Of what I feel now.

It was Jackstraw who heard it firstit was always Jackstraw, whose hearing was an even match for his phenomenal eyesight, who heard things first. Tired of having my exposed hands alternately frozen, I had dropped my book, zipped my sleeping-bag up to the chin and was drowsily watching him carving figurines from a length of inferior narwhal tusk when his hands suddenly fell still and he sat quite motionless. Then, unhurriedly as always, he dropped the piece of bone into the coffee-pan that simmered gently by the side of our oil-burner stovecurio collectors paid fancy prices for what they Thy vows are all broken, imagined to be the dark ivory of fossilised elephant tusksrose and put his ear to the ventilation shaft, his eyes remote in the unseeing gaze of a man lost in listening. A couple of seconds were enough. "Aeroplane," he announced casually. "Aeroplane!" I propped myself up on an elbow and stared at him. "Jackstraw, you've been hitting the methylated spirits again." "Indeed, no, Dr Mason." The blue eyes, so incongruously at

Himselfe on a dapple-gray,

meager servings that she had observed in the dining hall. Fortunately the third one was substantial enough to abort the kick that she had been about to bestow on the catering unit. Once she had solid food in her stomach, she continued her liquor sampling. While not in the least inebriated, thanks to her Ballybran-altered digestion, Killashandra was very merry and sang lustily as she ventured into the hygiene rooms and splashed in the scented water of the bath. She continued to sing, her fancy latching onto a riotous ballad generally rendered by a tenor, as she made her way to the bedroom. A lambent radiance augmented the soft lighting and, curious, she went to the window, observing three of Optherias four small moons, one near enough for the craters and vast sterile plains to be clearly visible. Entranced, Killashandra broke off the ballad and began the haunting love duet from Baleefs exotic opera, Voyagers, which seemed particularly appropriate to the setting. When a tenor voice joined her on cue, she faltered a moment. Then, despite her astonishment at spontaneity in such a rigidly controlled environment, she continued. Voyagers had been her last opera as a student on Fuerte, so she knew it well enough to divert some of her attention from the words. And a fine, rich, well produced voice he had. Might need a bit more support for the Gs and As in the last three measures shed be amazed if he could hit the high C along with her but he had a firm sense of the dynamic requirements and sang with great sensitivity. As the tenor took up the melody, she gathered herself for the taxing finale, delighted to find her singing voice still flexible enough for the dynamics, and the high C. The tenor, with no loss of vibrance, opted for the A, but it was a grand ringing A and she applauded his judgment. She sustained her note, perversely wishing him to drop but, as it happened, they broke off at the same instant, as if they had had the innumerable rehearsals such inspired singing required. When shall our paths cross again? she asked in the recitative which followed that spectacular duet. When the moons of Radomah make glorious the sky with measured dance. The invisible tenor also had a vibrant speaking voice, and, better yet, an appreciation of the humor in their impromptu performance for she caught the ripple of laughter in his chanted phrases. Did he also find the words, and the opera, a trifle ludicrous in the austere setting of the Optherian Complex? All of a sudden, the courtyard below was floodlighted. Figures argus digital camera binoculars erupted onto the paving, shouting commands for silence. Before she stepped back from the window, Killashandra caught a glimpse of a figure, in a window directly opposite hers but a story above, withdrawing into the shielding darkness. Soprano and tenor exited the stage while the extras made a diligent and vain search for the conspirators. Killashandra poured herself a full glass of something which its label identified as a fortified wine. This was an odd music center if impromptu singing, particularly of so high a caliber, was answered by punitive force. She downed the drink, doused all the lights in the suite and, in the milky light of the moons, sought the comfort of her bed. Despite a wish for sleep, her mind ranged through the scenes of the Baleef opera and the sorrows of the star-crossed lovers. She must remember to ask Mirbethan who that tenor was. Fine voice! Much better than the pimple-faced little oaf who had sung the role opposite her on Fuerte! Morning chimes, soft but insidious, roused her. She lifted herself on one elbow, saw that dawn was just breaking, groaned and, flinging the light coverlet over her head, went back to sleep. A second sequence of chimes, louder, sounded. Cursing, Killashandra strode to the console, coded the number Mirbethan had given her. Is there any way to stop the wretched chimes in this apartment? Imagine, having to wake up at dawn! That is the way here, Guildmember, but I shall advise Control that your apartment is to be excluded from the Rising Chimes. And all others, please! I will not be ordered about by bells, drums, whistles, shrills, or inaudibles. And who possesses that remarkably fine tenor voice? Mirbethan shot Killashandra a startled look. You were disturbed by it Not in the least. But if thats the quality of natural musical talent on Optheria, Im impressed. The Center does not encourage vocalizing. Mirbethans cool denial roused Killashandras instant hostility. You mean, that tenor is a reject from your opera school? You misunderstand the situation, Guildmember. All the teaching centers on Optheria emphasize keyboard music. You mean, only that organ? Of course. The organ is the ultimate of instruments, combining the Spare me the hype, Mirbethan. Killashandra took an obscure pleasure in the shock her statement

