"I was hoping to be a writer myself one day," Lomax told him, "That's why I was so keen to meet you."
"Of arms and the man I sing, eh?" Van Horn got to his feet. "You should get something out of the war then, if only a book. Let's have a last cigarette on the north terrace. I think you'll approve."
He led the way through the hall and along a cool whitewashed corridor. The room they entered was in darkness, but Lomax could see that it was circular with glass walls. Van Horn opened a sliding door and they stepped outside.
Lomax sucked in his breath sharply. The terrace was cantilevered and the immediate sensation was that they were floating in space. The darkness was perfumed with the scent of flowers and the great bowl of the night dipped to meet the sea, stars glittering into infinity.
Two hundred feet below, waves slopped lazily over the rocks in a white cream at the base of the cliffs. "I've never seen anything like it," Lomax breathed. "In a setting like this how could a man help but write?"
"That's what I used to think," Van Horn said. "And then came the war. Later, old Doctor Douplos passed on and I remembered that in a moment of youthful abbera-tion, I'd actually trained as a doctor. Since then I don't seem to have had the time."
"Perhaps when the war's over."
"Who knows?" Van Horn shook his head. "When I stand here and think of the stupidity of man I wonder whether I'll ever want to write about him again. At times like that I have to go and take a look at my collection to reassure myself that life is still worth living."
"Your collection?" Lomax said.
Van Horn nodded. "I'll show you if you like."
He led the way back inside, closed the sliding door and crossed the room.
Lomax heard the click of a switch, but was totally unprepared for what followed. On every side, a row of glass showcases, each with its own illumination, sprang into view to float in darkness.
But it was their contents which drew an involuntary gasp of admiration from him. They contained the most superb collection of Grecian pottery he had ever seen.
Van Horn moved beside him, face disembodied in the light of the nearest showcase. "There's more than a hundred thousand pounds' worth here-just by commercial standards. In actual fact, some of this stuff is priceless."
His voice had taken on an added warmth and Lomax moved from case to case, examining the contents with interest. He finally halted before a superb Grecian wine amphora at least three feet high, the red and black colours in the design still vivid after two thousand years.
"That can't be genuine and still in one piece."
"It came from a tomb under the Temple of Apollo on Rhodes. The Greek government were excavating there just before the war." Van Horn grinned. "By rights it should be in Athens, but I came to an arrangement with the rather underpaid young government official who found it."
"It's one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen," Lomax said.
"The handiwork of man, that's what still gives me hope, though what to make of some of the stuff they were churning out during the twenties and thirties and calling art, I'll never know."
"On the other hand, some of these are hardly representational." Lomax indicated a case containing several early Cretan figurines, mostly crude images of the Earth Mother.
Van Horn chuckled. "You've got a point there.'.
He put out the light and they went back along the corridor to the hall. As they went upstairs, he said, "I know we haven't got much time, but with luck we should be able to have a long talk in the morning. I expect you could use some sleep now."
He said good-night and Lomax went along to his own room and lay on the bed, listening to Boyd's easy breathing, and went over the night's events.
He kept thinking about Katina Pavlo, remembering how pale and tired she'd looked when he had last seen her. His last conscious thought was of her face glowing in the darkness and the strange thing was that she. was smiling at him.
"The Little Ship"
It was just after noon on the following day when Katina turned the cart into the main square of Kyros and the Nazi flag hung like a limp rag in the great heat.
Lomax sat beside her, his back against the load of firewood they carried, one foot on a shaft, the other swinging idly.
In the old reefer jacket, broken boots and shabby tweed cap she had brought him, he looked like a typical peasant from one of the mountain farms.
Katina had a scarf round her head peasant-fashion and wore a faded print dress with no sleeves that made her arms look very thin. She'd hardly spoken since leaving Van Horn's villa, but her eyes were clear and there was a freshness to her face that indicated that she had slept well.
She reined in the mare as a squad of soldiers in field grey cut across their path and Lomax eyed them with professional interest.
"Old men and boys," he said as they started forward again. "They've been draining Greece and the islands of their best troops for months now. At least it proves who's winning the war."
As they turned on to the waterfront, he leaned forward to get a view of the harbour. The brightly painted caicques were all drawn up on the strip of beach and fishermen sat in the shade of the stone wall and mended their nets.
An E-boat moved out to sea, churning the water at its stern into a white froth, sending waves rippling across the surface of the harbour.
Several more were moored to the pier, their crews busy on deck, stripped to the waist in the hot sun, cleaning and polishing.
"Are there always as many E-boats in the harbour?" Lomax said.
She nodded. "There are as many as you see here out on patrol."
She turned the mare into a narrow side street on the corner of which stood The Little Ship and Lomax dropped to the ground and went and opened the double gates that gave access to the yard at the rear of the building.
He pulled a small military pack from under the firewood and they went inside and moved along the whitewashed corridor. He could hear the murmur of voices, a glass clinked and someone started to play a gay tune on a bouzouki. There was a bead curtain at the end of the corridor beside a flight of stairs and Katina motioned Mm to stay and went through.
He peered through the curtain into the bar. It was a cool, pleasant room with whitewashed walls and a vaulted roof like a wine cellar. It was crowded with fishermen. There didn't seem to be a single German soldier in the place.
The curtain parted and Katina stepped through followed by a round-faced, kindly looking woman in her late thirties with bright blue eyes.
"This is Aunt Sarah," she said. "The others are already here and waiting in iny uncle's room. Mr. Van Horn arrived ten minutes ago.'.
Mrs. Pavlo smiled and led the way upstairs.
"She seems to be taking all this with remarkable calm," Lomax whispered.
Katina smiled. "She has been married to my uncle for twenty years. She says anything can happen and usually does. She loves him very much."
Mrs. Pavlo opened a door at the head of the stairs and led the way in. The room was hazy with tobacco smoke. Alexias was propped up in a great bed, his pipe in his mouth. There were several other people in the room, but the only one Lomax knew was Van Horn who sat beside the bed, smoking a cigarette in a silver holder.
"Ah, Lomax, my good friend. We've been waiting for you." Alexias grinned. "Here he is, everybody. The Night-comer in the flesh."
There was a sudden silence as they all turned to look at Lomax curiously and he moved quickly from person to person as Alexias introduced them.
The parish priest, Father John Mikali, was first by convention. A dignified old man with a white beard and sombre in his dark robes, he showed no emotion at all and Lomax sensed a coldness in his manner.
A tall, bearded man named John Pares came next. He looked like the captain of a fishing boat and turned out to be the local electrician. Sitting beside him ha the corner was Alexias's brother-in-law, Nikoli Aleko. Small and wiry with blazing blue eyes, he helped his sister run The Little Ship.
George Samos and Yanni Demos came forward last of all. Both in their early twenties with crisply curling hair and tanned faces, they might have been brothers. They shook hands, undisguised admiration on then- faces.
"Have you brought what I asked for?" Alexias demanded.
Lomax dropped the small military pack on the end of the bed. "It's all there."
"Good, then we can get down to business."
"A moment, Alexias," Father Joha interrupted. "There is a question I should like to put to Captain Lomax before we go any further."
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 Ms 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 Ka-tina'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 shep- herd'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."