A Darker God (32 page)

He fell silent, aware that he’d gone too far. Letty affected not to have noticed. “Good! So glad to hear he’s halfway human,” she said lightly. “I don’t think you’d much enjoy working with a virtuous Knight Templar, Harry.”

They sat for a moment following the line of the white marble pavement, pitted with ancient wheel tracks, along to the ruined temple. It led their gaze to a jumble of collapsed columns: the shrine to Demeter which stood upon a raised platform looking out over the slim calm crescent of sea separating it from the rocky island of Salamis.

Harry looked at his wristwatch. “Can’t get the car any closer than this. Hang on—I’ll just turn her round so’s we’ve got a clear run in case we need to take off in a hurry. We’re ahead of ourselves—I reckon we’ve got thirty minutes before we need to turn for home.”

Letty noted that he placed the car in shade with the stunning view behind them and a clear but dull view of the Athens road ahead. The midday sun beat down, striking a painful glare from their rocky surroundings. Perkins took off his boater and began to fan his face, eyes narrowed and watchful.

“We can see the extent of the site in that time but you’ll have to give the Zappeion Gardens a miss one Sunday and come back again to appreciate it properly. But first, Harry—the hamper! I spent a few minutes disobeying the Guv and shoved a few essentials in there. I thought we deserved it! Lemonade suit you?”

“Who needs barley broth when they can have lemonade?”

“And then I found some goat’s cheese, salad bits, and a good fresh loaf. I could hack together a sandwich or two. There’s even a few digestive biscuits.”

His smile of pure joy would have rivalled an initiate’s, Letty decided, as he swung the hamper over from the backseat.

    They’d gulped their way gratefully through the flask of lemonade and were sharing out the bread and cheese when the cream Delage drew level with the entrance to the site, hesitated, and then turned up the processional way towards them.

“Drat!” said Letty. “One car. A crowd at least you can ignore—a single tourist you’re obliged to exchange the time of day with. How sociable are you feeling, Sarge?”

She eyed the sergeant, who had hastily put away his drinking cup. His hand was reaching out to the self-starter and then he seemed to change his mind.

Letty decided to drop the pretence. The sergeant was a good man who deserved to know that he was not encumbered by a hen-headed female who was likely to swoon at the suggestion of danger and cling to his gun arm. She confirmed his suspicions: “That car’s got two more cylinders than we have. It’s faster and heavier than ours—he can outrun us or push us off the road.” She spoke tersely, unafraid, unflustered. “With the top down, we’re especially vulnerable. And there are plenty of nasty bends and remote places on the road back. It’s one of the cars that was parked up here when we went by earlier. It followed us out from Athens, and it’s a strange sort of tourist who doubles back and revisits a site within twenty minutes, don’t you think?”

“You’re right, miss. They’ve been tracking us all the way.” The sergeant’s face was grim. “And now they’ve decided to introduce themselves.”

They watched as the Delage manoeuvred to place itself sideways across the narrow bit of made-up road, blocking entrance or exit.

“There are two of them in there. Men. What do you want me to do, Harry?”

She reached down by her feet and pulled her satchel onto her knees.

“For a start, I don’t fancy being caught sitting here in the car, clutching our cheese sammies. Restricts your movements a bit. Do you fancy a walk, Miss Laetitia? This is probably all a load of cobblers and in five minutes when they’ve revealed themselves to be German archaeologists we’ll be left feeling silly. But better safe than sorry, eh?”

His tone was intended to calm her but Letty saw that the young man was in a state of tense anticipation. She jumped out of the car, slipped her satchel onto her shoulder, and joined him, putting her right arm lightly through his left. They began to walk towards the truncated columns, two tourists, exclaiming and admiring. Letty managed not to look back as she heard two car doors slam shut behind them. Harry flicked a look backwards without breaking stride.

“Two, middle-aged. Walking together for the moment. No sign of papers or a guidebook. And they’re not chatting and exclaiming. Armed, I think. They’ve got that look about them. Right hands too carefully placed, not swinging naturally. Fifty yards off and closing,” he muttered.

“We’re being herded away from the road and towards the sea.”

