Greek Fire

  His second in command came bustling into the room fastening the top button of his tunic. “Sir?”

  “Have you done anything more to check that plumber’s report on Flat 4, Number 11, Baronou Street?”

  “No, sir. I thought you were satisfied. You gave no instructions.”

  Kolono stared his subordinate down. “Everything in this department I have to do myself, it seems. No one has the initiative to stir a finger; I wonder how you live in your own houses; are you spoon-fed, dressed and washed? … Telephone to the offices of Aegis and ask if the penknives which were presented to guests on Tuesday night were given to everyone, especially if it is remembered whether Mlle Stonaris received one. And I want to see that plumber. Also get me Mr. Manos on the other line.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  The man went out, and Kolono rubbed his little black moustache and belched. A routine inquiry; but Manos would be able to tell him whether Mlle Stonaris still retained any power, whether it would be permissible to worry her a second time. It was a good policy while on the subject of Vanbrugh to ring the various branch stations for news. An inquiry would keep them up to scratch.

  He had finished with two stations and was lecturing a third when his assistant came into the room. Kolono slapped the phone down and said: “Well?”

  “Sir, penknives were given only to the gentlemen at the Anniversary Reception. The ladies received fountain pens.”

  Major Kolono felt a knot twist in his stomach, and it was not dyspepsia. “So.”

  His second in command waited patiently.

  “Mr. Manos?”

  “He is out of town, sir. He is expected back this evening.”

  Kolono said: “ How did it come about that Mlle Stonaris’s flat was searched in the first place? An anonymous report, wasn’t it?”

  “A phone call, sir. Late on Tuesday night.”

  “Nothing was found?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Who was the lieutenant who searched the flat?”

  “Andros, sir.”

  “Send for him at once.”

  Mme Lindos was a woman of resource. She had seen more wars through than she cared to remember, more civil upheavals and revolutions than she could count. She had suffered the loss of a husband and a son, weathered the storms, it seemed to her sometimes, of more than one lifetime. She could not have survived without great courage and resource and the constant exercise of them.

  When her cousin’s son-in-law, who happened to be Kolono’s second-in-command, called her on the telephone just as she was about to sit down to tea and gave her an urgent but guarded message, she didn’t get flustered or panic. She told Louisa to take the teapot back to the kitchen and to keep it warm, then she picked up the telephone. There was a certain risk attached to the use of the telephone, since the line might be tapped, but it was a risk that did not disturb her. She still had a few friends in exalted quarters.

  She also had one or two friends in Athens in a lowlier sphere, people whom she could trust, and she decided that now was a time when she must make use of them. She first telephoned the proprietor of a small garage whom she had helped to start in business ten years ago. Having talked with him she rang Anya. The line was engaged.

  This was the first point at which she showed some emotion. She lit a cigarette and got up from the telephone and limped across the room. Then she came back and tried again. Still the engaged note.

  It was now a matter of timing and carefully calculated risks. It might be that the line was being deliberately cut; or it might be that in five minutes she would still get through. Either event must be prepared for. She pulled across a pen and a piece of paper and tore off the address. Then she scribbled a few lines and put it in an envelope. She rang the bell.

  “I want you to take this round to Baronou Street. Deliver it only to Mlle Stonaris, who you remember came here on Tuesday night. And Louisa.…”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Take a basket with some flowers in. Take these flowers from the vases. Just put them in the basket as if you were delivering them. It is a matter of appearing you are going on ordinary business, not delivering a message, d’you understand.”

  Anya said: “ Darling, I am so afraid.”

  “What, now?”

  “Now more than ever. I have so much more to lose.”

  “Yes.… I felt that this morning.”

  “Did you? I didn’t know.”

  “Happiness is a maker of cowards. Who cares what you lose if you’ve nothing to lose? But maybe it also makes fighters who fight longer in the end.”

  “I feel over-burdened, frightened of the danger around us—now, at this moment.”

  “It’s not likely to have changed in two hours.”

  “It has for me.”

  “I mean literally.”

  “I wish you’d put the telephone back.”

  “Soon.”

  In the flat on the opposite side of the street someone had switched the radio on, but the music came to them diffused by distance, disembodied, remote.

  She stirred restlessly. “It is strange to be so happy and so unhappy at the same time. The heights are no higher for the existence of depths. I want no more than Parnassus.”

  “What’s that thing of Flecker’s? ‘We stood at last beyond the golden gate, Masters of Time and Fate, and knew the tune that Sun and Stars were singing.’ ”

  After a pause she said: “This afternoon several times, you have spoken to me in Greek. It was like something within yourself speaking, something deeper and more instinctive than your own tongue. That, I think, convinced me more than anything.…”

  “Of what?”

  “Of what I was most anxious to know. Gene.”

  “Yes?”

  “How will you ever clear yourself even if you do get away? How can you? It is impossible without some help from this girl. Even then you would be guilty as an accessory. Will she be out of the country yet?”

