'Freeze is the word – what you all do when the phrase is mentioned.'
Tweed followed Sarris inside the building while Newman and Marler brought up the rear. They waited and then stepped inside an elevator. When they walked into the office Paula, who had been reading a magazine, dropped it and rushed to Tweed, hugging him.
'God! You're crazy,' she exploded. 'I warned you. Sarris sent a radio report from the chopper. You walked into an ambush.' She released him, stood back, spoke in a solemn voice. 'And I know I disobeyed your instructions. So I expect to be sacked.'
'Stuff and nonsense. I owe you my life.' Tweed sank into a chair while Sarris ordered coffee and mineral water over his intercom. 'But where is Christina? Is she on her own?'
'Of course not!' Sarris snapped. 'Paula phoned me. Before I drove to the helipad I left orders for a plain- clothes man to go to the Grande Bretagne to guard Christina -so Paula could come here.' He looked at Newman and Marler who had also sat down. 'Officially you were not involved. Which is why I've confiscated your rifles. They'll get lost. I won't ask how you obtained them.'
That's big of you,' said Newman. 'Considering Marler shot down a shepherd who was aiming his rifle at the cabin of that chopper you were flying in. You could be cold meat on a slab now.'
Sarris grinned, looked at Tweed. 'Is he always so independent and aggressive?'
'Yes,' Marler interjected. 'A pain in the arse. But we did hold the situation until you arrived.'
'I think you all went mad,' Paula said and sipped at the cup of coffee served by a uniformed policeman. She was watching Tweed: there had been a major change in his mood and manner. The vehemence and tension seemed to have drained out of him.
A man came in and Tweed looked up. The Dormouse.
He stood up, smiled and shook hands. 'Good to see you again.'
'I would suggest,' Sarris began, 'that Kalos takes you for a ride away from here. That you ask him the question you put to me downstairs. I'd like the rest of you to stay while we cook up an official report, something that will make my superiors happy. The truth – but maybe not the whole truth…'
The Dormouse drove Tweed to the Plaka. He apologized for the transport, his battered old Saab. 'No one notices it,' he explained, 'which is why I favour it. Now the question.'
'What is the Greek Key?'
'I'll tell you when we reach my flat – that and a lot more. It's politically sensitive, which is why Sarris suggested we get out of police headquarters.' He manoeuvred the vehicle carefully inside the labyrinth, stopped outside a taverna, his engine still running. 'See that – Papadedes. Note the entrance to the staircase alongside – Papadedes hires out the room upstairs to men taking a woman up there. But other people have used that room. I will tell you in my flat.'
He parked the car inside a narrow alley climbing steeply up towards a hilltop. His flat was above a shop selling baskets and leather handbags to tourists. Tweed settled himself in an armchair after a good wash in a tiny bathroom. He felt more civilized after getting rid of the mixture of dried sweat and dust.
Kalos fussed about, making coffee. He placed the cup on a small round table next to the chair, produced a tin jug and two glasses. ' Retsina.' he explained. 'If you do not like it leave it. And here is mineral water. Some bread with a little cheese – made from cow's milk. I do not think goat's milk cheese would appeal.'
'Very good of you, Kalos.' Tweed sipped at the retsina. It tasted resinous. 'I like it. Now, can we talk?'
The Greek Key,' Kalos began, settling himself in another armchair, 'is a highly secret underground organization of hardline Communists. It is run by a committee but the man who counts is Doganis, in his sixties…'
'Ah,' said Tweed, 'another man in his sixties. So he goes back also to the Second World War.'
'That is true.' Kalos leaned forward, tapped Tweed on the knee. 'And these are very hard men indeed. They are bitter because they just failed to take over Greece during the Civil War. We were saved by the American President, Truman. He sent a military mission, tons of arms. Now they have surfaced again. They are anti- Gorbachev.'
Tweed stiffened, put down his glass. 'Their activities are confined to Greece?'
'I don't think so. From the records, during the Second World War there were strong rumours the real controller of the Greek Key was an Englishman based in Cairo. Let me tell you what I have discovered.' He took a file from his briefcase. 'This is my secret report. You can read it later. Now, we start with the clandestine visit of General Lucharsky to Athens…'
Tweed ate the bread and cheese, listened grimly as The Dormouse described what he had found out. Lucharsky… Colonel Rykovsky. The arrival later of Lucharsky's aide, Colonel Volkov… the link with Doganis… Florakis, alias Oleg Savinkov, The Executioner… Pavelic, the Croat hardliner who had provided Kalos with secret information while drunk…
'This Pavelic,' Tweed said eventually, 'he is in touch with Moscow?'
'He boasted he had underground links with the hardliners inside Russia who hate and fear Gorbachev's reforms – that Gorbachev would not last much longer.'
Tweed recalled that Marler had seen Florakis carrying a modern transceiver up a mountain on his land. The Dormouse listened with a gleam in his beady eyes.
'Who is he transmitting to?'
Tweed opened up, telling him about the three ex-commandos living on Exmoor; the long-ago murders in Cairo, on Siros; about the killing of Sam Partridge – who had been in Cairo as a very young man; the killing of Jill Kearns and Mrs Larcombe and the story the old lady had told Tweed.
Kalos nodded. 'We have uncovered a major conspiracy controlled by the hardline anti-Gorbachev faction in Moscow. I just cannot see where it leads.' He handed his file to Tweed. 'I would like you to read that – it includes times and photographs of the conspirators…'
Tweed read the file, automatically memorizing every detail. He studied the photos. Kalos sat with his hands clasped in his ample lap, waited patiently. When Tweed had finished he handed back the file.
'My God, it looks far worse than I ever dreamed. Could you get me copies of those prints?'
Kalos delved into his file, produced a large envelope which he passed to Tweed. 'I anticipated your request. I made copies myself in my own darkroom. All the dates are written on the back. I have signed my name and used a police headquarters rubber stamp. Sarris knows nothing of this. He destroyed the original file in my presence.'
'Sarris is involved?' Tweed asked.
A shake of the stubble-covered head. 'I'm sure he guessed I had already prepared a duplicate file. It was significant he did not ask for the negatives of those prints. Sarris would never forget a point like that. Except deliberately. We understand one another. Why do you think he suggested I took you away from HQ for a talk?'
'Of course.' Tweed smiled. 'It is just that I have a habit of trusting no one.'
'A very good habit. What are you going to do now? You believe one of those three ex-commandos is the real head of the Greek Key?'
'I do now.'
'But which one? You have interviewed them all twice. Surely one of them let something slip? You are known for your flair for interrogation.'
'I think I know who it is.' Tweed paused. 'The devil of it is I have no proof,'
'And this Professor Seton-Charles you mentioned. The Recruiter, as Christina called him when talking with Newman. He too is involved?'
'Up to his ruddy neck would be my guess. Again, no proof. You asked me what I'm going to do. I'm very grateful to you, Kalos, for your cooperation. What you've dug up all on your own has filled in a lot of gaps. I am returning to England as rapidly as possible. The solution lies there.'
'Let me phone Sarris, see where they all are.' Kalos picked up the phone, dialled, spoke in Greek, waited, then spoke again at greater length. He put down the phone. 'Sarris tells me they are all at the Grande Bretagne, waiting for you. I hinted you may be leaving. He thinks that a good idea – after your experience in Devil's Valley. He looks forward to seeing you again.'
Tweed stood up. Thank you once more for everything. I am sure we will meet again.'
There is always a next time in our work. I will drive you to the hotel.' The Dormouse smiled shyly. 'It has been a great pleasure to deal with you. I suppose you realize you may not have much time left to stop whatever is planned? They have been working on it for over a year.'
