Casey Brown was awake again. Tired though he was, the babble of voices had cut through an uneasy sleep. He crossed over to where Andy Stevens, half-awake now, lay propped against the wall, talking rationally at times, incoherently at others. There was nothing for him to do there, Brown saw: Miller, cleaning, dusting and rebandaging the wounds had had all the help he needed and very efficient help at that from Andrea. He moved over to the mouth of the cave, listened blankly to the four men talking in Greek, moved out past the screen for a breath of the cold, clean night air. With seven people inside the cave and the fire burning continuously, the lack of almost all ventilation had made it uncomfortably warm.
He was back in the cave in thirty seconds, drawing the screen tightly shut behind him.
Quiet, everybody! he whispered softly. He gestured behind him. There's something moving out there, down the slope a bit. I heard it twice, sir.
Panayis swore softly, twisted to his feet like a wild cat. A foot-long, two-edged throwing knife gleamed evilly in his hand and he had vanished through the canvas screen before anyone could speak. Andrea made to follow him, but Mallory stretched out his hand.
Stay where you are, Andrea. Our friend Panayis is just that little bit too precipitate, he said softly. There may be nothing or it might be some diversionary move . Oh, damn! Stevens had just started babbling to himself in a loud voice. He would start talking now. Can't you do something
But Andrea was already bent over the sick boy, holding his hand in his own, smoothing the hot forehead and hair with his free hand and talking to him soothingly, softly, conthuously. At first he paid no attention, kept on talking in a rambling, inconsequential fashion about nothing in particular; gradually, however, the hypnotic effect of the stroking hand, the gentle caressing murmur took effect, and the babbling died away to a barely audible muttering, ceased altogether. Suddenly his eyes opened and he was awake and quite rationaL
What is it, Andrea? Why are you--?
Shh! Mallory held up his hand. I can hear someone
It's Panayis, sir. Brown had his eye at a crack in the curtain. Just moving up the gully.
Seconds later, Panayis was inside the cave, squatting down by the fire. He looked thoroughly disgusted.
There is no one there, he reported. Some goats I saw, down the bill, but that was all. Mallory translated to the others.
Didn't sound like goats to me, Brown said doggedly. Different kind of sound altogether.
I will take a look, Andrea volunteered. Just to make sure. But I do not think the dark one would make a mistake. Before Mallory could say anything he was gone, as quickly and silently as Panayis. He was back in three minutes, shaking his head. Panayis is right. There is no one. I did not even see the goats.
And that's what it must have been, Casey, Mallory said. Still, I don't like it. Snow almost stopped, wind dropping and the valley probably swarming with German patrols I think it's time you two were away. For God's sake, be careful. If anyone tries to stop you, shoot to kill. They'll blame it On us anyway.
Shoot to kill! Louki laughed dryly. Unnecessary advice, Major, when the dark one is with us. He never shoots any other way.
Right, away you go. Damned sorry you've got yourselves mixed up in all this but now that you are, a thousand thanks for all you've done. See you at halfpast six.
Half-past six, Louki echoed. The olive grove on the bank of the stream, south of the village. We will be waiting there.
Two minutes later they were lost to sight and sound and all was still inside the cave again, except for the faint crackling of the embers of the dying fire. Brown had moved out on guard, and Stevens had already fallen into a restless, pain-filled sleep. Miller bent over him for a moment or two, then moved softly across the cave to Mallory. His right hand held a crumpled heap of blood-stained bandages. He held them out towards Mallory.
Take a sniff at that, boss, he asked quietly. Easy does it.
Mallory bent forward, drew away sharply, his nose wrinkled in immediate disgust.
Good lord, Dusty! That's vile! He paused, paused in sure, sick certainty. He knew the answer before he spoke. What on earth is it?
Gangrene. Miller sat down heavily by his side, threw the bandages into the fire. All at once he sounded tired, defeated. Gas gangrene. Spreadin' like a forest fire and he would have died anyway. I'm just wastin' my time.
CHAPTER 10
The Germans took them just after four o'clock in the morning, while they were still asleep. Bone-tired and deep-drugged with this sleep as they were, they had no chance, not the slightest hope of offering any resistance. The conception, timing and execution of the coup were immaculate. Surprise was complete.
Andrea was the first awake. Some alien whisper of sound had reached deep down to that part of him that never slept, and he twisted round and elbowed himself off the ground with the same noiseless speed as his hand reached out for his ready-cocked and loaded Mauser. But the white beam of the powerful torch lancing through the blackness of the cave bad blinded him, frozen his stretching hand even before the clipped bite of command from the man who held the torch.
Still! All of you! Faultless English, with barely a trace of accent, and the voice glacial in its menace. You move, and you die! Another torch switched on, a third, and the cave was flooded with light. Wide awake, now, and motionless, Mallory squinted painfully into the dazzling beams: in the back-wash of reflected light, he could just discern the vague, formless shapes crouched in the mouth of the cave, bent over the dulled barrels of automatic rifles.
Hands clasped above the heads and backs to the wall! A certainty, an assured competence in the voice that made for instant obedience. Take a good look at them, Sergeant. Almost conversational now, the tone, but neither torch nor gun barrel had wavered a fraction. No shadow of expression in their faces, not even a flicker of the eyes. Dangerous men, Sergeant. The English choose their killers well
Mallory felt the grey bitterness of defeat wash through him in an almost tangible wave, he could taste the sourness of it in the back of his mouth. For a brief, heart-sickening second he allowed himself to think of what must now inevitably happen and as soon as the thought had come he thrust it savagely away. Everything, every action, every thought, every breath must be on the present. Hope was gone, but not irrecoverably gone: not so long as Andrea lived. He wondered if Casey Brown had seen or heard them coming, and what had happened to him: he made to ask, checked himself just in time. Maybe he was still at large.
How did you manage to find us? Mallory asked quietly.
Only fools burn juniper wood, the officer said contemptuously. We have been on Kostos all day and most of the night. A dead man could have smelt it.
On Kostos? Miner shook his head. How could--?
Enough! The officer turned to someone behind him. Tear down that screen, he ordered in German, and keep us covered on either side. He looked back into the cave, gestured almost imperceptibly with his torch. All right, you three. Outside and you had better be careful. Please believe me that my men are praying for an excuse to shoot you down, you murdering swine! The venomous hatred in his voice carried utter conviction.