Something moved behind him, and he froze. A rock against a rock. A pebble rolling down the hill, the noise almost immediately swallowed by the shrieking wind.
The sound did not come again, but McGarvey knew it hadn’t been his imagination. Someone was back there all right. Probably Theotokis or his bodyguard. Possibly one of Spranger’s people.
Still keeping low, but making no indication that he had heard something, he slipped over the crest of the hill, and a few yards on the other side, flattened himself behind an outcropping of rock, his pistol at his side.
A half minute later a figure dressed in black appeared at the top of the hill, hesitated just a moment, then started down.
McGarvey tensed. He wanted this one alive if possible. If he could learn the layout of the monastery and exactly where Kathleen and Elizabeth were being held it would be extremely helpful.
He pressed himself farther back into the deeper darkness as the black-suited figure came even with him. When the man passed, McGarvey stepped out, hooked his free arm around the man’s neck and pulled him down, laying the muzzle of the silencer against his cheek.
“Make a noise and I’ll kill you…? McGarvey was saying, when he recognized Bob Schade, Lipton’s man who’d wanted to tag along.
McGarvey released him, pointing the Walther away as he uncocked the hammer.
“Where is the rest of the team?”
“On the water where you left them,” Schade said, sitting up.
“How the hell did you get here?”
“I stowed away on the fishing boat.”
McGarvey’s eyes narrowed. “You followed me to the taverna?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How about up the mountain? How’d you find a vehicle?”
“I didn’t,” the young man said.
“Well how the hell did you get up here?”
“I ran.”
McGarvey sat back on his heels. “You ran,” he said, amazed. The kid wasn’t even out of breath.
“Yes, sir. But I met the two men who took you up here. They were barefoot and pretty well pissed off. Especially the big one.”
“Did you let them pass?”
“I would have, Mr. McGarvey, except I wasn’t expecting them, and they spotted me.
The old man ordered the other one to kill me. They both seemed to think it was important.”
McGarvey glanced reflexively toward the crest of the hill. “What happened?”
“I had to… eliminate them, sir.”
McGarvey looked sharply at the young man. “I didn’t hear any shots.”
“My weapon is silenced, sir. But I didn’t use it. I had to take them out by hand.
There wasn’t any time, or room.”
“I see,” McGarvey said, impressed. The kid was like a dangerous puppy: Innocent and eager, but deadly. “What about your military ID?”
Schade shrugged. “I must have lost it somewhere, I guess.”
“Lipton will have your ass.”
Again Schade shrugged. “I owe you one.”
“Well, there’s no doubt that you can take care of yourself,” McGarvey said. “But I want you to listen up now. Spranger is holding my wife and daughter to get at me.
But he’s not a stupid man. He’s kept his life and his freedom this long by meticulous planning and ruthlessness. Which means that he’s convinced himself that he’s going to kill me tonight, and then make his escape. He’s stacked the odds in his favor, and we’ve got no idea what preparations he’s made.”
“Yes, sir.” Schade looked very serious.
“But he’s going to make a mistake.”
“Sir?”
“He’s made this personal. He wants to kill me himself. Or he wants to be right there when I know I’ve lost.”
Sudden understanding dawned on Schade’s face. “You tossed the walkie-talkie overboard.
You talked to him?”
McGarvey nodded. “You still want in?”
“You bet,” Schade said eagerly.
“I want to take them out if we can do it without raising the alarm. Otherwise we’ll skirt their positions and take care of them on the way back out. Wherever they’re holding my wife and daughter will be booby-trapped. I want to get them out of there first.”
Schade nodded. He took out a long, wicked-looking dagger, the blade serrated along both edges, blood at the base of the haft, and headed out a few yards to McGarvey’s right, down the hill toward the cliffs. A second or two later McGarvey followed.
Within a couple hundred yards they were able to distinguish the deconsecrated church and a half-dozen other buildings, all of them substantially constructed of native stone, with steeply pitched roofs and battlements. In ancient times people took their religion seriously. This monastery was as much a fortress as it was a church. Faith had been defended here, and now the place was being used for the opposite purpose.
McGarvey pulled up short, motioning for Schade to do the same. He’d heard a muffled cough off to the left. For several long seconds he waited and watched, finally picking out a figure standing behind a pile of rocks that formed a ten-foot-tall obelisk.
The guard raised a rifle, equipped with what appeared to be a very large spotting scope, and pointed it up the hill toward the track from town.
Schade edged silently to McGarvey’s side and watched for a second or two. The guard’s position was about thirty feet from where they crouched.
“A night spotting scope?” he asked softly.
“I think so,” McGarvey whispered. “I want him out of there. Can you get in close enough to take him with your knife?”
“Yes, sir,” Schade said.
“Keep to his right. I’ll cover you from here. But I won’t fire unless there’s no other choice.”
“Right,” Schade replied, and he headed across, slowly, silently, like a night animal on the prowl with deadly intent.
There might be others watching, but this one had to be taken out. The starlight scope-equipped rifle made him too dangerous.
McGarvey switched the safety off, cocked the Walther’s hammer and centered his sights on the guard’s back. The pistol was silenced, but the sound could be heard and recognized for what it was at a respectable distance.
Fifteen feet out, Schade froze.
The guard stepped back, looked toward the church for a moment, then shook his head and leaned up against the obelisk. It was clear he was nervous, but he was probably also cold, wet, tired and bored.
Schade was stuck. The guard had only to turn his head slightly and he would be looking right at the young man.
But they had a second, potentially even more serious problem. The guard had looked up toward the church, as if he’d been looking for someone.
Another guard watching from a vantage point in the church? Even now that one could be taking a bead on Schade, who would show up in a night scope like a duck in a shooting gallery.
The guard behind the obelisk scratched his nose and started to turn away, when he evidently saw something out of the corner of his eye. He turned abruptly and looked directly at Schade.
For a second he was too startled to move, but the moment Schades knife hand began to come up, the spell was broken and the man opened his mouth to shout a warning as he brought the Russian-made Kalashnikov assault rifle around.
