girl turned and smiled as if she was aware of the turmoil in his mind.

  "You will be successful tomorrow, Hugh Lomax." Their hands touched and then she turned and started down the hillside. For a little while he watched and then she dropped into the shadows of the ravine and was lost to him.

  The hut was low roofed and built of great blocks of stone. Boyd squatted on a blanket beside the fire and fitted together a long-barrelled Winchester sporting rifle. He glanced up as Lomax ducked through the entrance. "Has the kid gone?" Lomax nodded and Boyd continued, "They certainly breed them with guts in these islands."

  He screwed the telescopic sight into position, raised the rifle to his shoulder and the hammer fell on an empty chamber.

  "When we move out tomorrow afternoon you can leave that behind for a start," Lomax told him. "It only gets in the way at close quarters."

  Boyd ran a hand lovingly over the stock. "Maybe you're right, but it's a lovely weapon all the same."

  He loaded it carefully, laid it on the blanket beside him and then unbuttoned his tunic pocket and took out a slim, leather-bound volume.

  As he opened it, leaning to the fire for light, Lomax said curiously, "What have you got there?"

  "Van Horn's book of war poems." Boyd sighed. "I never was much of a one for this sort of thing, but I've got to give it to him. He certainly hits the mark."

  "There's hope for you yet, then," Lomax said with a grin as Yanni poured coffee into battered tin mugs and handed them round.

  Later, wrapped in a blanket, he lay in the corner and stared at the dying embers of the fire, wondering what he was doing here on top of a mountain on a tiny island in the Aegean.

  But there was no answer, or none that would satisfy, and he turned his face to the wall and drifted into an uneasy sleep.

  10

  Fire on the Mountain

  Lying there In the hollow between the rocks, the sun warm on his back, Lomax had been aware of the truck's approach for several minutes in spite of the bleating of the sheep as they moved reluctantly across the hillside.

  He got to his feet and leaned across a boulder beside Boyd as the truck appeared around the shoulder of the mountain in the valley below. A few moments later it disappeared from view again behind a great outcrop of rock.

  He moved out of the hollow and waved to George and Yanni who immediately started to drive their flock down the slope, pelting those at the rear vigorously with stones.

  Lomax and Boyd went down the hill on the run, heels digging into the crumbling earth, and dropped into the ditch. Sheep milled around them, crying piteously, and George and Yanni wielded their long staffs, driving the bewildered animals up the steep bank until they blocked the narrow road.

  Lomax could hear the truck start to slow and he nodded to Boyd and they crouched under an overhang where the dry soil had started to erode and then the truck had passed them and braked to a halt.

  The driver leaned out of his cab and called angrily to George who stood a few yards away looking convincingly helpless as sheep milled around him.

  The driver leaned further out of the window and shouted again. At that moment, Yanni came round the back of the truck and moved forward quickly. His long staff rose and fell across the unprotected neck with the force of a headsman's axe. The German made no sound and when the young shepherd reached up and opened the door, his lifeless body tumbled to the ground.

  Lomax and Boyd were already scrambling out of the ditch and running towards the truck. Boyd stuffed his beret into a pocket of his camouflaged battle smock and pulled on the driver's grey forage cap. It was a size too small, but tilted down across the forehead was convincing enough to pass at a distance.

  He scrambled behind the wheel and Lomax turned to Yanni who was on his knees going through the dead man's pockets. "Shove him into the ditch and get to hell out.of here. You haven't got long, remember."

  George Samos was already driving the sheep from the road and Boyd took the truck forward as Lomax climbed up into the cab from the other side. Within a few moments they were clear of the sheep and the noise fell away behind them as they turned another shoulder of the mountain and moved through a deep ravine.

  As Lomax took Boyd's Mauser from one of his pockets and checked the silencer and the clip, they moved out of the ravine and the monastery came into view.

  It was perched spectacularly on the edge of a small plateau which jutted from the side of the mountain like a shelf. Behind it, a wall of rock at least five hundred feet high blocked any other access.

  Lomax crouched on the floor of the cab, his head and shoulders under Boyd's legs, the Mauser ready in his right hand.

  Boyd kept the truck moving at a relatively fast speed. As he started to slow he said, "That's a bit of luck. He's raising the swing bar already."

  "Well still have to take care of him."

  Boyd nodded. "Right, here we go."

  He braked to a halt, keeping the engine ticking over, and opened the door. The sentry called out something which Lomax couldn't catch and came round the side of the door.

  He was a small, undersized
man in his forties and wore a pair of ugly steel military spectacles. His rifle was slung carelessly over one shoulder and there was a smile on his face.

  Lomax gave him no chance. He grabbed him by the front of his tunic, pulled him forward and shot him between the eyes. He scrambled back, hauling the body up into the cab, and Boyd slammed the door and took the truck through the gates.

  The slight, foolish smile was still frozen into place on the dead man's face, but blood poured from his nostrils and mouth. Lomax shoved him to one side as Boyd turned the truck in a half-circle and braked sharply at the entrance to the tower.

  Lomax opened the door, jumped down to the steps and moved inside quickly, sub-machine gun ready. It was cool and dark and very quiet. The first steps of the spiral staircase were only a few feet away, the door to the guardroom beside them. When someone inside laughed, it sounded remote and somehow unreal.

  Lomax moved to the door, Boyd at his shoulder. He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of a hand and nodded. Boyd opened the door quietly and they moved inside.

  Two of the guards sat at a table playing cards in their shirtsleeves while the other lay on one of the narrow iron cots reading a magazine. One of the card-players cursed and threw down his cards. The other one started to laugh, his hand reaching out for the coins in the centre of the table, and then he saw Lomax and Boyd.

  "On your feet," Lomax said in German. "Do as you're told and live."

  They stood up slowly, hands clasped behind their necks. The two card-players were little more than boys, but the one who had been reading the magazine was older with a hard, cold look to him and shrapnel scars down the side of his face.

  He stared at them unwinkingly and Lomax said to Boyd, "Right, upstairs quick. I'll see to these three."

  Boyd moved out and Lomax said, "Take off your belts and turn round."

  One of the boys started to tremble and the man with the scarred face said, "Don't worry, son. They won't get very far."

  "Shut your mouth and do as you're told," Lomax said. "If we could have afforded the noise, you'd be dead."

  There was the sound of gunfire on the stairs. Instinctively, he glanced towards the door and the man with the scarred face kicked a chair at him and jumped for the arms rack on the wall.