'Now. Fuel and water. Full up. Food. That can wait. Drink. That can wait too, but not so long. Weapons. You'd better look at them now. Here.'
Bond moved to the table. On it were neat oilskin bundles which Litsas untied to reveal one of the excellent Beretta M.34 9-mm automatics and a couple of boxes of ammunition, four Mills HE grenades, and - almost unbelievably - an example of that greatest rifle in the history of warfare, the British short magazine Lee Enfield, with perhaps sixty rounds in clips of five. All the items were in beautiful condition, the metal surfaces of the guns shining dully with a thin film of oil. Bond picked up the rifle and squinted along the V-andblade sight. 'You got this little lot together in pretty good time.'
'Oh, it was easy. This is my private store. I've had all this stuff for over twenty years. The British gave me the Lee Enfield in 1944. It seemed perhaps not such an expensive gift, since it was made in 1916. Anyway, I made very good results with it, and kept it when they made me an officer. I picked up the other stuff in the same sort of way.'
Bond nodded. 'What made you keep it all?'
'Yes, it must seem rather silly. It isn't really. Not in Greece. You see, here you can't be sure. Oh yes, the Communists were completely beaten in 1949 but you'll agree that Communists don't give up easily. I must admit that they're not being violent now. But recently they've begun to be active again. Anyway, if they do try again, they won't get rid of me without some trouble. And it isn't only the Communists by a long chalk. Only last year I had some trouble down in Crete. Some of them are a bit primitive there, poor chaps. I'll tell you the story some time. Anyway, I was facing a bunch I had to pacify with this. Just waving it at them was enough, thank God.'
While he talked Litsas had taken the wooden lid off the starboard-side bench and brought out another oilskin package. This one proved to contain a Thompson MI sub-machine gun of World War II vintage. It had been as lovingly cared for as the other pieces.
'A present from the USA. It lives on board. Stacks of ammunition. I hope you think now our fire-power is enough?'
Bond grinned delightedly and slapped Litsas on the shoulder. 'With what we've got here we can take on anything short of a tank.'
'A cruiser tank at least. We shan't be shooting until the morning, I suppose, so let's stow the stuff, eh?'
They had about done so when a light step sounded on the deck outside and a youth of about sixteen, not tall but powerfully built for his age, stepped over the coaming into the saloon. He nodded gravely to Bond.
'This is Yanni,' said Litsas. '_Yanni, o Kyrios Tzems__.... You and I could manage the boat together, but we need a relief for the wheel. Yanni knows boats and he knows these seas. This is all we need. I shall slip him a couple of hundred drachmas and put him ashore somewhere before we begin the shooting. Well, since you like the weapons we can get the gangway up.'
He spoke to Yanni, who nodded again and slipped away with the same almost noiseless tread. Just afterwards Ariadne joined them.
She looked coolly desirable and at the same time impressively businesslike in blue jeans and a man's fine cotton shirt several shades darker, her hair pinned back close to her head. She looked quickly from Bond to Litsas.
'Well, why aren't we moving?'
'We're ready, my dear. But only you know where we must move. Isn't it time you trusted us?'
'Not until I have to.' Ariadne, at her most strict, avoided Bond's eye. Her tenacity in holding on to this information struck him as about equally absurd and admirable. She blinked, came to a decision. 'Go toward the Cyclades group. I'll tell you which island when we're sailing.'
'Very good. Right, James. Let's go.'
Five minutes later, a man in a grubby linen suit arrived panting at the quayside, peered after the receding shape of the _Altair__, turned and ran for the café and its telephone.
Chapter 10
Dragon Island
'THAT'S WHERE we're going.' Ariadne's finger came down on the map. 'Vrakonisi.'
Looking over her shoulder, Litsas nodded. 'Fourteen hours at least - I don't want to make her go more than about eight knots. Longer if the weather's bad. And it might be.'
'It's calm enough at the moment,' said Bond.
The dark indigo-blue sea slid past almost unwrinkled. Two miles away, the larger detail on shore was still perfectly clear, but its colours were just beginning to change in the approaching September dusk, the white of the scattered buildings losing its glare, the green of the trees fading and turning bluish, the tan and ochre and gamboge of the hillsides seeming oddly to have become more intense. A fishing-boat with a chain of dinghies passed towards Piraeus between the _Altair__ and the coast, all the craft moving as smoothly as if they were running across ice.
'It's usually calm here,' said Litsas, 'but wait till we get past Cape Sounion and leave the shelter of Attica before you be sure. Out there you can meet a norther and it's often quite bloody. Right. We make over here towards Kea, run south past Kithnos and Seriphos, round Siphnos and sail due east. That part may not be good either, but if it's rough we'll get some shelter from Antiparos and Paros for the last miles. Right. I'll just go and speak with Yanni.'
Litsas left them. Bond sat back and gazed out at the coast with eyes that hardly saw. He felt wonderfully relaxed and confident. The broad caique hull thrust its way sturdily through the still water, the muffled roar of the engine was even and regular, accompanied by no vibration. There were big questions yet to be settled and battles to be fought, but until first light at least everything was secure. He had had to learn to get everything possible out of such interludes before action, to savour each moment of calm that lay between him and the shooting, the running in and out of cover, the final assault and the blood.
He glanced sidelong at Ariadne's profile. Along with its abundant sensual beauty, its strength and intelligence impressed him anew. In America, in England, anywhere in the developed countries a girl of this calibre would be carving out a brilliant career for herself in journalism or entertainment. In Greece these opportunities barely existed. He felt he understood a little more than nothing of what had driven her into the arms of Communism.
Bond picked up the map and found the sickle-shaped island.
A memory clicked in his mind. 'Vrakonisi. So that was where Theseus went after he'd dumped your namesake on Naxos.'
'I thought you didn't notice,' said Ariadne, smiling and biting her lower lip like an embarrassed schoolgirl. 'That was a silly mistake of mine.'
'I'd only to look up the books and I could have identified the place straight way.'
'You won't find this story in the books; it's just a local legend the old people tell.' Ariadne settled down to impart information, but with a warmth of manner she never showed when the subject was politics.
'None of the scholars know why Theseus took off from Naxos in so much hurry. The Vrakonisiots do. Their king had heard about Theseus slaying the Minotaur and so he sent some men to him and they begged him to come over and fight a dragon who was burning up their island with the flames of its breath. So Theseus left Ariadne sleeping and went over to Vrakonisi with the messengers. He thought he'd be back very soon.