Company?
The very worst of company, Andrea murmured. Take a look, my Keith. He handed over the binoculars, pointed down to the lower slopes of Mt. Kostos. Your friend Jensen never told us that they were here.
Slowly, Maliory quartered the slopes with the binoculars. Suddenly the line of searchers moved into his field of vision. He raised his head, adjusted the focus impatiently, looked briefly once more, then lowered the binoculars with a restrained deliberation of gesture that held a wealth of bitter comment.
The W.G.B., be said softly.
A Jaeger battalion, Andrea conceded. Alpine Corps their finest mountain troops. This is most inconvenient, my Keith.
Mallory nodded, rubbed his stubbled chin.
If anyone can find us, they can. And they'll find us. He lifted the glasses to look again at the line of advancing men. The painstaking thoroughness of the search was disturbing enough: but even more threatening, more frightening, was the snail-like relentlessness, the inevitability of the approach of these tiny figures. God knows what the Alpenkorps is doing here, Mallory went on. It's enough that they are here. They must know that we've landed and spent the morning searching the eastern saddle of Kostos that was the obvious route for us to break into the interior. They've drawn a blank there, so now they're working their way over to the other saddle. They must be pretty nearly certain that we're carrying a wounded man with us and that we can't have got very far. It's only going to be a matter of time, Andrea
A matter of time, Andrea echoed. He glanced up at the sun, a sun all but invisible in a darkening sky. An hour, an hour and a half at the most. They'll be here before the sun goes down. And we'll still be here. He glanced quizzically at Mallory. We cannot leave the boy. And we cannot get away if we take the boy and then he would die anyway.
We will not be here, Mallory said flatly. If we stay we all die. Or finish up in one of those nice little dungeons that Monsieur Viachos told us about.
The greatest good of the greatest number, Andrea nodded slowly. That's how it has to be, has it not, my Keith? The greatest number. That is what Captain Jensen would say. Mallory stirred uncomfortably, but his voice was steady enough when he spoke.
That's how I see it, too, Andrea. Simple proportion twelve hundred to one. You know it has to be this way. Mallory sounded tired.
Yes, I know. But you are worrying about nothing. Andrea smiled. Come, my friend. Let us tell the others the good news.
Miller looked up as the two men came in, letting the canvas screen fall shut behind them. He had unzipped the side of Stevens's sleeping-bag and was working on the mangled leg. A pencil flashlight was propped on a rucksack beside him.
When are we goin' to do somethin' about this kid, boss? The voice was abrupt, angry, like his gesture towards the sleep-drugged boy beside him. This damned waterproof sleeping-bag is soaked right through. So's the kid and he's about frozen stiff: his leg feels like a side of chilled beef. He's gotta have heat, boss, a warm room and hot drinks or he's finished. Twenty-four hours. Miller shivered and looked slowly round the broken walls of the rock-shelter. I reckon he'd have less than an even chance in a first-class general hospital. .. . He's just wastin' his time keepin' on breathin' in this gawddamned icebox.
Miller hardly exaggerated. Water from the melting snow above trickled continuously down the clammy, green-lichened walls of the cave or dripped directly on to the half-frozen gravelly slush on the floor of the cave. With no through ventilation and no escape for the water accumulating at the sides of the shelter, the whole place was dank and airless and terribly chill.
Maybe he'll be hospitalised sooner than you think, Mallory said dryly. How's his leg?
Worse. Miller was blunt. A helluva sight worse. I've just chucked in another handful of suipha and tied things up again. That's all I can do, boss, and it's just a waste of time anyway . What was that crack about a hospital? he added suspiciously.
That was no crack, Mallory said soberly, but one of the more unpleasant facts of life. There's a German search party heading this way. They mean business. They'll find us, all right.
Miller swore. That's handy, that's just wonderful, he said bitterly. How far away, boss?
An hour, maybe a little more.
And what are we goin' to do with Junior, here? Leave him? It's his only chance, I reckon.
Stevens comes with us. There was a flat finality in Mallory's voice. Miller looked at him for a long time in silence: his face was very cold.
Stevens comes with us, Miller repeated. We drag him along with us until he's dead that won't take long and then we leave him in the snow. Just like that, Huh?
Just like that, Dusty. Absently Mallory brushed some snow off his clothes, and looked up again at Miller. Stevens knows too much. The Germans will have guessed why we're on the island, but they don't know how we propose to get inside the fortress and they don't know when the Navy's coming through. But Stevens does. They'll make him talk. Scopolamine will make anyone taik.
Scopolamine! On a dying man? Miller was openly incredulous.
Why not? I'd do the same myself. If you were the German commandant and you knew that your big guns and half the men in your fortress were liable to be blown to hell any moment, you'd do the same.
Miller looked at him, grinned wryly, shook his head.
Me and my
I know. You and your big mouth. Mallory smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. I don't like it one little bit more than you do, Dusty. He turned away and crossed to the other side of the cave. How are you feeling, Chief?
Not too bad, sir. Casey Brown was only just awake, numbed and shivering in sodden clothes. Anything wrong?
Plenty, Mallory assured him. Search party moving this way. We'll have to pull out inside half an hour. He looked at his watch. Just on four o'clock. Do you think you could raise Cairo on the set?
Lord only knows, Brown said frankly. He rose stiffly to his feet. The radio didn't get just the best of treatment yesterday. I'll have a go.
Thanks, Chief. See that your aerial doesn't stick up above the sides of the gully. Mallory turned to leave the cave, but halted abruptly at the sight of Andrea squatting on a boulder just beside the entrance. His head bent in concentration, the big Greek had just finished screwing telescopic sights on to the barrel of his 7.92 mm. Mauser and was now deftly wrapping a sleeping-bag lining round its barrel and butt until the entire rifle was wrapped in a white cocoon.
Mallory watched him in silence. Andrea glanced up at him, smiled, rose to his feet and reached out for his rucksack. Within thirty seconds he was clad from head to toe in his mountain camouflage suit, was drawing tight the purse-strings of his snowhood and easing his feet into the rucked elastic anklets of his canvas boots. Then he picked up the Mauser and smiled slightly.
I thought I might be taking a little walk, Captain, he said apologetically. With your permission, of course.
Mallory nodded his head several times in slow recollection.
You said I was worrying about nothing, he murmured. I should have known. You might have told me, Andrea. But the protest was automatic, without significance. Mallory felt neither anger nor even annoyance at this tacit arrogation of his authority. The habit of command died hard in Andrea: on such occasions as he ostensibly sought approval for or consulted about a proposed course of action it was generally as a matter of courtesy and to give information as to his intentions. Instead of resentment, Mallory could feel only an overwhelming relief and gratitude to the smiling giant who towered above him: he had talked casually to Miller about driving Stevens till he died and then abandoning him, talked with an indifference that masked a mind sombre with bitterness at what he must do, but even so he had not known how depressed, bow sick at heart this decision had left him until he knew it was no longer necessary.