On a bedstead striped with bright-blue paint,

started to move forwards towards me then stopped as if he had run into a brick wall. The crash of Jackstraw's Winchester was a deafening, eardrum shattering thunderclap of sound in that confined space: and when the last reverberations of the rifle-shot had faded and the smoke cleared away, Senator Brewster was staring down whitely at the splintered hole in the floor boards, almost literally beneath his feet: Jackstraw must have miscalculated the Senator's rate of movement, for the bullet had sliced through the edge of the sole of Brewster's boot. However it was, the effect couldn't have been bettered: the Senator reached back blindly for the support of the bunk behind him and lowered himself shakily to his seat, so terrified that he even forgot to clasp his hands above his head. But I didn't care about that: there would be no more trouble from the Senator. "OK, so you mean business. Now we're convinced." It was Zagero who drawled out the words, but his hands were tightly enough clasped above his head. "We know you wouldn't do this for nothin', Doc. What gives?" "This gives," I said tightly. "Two of you people are murderers -or a murderer and murderess. Both have guns. I want those guns." "Succinctly put, dear boy," Marie LeGarde said slowly. "Very concise. Have you gone crazy?" "Unclasp your hands, Miss LeGarde, you're not included in this little lot. No, I'm not crazy. I'm as sane as you are, and if you want evidence of my sanity you'll find it out on the plane there -or buried out on the ice-cap: the captain of the plane with a bullet through his spine, the passenger in the rear with a bullet through his heart and the second officer smothered to death. Yes, smothered. Not cerebral haemorrhage, as I said: he was murdered in his sleep. Believe me, Miss LeGarde? Or would it take a personal tour of the plane to convince you?" She didn't speak at once. Nobody spoke. Everyone was too stunned, too busy fighting incredulity and trying to assimilate the meaning of the shocking news I'd given themeveryone, that is, except two. But though I scanned eight faces with an intensity with which I had never before examined people I saw nothing -not the slightest off-beat gesture, the tiniest guilty reaction. As for what I'd secretly hoped fora guilty interchange of glances -well, the idea now seemed hopelessly, laughably improbable. Whoever the killers were, they were in perfect control of themselves. I felt despair touch me, a sure knowledge of defeat. "I must believe you." Marie LeGarde spoke as slowly as before, cheapest digital slr cameras online resource but her voice was unsteady and her face drained of colour. She looked at Margaret Ross. "You knew of this, my dear?" "Half an hour ago, Miss LeGarde. Dr Mason thought I had done it." "Good God! Howhow utterly ghastly! How horrible! Two of us murderers." From her position by the stove, Marie LeGarde glanced round the eight seated people, then looked quickly away. "Supposesuppose you tell us everything, Dr Mason." I told them everything. On the way back from the plane with Miss Ross I had debated this with myselfthe question of secrecy or not. The no secrecy decision had won hands down: keeping quiet wouldn't fool the killersthey knew I knew: no secrecy would mean each and every one of the passengers inn watching the others like hawks, making my task of constant vigilance all that much easier, the killers' chance of making mischief all that more difficult. "You will stand up one at a time," I said when I'd finished. "Mr London will search you for your guns. And please don't forget -1 know I'm dealing with desperate men. I'm prepared to act accordingly. When your turn comes stand very still indeed and make no suspicious move, not the slightest. I'm not very good with a pistol, and I shall have to aim at the middle of your bodies to make certain." "I believe you would at that," Corazzini said thoughtfully. "It doesn't matter what you believe," I said coldly. "Just don't be the one to find out." Joss started on Zagero. He searched him thoroughly -1 could see the anger on Zagero's face, but his eyes didn't leave my gun -and found nothing. He moved on to Solly Levin. "Might I ask why I'm being excused?" Marie LeGarde asked suddenly. "You?" I said shortly. My eyes didn't move from Solly. "Marie LeGarde? Don't be so damned silly!" "The choice of words and tone of voice leave a lot to be desired." Her voice was soft and warm, though still shaky. "But I've never had a greater compliment. All the same, I insist on being searched: I don't want to be the one under a cloud if the guns don't turn up." And the guns didn't turn up. Joss finished searching the men, Margaret Ross the womenMrs Dansby-Gregg under icy protestand neither found anything. Joss looked at me, his face empty of all expression. "Get their luggage," I said harshly. "The small cases they're taking with them. We'll try these." "You're wasting your time, Dr

For really this morning

Masters, speaking from their immense and encyclopedic knowledge of all forms of music and their total understanding of the universe and Mans subliminal relationship with the Natural World, do not believe that this facet of Optherian life needs to be celebrated at any point in the year, certainly not during the Summer Festival when off-worlders might possibly hear something evoking a valid Optherian subculture and more original than variations on the usual pre-predigested pap that accredited composers churn out. Stupid, insensitive, unimaginative, flatulent fardlings! Killashandras derision was slightly colored by hearing the details of the outrageous attack, and by the realization that her instinct about Ampriss specious assurance was quite valid. Theyre so old theyve lost the energy enthusiasm requires; they couldnt possibly recognize imagination. Lars smiled at her vehemence. So, despite all their promises and assurances, I was given a ticket back to Angel as a reward for my unmentionable service, and told to be out of the City on the evening oceanjet. Guardians were there to be sure I boarded, which I did. After a stroke of incredibly good luck. He turned his face fully to her then, his lips lightly compressed as if controlling amusement, and the sparkling of his eyes indicated that he had considered confiding in her. As much as she hoped that he might, she wished fervently that he would not. For his honesty would require the similar courtesy from her. Lars, I dont mean to be a spoil-sport, but something occurred to me. A star-knife is an island blade, isnt it? Yes He regarded her, suddenly alert. And if an island blade was responsible for wounding the crystal singer even if it healed rapidly would that not prejudice her against listening to your problem? A good point. The Elders dont miss many tricks, but that ploy would not have worked. Nahia and Brassner were going to speak for us. Were going? Yes, I did say that I had a stroke of good luck, and he clasped her hand with a firm grip, his clear blue gaze fixed on the thick bushes. Nahia and Brassner will now have an even better chance to present our situation. He sounded so confident that Killashandra would have given much to be privy to his plans. Youll see. Since Im being candid, let me tell you that youve been rather indiscreet confiding in me, Lars. You dont know me Dont know you? Lars threw back his head and eyecup for canon xi digital camera guffawed. He clasped her to him, rocking her in his arms, roaring with laughter. If I dont, young woman, no one ever will. You know what I mean. Who were you talking to last night on the beach? Hes not an islander. Oh, him? Corish von Mittell something. No, hes not an islander. In fact, he could be very useful Lars paused a moment in thought, and then shrugged it off. Hes looking for an uncle. Father asked me to help him, take him on my next swing through the islands. Frankly I dont think the uncle came this far out: doesnt sound like a man whod want this sort of life style. Are you sure this Corish is who he says he is? Lars eyed her with some interest. Fathers sent for an I.D. verification. Were not so haphazard as all that in these islands, you know. Thereve been snoopers before. Fathers got a sixth sense about the breed and that Corish tilted it. Oh, he says he came in on the Athena, and he sounded as if hed made the trip on her. Then he added in another tone altogether, Im glad you worry about my safety. He smoothed back her sun-bleached hair, fingering the strands before he patted them in place, his whole face softening as once more he fell in her thrall. Then he relaxed, lying back again, hands under his head, his eyes intent on her face, a very tender smile playing at the corner of his lips. Anyway, everyone on Angel dislikes federal interference as much as we do. I studied under a master of heresy. My father. The duly appointed harbor master of the Angel Island archipelago and federal representative. If you cant lick em, join em. Your fathers the harbor master? Surprise registered blankly on Lars face. Of course. Dont tell me you didnt know that? I do. I didnt. So, if you really insist on going back to the City, youll have to be very nice to me. He was smiling as he gently reached for her arms to bring her down to him. Oh? Very nice to me. Are you able for it? He settled her into the curve of his arm, her head pillowed on his shoulder, his cheek against her hair. When you are, beloved. Then he yawned and, apparently, between one breath and the next, fell asleep. For another long moment, Killashandra

