"The first loud blast that he did blow,

There was nowhere else anyone could have gone. Must be a very popular port in a storm, thisa fact which must have become apparent to the Germans a long, long time ago. That's why I should have known they were almost bound to have a post here. However, spilt milk, as you say." He raised his voice. "Chief!" "Halo!" Brown's muffled voice carried faintly from the depths of the engine-room. "How's it going?" "Not too bad, sir. Assembling it now." Mallory nodded in relief. "How long?" he called. "An hour?" "Aye, easy, sir." "An hour." Again Mallory glanced through the tarpaulin, looked back at Andrea and Stevens. "Just about right. We'll leave in an hour. Dark enough to give us some protection from our friends up top, but enough light left to navigate our way out of this damned corkscrew of a channel." "Do you think they'll try to stop us, sir?" Stevens's voice was just too casual, too matter of fact. He was pretty sure Mallory would notice. "It's unlikely they'll line the banks and give us three hearty cheers," Mallory said dryly. "How many men do you reckon they'll have up there, Andrea?" "I've seen two moving around," Andrea said thoughtfully. "Maybe three or four altogether, Captain. A small post. The Germans don't waste men on these." "I think you're about right," Mallory agreed. "Most of them'll be in the garrison in the villageabout seven miles from here, according to the chart, and due west. It's not likely" He broke off sharply, stiffened in rigid attention. Again the call came, louder this time, imperative in its tone. Cursing himself for his negligence in not posting a guardsuch carelessness would have cost him his life in CreteMallory pulled the tarpaulin aside, clambered slowly on to the deck. He carried no arms, but a halfempty bottle of Moselle dangled from his left hand: as part of a plan prepared before they had left Alexandria, he'd snatched it from a locker at the foot of the tiny companionway. He lurched convincingly across the deck, grabbed at a stay in time to save himself from falling overboard. Insolently he stared down at the figure on the bank, less than ten yards awayit hadn't mattered about a guard, Mallory realised, for the soldier sony n2 digital camera carried his automatic carbine slung over his shoulderinsolently he tilted the wine to his mouth and swallowed deeply before condescending to talk to him. He could see the mounting anger in the lean, tanned face of the young German below him. Mallory ignored it. Slowly, an inherent contempt in the gesture, he dragged the frayed sleeve of his black jacket across his lips, looked the soldier even more slowly up and down in a minutely provocative inspection as disdainful as it was prolonged. "Well?" he asked truculently in the slow speech of the islands. "What the hell do you want?" Even in the deepening dusk he could see the knuckles whitening in the stock of the carbine, and for an instant Mallory thought he had gone too far. He knew he was in no dangerall noise in the engine-room had ceased, and Dusty Miller's hand was never far from his silenced automaticbut he didn't want trouble. Not just yet. Not while there were a couple of manned Spandaus in that watch-tower. With an almost visible effort the young soldier regained his control. It needed little help from the imagination to see the draining anger, the first tentative stirrings of hesitation and bewilderment. It was the reaction Mallory had hoped for. Greekseven half-drunken Greeksdidn't talk to their overlords like thatnot unless they had an overpoweringly good reason. "What vessel is this?" The Greek was slow and halting but passable. "Where are you bound for?" Mallory tilted the bottle again, smacked his lips in noisy satisfaction. He held the bottle at arm's length, regarded it with a loving respect. "One thing about you Germans," he confided loudly. "You do know how to make a fine wine. I'll wager you can't lay your hands on this stuff, eh? And the swill they're making up above"the island term for the mainland"is so full of resin that it's only good for lighting fires." He thought for a moment. "Of course, if you know the right people in the islands, they might let you have some ouzo. But some of us can get ouzo and the best Hocks and the best Moselles." The soldier wrinkled his face in disgust. Like almost every fighting man he despised Quislings, even when they were on his side: in Greece they were very few indeed. "I asked you a question," he said coldly. "What vessel, and where bound?" "The caique Aigion," Mallory replied loftily. "In ballast, for Samoa. Under orders," he said significantly. "Whose