“Yes. This isn’t good. Listen. I want you to go, without appearing to panic, to hide yourself behind that column over there … Do you see? The tallest one, off to the left? It’s solid enough to repel an assault by Big Bertha. I’ll keep them busy. Stay out of their way by any means possible. Run if you have
to. Drive away if you have to. No matter what I’m doing. The village is your best bet. They’ve got a gendarmerie there, did you see it? Make for that.”

“But suppose they
are
just casual visitors with an ungainly walk … in the middle of a quarrel?” Letty whispered. “You could start an international incident if you challenged them. How can we tell?”

His eyes gleamed with purpose. “I’ll test them out to see if they’re innocent tourists first. Don’t be alarmed. We’ll know by their reaction what their intentions are. As soon as you’re hidden, I’ll surprise them. Go!”

He was easing his Browning from his belt and placing himself between her and the advancing pair as she walked swiftly off. He called no warning. He fired before the men had a chance to split up. The power of the Browning shocked Letty, cowering in safety some thirty yards behind the barrel; it shattered the complacency of the two men as the bullet zipped between their heads and only an inch or so above them. She watched for their reaction.

The shrieks and screams of offended tourists? A spluttering: “What the hell do you think you’re playing at, sir!” A sarcastic: “I say! Geese flying low today, are they?” No. Not even the instinctive crash to the ground of army men. Without a word exchanged, the two separated and eased away in opposite directions, crouching, guns now openly drawn, to take shelter amongst the rocks. Forming a triangle with the sergeant, concealed behind a stone fragment, uncomfortably at its apex. Two shots announced to him that he was pinned down from two points. Letty reckoned that it would be just a matter of time before he ran out of ammunition or they ran out of patience.

And then? Letty’s initial fear was being numbed by outrage and puzzlement. Who on earth were they? Were they road bandits out to rob innocent tourists? Steal their car? The
men’s own car was a good one, and they appeared well dressed. And any motorcar reported missing would be stopped at the port or the borders. They must know that. She thought:
not bandits
. Perkins had been uneasy ever since they’d left Athens. Expecting something like this? She reckoned so, and her anger started to simmer. Were they out to kill the policeman? Yes. That much was not in doubt.

The thought struck her belatedly, in all the excitement. They would eliminate him to get at the real target—herself.

Why? She had no idea. But she could work out the method. Nothing simpler. They’d chosen their killing spot well. Last summer the body of a French tourist had been found at the bottom of the steep precipice below the temple site, swishing in and out with the foam. His camera was still around his neck. Tourists equipped with the latest Kodak or Leica were seen to take enormous risks to get a sensational shot. The two men would grab her by the shoulders and ankles and swing her out and over and the last thing she would see would be the craggy cliffs of Salamis spinning between the deep blue of sky and sea.

Salamis. Letty could think of many less heroic places to die. The Athenian forces, cornered here, had turned on the invading Persians and, with immense courage and a dash of low cunning, had routed them. And she had no intention of dying at Salamis, either.

The sun beat down on her back and she shifted her constricted position slightly behind her column. What would be their tactics? She thought as her father had trained her: “Don’t be caught off guard, Letty—anticipate!” They’d pick off the sergeant first, of course. And, however determined Harry was, geometry was all against him. Two would always be able to find a way around his defences, held, as he was, by the rock that at the same time protected and constricted him. One distraction or one concerted dash and the sergeant was dead.

He might take one with him but, inevitably, she’d be left facing the armed man remaining. She calculated that they would be unwilling to sacrifice one of themselves. Realistically, they’d probably shout out, offering terms, tricking him into giving up his gun—and surrendering
her
into the bargain. They didn’t know the sergeant. She barely knew him herself and yet would have staked—
was
staking—her life on his loyalty.

A shot blasted against the column sheltering Perkins. And another from the second angle. None against hers. They had discounted her. They were stunning him with their firepower, she reckoned, softening him up to accept the deal she calculated they were about to offer.

