'You are going back to England soon,' he informed him. 'You'll be taking letters to Captain Robson, Sergeant Major Kearns and Colonel Barrymore. Two of the letters will be meaningless. The third you will have the honour of delivering to Jupiter.'
'Jupiter? Who is that?'
The man who is reactivating the organization. Do not ask who he is.'
'Jupiter is a Roman god, not a Greek,' Anton remarked, feeling his way.
'Which confuses the issue, protects his identity. You travel to England again in a few weeks' time – after we have received an important visitor from abroad.' Doganis paused. At least they hadn't told him to reveal yet to Anton that the visitor was Colonel Volkov, aide to General Lucharsky. 'You can travel there by the secret route again, I assume? Again there must be no record of your visit to England.'
'It worked before, it will work again,' Anton told him boldly. 'You do your job, I'll do mine.,.'
There was a sudden cracking sound. Anton stared. Doganis, who constantly held something in his restless hands, had split the ebony ruler in two in his fury.
Anton was astounded. The grotesque obese Doganis he had put down as effete had enormous strength in his apparently flabby hands. Strangler's hands. Doganis pointed the jagged end of one half of the ruler at him. His voice was more sinister for its soft tone.
'Listen to me, Gavalas. We have laid a tremendous responsibility on your immature shoulders. I have only to report you have lost my confidence and you are dead in twenty-four hours. You have displayed arrogance. I find that disturbing.'
Anton swallowed. The room was dimly illuminated by an oil lamp on a side table, Doganis' huge shadow suddenly seemed to Sill the room. He forced himself to speak respectfully. 'I apologize, Comrade. I wished to assure you all will go well.'
'And remember this,' Doganis continued, ignoring the apology, 'I may introduce you to our visitor. He may wish to brief you himself. Treat him with reverence. Phone me daily from a public call box.' He changed the subject without warning, watching the other man closely. 'Is everything quiet down at Cape Sounion? No sign of anyone becoming curious about Florakis?'
'No sign at all,' Anton assured him.
'You replied too quickly. What about Petros?'
'He is still planning his mad revenge on the English murderers of his two sons. He thinks of nothing else.'
'Useful. He will divert the attention of those two Englishmen, Newman and Marler. Go now. Your future depends on obedience to the cause.'
Anton stood up quickly, glad to leave the presence of this man who now frightened him. He hurried down the narrow staircase leading direct to the street. He paused before he walked into the deserted street.
He did not see the small stocky man with a stubble of brown hair waiting in the shadow of a doorway across the street. For the simple reason that Kalos did not want to be seen. Kalos wore a stained old jacket and baggy trousers. He raised the camera with the infra-red lens and snapped off three shots. Anton turned left and walked rapidly away.
I'm lucky, thought Kalos. Whoever he is left the building when the tourists and the locals are eating and drinking inside the tavernas. He already had inside his camera two shots of Doganis. At least he had known this senior member of the Greek Key.
Kalos had waited over an hour outside the apartment Doganis rented in the Plaka, then had followed him to this new rendezvous above a taverna. Maybe Sarris would identify the younger man who had just left after spending half an hour with Doganis. The Greek Key was apparently recruiting younger members. A bad sign. And Kalos wondered who, where, and how they were finding fresh recruits.
29
'Bob, what crisis?' Tweed asked. 'Where are you talking from?'
'The Embassy. On scrambler phone. Now, you listen…'Newman explained tersely what had happened. He was alone in the basement room: Patterson had pushed off after unlocking the door.
'So your main task,' Tweed said, 'is to guard Christina, hide her away from Petros…'
'Our main objective is to find out who killed Masterson. And the last person we've found yet who saw him alive is Christina. It may be significant that Petros-through Anton – is doing his damnedest to track her down. What's your problem?'
'Your problem now,' Tweed told him. 'I had Butler and Nield on Exmoor, tailing Professor Guy Seton-Charles, An hour ago I had an emergency call from Butler. He was at London Airport. Seton-Charles suddenly took off. Left his bungalow with a case, drove a devious route to the airport…'
'Devious?'
'He took the main road to London, then cut off down a side turning. Nield followed him and Butler cruised on along the highway. Later Butler saw Seton-Charles come back down a slip road. From that point Butler and Nield leapfrogged so the target wouldn't spot them. At London Airport Nield stood behind Seton-Charles as he booked a first-class return to Athens. He's in mid-air now. British Airways flight 456, departed London 2.35 p.m., arrives at Athens 8 p.m. Both local times. Can you get to the airport and track him? Remember his description?'
'Perfectly. And I've loads of time.'
'I need to know who he contacts. Something very funny about the professor.'
'Leave it to me…'
The BA flight from London touched down at Athens Airport at 8 p.m. Newman, lounging in a seat near the exit, spotted him at once – Seton-Charles wore a lightweight linen suit crumpled from sitting inside the aircraft. The professor climbed into a taxi. Newman got inside the next taxi.
'I'm a detective,' he told the driver. 'Don't lose that taxi – and here's a thousand drachmae as a tip.'
'What has he done?' asked the Greek.
That's what I'm trying to find out…'
Settling back in his seat, Newman took off his jacket, mopped his forehead. The interior of the vehicle was like a sweat box. He recalled a headline blazoned on a newsstand. Killer Heatwave Hits Greece. And the character who wrote that one up wasn't joking, he thought.
Half an hour later, after passing between endless rows of white-walled two-storeyed houses backed by arid hillsides, they entered the city. Seton-Charles' taxi puiled up outside its destination. The occupant got out, paid off the driver and without a backward glance carried his bag inside the Hilton Hotel.
Tweed had phoned Jill Kearns at Brown's Hotel an hour before he was due to have tea with her. He had explained something urgent had come up, an emergency he had to cope with personally. Would she forgive him? Could they make a fresh date for tea in a couple of days' time?
Jill had shown no signs of resentment, said she certainly understood he had a difficult job. She would look forward even more to their being together now she would have to wait a little longer to see him. He put down the phone and looked at Monica.
'She's still keen to see me. Meantime we'll see where she goes, how she spends her time, who she meets. I fixed this up while you were out.'
'Fixed up what?'
'At this moment Paula is sitting in the lobby of Brown's. Jill can't get out of either the Albemarle Street or the Dover Street exit without Paula spotting her. When she leaves, Paula follows.'
'Paula will recognize her?'
'You've forgotten.' Tweed relaxed in his chair, pleased with the way things were developing. 'Paula,' he reminded her, 'was with me when I visited Kearns on Exmoor at his horrible old house near that bungalow estate where Seton-Charles lives. Jill sat in the room during my interview with Kearns- as did Paula. They sat within six feet of each other.'
'Is this Jill bright?'
'A very attractive blonde, in her thirties, and very bright.'