  “Today, I should think.”

  “I have this feeling, as if something terrible is going to happen, as if our happiness is already fated. It’s a premonition. God, that one should be so morbid! It must stop.” She raised herself on one elbow and kissed him. “Tell me this fear is not true.’ ”

  Holding her, he said: “ Darling, it’s not true.”

  “I wish we could escape together.”

  “So do I.”

  “Do you know the Cyclades? I believe we might be forgotten there. They are hard and windy, but so beautiful. Hot with a lovely sea-heat in the summer, and shell-clear water, like Sounion. One can fish and swim and sit in the sun all day. I think there one could lose ambition, which destroys so much of the world.”

  “Do you like sailing?”

  “I have never done as much as I would want to. And you?”

  “We might try together.”

  “First we must get you out.”

  “And then you will join me.”

  She sighed. “It sounds so easy. But I think it will be safer in the South Seas.”

  “Yes, I might not need to wear a beard there.”

  She said: “Oh, Gene, there is no way, there is no way.…”

  “There is, there is,” he whispered. “ We will find it.”

  After a while she murmured in his ear: “The telephone.”

  “Right, soon.”

  “Now.”

  “Right.” The telephone by the bed did not work unless the other was connected, so he slid to his feet and padded out into the next room, put the telephone back on its rest, peered through the blind. The street was quiet but there were a few more people about, and cars moved up and down it. The sun was slanting, falling full upon the blinds, and the sala was warmer than the bedroom. The remains of the lunch they had eaten looked untidy and desolate. The little French clock said twenty-five minutes to five.

  He went back into the bedroom and found Anya dressing. He interrupted her.

  “So soon?”

  “I—ye
s. I feel safer. Is there anyone in the street?”

  “Not anyone who shouldn’t be there.”

  He held his face against hers. Her hair touched his forehead and he blew it away. She laughed.

  “We must have a wonderful dinner tonight, Gene.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “I will devise a menu. My mother taught me to cook, you’ll be surprised to know.”

  “Give me the key to your wine cellar,” he said. “Or have I already seen it?”

  “What?”

  “Your cellar. That’s where I hid on Tuesday night? I thought the white wines were rather warm.”

  She said laughing: “ I bought a lobster this morning. With pâté before it. Or is that too rich? A good soup.…”

  “I’ll risk the pâté. Darling, do you play that great piano in the next room?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then will you do that?”

  “Now?”

  “Sometime soon. You see, I don’t know you yet, and I want to get to know you.”

  She said: “And there are those things from the excavations at Sounion. I promised to show you them.”

  “We mustn’t over-crowd the evening.”

  She put on high-heeled mules of fine kid. He watched her.

  “Why not those bedroom slippers?”

  “I cannot bear to be sloppy.”

  He laughed. “But I am sloppy.”

  “No, you’re not. Not in the ways that matter. Your shirts, your shoes.…” She stopped. “Seriously, Gene.…”

  He laughed again. “How often have you said ‘seriously’ to me already?”

  “If you would speak Greek to me I should not have the habit. But Gene, this is really serious, really important. Last night, talking about the arrangements I had made for your escape, you said to me, ‘if you can do all this for me in a day, I wonder what you could do in a lifetime.’ ”

  “I meant it.”

  “But I want to say this now: if we have luck, if we have some life together even for a short time, I shall not try to organise it—not even with the help of Mme Lindos.”

  He said: “And in reply, seriously, if that happens, you can dictate your own terms. I shall be in no mood to bargain.”

  She stood up and buttoned the back of her dress. He went again to the window. The palm outside was rustling its leaves like a great elephantine fern; one huge frond almost brushed the window. On the other side of the street people were opening their shutters as the sun left them. The shutters immediately opposite were pale grey in a pink-washed house. A woman was brushing her hair, just seen as a pale arm moving regularly in the dark room.

  He turned and found Anya smiling at him. She said: “You’re wondering how I could live simply on an island if I can’t bear to be sloppy?”

  “I wasn’t, but I can if you want me to.”

  She said: “ It is not what one wears, darling, it is an attitude of mind. I’m sure I should not disgrace you in Tahiti.”

  He said: “ You have very quaint ideas of who is conferring the favour in all this. All I ask, when I write to you, is that you should come.”

  The telephone began to ring.

  They looked at each other. She slid out of his arms and went into the other room. From the doorway as he dressed he watched her.

  “Yes.… Who? … Oh.… Yes, he is here What is it?” All the laughter had gone from her face. She held out the telephone. “ It is Mme Lindos. For you.”

  He took the phone, his mind registering the incaution of these women. Then he heard that unmistakable dry voice, rather masculine over the phone.

  “Gene?”

  “Yes.”

  “You must go. The—the people who called for you on Tuesday night are coming for you again.”

  He felt what he had never felt before on his own behalf, a qualm of panic.

  “When?”

  “The message was a little indefinite—naturally. But I think immediately. I have been trying to telephone you for fifteen minutes.