Half broken-hearted

Helene up into the cabin and bound their hands: they were the surety for our good conduct. That left eight of us on the tractor sled, Theodore Mahler and Marie LeGarde stretched out in the middle, three of us sitting on each side. Almost immediately after we had moved off and pulled a pair of tarpaulins over ourselves for what meagre shelter they could afford, Jackstraw leaned across and tapped me on the shoulder with something held in his hand. I reached up and took it from him. "Corazzini's wallet,1 he said softly. For all the chance of his being overheard by either Smallwood or Corazzini above the roar of the engine and the voice of the gale, he could have shouted out the words. "Fell from his pocket when Zagero knocked him down. He didn't see it go, but I didsat on top of it while Smallwood told us to squat in the snow." I stripped off my gloves, opened the wallet and examined its contents in the light of the torch Jackstraw had also passed acrossa torch with the beam carefully hooded and screened to prevent the slightest chink of light escaping from under the tarpaulin: at this time, Smallwood had not yet switched on the searchlight. The wallet provided us with that last proof of the thoroughness, the meticulous care with which these two men had provided themselves with false but utterly convincing identities: I knew that whatever Corazzini's name was it wasn't the one he had given himself, but, had I not known, the 'N.C." stamped on the hand-tooled morocco, the visiting cards with the inscribed 'Nicholas Corazzini' above the name and address of the Indiana head office of the Global Tractor Company, and the leather-backed fold of American Express cheques, each one already signed 'N. R. Corazzini' in its top left-hand corner, would have carried complete conviction. And, too late, the wallet also presented us, obliquely but beyond all doubt, with the reason for many things, ranging from the purpose of the crash-landing of the plane to the explanation of why I had been knocked on the head the night before last: inside the bill-fold compartment was the newspaper cutting which I had first found on the dead body of Colonel Harrison. I read it aloud, slowly, with infinite chagrin. The account was brief. That it concerned that dreadful disaster in Elizabeth, New Jersey, where a commuters' train had plunged through an opened span of the bridge into the waters of Newark Bay, drowning dozens of the passengers aboard, I already knew from the quick glance I had had at the cutting in the plane. But, as I had also nikon digital cameras and reviews gathered in the plane, this was a follow-up story and the reporter wasted little time on the appalling details: his interest lay in another direction entirely. It was 'reliably reported', he said, that the train had been carrying an army courier: that he was one of the forty who had died: and that he had been carrying a 'super-secret guided missile mechanism'. That was all the cutting said, but it was enough, and more than enough. It didn't say whether the mechanism had been lost or not, it most certainly never even suggested that there was any connection between the presence of the mechanism aboard the train and the reasons for the crash. It didn't have to, the cheek-by-jowl contiguity of the two items made the reader's own horrifying conclusions inevitable. From the silence that stretched out after I had read out the last words, I knew that the others were lost in the same staggering speculations as myself. It was Jackstraw who finally broke this silence, his voice abnormally matter-of-fact. "Well, we know now why you were knocked on the head." "Knocked on the head?" Zagero took him up. "What do you" "Night before last," I interrupted. "When I told you I'd walked into a lamp-post." I told them all about the finding of the cutting and its subsequent loss. "Would it have made all that difference even if you had read it?" Zagero asked. "I mean" "Of course it would!" My voice was harsh, savage almost, but the savagery was directed against myself, my own stupidity. "The fact of finding a cutting about a fatal crash which occurred in strange unexplained circumstances on the person of a man who had just died in a fatal crash in equally strange and unexplained circumstances would have made even me suspicious. When I heard from Hillcrest that something highly secret was being carried aboard the plane, the parallel would have been even more glaringly obvious, especially as the cutting was found on the manan army officerwho was almost certainly the courier, the carrier of this secret. Anything larger than a match-box in the luggage the passengers were carrying I'd have ripped open and examined, radio and tape-recorder included. Smallwood knew it. He didn't know what was in the cutting, but heor Corazziniknew it was a cutting and they were taking no chances at all." "You weren't to know this," Levin said

What is the end of Fame? 'tis but to fill

It was Jackstraw who heard it firstit was always Jackstraw, whose hearing was an even match for his phenomenal eyesight, who heard things first. Tired of having my exposed hands alternately frozen, I had dropped my book, zipped my sleeping-bag up to the chin and was drowsily watching him carving figurines from a length of inferior narwhal tusk when his hands suddenly fell still and he sat quite motionless. Then, unhurriedly as always, he dropped the piece of bone into the coffee-pan that simmered gently by the side of our oil-burner stovecurio collectors paid fancy prices for what they A certain portion of uncertain paper: imagined to be the dark ivory of fossilised elephant tusksrose and put his ear to the ventilation shaft, his eyes remote in the unseeing gaze of a man lost in listening. A couple of seconds were enough. "Aeroplane," he announced casually. "Aeroplane!" I propped myself up on an elbow and stared at him. "Jackstraw, you've been hitting the methylated spirits again." "Indeed, no, Dr Mason." The blue eyes, so incongruously at

Sic counseils ye gave to me O.

It was Jackstraw who heard it firstit was always Jackstraw, whose hearing was an even match for his phenomenal eyesight, who heard things first. Tired of having my exposed hands alternately frozen, I had dropped my book, zipped my sleeping-bag up to the chin and was drowsily watching him carving figurines from a length of inferior narwhal tusk when his hands suddenly fell still and he sat quite motionless. Then, unhurriedly as always, he dropped the piece of bone into the coffee-pan that simmered gently by the side of our oil-burner stovecurio collectors paid fancy prices for what they Lord Randal imagined to be the dark ivory of fossilised elephant tusksrose and put his ear to the ventilation shaft, his eyes remote in the unseeing gaze of a man lost in listening. A couple of seconds were enough. "Aeroplane," he announced casually. "Aeroplane!" I propped myself up on an elbow and stared at him. "Jackstraw, you've been hitting the methylated spirits again." "Indeed, no, Dr Mason." The blue eyes, so incongruously at

"Let us both go to law:

act accordingly. When your turn comes stand very still indeed and make no suspicious move, not the slightest. I'm not very good with a pistol, and I shall have to aim at the middle of your bodies to make certain." "I believe you would at that," Corazzini said thoughtfully. "It doesn't matter what you believe," I said coldly. "Just don't be the one to find out." Joss started on Zagero. He searched him thoroughly -1 could see the anger on Zagero's face, but his eyes didn't leave my gun -and found nothing. He moved on to Solly Levin. "Might I ask why I'm being excused?" Marie LeGarde asked suddenly. "You?" I said shortly. My eyes didn't move from Solly. "Marie LeGarde? Don't be so damned silly!" "The choice of words and tone of voice leave a lot to be desired." Her voice was soft and warm, though still shaky. "But I've never had a greater compliment. All the same, I insist on being searched: I don't want to be the one under a cloud if the guns don't turn up." And the guns didn't turn up. Joss finished searching the men, Margaret Ross the womenMrs Dansby-Gregg under icy protestand neither found anything. Joss looked at me, his face empty of all expression. "Get their luggage," I said harshly. "The small cases they're taking with them. We'll try these." "You're wasting your time, Dr Mason," Nick Corazzini said quietly. To any characters smart enough to guess that you were going to frisk them, the next move would stick out a mile. A child could guess it. You might find those guns you talk about hidden on the tractor or the sledges or buried under a couple of inches of snow, ready to be picked up whenever required, but you won't find them in our grips. A thousand to one, in dollars, that you don't." "Maybe you're right," I said slowly. "On the other hand, if I were one of the killers and did have a gun in my casewell, that's exactly the way I'd talk too." "As you said to Miss LeGarde just now, don't be so damned silly!" He jumped to his feet, walked over to a corner of the cabin under the watchful eyes of Jackstraw and myself, picked up a handful of small cases and dumped them on the floor before me, his own nearest me. "Where are you going to start? There's mine, that's the Reverend's robe case, this"he picked it up and looked at the initials'this is the Senator's brief-case. I don't know whose the last is." "Mine," Mrs Dansby-Gregg said coldly. Corazzini grinned. "Ah, the Balenciaga. rca 24282 digital concepts camera instructions Well, Doc, who" He broke off, straightened slowly, and gazed up through the skylight. "Whatwhat the devil is happening up there?" "Don't try to pull any fast stuff, Corazzini," I said quickly. "Jackstraw's gun" "The hell with Jackstraw's gun!" he snapped impatiently. "Have a look for yourself." I motioned him out of the way and had a look. Two seconds later I had thrust my automatic into Joss's hand and was on my way up top. The airliner was a blazing torch in the darkness of the night. Even at that distance of half a mile and against the light wind, I could clearly hear the fierce roaring and crackling of the flames -not flames, rather, but one great solid column of fire that seemed to spring from the wings and centre of the fuselage and reach up clear and smokeless and sparkless two hundred feet into the night sky, brushing its blood-red stain across the snow for hundreds of yards around, transforming the rest of the still ice-sheathed fuselage into a vast effulgent diamond, a million constantly shifting points of refracted white and red and blue and green that glittered and gleamed with an eye-dazzling scintillating brilliance that no jewels on earth could have matched. It was a fantastically beautiful spectacle, but I'd had time to watch it for barely ten seconds when the dazzling coloured irradiation turned into a blaze of white, the central flame leapt up to twice, almost three times its original height and, two or three seconds later, the roar of the exploding petrol tanks came at me across the frozen stillness of the ice-cap. Almost at once the flames seemed to collapse in upon themselves and the perimeter of the blood-red circle of snow shrank almost to vanishing point, but I waited to see no more. I dropped down into the cabin, pulling the hatch shut behind me, and looked at Jackstraw. "Any chance at all of accounting for the presence of our various friends here during the past half-hour?" "I'm afraid not, Dr Mason. Everyone was on the move all the time, finishing off the tractor body or bringing up the stores and petrol drums and lashing them on the sledge." He glanced up through the skylight. "The plane, wasn't it?" " 'Was' is right." I glanced at the stewardess. "My apologies, Miss Ross. You did hear somebody out there." "You meanyou mean it wasn't an accident?" Zagero asked. There's a fair chance that you know damned well that it wasn't, I