Letty decided it was time to adjust the geometry and even up the odds. She slid a hand into her satchel and took out the Webley. Calculating that she was just within a reasonable range if she was very careful, she picked out and read the positions of the concealed men ahead of her by their shadows. Short in the overhead sun but enough to distinguish an elbow here, an extended foot there. One, the closer of the two, was taking such care to avoid the Browning—or, more likely, he was so dismissive of the girl’s potential to harm him—he was allowing a segment of his lower body to poke out. Letty seized the chance. She took aim, breathed out slowly, and fired at the projecting rear end.

A screaming ricochet harmonised with a high shriek of pain. She fired again to confirm her views. Harry’s Browning made a basso profundo contribution from the other side of the pavement. And then his voice rang out, firm and clear, shouting in English, then in Greek: “You have two minutes to get out of here. Take your wounded away. Move! Now!”

She watched the pair as they moved, one supporting the second, who was bleeding copiously from a head wound, back towards their car. A gesture from Harry kept her in her place
and she peered around, watching his progress as he darted between sheltering columns, easing forward, gun trained, unwavering, on his quarry. When they drew level with the police sedan Letty stiffened with alarm and raised the Webley to fire a warning shot. Had Harry seen the danger? He had. The Browning blasted out, the bullet kicking up splinters of marble in the space between the men’s feet and the vulnerable tyres, within inches of the now brimming and eminently explodable fuel tank. The shot announced that here was a confident marksman who wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet into any selected part of a man attempting to sabotage his motorcar.

Letty smiled to see the pair turn hurriedly aside and increase their pace towards their own vehicle.

Only when they moved off and turned left back towards Eleusis did the sergeant beckon her forward.

They sprinted for their open-top, praying that it would start, and moments later were pushing at top speed back in the opposite direction on the Athens road.

“Well! Thank you for showing me the Mysteries, Miss Laetitia. As you said in your commentary: a life-and-death experience. I wonder what that was all about! Anyone you know?” the sergeant enquired mildly.

She shook her head. “Bit of a puzzle! I was aiming for the man’s bottom! Now—how is it he walked off clutching his top?”

“I’d say you missed. But the bullet struck rock, and a splinter got him in the forehead. The chap was losing a lot of blood. Splashed all over the pavement. Whatever happened, I think we’ve defiled the site.”

“We’ve spilled blood along the Sacred Way.” Letty couldn’t repress a shiver. Reaction was setting in. “We won’t be invited back until we’ve done penance.”

“They say confession’s good for the soul these days, too. Anything else you’d like to declare, hidden away in that
innocent-looking old schoolbag, miss? Duty obliges me to ask: any other essentials for seeing the sights of the Aegean … besides a Baedeker and a popgun?”

“It’s a Webley. And don’t scoff! It did its job. Better than its job, in fact! If I’d hit what I was really aiming at, he wouldn’t have been able to walk away.” Letty pursued her dispiriting scenario: “His friend would have made a run for it and he’d have been stuck there on-site with us. How awkward! We’d have had to load him into the car, cursing and bleeding, and take him to hospital.”

“Pity, that!” said Perkins grimly. “It would have given me a chance to beat some information out of him first. Lost opportunity, Montacute will say … Should never have let them get away …” Then, struck by an unwelcome thought: “The Governor! What on earth are we going to tell him?”

Letty looked at the suddenly concerned young face and reflected that the presence of two armed men bent on murder had roused no more than a stiffened jaw and a gleam in the sergeant’s eye, but the thought of his boss’s displeasure distressed him. Resentment of Montacute boiled within her once more. “Tell him? Hah! More truth than he cares to hear!” Letty gave Perkins an evil smile. “I’m working on a few phrases. Phrases involving ‘decoy duck’ (that’s me)… ‘dereliction of duty of care towards a subordinate officer’ (that’s you)… ‘wilful endangerment of a member of the public’ (that’s me again). Oh, I’ve got plenty to tell the Guv! Can I feed you a digestive biscuit, Harry, while you drive? Action always gives one an appetite, don’t you find?”

“I’d love a digestive! Thank you … Cat’s paw! That’s a good one, Miss Laetitia,” Perkins said, rallying. “‘You made a cat’s paw of me!’ You could always try him with that.”

Chapter 28