  I think they will be round any moment. Now listen. Understand this carefully.”

  “Yes?”

  “In five minutes—if these people who are coming for you are not there before then—a taxi will draw up at the door. I do not know what sort it will be, but the young man driving it will be looking for you. Be in the doorway ready. The taxi will not stop its engine. As it draws up go out and jump in. The driver will help you as best he can. Is that clear?”

  “Yes. What are you——”

  “It is the best I could do in an emergency. It may already be too late. If my maid comes with a note before then, tell her to come straight back to me. I——”

  “Sophia, I cannot let you——”

  “You must be there waiting, for my friend will not stop. That is asking too much. He will tell you the rest. God go with you.”

  He spoke again but she had rung off.

  He put the phone back, turned to look at Anya who was standing tall and straight watching him.

  “I’m on my way out,” he said.

  He dressed like lightning, fishing out the old gladstone bag with his own clothes still unjettisoned, put on his spectacles, hat, talking to her.…

  “Don’t worry about me. Clear these things. Wash the glasses or break them. If they——”

  “Gene, what when you get in the car? Did she say nothing? …”

  “It’s up to me. And looking after yourself is up to you. If they find no traces of me here they can do nothing to you. Understand? Nothing. So don’t come down with me. Cigarette ends, remember. The newspapers on the piano. Look round the bedroom——”

  “What do I care about myself? How shall I hear from you? How shall I know you’re safe?”

  “No news, good news. But I warn you of one thing. If I get out you’ll hear as soon as I can let you know. You’ll never get clear of me now. Never. Understand?”

  She said indistinctly: “Food, wine; take something with you in that bag. Here, give it to me.…”

  While he unlocked the outer door and peered cautiously up and down the stairs she flew to the kitchen, found a small bottle of brandy—that and half the chicken and a piece of cheese and a stick of bread went in on top of the clothes. He was back at the window looking out. There was still no sign or sound of the police. But Mandraki was there now, leaning against a wall about thirty yards away on the opposite side.

  He took the bag from her and they went to the door.

  “No further. Wash those plates. Darling, darling, I must go.”

  “Remember me,” she said.

  They kissed. He said: “Anya.… Good-bye.”

  She kissed him, but couldn’t speak. Then he was gone, pattering down the stone stairs.

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Wait at the door. How long to wait at the door? Four minutes exact had passed since putting down the receiver. No taxi. Street empty. So it was a question of waiting. But which would come first, the taxi or the police car?

  Every second made danger more extreme. If the police came first he was caught without a hope. Sophia Lindos’s friend might not be as brave as she thought. Getting the request from her he would no doubt decide with a typical shrug: better have a breakdown, apologise to her afterwards, not really worth the risk of falling foul of the police. Perhaps he was smoking a cigarette now in his garage; pity, he’d think, I’d have liked to help the chap.

  Anya’s risk was increased too by this wait. They must accuse her if they found him here, on her doorstep. Better if Sophia hadn’t made any plan, left it to him. At least now he would be on his own. He wasn’t afraid of Mandraki. Shake him off. Or push him under a bus. He could fend for himself. Athens was his native ground. A dozen holes.

  A gypsy was coming down the street leading a brown bear on a chain. When he stopped, people at once began to gather round to watch. The romvia was still an attraction when he ventured into the city.

  Outside the taverna a lorry was delivering a barrel of resinated w
ine. A car came down the street, swerving round the lorry, and seemed about to stop. But it went on again, gears whining, turned a corner on its brakes. Someone in a hurry, but not for him.

  The gypsy wore a leather waistcoat over a green shirt with old brown breeches. He beat on his tambourine and the bear hoisted itself on its hind legs and began to shuffle laboriously round its master. A crowd was the perfect cover; but this crowd was too far away. But for Mandraki, of course, he could have gone across, and waited with the watching people, inconspicuous and fairly safe. To stand a chance he must go; it was suicide to stay in this doorway——

  … An elderly black taxi with yellow artillery wheels and yellow doors came purring up from the opposite direction. It slowed and almost stopped, moved on and came to a stop in front of the romvia. The driver was peering up at the numbers above the doors.

  Gene slid across the pavement in one streak and got in. The young man driving had curly brown hair and was wearing a boiler suit.

  “M. Vanbrugh?”

  Gene nodded and slammed the door and fell into the back as the car jerked violently and screamed out into the centre of the street. He didn’t look out of the back window but lay on the seat until the taxi had turned twice and was making downhill towards the centre of the town.

  When he looked behind there was nothing following. He leaned forward and said to the driver in Greek: “Thank you.”

  The driver grinned and switched down the ‘ libre’ flag. “Think nothing of it.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “Where do you wish to go?”

  “To Piraeus.”

  “Mme Lindos thought otherwise.”

  “What did she suggest?”

  “Nafplion. She said ask for Constantinos Salamis in the square beside the cinema.”

  “We can’t go all the way there in your taxi.”