The dew of the morning

firing generator fitted with the old-fashioned plunge handle. Next came the gunstwo Schmeissers, two Brens, a Mauser and a Coltthen a case containing a weird but carefully selected hodge-podge of torches, mirrors, two sets of identity papers and, incredibly, bottles of Hock, Moselie, ouzo and retsima. Finally, and with exaggerated care, they stowed away for'ard in the forepeak two wooden boxes, one green in colour, medium sized and bound in brass, the other small and black. The green box held high explosive TN.T., amatol and a few standard sticks of dynamite, together with grenades, gun-cotton primers and canvas hosing; in one corner of the box was a bag of emery dust, another of ground glass, and a sealed jar of potassium, these last three items having been included against the possibility of Dusty Miller's finding an opportunity to exercise his unique talents as a saboteur. The black box held only detonators, percussion and electrical, detonators with fulminates so unstable that their exposed powder could be triggered off by the impact of a falling feather. The last box had been stowed away when Casey Brown's head appeared above the engine hatch. Slowly he examined the mainmast reaching up above his head, as slowly turned for'ard to look at the foremast. His face carefully expressionless, he looked at Mallory. "Have we got sails for these things, sir?" "I suppose so. Why?" "Because God only knows we're going to need them!" Brown said bitterly. "Have a look at the engine-room, you said. This isn't an engine-room. It's a bloody scrapyard. And the biggest, most rusted bit of scrap down there is attached to the propeller shaft. And what do you think it is? An old Kelvin two-cylinder job built more or less on my own doorstepabout thirty years ago." Brown shook his head in despair, his face as stricken as only a Clydeside engineer's can be at the abuse of a beloved machine. "And it's been falling to bits for years, sir. Place is littered with discarded bits and spares. I've seen junk heaps off the Gallowgate that were palaces compared to this." "Major Rutledge said it was running only yesterday," Mallory said mildly. "Anyway, come on ashore. Breakfast. Remind me we're to pick up a few heavy stones on the way back, will you?" "Stones!" Miller looked at him in horror. "Aboard that thing?" Mallory nodded, vivitar v5188 5mp digital camera smiling. "But that gawddamned ship is sinkin' already!" Miller protested. "What do you want stones for?" "Wait and see." Three hours later Miller saw. The caique was chugging steadily north over a glassy, windless sea, less than a mile off the coast of Turkey, when he mournfully finished lashing his blue battledress into a tight ball and heaved it regretfully over the side. Weighted by the heavy stone he had carried aboard, it was gone from sight in a second. Morosely he surveyed himself in the mirror propped up against the for'ard end of the wheelhouse. Apart from a deep violet sash wrapped round his lean middle and a fancifully embroidered waistcoat with its former glory mercifully faded, be was dressed entirely in black. Black lacing jackboots, black baggy trousers, black shirt and black jacket: even his sandy hair had been dyed to the same colour. He shuddered and turned away. "Thank Gawd the boys back home can't see me now!" he said feelingly. He looked critically at the others, dressed, with some minor variations, like himself. "Waal, mebbe I ain't quite so bad after all. . . . Just what is all this quick-change business for, boss?" "They tell me you've been behind the German lines twice, once as a peasant, once as a mechanic." Mallory heaved his own ballasted uniform over the side. "Well, now you see what the well-dressed Navaronian wears." "The double change, I meant Once in the plane, and now." "Oh, I see. Army khaki and naval whites in Alex., blue battledress in Casteirosso and now Greek clothes? Could have beenalmost certainly weresnoopers in Alex. or Casteirosso or Major Rutledge's island. And we've changed from launch to plane to M.T.B. to caique. Covering our tracks, Corporal. We just can't take any chances." Miller nodded, looked down at the clothes sack at his feet, wrinkled his brows in puzzlement, stooped and dragged out the white clothing that had caught his eye. He held up the long, voluminous clothes for inspection. "To be used when passing through the local cemeteries, I suppose." He was heavily ironic. "Disguised as ghosts." "Camouflage," Mallory explained succinctly. "Snowsmocks." "What!" "Snow. That white stuff. There are some pretty high mountains in Navarone, and

"Where shall we our breakefast take?"

