'You mean he only transmits when there's a moon? Doesn't make sense.'
'Transmits for about two weeks – when the moon's waxing and waning. Only possible explanation? It's important to the man he's transmitting to. Something else happened. Equally important. Tweed wants to interview friend Petros, I believe?'
'Yes he does. When he can get out here…'
'Better make it soon. That snide Dimitrios spotted me watching by the sea shore. Crept up on me. Thought I must be deaf and blind. Put down his rifle, came up behind me, grabbed hold of me. Thought he was going to throttle me, silly ass.'
'So why not tell me what happened next?' Newman asked in a resigned tone.
'Just going to. He ended up flat on the ground, arms pinned to his sides, my knee in his groin. He gave me a splendid opportunity to get him talking. He talked.'
'And how did you accomplish that feat?'
'As I said, we were by the edge. No one about. Still dark. I dragged him to the water's edge. Goes down deep there. Held his head under water three times. He thought I was going to drown him. Which I would have done if he hadn't opened his mouth.'
'Get on with it,' Newman snapped. 'What did you learn?'
'Within two weeks Petros is leaving Devil's Valley. He's owner of a cattle farm in the far north. Macedonia. Tweed would have trouble finding him there. Two weeks,' Marler repeated. 'Up to Tweed, wouldn't you say?'
'I'll call him from the Embassy. But first I'm going back for a word with Christina. You made Dimitrios talk. I'm going to do the same job on her about Anton.' A thought occurred to him as he grasped the door handle. 'Surely you've blown it. Dimitrios will go straight back to Petros and tell him what happened?'
'Doubt that. I warned him. If I heard he'd said anything the next time I saw him would be the last. For him. And he's going to keep quiet for another reason. If he told Petros he'd spilt the beans the old man would kill him.
You'll want me to guard Christina when you go to the Embassy, I take it?'
'I'll want you to do just that. Stay with her.'
'Hurry it up, then. I'm short of sleep.'
Christina had just finished drying her washed mane when Newman entered her room. She threw it back over her shoulders.
'How do I look?'
'Never mind that.' His voice was harsh. 'Marler and I will be leaving if you don't start telling me everything you know about Anton. You're on your own.'
'No!' She was appalled. 'Petros will find me. He'll kill me.'
'That's your problem. A family tiff…'
Tiff! Don't you realize yet what he's like?'
'Start telling me then.' Newman perched on the edge of the bed. He folded his arms and stared out of the window, not looking at her as she slumped into a chair.
'I'm frightened. I've told you so much about them already. If Anton found out he'd be even worse than Petros. Anton is cruel.'
'I'm still waiting.' He looked at his wristwatch. 'But not for long.'
'You're a bastard…'
'I have diplomas to prove it. Stop stalling.'
She sat down in a large armchair, curled herself inside it like a cat, exposing her long legs. He made a point of not admiring them as she began.
'Anton is one of those people who can do anything. An expert at scuba-diving. Good with boats. Anything mechanical. He can design and build a word processor, a video recorder, a transceiver. And repair them if they break down. He's experienced with hydraulics. He got an estimate for a lift to be installed in his warehouse at Piraeus. thought it too much – so he built the damned thing himself. He's a good horse rider, but I told you that…' Once started, she didn't stop. 'He's an expert on handguns and rifles. A crack shot with both. Won some kind of trophy once at Bisley in England. For God's sake, isn't that enough? Oh, and he's a hell-raiser with the women. I think I told you that before.'
'A bit of an all-rounder,' Newman mused.
'He's also good at carpentry. Very good.'
'Carpentry?'
'Building anything out of wood. He made all the furniture for his room at the farm in Devil's Valley. That's the only decently furnished room. The rest is a slum.'
'Why didn't you tell me this before? People must know his many talents.'
'No, not many. He's very secretive. He likes his image of playboy. It amuses him to fool people. I loathe him -and I've never understood him. One more thing, he can fly any kind of light aircraft. Cessnas, Pipers, etc. He belonged to a flying club, then resigned once he'd mastered flying. Said he was bored with it. I think he craves excitement, new worlds to conquer. And he's very ambitious -to become one of the most important men in Greece. I really think I've given you the lot.' She watched him through her eyelashes. 'Do I still get protection?'
'You do. For as long as we can manage it. I have to go out for a short time. Marler will stay with you.'
'He'd better keep his distance,' she said viciously and picked up a hairbrush, 'or I'll crack his skull with this.'
'Argue it out with him while I'm gone.' Newman grinned. 'All I think he wants is kip – sleep. Alone…'
Tweed put down his office phone after asking Newman to call him daily. He sat for a few minutes, thinking. Paula and Monica were careful to keep quiet while they worked.
'Paula,' he announced, 'we have to fly to Greece – and soon. Inside the next couple of weeks. Monica, book a couple of first-class return tickets via Zurich. Open date. Bob has just told me Petros is leaving Devil's Valley for some other farm he has up in Macedonia. No one knows the territory up there. Marler and Newman do know Devil's Valley. I need to interrogate the old villain. He's crazed with a lust for vengeance. I want to find out whether he had Masterson killed.'
'How will you go about it?' Paula asked.
'I shall go into Devil's Valley with someone who speaks Greek as an interpreter. I'll grill him at his farm – the only way to get at him. He never comes to Athens – or rarely -so Newman said.'
'That could be dangerous,' Paula protested. 'He sounds mad as a hatter. And Newman told us earlier the area is crawling with armed shepherds.'
'We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.'
'I don't like it,' Paula insisted.
'No one asked you to.' He regretted the words as soon as he had spoken. 'I'm sorry, that was rude. I'm confused about this whole business. There seems no rhyme or reason to it. Unless the whole thing revolves round Petros.'
'You could ask Peter Sarris for help,' Paula suggested.
Tweed shook his head. 'No police until we know what we're getting into. We'll rely on our own resources.' He looked at Monica who had just made the phone call. 'All fixed up?'
'Two open date return tickets via Zurich booked.'
'Is this why we returned here so quickly from Porlock Weir?' enquired Paula.
'Yes. I felt I was getting out of touch with the position in Greece. Butler and Nield can keep a watch on any developments on Exmoor. You have your bag packed, Paula? Good. I may decide to leave suddenly for Athens.'
'Why go via Zurich?' Monica asked. 'Instead of flying direct?'
'I want to consult Arthur Beck. We'll call him before we leave. He often knows what's going on. And there are direct flights to Athens from Zurich.' He paused. 'So there are also flights direct from Athens to Zurich.'
'Oh Lord!' Monica groaned. 'He's being enigmatic again.'
Midnight. The storm had abated when the Oporto was rounding the tip of Cornwall. The sea now was just choppy as the vessel hove to west of Porlock Weir. On deck on the starboard side Anton held the flashlight and directed the coded signal towards the distant shore. Then he waited.
Gomez stood alongside him close to the gangway which had been lowered over the side. At the foot of the steps waves lapped over the metal platform. The canvas-wrapped Stingers, recovered from the hold, lay at Anton's
