"Holerod. Ne, ne." The Greek official nodded vigorously and told her that the whole party had arrived the day before in a caique from limani Levkas. They had enquired about a man who had been digging the year before in a cave beyond Spartokori and he had taken them to see Zavelas. Would we like to talk to Zavelas who spoke English and knew everything that went on in Meganisi?
We found him on the waterfront, sitting at a table in the shade with the Pappas. He was a big, powerful man with a hooked nose and iron grey hair. The Greek Orthodox priest was younger, a very striking figure in his black habit, tall black hat, his dark beard combed and silky and his long hair drawn back to a little bun above the nape of the neck. I think it was the presence of the priest that made Florrie excuse herself and return to join Sonia on the boat.
Zavelas was a very different man to my garrulous friend at Preveza, quieter, more reserved. And very much tougher. He had gone to sea as a kid, tramps first, then whaling and sealing out of Gloucester, Mass. He had served in the U.S. navy during World War II, had been a lumberjack out west in the Rockies and had finished up as a cop in San Francisco. 'Tish-erman's Wharf-you know it?"
"Yes," I said. "I did one voyage through the Panama Canal and up to S.F."
He nodded, pleased. "A good place. But plenty tough. I guess Port Vathy is quieter, eh?" He was smiling, his blue eyes staring at me very directly. Either he came of pure Greek stock or there was a touch of the Viking in his ancestry.
He was not the official headman, but his American background, particularly his police experience, set him apart from the rest of the inhabitants of the small island community. The police chief at Levkas was a personal friend of his-he mentioned this quite early on in the conversation, thus establishing his unique position. I got the impression that he and the Pappas virtually ran the place. Certainly the Customs official treated them both with deference.
Nobody had ordered coffee, but it came and I think it was on the house. I offered him a cigarette. "English, eh? I guess we don't see many English cigarettes here in Port Vathy." He took one. So did the priest and I left the packet on the table. "Now, what's on your mind, fella?" He was suddenly a San Franciscan cop again, watching me closely as he lit his cigarette and began sipping noisily at his coffee. "This guy-" he indicated the Customs Officer-"says your name's Van der Voort and you're in'erested in a man named Holerod who arrived yesterday."
Holroyd had come in by caique at four-thirty in the afternoon, had left the other two members of his party to set up camp on the waste ground at the head of the inlet and had walked alone to Vatahori. He had got back to Port Vathy a little after nine and had then arranged with Vassilios, a local fisherman, to take them round to the west side of the island in the morning. "Now, you tell me something." His gaze fastened on Bert. "Two days ago you slip a man ashore at Port Atheni without informing the Customs Officer. Why?"
Bert was too astonished to say anything and Zavelas smiled, his eyes cold. "You think we don't know what goes on in our own island?"
"I didn't think it mattered," Bert said. "He'd been here before-"
"Okay. No need to explain. We know all about Dr. Van der Voort." He turned to me. "And you're his son. That right?"
"Yes," I said. "How did you know?"
"I have told you, Kapetan Constantinidi is an old buddy of mine. He is Chief of Police in Levkas." And he added, "You know Demetrios Kotiadis? Then I do not need to explain. We have been expecting you." His blue eyes were star-
ing at me. "You wanna talk to the Doctor first or this Professor Holerod?"
"Holroyd," I said.
He nodded, smiling. "Like some more cawfee? No? Okay then, we go." And he got to his feet.
Five minutes later we were chugging out of the inlet in the little boat he kept for fishing. "The cave is in the Mega-nisi Channel facing Levkas. The Doctor took me there once, but there ain't nothing to see-just rocks and a big square hole in the ground he dug himself." He was leaning forward, his head close to mine so that he could talk above the noise of the engine. "He was camped there all on his own for about a month last year. Pappadimas took supplies out to him from Vatahori."
"Why not from Vathy?" I asked. "Or Port Spiglia? That's even nearer." Vatahori was at the north-east corner of the island.
"I guess because the Doctor and Pappadimas are old friends. When he first came to the island-that was before I got back from the States-he made Vatahori his base and hired Pappadimas and his boat to explore the whole of Meganisi, also some of the little islands like Kithro and Arkudi, parts of Levkas, too. I figured he must have been some sort of geologist. But then last winter Pappadimas showed me the collection of flints and bone fossils he'd left with him. Brought out a whole box full last year, and when he got cheesed off with digging around in that cave, he'd stay a few days with Pappadimas and his family, sitting for hours over that box of relics, making notes." We had turned the corner of the inlet now and he was steering close in to the rocks. "If he didn't have Doctor in front of his name, reckon I'd say he was a nutcase. But then I ain't had any sort of an education and all the long words he used-it was Greek to me." And he laughed.
We were already opening up the entrance to Port Spiglia. It was a wild little inlet with the village of Spartokori perched high above a sheer rock cliff. The first cat's-paws of the day breeze were just beginning to mark the flat surface of the
water as we turned south into the Meganisi Channel. It was a narrow gut with a ridge of the Levkas mountains towering above us to starboard and a small island dead ahead, close in to the Meganisi side. "That's Tiglia," Zavelas said. "The cave is just back of the shallows. And over there-" He pointed to the Levkas shore. "You see that bay? It's called Dessimo. The Doctor was over there for a time last year."
Inside of Tiglia Island the sea was a bright emerald green — shallows and a sand bottom. And as we opened the cove, we could see a boat drawn up close in to the rocks, the expedition's mess tent a bright splash of blue. Zavelas leaned towards me again. "First thing the Doctor did when your friend landed him at Vatahori was to get Pappadimas to bring him out here."
"Did he leave him here?"
"No. They went back to the village that night."
"And yesterday?"
"Yesterday the Doctor is at Pappadimas's house. He is in Vatahori all day. But that don't mean he's still there today."
He steered the boat into the shallows where the water was like crystal, the sand bottom very clear, and then he cut the engine. A short dark man wearing an old pair of khaki shorts, tufts of black hair showing above a dirty vest, waded out and caught our bows, drawing us in beside the other boat. "This guy is Vassilios." The fisherman nodded and smiled, a flash of even white teeth in a brown stubbled face. They talked for a moment and then Zavelas said, "It's okay. The Doctor's not here. You wanna go up to the cave?"
The little beach was littered with gear, no sign of Holroyd and the others, and only the one tent pitched. "Where is it?" I asked.
"Up there." He pointed to a pinnacle of rock away to the right. "Vassilios will show you."
Bert stayed in the boat with Zavelas and I went up alone, following the fisherman. There was a faint track, and behind the pinnacle of rock, we came out on to a sloping platform looking south down the channel. There was an overhang
here, and in the recess below it, a pit had been dug about two feet down at the outer end, but much deeper at the back. All three of them were there on their hands and knees scrabbling at the earth where rain had collapsed the edges of the dig, sifting the dry soil through their fingers. "Here's another one," Cartwright said. And the others peered over his shoulder as he rubbed the dirt from a shaped piece of stone. "That's Solutrean surely?" He passed it to Holroyd who nodded. "Definitely. Look at that willow-leaf point."