on the neat brown bottle in the cold chest. She flipped the top off and let the midbrown brew slowly descend into an appropriate beaker. The malty scent that rose to her nostrils suggested good things to come. And about time, too, she said, scooping up a random selection of nibbles and sinking into the nearest comfortable seat. To absent friends! She lifted her beaker high then took her first sip. She regarded the brew with respect and delight. Could Bascum possibly have come from Yarra? she asked herself. This might not be so bad an assignment after all! Chapter 6 By the time the quick Optherian sunset had finished its evening display, Killashandra had sampled nine beverages, wishing she had someone with whom to share the largesse, especially since there was a prohibition against it. Which brought Corish to mind, and that mythical uncle of his. Unless she could discover how much surveillance she would be having from her discreet quartette and how easy it would be to outwit it she didnt want to risk meeting him. Would they think it odd if she left a message in at the Piper Facility? Corish had considerably piqued her curiosity and she was somewhat motivated by a desire to show him that two could play the exploitation gambit. Someone tapped on her apartment door and, when Mirbethan entered on her permission, Killashandra caught the shade of uncertainty in the Optherians manner. Since youre not accompanied by any priss-mouthed ancients, you are welcome. And if that excuse for a meal is a state dinner here, no wonder youre a lean bunch. Mirbethan flushed. Since Elder Pentrom graciously accepted our invitation, we are obliged to cater to his dietary preferences. Didnt Elder Ampris mention this to you? He failed to put me in the know. However. all this, and Killashandra waved expansively at the beverage tables load, makes up for that deficiency, though solid food would assist my investigations There was no time to show you the catering facility. Mirbethan glided to one of the discreet wall cabinets. Its doors opened on a catering unit. Alcoholic beverages are not included. Students have a distressing aptitude for breaking restricted codes. Killashandra decided that she merely thought she detected a note of tolerant humor in Mirbethans voice. That is why we have supplied you with a sampling of the available intoxicants. In spite of Elder Pentrom. Mirbethan cast her eyes distorted image on digital camera downward. Tell me, Mirbethan, would you happen to know if Bascum the brewmaster originated from the planet Yarra? Bascum? Mirbethan looked up, startled, and confused. When Killashandra waved the long-emptied bottle at her, she blushed. Oh, that Bascum. Now she glided to a second ornate cabinet which opened into a full size terminal, and a panel in the wall slid aside to reveal a large screen. She typed an entry as Killashandra made a private wager. Why, how under the suns did you know? The best brewmasters in the galaxy hail from that planet. I havent sampled everything yet, Killashandra went on, but I shall be very well suited indeed if youll undertake to keep me supplied with Bascums brew. As you require, Guildmember. But for now, the concert is about to start in the Red Hall. Only the single manual organ, but the performer was last years prize winner. Killashandra was tempted, but she was a shade hungrier and drier than she liked to be. The Elders are present? When Mirbethan solemnly nodded, Killashandra sighed deeply. Convey my apologies on the grounds of travel fatigue and the stress of metabolic readjustment after the assault and the wound. Killashandra ran the silk up her arm, exposing her shoulder where only a thin red line gave evidence of an injury. Mirbethans eyes widened significantly and then, with a subtle shift, she inclined a bow to Killashandra. Your apologies will be conveyed. Call code MBT 14 if you require any further assistance from myself, Thyrol. Pirinio, or Polabod. Killashandra wished her a pleasant evening and Mirbethan withdrew. As soon as the door had closed on the woman, Killashandra discarded her languor and made for the catering unit. Once again, Optherian peculiarities inhibited her, for when she called up a menu, there was no scrolling of delectable, mouthwatering selections but a set dinner, with only three choices for the main course. She opted for all three, and immediately the catering unit queried her. She repeated her request and, when the unit wanted to know how many were dining, she tapped in three. At which point the unit informed her that the apartment was recorded as having a single occupant. She replied that she had guests. Their names and codes were required. She responded with the names of Elders Pentrom and Ampris, codes unknown. The food was promptly dispensed, two of the meager servings that she had observed in the dining hall. Fortunately the third one was substantial

"O thine apparel is good," he said,

weakly and hoped that the contorted pain on his face might be mistaken for fury. "You two-faced, double-crossing dago! You gawddamned swine, I'll get you . . ." There was a hollow, sickening thud and Miller collapsed in the snow: the heavy ski-boot had caught him just behind the ear. Mallory said nothing. He did not even glance at Miller. Fists balled helplessly at his sides and mouth compressed, he glared steadily at Andrea through narrowed slits of eyes. He knew the lieutenant was watching him, felt he must back Andrea up all the way. What Andrea intended he could not even begin to guessbut he would back him to the end of the world. "So!" Turzig murmured thoughtfully. "Thieves fall out, eh?" Mallory thought he detected the faintest overtones of doubt, of hesitancy, in his voice. But the lieutenant was taking no chances. "No matter, fat one. You have cast your lot with these assassins. What is it the English say? 'You have made your bed, you must lie on it.'" He looked at Andrea's vast bulk dispassionately. "We may need to strengthen a special gallows for you." "No, no, no!" Andrea's voice rose sharply, fearfully, on the last word. "It is true what I tell you! I am not one of them, Lieutenant Turzig, before God I am not one of them!" He swung his hands in distress, his great moon-face contorted in anguish. "Why must I die for no fault of my own? I didn't want to come. I am no fighting man, Lieutenant Turzig!" "I can see that," Turzig said dryly. "A monstrous deal of skin to cover a quivering jelly-bag your size and every inch of it precious to you." He looked at Mallory, and at Miller, still lying face down in the snow. "I cannot congratulate your friends on their choice of companion." "I can tell you everything, Lieutenant, I can tell you everything!" Andrea pressed forward excitedly, eager to consolidate his advantage, to reinforce the beginnings of doubt. "I am no friend of the AlliesI will prove it to youand then perhaps" "You damned Judas!" Mallory made to fling himself forward, but two burly soldiers caught him and pointed his arms from behind. He struggled briefly, then relaxed, looked balefully at Andrea. "If you dare to open your mouth, I promise you you'll never live to" "Be quiet!" Turzig's voice was very cold. "I have had enough of recriminations, of cheap melodrama. Another word and you join your friend in the snow there." He looked at him a moment in silence, then swung back to Andrea. "I promise nothing. I will hear what you have to say." He made no attempt to disguise the repugnance in his voice. "You information on nikons d3 digital camera must judge for yourself." A nice mixture of relief, earnestness and the dawn of hope, of returning confidence. Andrea paused a minute and gestured dramatically at Mallory, Miller and Brown. "These are no ordinary soldiersthey are Jellicoe's men, of the Special Boat Service!" "Tell me something I couldn't have guessed myself," Turzig growled. "The English Earl has been a thorn in our flesh these many months past. If that is all you have to tell me, fat one" "Wait!" Andrea held up his hand. "They are stili no ordinary men but a specially picked forcean assault unit, they call themselvesflown last Sunday night from Alexandria to Casteirosso. They left that same night from Castelrosso in a motor-boat." "A torpedo boat," Turzig nodded. "So much we know already. Go on." "You know already! But how?" "Never mind how. Hurry up!" "Of course, Lieutenant, of course." Not a twitch in his face betrayed Andrea's relief. This had been the only dangerous point in his story. Nicolai, of course, had warned the Germans, but never thought it worth while mentioning the presence of a giant Greek in the party. No reason, of course, why he should have selected him for special mentionbut if he had done so, it would have been the end. "The torpedo boat landed them somewhere in the islands, north of Rhodes. I do not know where. There they stole a caique, sailed it up through Turkish waters, met a big German patrol boatand sunk it." Andrea paused for effect. "I was less than hail a mile away at the time in my fishing boat." Turzig leaned forward. "How did they manage to sink so big a boat?" Strangely, he didn't doubt that it had been sunk. "They pretended to be harmless fishermen like myself. I had just been stopped, investigated and cleared," Andrea said virtuously. "Anyway, your patrol boat came alongside this old caique. Close alongside. Suddenly there were guns firing on both sides, two boxes went flying through the airinto the engine-room of your boat, I think. Pouf!" Andrea threw up his hands draniatically. "That was the end of that!" "We wondered.. ." Turzig said softly. "Well, go on." "You wondered what, Lieutenant?" Turzig's eyes narrowed and Andrea hurried on. "Their interpreter had been killed in the

