hand. The headlights of the car approaching from the Athens direction appeared only five minutes after he had arrived. He stubbed out the cigarette. It was the first vehicle he had seen for over an hour.
The headlights swung over the building site as the ear slowed. They swept over his Mercedes. He opened the door, took a firmer grip on the rifle, the muzzle aimed through the gap. The car was stopping.
It backed slowly, very slowly. For the second time the headlights played over the Mercedes, for a longer period, Nick sat very still, raised the muzzle slightly, slipped off the safety catch. The car had stopped now. The headlights stayed on, beamed at an angle beyond his own vehicle, glaring on the building site, which took on a surrealist quality in the dazzle.
Nick had acute hearing. He listened in the heavy silence -for the opening of a car door, the crunch of feet on the loose stones covering the ground. Nothing. The silence grew heavier. Sweat began trickling down his neck. He sat immobile as a Greek statue. Nothing. The driver couldn't be a ghost…
'Hello, Nick. I could have shot you rather dead.'
Matter's voice, speaking through the open passenger seat window. How the hell could a man move so silently?
'Come on, Nick, where have they gone? Newman and Christina? I followed you from Athens, so where are they? Exploring Devil's Valley?'
Nick reached for the bottle of mineral water, took a long swig. He was in a state of shock. And couldn't decide whether to tell Marler the truth. Marler seemed to read his mind as he leant an elbow on the open window.
'Loyalty is a virtue. Especially for a Greek. I know that. I also know you wouldn't want something to happen to Newman-something fatal. The last man who made friends with Christina ended up at the bottom of a cliff. She's all Gavalas. So, tell me – Newman needs back-up. Desperately. We're talking about Devil's Valley.'
'Christina is guiding him to the entrance to the Valley. He is going to find the old silver mine. I know it. He said he wasn't but I know he was. They went up a gulch two bends further down the road.'
'Show me. And mark the location of that silver mine.'
Marler dropped a large-scale map of the area into Nick's lap. 'I don't know the exact location of the mine…' Nick protested.
'Do the best you can. Hurry. I'm driving my car alongside yours. Back in a minute…'
He parked his vehicle a few feet away from Nick's, doused the lights and walked to the boot. He appeared at Nick's, window and the Greek stared. Marler wore mountaineer boots, had a long loop of rope coiled over one shoulder, an Armalite rifle over the other.
'You came equipped?' Nick said.
'I saw Newman and Christina buying boots in a shop. I guessed the rest. I'm a good guesser. Marked the map yet?'
He studied the map Nick had marked by the overhead light. He nodded, took the map. refolded it, shoved it inside his pocket.
'I'm off on my travels now. See you.'
'It could be dangerous…'
'I agree. For anyone I meet up there.'
Newman led the way up the gulch with Christina close behind. The moonlight helped. He was careful where he placed his feet: the gulch was littered with loose rocks. Sound carried a long way at night. He was relieved to hear no sound from Christina as she plodded up behind him. Which is why he heard the faint tumble of stones slithering.
He stopped, turned, grasped Christina by the arm, raised one finger to his lips. Unlike some women she didn't ask questions: she simply raised one thick eyebrow. He crouched down behind a boulder, pressing her down, and her shoulder rested against his.
'Someone else on the mountain,' he whispered.
'I didn't hear anything – and I have good hearing…'
Another slither of stones. One came over the side of the gulch and touched Newman's right boot. Christina nodded. Newman had been right. Someone was approaching and very close.
They were crouched behind the large boulder at a point where the gulch began to turn sharply above them to the left. Whoever was on the prowl couldn't be descending the gulch, thank God, Newman thought. For the stone to have slithered from immediately above them the intruder had to be moving higher up the slope. Could he see down inside the gulch? Newman slipped the revolver out of the holster and Christina gripped his other arm. He looked up and froze. He hardly dared breathe. He held his body tense -for fear of dislodging even a pebble.
Along the crest of the ridge above, the silhouette of a man was moving. In the moonlight Newman could clearly see the bony profile, the prominent nose, the sunken cheeks beneath prominent cheekbones, the curve of the mouth. Over one shoulder was looped a rifle. He was carrying something in the other hand – something heavy. Newman frowned and then felt his right leg begin to cramp. He gritted his teeth.
Christina, hunched beside him, kept perfectly still.
Newman was staring at the heavy bag the man was carrying as he climbed the mountain – he knew it was heavy from the way the figure sagged to one side. But it wasn't a bag. It was rectangular-shaped, like a metal box. Newman was certain it was a high-powered transceiver – and that size meant it was capable of transmitting over long distance. The silhouette disappeared behind the ridge.
'That was Florakis,' Christina whispered. 'Someone pointed him out to me in the Plaka.'
'You're sure? In this light…'
'Positive. I could see his profile clearly. And he is walking on his own land. What on earth can he be doing at this time of night?'
'No idea,' Newman lied. 'Let's get moving. How much further to Devil's Valley?'
'We're nearly there. Another hundred feet up this gulch and we cross the pass. Then it's downhill…'
They climbed higher up the gulch inside its shadow, the ground levelled out and Christina pointed. Beyond, a track descended into an arid steep-sided valley, the slopes studded with scrub. The crest of the far side was lower and, following the line of her extended arm, Newman saw a weird structure perched on the crest. It looked like a large shack, but there were no walls. Between the supporting pillars at each corner there was open space and moonlit sky beyond the apertures.
'The old silver mine,' Christina said. 'A track from that huddle of boulders down there leads straight up to it. Mules used to bring the ore from the mine down that track years ago.'
'You know your way back?' Newman enquired casually.
'I know every inch of this country. As a child I used to roam all over it. I liked to go down that gulch so I could cross the highway and swim in the sea.'
'Sorry about this. It's for your own good…' Newman swung round and clipped her on the jaw. He caught her as she sagged and laid her carefully on the ground, placing her head on a soft tuft of grass as a pillow. He checked her pulse, found it was regular Taking out the note he had prepared earlier, he tucked it inside the top of her slacks. Then he hoisted the rifle on his shoulder and started the descent, heading for the silver mine.
'There is someone coming up the track,' said Dimitrios and he slipped the safety catch off his rifle.
'You are imagining it,' objected Constantine. 'You see ghosts everywhere Because of what is in the mine…'
'Someone is climbing that track,' Dimitrios insisted. 'I tell you I saw something move.'
'Now he says he saw something,' Constantine scoffed. 'In the past tense. Sure, he saw something move – a goat, maybe?'
Petros had sent them out as he did regularly- as another form of discipline, of keeping them under his thick thumb. And forcing them to stay up all night in the open toughened them. Petros had a dozen reasons for exerting his authority.
'Tonight you will go up and guard the mine,' he had ordered. 'One day there will be an intruder. Too many have been poking their snouts into my valley. And all accursed English. First there was Partridge – and he gave you the slip. Then came Masterson. Now we have more. This Newman, this Marler. Why so many so suddenly? Am I the
