'Where?' asked Marler in his direct way.
Spyros pointed to the gully with his knife. The rocky gulch lay about two hundred yards away. Shielding his eyes, Marler gazed up at the towering mountain above them.
'What in Hades is that?'
Newman stared up. At the summit of Mount Ida, clinging to the edge of the rock, was perched a huddle of ancient buildings. Built of solid stone, one shallow-roofed building was hanging above another, perched at different levels and all joined in one complex.
'The monastery of Mount Ida,' Spyros told them. 'From there you see all over the island. During the war the German general, Hugo Geiger, established a lookout unit. He respected the monks. He said someone should live in peace in this frightful war.'
'Where?' Marler repeated again. 'Where exactly did this Andreas Gavalas die?'
'Inside the gully.' Spyros pointed the knife. 'I will show you the place…'
'Not yet.' Marler placed a hand on the old man's shoulder as he began to walk out into the open. 'Everyone back inside the car,' Marler continued, reaching inside for his rifle. He pocketed the sniperscope sight, picked up several spare magazines. 'Go on, get in quick,' he ordered. 'The lot of you.'
'May I ask why?' Newman enquired.
'You may. A mile or so back coming up the mountain I glanced down one of those side tracks leading into a gulch. I saw movement, a man watching. He dodged back out of sight. Before you venture into the open I'm going up there.'
He looked up the mountain which was fractured with deep fissures, some wide enough to allow passage for one man. Newman sucked in his breath at the prospect, thinking of the vertigo.
'You stay in the back. Bob,' Marler instructed. 'On this side of the car. Keep an eye on me. When I wave my rifle you can go into the open. Only then.'
He looped the rifle over his shoulder, wriggled his feet in his rubber-soled calf-skinned shoes to test their ankle support. 'If I'd known I'd have brought climbing boots. Can't be helped. I'll cope.'
'Watch it – for God's sake,' Newman warned.
'And I never knew you cared…'
Typical of Marler to mock just before he was attempting a climb fraught with risk, Newman thought. They settled in the car and Newman peered up. Marler was already a good twenty feet up a narrow fissure, finding a foothold on one side, then on the other.
17
'We climb up here. It looks straight down on the place,' said Dimitrios as he switched off the engine.
He had turned off the mountain road, backing the Cadillac into a cul-de-sac. Christina peered through the rear window. At the end of the cul-de-sac a wide defile led upwards between rocky walls. A primitive staircase carved out of the rock led out of sight.
'What is this? Where does it lead to?' she demanded.
'The monks made it ages ago.' Dimitrios grinned as he gripped his rifle, opened the door and slipped out. Constantine joined him with his shotgun. Dimitrios thrust his head in through the rear window. 'Christina, you wait here. We're going up to a high point which overlooks the place. You hear shots, we will be back soon after. Then we drive back.'
'I told you, Dimitrios…'
They were gone, climbing the rough-hewn steps rapidly, Dimitrios in the lead. They disappeared round a corner. She climbed out of the car, left the door open, ran back on to the mountain road. From the view ahead she knew roughly where she was. She began running, jogging at a steady trot up the road.
She wore a lightweight jump suit and trainer shoes. As she ran she hauled her dark glasses out of her pocket, perched them on her nose. The stupid cold-blooded bastards. They liked their work: Petros had trained them well. They were true grandsons of the sadistic old ruffian.
Ten minutes later she was still running uphill, pacing herself. She was close to where the mountain ended, where the ground became flat, spreading out towards the sea on the other side of Ida. Pray God she got there in time…
Dimitrios crouched down, settled himself in the nest between massive boulders. He perched his rifle in the cleft of a rock, looked along the sight. Three men were alighting from the Mercedes parked at the edge of the plateau. Beside him Constantine aimed his shotgun.
They were positioned seventy feet above the three men. Both of the Greeks were excellent shots. The place Dimitrios had chosen was a meditation point used by the monks. High above them reared the overhanging monastery. Dimitrios glanced up once, then down again. He was satisfied no one looking down from the summit of Mount Ida would ever see them. An overhang of rock almost completely obscured the view from that height. The overhang was two hundred feet above where they waited.
'Let them get well out into the open,' Dimitrios warned his brother. 'Then there is nowhere to hide. We can pick them off one by one.'
'Which shall I aim for?' Constantine asked.
'You don't. Leave it to me. If one dashes back for the car, he's your dead meat for today. Any minute now…'
'Andreas was found lying dead somewhere near the top of that gully,' Spyros explained.
Newman led the way, avoiding the numerous sharp rocks which littered the ground, often almost hidden by scrub grass. The heat beat down on the back of his neck. He tied a handkerchief round it as he walked. It was very still and silent at this height. No screech of gulls. A stillness which was uncanny – and unsettling. He was the first one to hear the sound of running feet approaching.
Breathing heavily, Christina appeared round the side of the mountain, saw them, increased her pace until she reached them. Holding his rifle loosely in his right hand, Newman stopped and waited, suspicious. What the hell was such an attractive girl doing up here in the wilderness? He didn't like questions to which he had no answer. Nick stepped forward.
This is Christina Gavalas,' he informed Newman.
'Introduce me. Who is he? Quickly!' Christina demanded.
She was panting from her exertions, her breasts heaving under the jump suit. Newman was careful to keep his eyes on hers. They glowed with life, And she was the enemy,
'Robert Newman,' Nick replied. 'The foreign correspondent…'
'And where is Marler?' Christina asked anxiously.
'Oh, he's gone to deal with a call of nature,' Newman told her easily. 'What are you doing up…'
'You are in great danger. There are men up the mountain with guns …'
She broke off as a man appeared from the direction she had come. At least six feet tall, he was clothed in a black robe and wore a black cylindrical hat. A priest. Member of the Greek Orthodox Church, Newman realized. His face was lined with age but he was erect, his movements brisk. He spoke in English.
'Welcome to Mount Ida. You wish to see the monastery? I fear the lady cannot enter.'
Newman took a quick decision. The priest, he estimated, was in his late seventies. Had probably spent all his life in this part of the world. Including the period of German wartime occupation.
'We are looking for the place where – over forty years ago – a Greek citizen called Andreas Gavalas died.'
'Was murdered,' the priest corrected him gravely, stroking his black beard. 'I was here when it happened.'
'You mean you saw what actually took place?' Newman concealed his excitement. 'You know who killed Andreas?'
'Damn that priest. He will have to take his chance.' Dimitrios carefully aimed his rifle at Newman's chest. 'Bull's-eye.' he gloated.
Constantine knocked the rifle barrel upwards. By some miracle Dimitrios avoided pulling the trigger. He glared