"O thine apparel is good," he said,

beside him, kissing her half-formed protest into silence. His eyes were unsmiling as he then gently stroked her cheek. My dear girl, with those bruises on you, Id be hauled up in front of the Island Court and charged with rape. What about the marks on you? You resisted my improper advances And you made enough of those Precisely what the bruises say. So, since I have a reputation to maintain in this community, we will remain secluded. He emphasized this decision with a gentle kiss. Then he stroked her hair back from her forehead his fingers lingering in the soft gold-streaked mass. I dont wish to share you yet, share even the sight of you with anyone. If I believed the ancient tales of witchcraft, sorcery, and enchantment, Id name you witch, so I would. But youre not though I am completely spell-bound .. His fingers became insistent, and his expression was an urgent appeal. Dyou think you could possibly bear me if Im very careful She chuckled and linked hands behind his head to bring his lips to hers. The fishers were long gone before they finally got around to fishing. Together they waded out through the gentle tide. Stay here, Carrigana, Lars directed, and make a basin of your skirt. She did, first wringing water from the voluminous folds. Lars was thigh deep in the water when he suddenly bent down and scooping with both hands sent water, and fish, flying at her. She missed the first lot, laughing at her ineptitude, but neatly caught two fish in the second. After three more catches, she had to hold up her skirt lest the active yellowbacks flip out. Lars splashed back to inspect her catch, grinning at his success and her bemusement. This ones too small. He released it. Two, four, six, seven. How many can you eat? Shall I get more? Before she could answer, he dove back toward his vantage point, and peered down into the clear water. With one last mighty heave, three big yellowbacks were sent flying in her direction. She cheered when she caught them in her skirt, closing the makeshift net and running awkwardly through the wavelets to the shore before any of the squirming fish could escape. Helping her secure the bundle, Lars laughingly escorted her back to the bushes surrounding their secluded clearing. You clean em and Ill get firing, and see what else I can scrounge, he said digital camera pocket review as he held the bushes back for her to enter. Gutting fish was not one of Killashandras favorite chores, but she had finished half the catch before she realized it, washing them clean in the little brook. Lars was back as she slit the last one. In one crooked arm, he held twisted polly fronds that provided a quick hot fire, and another basket swung from his right hand. He found rocks by the stream to enclose their fire, hauled a frying sheet from the basket, and set out oil, seasonings bread, fruit, and another pot of the soft island cheese. The quick tropical night had settled upon the island, enclosing them more securely in their clearing as they finished their supper, licking the last of the juices from their fingers. Going to be nice to me? Lars asked, leering dramatically at her. Maybe Ill just stay in the islands. Killashandra surprised herself with the longing in her voice. Theres all I could possibly need just for the taking Even me? Killashandra looked up at him. Despite his light words, his voice held a curious entreaty. I would be a right foolish dolt to consider you part of the taking. She meant it, for quixotic though the man might appear, she sensed that Lars had an unshakeable integrity which she, or any other woman, would have to recognize and accept. We could stay in the islands, Carrigana, and make a go of the charter service. Lars, too, was caught in the same thrall which infected her resolve. Sailings never dull. The weather sees to that. It could be a good life, and I promise you wouldnt have to hack polly! His fingers caressed her hands. Lars She had to set the record fair. He covered her lips with his hand. No, beloved, this is not the time for life-shaping decisions. This is the time for loving. Love me again! Chapter 12 The idyll lasted another full day and into the early morning of the third, during which time Killashandra would have been quite willing to forego all the prestige of being a crystal singer to remain Larss companion. A totally impossible, improbable, and impractical ambition. But she had every intention of enjoying his companionship as long as it was physically possible. She was haunted

If thou offerst to touch the string.

murder glaring out from the coal-black eyes. Never before had Mallory seen such malignity in a human face, a malignity that yielded abruptly to shocked pain and disbelief as the .32 bullet smashed into his upper arm, just below the shoulder. "Two seconds and then the other arm," Miller said woodenly. But Panayis was already tearing off his jacket, the dark, bestial eyes never leaving Miller's face. Mallory looked at him, shivered involuntarily, looked at Miller. Indifference, he thought, that was the only word to describe the look on the American's face. Indifference. Unaccountably, Mallory felt colder than ever. "Turn round!" The automatic never wavered. Slowly Panayis turned round. Miller stepped forward, caught the black shirt by the collar, ripped it off his back with one convulsive jerk. "Waal, waal, now, whoever woulda thought it?" Miller drawled. "Surprise, surprise, surprise! Remember, boss, this was the character that was publicly flogged by the Germans in Crete, flogged until the white of his ribs showed through. His back's in a heliuva state, isn't it?" Mallory looked but said nothing. Completely off balance, his mind was in a kaleidoscopic whirl, his thoughts struggling to adjust themselves to a new set of circumstances, a complete reversal of all his previous thinking. Not a scar, not a single blemish, marked the dark smoothness of that skin. "Just a natural quick healer," Miller murmured. "Only a nasty, twisted mind like mine would think that he had been a German agent in Crete, became known to the Allies as a fifth columnist, lost his usefulness to the Germans and was shipped back to Navarone by fast motor-launch under cover of night. Floggin'! Islandhoppin' his. way back here in a rowboat! Just a lot of bloody eyewash!" Miller paused, and his mouth twisted. "I wonder how many pieces of silver he made in Crete before they got wise to him?" "But heavens above, man, you're not going to condemn someone just for shooting a line!" Mallory protested. Strangely, he didn't feel nearly as vehement as he sounded. "How many survivors would there be among the Allies if" "Not convinced yet, huh?" Miller waved his automatic negligently at Panayis. "Roll up the left trouser leg, Iscariot. Two seconds again." Panayis did as he was told. The black, venomous eyes never looked away from Miller's. He rolled the dark cloth up to the knee. "Farther yet? That's my little boy," Miller, encouraged him. "And now take that bandage offright off." A few seconds passed, then Miller shook c160 camera digital driver jenoptik his head sadly. "A ghastly wound, boss, a ghastly wound!" "I'm beginning to see your point," Mallory said thoughtfully. The dark sinewy leg wasn't even scratched. "But why on earth" "Simple. Four reasons at least. Junior here is a treacherous, slimy bastardno self -respectin' rattlesnake would come within a mile of himbut he's a clever bastard. He faked his leg so he could stay in the cave in the Devil's Playground when the four of us went back to stop the Alpenkorps from comin' up the slope below the carob grove." "Why? Frightened he'd stop something?" Miller shook his head impatiently. "Junior here's scared o' nothin'. He stayed behind to write a note. Later on he used his leg to drop behind us some place, and leave the note where it could be seen. Early on, this must have been. Note probably said that we would come out at such and such a place, and would they kindly send a welcomin' committee to meet us there. They sent it, remember: it was their car we swiped to get to town.. . . That was the first time I got real suspicious of the boy-friend: after he'd dropped behind he made up on us again real quicktoo damn' quick for a man with a game leg. But it wasn't till I opened the rucksack in the square this evenin' that I really knew." "You only mentioned two reasons," Mallory prompted. "Comin' to the others. Number threehe could fall behind when the welcomin' committee opened up in frontIscariot here wasn't goin' to get himself knocked off before he collected his salary. And number fourremember that real touchin' scene when he begged you to let him stay at the far end of the cave that led into the valley we came out? Goin' to do his Horatio-on-thebridge act?" "Going to show them the right cave to pick, you mean." "Check. After that he was gettin' pretty desperate. I still wasn't sure, but I was awful suspicious, boss. Didn't know what he might try next. So I clouted him good and hard when that last patrol came up the valley." "I see," Mallory said quietly. "I see indeed." He looked sharply at Miller. "You should have told me. You had no right" "I was goin' to, boss. But I hadn't a chanceJunior here was around all the time. I was just startin' to tell you half an hour back, when the guns started up." Mallory nodded in

