They read the particulars about Zarrif’s habits and employees, then Valerie yawned. `Well, we've had a long day. I've flown you from Rotterdam to Brindisi since dawn, you know, so I'm off to bed.'
`You've done us darned well,' Lovelace agreed quickly. `All the same, I can't help wishing you were out of this.'
`Thanks, but I'm quite capable of taking care of myself.' She gave him a lazy smile over her shoulder as she left the room.
`Why the hell don't you insist on her remaining in Italy?' Lovelace shot at Christopher once they were alone.
`What!' Christopher looked up vaguely from the papers he was studying. `But you heard what she said. It's true, too. Valerie's perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Besides, we need her to fly us to Athens tomorrow.'
`Surely we can make other arrangements?'
`It's a bit late to try and do that now, and even if we could, no hired pilot would be so dependable as Valerie. You see, we must be in Athens by midday tomorrow, because Zarrif’s due to leave the day after. If we miss him I shall have failed the Millers.'
'Oh, damn the Millers,' snapped Lovelace angrily, Christopher stood up and stared at him in surprise,
`What’s wrong? D'you want to back out? You're quite
free to do so if you like.'
'No, it's not that,' Lovelace shrugged impatiently. 'I've promised you my help so you may rely on it for what it's worth. But the whole thing's so damnably dangerous that it's monstrously unfair to drag Valerie into it. You love her, don't you?'
'Of course I do,' Christopher's smile was quite unperturbed, 'and she loves me. That's why I couldn't stop her coming with us even if I wanted to. So we'd better make the best of it. Good night.'
'Good night,' Lovelace muttered in reply as the pale faced young man turned away. He saw that it was useless to argue further, and settled down to spend another hour over two more rations of the pale golden Arum liqueur he always drank when in Italy, while he endeavoured to memorize every detail in the plan of Zarrif’s house.
By nine fifteen the following morning they were in the air again; the waters of the Adriatic sparkling below them in the sunshine, and seeming bluer than the Gulf of Genoa had the day before. Half an hour later they were over the tattered Greek coastline with its ragged fringe of islands. At a few minutes before twelve they landed at their destination.
'Nowhere near a record,' said Valerie as she climbed out of her plane, `but better than a hired pilot would have done for you any day.'
'Bless you!' One of his rare smiles lit Christopher's handsome face for a second. `This is a horrible show, but it helps a lot to have you with me.'
Hand in hand they walked into the airport restaurant, and Lovelace watched them go a little grimly. While Christopher ordered lunch Lovelace was telephoning in the name of Mr. Jeremiah Green.
When he rejoined them ten minutes later his face was even grimmer as he said
`Paxito Zirrif is still in Athens. He's agreed to see me at four o'clock this afternoon.'
7
Into the lions den
'And now,' Lovelace insisted when they had finished their meal, `we must face facts. Even to have allowed Valerie to land us here was an abominable risk. It connects the three of us together, and if you, Christopher, succeed in what you're out to do, the police will start hunting for her directly they find out you came in on her plane. If she's determined to stay we can at least separate. She'd better take a room here in the airport hotel while we get fixed up somewhere in the city although I'd rather she flew back to Italy this afternoon.'
'How shockingly ungallant you are.' The dimple in Valerie's cheek deepened as she smiled at him.
`Honestly!' he raised a grin, ` “we don't want to lose you but we think you ought to go,” as the war song had it.'
`The worst the police could do is to hold me as a witness.'
'Yes, the police perhaps; but you may run into far greater danger from another quarter if you remain with us.'
'Well, I'm remaining until . , .' she laughed rather shakily, 'until the deed is done, but I'll take a room here if you like.'
She registered at the hotel and then they all drove into the town together. Athens was hot, dusty, airless. Its streets of shoddy modern shops proved disappointing to Christopher, who had never visited it before, and had always visualised it as still the Pearl of the Aegean. Nothing but the ruins of the Parthenon, dominating the city, remained to testify to its ancient glory, and the arid, treeless wastes on the outskirts of the town shattered his dream image of a palm decked southern capital. He was glad to get out of the sun glare into a cool courtyard at the hotel Lovelace selected for them.
Valerie dealt tactfully with him, as she always did when these moods of depression were upon him, and they agreed to remain where they were until Lovelace returned when he left them to drive out to Zarrif’s house in the heat of the afternoon.
He found it to be a walled property some way outside the town, and its only entrance a pair of rusty iron gates. Telling his cabman to wait, he jerked the old fashioned bell-pull. A dismal clang sounded inside the porter's lodge, and a surly looking fellow came out to peer at him between the bars.
When he gave the name of Jeremiah Green the porter unlocked the big padlock that secured the gate and let him through. Having fastened the gate again behind the visitor the man accompanied him up the short drive to the house.
The garden was a dismal sight. Some withered palms, olives and cypresses struggled for existence in the stony soil. Ragged cacti, aloes, and myrtle bushes formed a jungle on either side. There were no flowers except upon the semi wild creepers which straggled across the grass-grown paths.
The house, by contrast, was in good repair, but all the ground floor windows were shuttered, as Lovelace had expected. At the front door the porter rang another bell; a grille was lifted and two eyes peered out at them. Lovelace gave Green's name again and the door was unlocked upon which the porter left him. A second man, whose hip pocket displayed a bulge which suggested a large calibre pistol, relocked the door and led the way upstairs. On the first floor landing a third guardian sat reading a newspaper; after being given the visitor's name he opened the door which Lovelace knew led to the secretary's room,
A thin man with shiny black hair sat there behind a desk. His quick eyes searched Lovelace's face as he bowed. `Mr. Green, I was expecting you. Please to sit down.'
He spoke in English, but from his accent and appearance Lovelace judged him to be French.
`You have a letter for Mr. Zirrif,' he went on. `May I see it?'
`The letter is personal, I'm afraid,' Lovelace replied, settling himself in the nearest chair. `Perhaps you'd be good enough to let Mr. Zirrif know I'm here.'
The dark man smiled. 'Certainly in a little moment but first I must see the letter, please. I have knowledge of all Mr. Zarrif’s affairs, and no one sees him before I have, er what you would call vetted them, first.'
Without further argument Lovelace produced the stolen letter.
The secretary scanned it quickly and returned it with a flourish. `That is quite satisfactory. Now your passport, please, Mr. Green.'
Lovelace was almost caught unawares, but he was pokerfaced by habit and managed to mask his dismay as he said lightly: "Fraid I left that in my dispatch box at the hotel.'
The black eyes on the far side of the desk showed sudden suspicion. `How am I to know then that you are Mr. Jeremiah Green? That letter might have been lost or stolen. You must return to your hotel and produce your passport before I can allow you to see Mr. Zirrif.'