"Wet," said Madison.
"Better than in a hospital," said Bitts. "I'm glad they weren't carrying guns."
The wireless officer was behind him, shoving a message in his hands. Bitts read it. "Local VHF," he said, "from the harbor master. He's requesting that we sail as soon as possible to avoid further damage to his port."
"Black PR," said Madison. "The only people who are that expert at it is the U. S. State Department. Don't even bother to ask if the harbor master did that on the orders of the American consul. I know because that's how they work."
"A government shouldn't attack its own citizens," I said. "That's psychotic!"
"Of course it's psychotic," said Madison, "but whoever said the American government was sane? You mark my words, the American consul this very minute is handing out press releases to the Greek papers saying we're Turkish saboteurs. I'm the pro, Smith. You aren't."
"How do you know this?" I demanded.
He lifted his hand. He was holding a soaked placard all crumpled up. On one side, in Greek, it said, TOOLS OF YANKEE IMPERIALISM. On the back, in English, in very small letters it said, Printed in the USA.
"Whoever would have thought," repeated Madison, shaking his head sadly, "that I would be the target of a black PR campaign. Me, the expert. Well, let me use your radio teletype, Captain Bitts, and I'll start up the machine guns. If they want war, I'll give'm war."
"What do you intend to do?" I gasped, appalled at the idea of being caught in the line of fire.
"Do?" said Madison. "Well, hell, Smith. You can see you aren't a pro. I'll throw a torrent of press releases into the Russian Tass news agency, exposing a Yankee plot to get Turkey and Greece involved in war to sell both sides munitions and then I'll hire a hit man to assassinate the Greek Premier, have a Turkish flag hanging from the rifle and CIA credentials in his pocket. So that when the second hit man I hire kills him, I can release through Tass..."
"Hold it!" I wailed. "You'll have Russia and the U. S. involved in atomic war next."
"What's wrong with that?" said Madison.
"We'd be in the middle of it!" I screamed.
"Oh, I can tell you aren't a pro, Smith. I'm the one that got the bruises here. They want trouble, I can deliver. Count on me, Smith. Now, Captain..."
Yikes, he was dangerous!
Teenie had a hand on Madison's sleeve. "Maddie, you're all wore out from failing to climb Mount Olympus. Get your pinkie off the panic button. All we have to do is sail. Not all ports are hostile to the Turks. Egypt has been governed by Turkish officers for ages, you told me so yourself. And if they start a beef in Alexandria, Egypt, you can have your atomic war. Okay?"
"All right," said Madison grudgingly. "I just don't like some punk in the State Department to think he can out-PR me. It's a matter of professional pride. I am going to send a radio telex to the Greek papers, though, and picture-transmit them this placard. They'll tell the American consul they got it and he'll order them to hold all press and somebody in the State Department will get fired. The American government is too goofy to live. Trying to black PR me. I'll get on it."
"I'll tell the harbor master we're sailing, then," said Captain Bitts.
"And lay your course for Egypt like we discussed," said Teenie.
"Aye, aye," said Captain Bitts.
Teenie and I were left alone.
My head was churning, my nerves were raw. There was some loose end I hadn't grasped. Then I had it. If they sailed for Alexandria, Egypt, direct from here across the Aegean Sea, they'd get awfully close to Turkey. I said so with a sudden yelp.
"Nonsense," said Teenie. "I helped lay out the course myself. I'm an expert now, you know. The closest we will come to Turkey will be the Greek island of Chios, the home of Homer. And if we leave in a couple of hours, we'll pass by there tomorrow night in total darkness."
"For Gods' sakes," I begged. "Don't let me fall into Turkish hands."
She smiled an enigmatic smile. She said, "Now get this loud and clear. If it even looks like you're going to, Inky, I will handle it. Trust me."
I fell back on my pillow. I pretended to be mollified. But, oh, how well I knew the chanciness of life. I was going to have to be awfully alert if I was going to live through this.
Danger was in the wind!
We fled through the night and when the day dawned we were far out in the Aegean and the only sign of Greece was a rocky reef on the starboard being beaten by the waves as we passed it by.
A swell was running and up ahead lowering clouds spoke of rain.
Steadfastly, I kept to my bunk as we plowed to the southeast. The slight lift of the deck from time to time was, to me, a threat: the ship at any moment might really start to roll.
I ventured on deck in a bathrobe. It was strange: nobody was hounding me to exercise. Some subtle change had come over the ship: A sailor hosing down a deck did not smile or speak.
The vast dome of the sky lay upon an empty circle of sea. I crept up a ladder toward the bridge, fearfully peering off our port bow to be sure there was no sign of Turkey. I did not enter into the enclosed pilothouse but stood in the wing.
A movement caught my eye: the switch of a ponytail.
Teenie. She was sitting in the captain's pilot chair looking forward through the bridge windows. There was no sign of Captain Bitts. It was very strange: had she taken over the ship?
The steersman glanced my way and I retreated.
I knew it would not be until night when we would come close to Turkey but still, it made me nervous just to feel that it was there to the east, waiting like some monster of the deep to devour me. Eerie. The feeling was almost palpable. In imagination I could hear the snap of its teeth that would be followed by a grinding sound as it chewed me to bits.
I went back to my bedchamber. A feeling of dread was crawling in my bones.
Enemies.
I had enemies, that was sure.
I began to doubt Madison's theory of why we had had to leave that port. I knew down deep it must be some foe of mine who thirsted for revenge.
Idleness permits the world to fill with hostile shadows. With sudden resolution, I decided to think this thing through. I must take an orderly approach to still the queasy fear.
I got a piece of paper, a pen and, knees under me on the bed, began to make a list.
Who was behind this Thessalonica attack? I began to write.
The unknown assassin? Lombar had set him on me to kill me if I failed. Had he slipped across to Greece to do us in?
The Countess Krak? It went without saying that she would murder me most painfully if she really knew I had stolen her yacht and, all the time, had been behind these assaults on Heller. Gods knew, she was capable of anything!
Heller? Did he have connections I didn't know about? Even though he and Babe Corleone were estranged, had he set some Mafioso upon my trail from Palermo on?
Torpedo Fiaccola? No, the diseased necrophile was very dead. Gunsalmo Silva? No. He was dead, also. So that made two I could scratch from my enemy list.
Meeley, my old landlady on Voltar? Ske, my old airbus driver? Bawteh, chief clerk of Section 451? No, I had given them counterfeit money and they would have been caught and executed by now. The two forgers who had falsified the "Royal proclamations" the Countess Krak had somewhere and was counting on? No. They were not only on Voltar, they were also dead at my orders.
The Countess Krak? Had she somehow set in motion this attack upon the yacht?
The ghost of the old man with fleas that I had killed at Limnos? That island was over there not too far away and it was well known that ghosts existed mainly for revenge. When I became a ghost, if I did not get promptly routed to some Hell, I knew I would want revenge. Yes, that old man with fleas was a likely candidate. He had been a Greek with Turkish connections and hadn't he already gotten some revenge by infesting me with fleas? I put a heavy underscore below his name on the enemy list.