Till envy, with malignant grasp,

the maelstrom of thoughts and emotions that whirled through my mind in the ninety seconds that elapsed before Jackstraw and I stood once more in incredulous safety on the trail above. They ranged from hope to bafflement to wild relief to the conviction that Corazzini was playing a cat-and-mouse game with us, and no one thought was in my mind for more than seconds at a time. Even when I was safe, I still didn't know what to think, the overwhelming relief and gladness and reaction blotted out everything. I was trembling violently, and although Corazzini must have noticed it he affected not to. He stepped forward and handed me the Beretta, butt first. "You're a mite careless about where you stow your armoury, Doc. I've known for a long time where you kept this. But I guess it may have been fairly useful these last few minutes." "Butbut why-?" "Because I've got a damned good job and a chair behind a vice-president's desk waiting for me in Glasgow," he snapped. "I'd appreciate the chance to sit in that chair some day." Without another word, he turned away. I knew what he meant, all right. I knew we owed him our lives. Corazzini was as convinced as I that someone had engineered the whole thing. It didn't require any thought at all to guess who that someone was. My first thought was for Jackstraw. Jackstraw with a broken arm was going to make things very difficult for me: it might well make things quite impossible. But when I'd worked his parka off it required only one glance at the unnatural twist of the left arm to see that though Jackstraw had had every excuse for thinking his arm gone, it was, in fact, an elbow dislocation. He made no murmur and his face remained quite expressionless as I manipulated the bone back into the socket, but the wide white grin that cracked his face immediately afterwards was proof enough of his feelings. I walked over to where Helene Fleming sat on the sledge, still shaking from the shock, Mrs Dansby-Gregg and Margaret Ross doing their best to soothe her. The uncharitable thought struck me that it was probably the first time that Mrs Dansby-Gregg had ever tried to soothe anyone, but I was almost ashamed of the thought as soon as it had occurred to me. "That was a close call, young lady," I said to Helene. "But all's well.. . . Any more bones broken, eh?" I tried to speak jocularly, but it didn't sound very convincing. "No, Dr Mason." She gave a long shuddering sigh. "I don't know how to thank you and Mr Nielsen" "Don't try," I kodak easy share digital camera cx7430 advised. "Who pushed you?" "What?" She stared at me. "You heard, Helene. Who did it?" "Yes, I -1 was pushed," she murmured reluctantly. "But it was an accident, I know it was." "Who?" I persisted. "It was me," Solly Levin put in. He was twisting his hands nervously. "Like the lady said, Doc, it was an accident. I guess I kinda stumbled. Someone tapped my heels and" "Who tapped your heels?" "For cryin' out loud!" I'd made no attempt to hide the cold disbelief in my voice. "What would I want to do a thing like that for?" "Suppose you tell me," I said, and turned away, leaving him to stare after me. Zagero stepped in my way, but I brushed roughly past him and went up towards the tractor. On the sled behind I saw the Rev. Smallwood sitting nursing a bleeding mouth. Corazzini was apologising to him. "I'm sorry, Reverend, I'm really and truly sorry. I didn't for a moment think you were one of them, but I couldn't afford to take any chances back there. I hope you understand, Mr Smallwood." Mr Smallwood did, and was suitably Christian and forgiving. But I didn't wait to hear the end of it. I wanted to get through the Vindeby Nunataks, and get through with as little loss of time as possible, preferably before it became dark. There was something that I knew now that I had to do, and as soon as possible: but I didn't want to do it while we were all teetering on the edge of that damned crevasse. We were through without further incident and at the head of that long almost imperceptible slope that fell away for thousands of feet towards the ice-bare rocks of the Greenland coast, before the last of the noon twilight had faded from the sky. I halted the tractor, spoke briefly to Jackstraw, told Margaret Ross to start thawing out some corned beef for our belated mid-day meal, and had just seen Mahler, now semi-conscious, and Marie LeGarde once again safely ensconced in the tractor cabin when Margaret Ross came up to me, her brown eyes troubled. "The tins, Dr Masonthe corned beef. I can't find them." "What's that? The bully? They can't be far away, Margaret." It was the first time I'd called her that, but my thoughts had

I needs must acknowledge thou art a brave soul;

an hour Mallory and the three Greeks huddled over the chart in the light of the flames, Mallory checking on what he had been told, meticulously pencilling in all the fresh information that Panayis had to give himand Panayis had a very great deal to tell. It seemed almost impossible that a man could have assimilated so much in two brief visits to the fortress and clandestine visits in the darkness, at that. He had an incredible eye and capacity for detail; and it was a burning hatred of the Germans, Mallory felt certain, that bad imprinted these details on an all but photographic memory. Mallory could feel his hopes rising with every second that passed. 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 neededand very efficient help at thatfrom 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 nothingor 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 camera casio digital exz600 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 patrolsI 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 thisbut 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

"I scorn, Wherefore my long bow I '11 lay by;

protection of the steep-walled cliffs. "A desperate battle, boss, but the better men won." Miller was on his feet now, clinging to a mounted gun for support as the deck canted away beneath his feet. "My grandchildren shall hear of this." "Guards probably all up searching the town. Or maybe there were some poor blokes behind these searchlights. Or maybe we just took 'em all by surprise." Mallory shook his head. "Anyway you take it, we're just plain damn' lucky." He moved aft, into the wheelhouse. Brown was at the wheel, Louki almost crowing with delight "That was magnificent, Casey," Mallory said sincerely. "A first-class job of work. Cut the engine when we come to the end of the cliffs. Our job's done. I'm going ashore." "You don't have to, Major." Mallory turned. "What's that?" "You don't have to. I tried to tell you on the way down, but you kept telling me to be quiet." Louki sounded injured, turned to Casey. "Slow down, please. The last thing Andrea told me, Major, was that we were to come this way. Why do you think he let himself be trapped against the cliffs to the north instead of going out into the country, where he could have hidden easily." "Is this true, Casey?" Mallory asked. "Don't ask me, sir. Those twothey always talk. in Greek." "Of course, of course." Mallory looked at the low cliffs close off the starboard beam, barely moving now with the engine shut right down, looked back at Louki. "Are you quite sure . . ." He stopped in mid-sentence, jumped out through the wheelhouse door. The splashthere had been no mistaking the noise-had come from almost directly ahead. Mallory, Miller by his side, peered into the darkness, saw a dark head surfacing above the water less than twenty feet away, leaned far over with outstretched arm as the launch slid slowly by. Five seconds later Andrea stood on the deck, dripping mightily and beaming all over his great moon face. Mallory led him straight into the wheelhouse, switched on the soft light of the shaded chartlamp. "By all that's wonderful, Andrea, I never thought to see you again. How did it go?" "I will soon tell you," Andrea laughed. "Just after" "You've been wounded!" Miller interrupted. "Your shoulder's kinda perforated." He pointed to the red stain digital cameras xray machines airport spreading down the sea-soaked jacket "Well, now, I believe I have." Andrea affected vast surprise. "Just a scratch, my friend." "Oh, sure, sure, just a scratch! It would be the same if your arm had been blown off. Come on down to the cabinthis is just a kindergarten exercise for a man of my medical skill." "But the captain" "Will have to wait. And your story. Ol' Medicine Man Miller permits no interference with his patients. Come on!" "Very well, very well," Andrea said docilely. He shook his head in mock resignation, foliowed Miller out of the cabin. Brown opened up to full throttle again, took the launch north almost to Cape Demirci to avoid any hundred to one chance the harbour batteries might make, turned due east for a few miles then headed south into the Maidos Straits. Mallory stood by his side in the wheelhouse, gazing out over the dark, still waters. Suddenly he caught a gleam of white in the distance, touched Brown's arm and pointed for'ard. "Breakers ahead, Casey, I think. Reefs, perhaps?" Casey looked in long silence, finally shook his head. "Bow-wave," he said unemotionally. "It's the destroyers coming through." CHAPTER 17 Midnight Commander Vincent Ryan, R.N., Captain (Destroyers) and Commanding officer of His Majesty's latest Sclass destroyer Sirdar, looked round the cramped chart- room and tugged thoughtfully at his magnificent Captain Kettle beard. A scruffier, a more villainous, a more cut and battered-looking bunch of hard cases he had never seen, he reflected, with the possible exception of a Bias Bay pirate crew he had helped round up when a very junior officer on the China Station. He looked at them more closely, tugged his beard again, thought there was more to it than mere scruffiness. He wouldn't care to be given the task of rounding this lot up. Dangerous, highly dangerous, he mused, but impossible to say why, there was only this quietness, this relaxed watchfulness that made him feel vaguely uncomfortable. His "hatchetmen," Jensen had called them: Captain Jensen picked his killers well. "Any of you gentlemen care to go below," he suggested. "Plenty of hot water, dry clothesand warm bunks. We won't be using them to-night." "Thank you

"That's well jumpt, thou nimble old man."

balance, overcame scruples and suspicions. "There are only three of us," he said grudgingly. "Three it is," Mallory said cheerfully. "We'll bring you some Hock next time we return." He tilted his own bottle. "Prosit!" he said, an islander proud of airing his German, and then, more proudly still, "Auf Wiedersehen!" The boy murmured something in return. He stood hesitating for a moment, slightly shame-faced, then wheeled abruptly, walked off slowly along the river bank, clutching his bottles of Moselle. "So!" Mallory said thoughtfully. "There are only three of them. That should make things easier" "Well done, sir!" It was Stevens who interrupted, his voice warm, his face alive with admiration. "Jolly good show!" "Jolly good show!" Miller mimicked. He heaved his lanky length over the coaming of the engine hatchway. "'Good' be damned! I couldn't understand a gawddamned word, but for my money that rates an Oscar. That was terrific, boss!" "Thank you, one and all," Mallory murmured. "But I'm afraid the congratulations are a bit premature." The sudden chill in his voice struck at them, so that their eyes aligned along his pointing finger even before he went on. "Take a look," he said quietly. The young soldier had halted suddenly about two hundred yards along the bank, looked into the forest on his left in startled surprise, then dived in among the trees. For a moment the watchers on the boat could see another soldier, talking excitedly to the boy and gesticulating in the direction of their boat, and then both were gone, lost in the gloom of the forest. "That's torn it!" Mallory said softly. He turned away. "Right, that's enough. Back to where you were. It would look fishy if we ignored that incident altogether, but it would look a damned sight fishier if we paid too much attention to it. Don't let's appear to be holding a conference." Miller slipped down into the engine-room with Brown, and Stevens went back to the little for'ard cabin. Mallory and Andrea remained on deck, bottles in their hands. The rain had stopped now, completely, but the wind was still rising, climbing the scale with imperceptible steadiness, beginning to bend the tops of the tallest of the pines. Temporarily the bluff was affording them almost complete protection. Mallory deliberately shut his mind to what it must be like outside. They had to put out to seaSpandaus permittingand that was that. "What do you think has happened, sir?" Stevens's voice carried up from the gloom of the cabin. "Pretty hp 720 digital camera owner27s manual obvious, isn't it?" Mallory asked. He spoke loudly enough for all to hear. "They've been tipped off. Don't ask me how. This is the second timeand their suspicions are going to be considerably reinforced by the absence of a report from the caique that was sent to investigate us. She was carrying a wireless aerial, remember?" "But why should they get so damned suspicious all of a sudden?" Miller asked. "It doesn't make sense to me, boss." "Must be in radio contact with their H.Q. Or a telephone-probably a telephone. They've just been given the old tic-tac. Consternation on all sides." "So mebbe they'll be sending a small army over from their H.Q. to deal with us," Miller said lugubriously.. Mallory shook his head definitely. His mind was working quickly and well, and he felt oddly certain, confident of himself. "No, not a chance. Seven miles as the crow flies. Ten, maybe twelve miles over rough hill and forest tracks and in pitch darkness. They wouldn't think of it." He waved his bottle in the direction of the watch-tower. "To-night's their big night." "So we can expect the Spandaus to open up any minute?" Again the abnormal matter-of -factness of Stevens's voice. Mallory shook his head a second time. "They won't. I'm positive of that. No matter how suspicious they may be, how certain they are that we're the big bad wolf, they are going to be shaken to the core when that kid tells them we're carrying papers and letters of authority signed by General Graebel himself. For all they know, curtains for us may be the firing squad for them. Unlikely, but you get the general idea. So they're going to contact H.Q., and the commandant on a small island like this isn't going to take a chance on rubbing out a bunch of characters who may be the special envoys of the Herr General himself. So what? So he codes a message and radios it to Vathy in Samos and bites his nails off to the elbow till a message comes back saying Graebel has never heard of us and why the hell haven't we all been shot dead?" Mallory looked at the luminous dial of his watch. "I'd say we have at least half an hour." "And meantime we all sit around with our little bits of paper and pencil and write out our last wills and testaments." Miller scowled. "No percentage in that, boss. We gotta do somethin'." Mallory grinned.