'Darling, I know you must tell London if you can, don't I? Be reasonable... Good. Now, we have a sea-trip ahead of us. About two hundred kilometres - a hundred and twenty miles. At least, it's that in a straight line. So we must have a boat and someone to sail it for us. I know who.'
Chapter 9
The _Altair__
'LITSAS WAS in General Papagos's army which fought the Italians when they invaded Greece in 1940. You remember how the Greeks threw them way back into Albania? Well, Litsas was with the infantry that took Koritsa. His platoon had used up their ammunition and he killed twelve Italians with his bayonet. They made him a sergeant for that. He was eighteen then.'
Ariadne paused in her recital as she and Bond entered the little high-ceilinged cafe. The proprietor, chunky and grizzled, with the standard tobacco-stained moustache, came bustling forward.
'_Kalimera sas__,' said Ariadne courteously. '_Boreite na mou peite__, _sas parakalo__ - _pou einai o Kyrios Litsas?__'
The man took them to the doorway and pointed diagonally across the road towards the quays. There followed one of the animated discussions that, in Greece, accompany even the most elementary piece of business. Finally, with that ripple of the shoulders that does duty for a shrug hereabouts, the cafeowner left them, seeming to imply that he took no responsibility for what use might be made of his information. They moved off in the direction he had pointed.
'When the Germans came,' Ariadne went on, 'they cut Papagos's supply lines and he had to surrender. The soldiers weren't made prisoners, they were just disarmed and sent home. Litsas walked a couple of hundred miles across Greece to Euboea, where his home is. He joined some guerrillas and went on killing Italians. Germans too when they started trying to crush the resistance movement.'
Bond took her arm as they crossed the street. 'You certainly seem to have studied his career.'
'My father was his officer in 1941 and they met again in the resistance. They were very brave, both of them, I have to admit that.'
Ariadne's face had clouded. Bond said, 'Admit it?'
'I know it sounds odd, but.... You see, I believe that in our civil war the wrong side won. You'd say the democratic side. It would have been so right for the country if the Communists had been allowed to take over. They were the real Greek patriots. They'd mostly done the fighting during the occupation...'
'A large part of which was against rival organizations on the same side,' said Bond dryly. 'But what do you care about the civil war? You can't have been more than six when it ended.'
'Seven. I've studied it.' Ariadne looked sheepish.
'No doubt. Anyway, what about your father and Litsas? They were on the wrong side in it, I gather.'
'Please, James, it was no joke to me. Father became very reactionary. He joined what was known as the National Army. Most of them were Fascists, terrorists, no-good people. Litsas joined it too. He was a liaison officer with the British for a time, but he transferred because he wanted to be in the fighting.'
'And kill Communists. You know, Ariadne- '
'There he is. There.'
They had been moving along the walk that follows the curve of Pasalimani, the larger of Piraeus's two yacht-basins. On the far side, the motionless water held scores of assorted craft, from fishing-boats and twelve-foot sailing dinghies to yachts as opulent as any in the Mediterranean. Immediately below, on the narrow stretch of yard, boats in various stages of repair and conversion were being worked on. Bond immediately picked out a tall white-shirted figure evidently giving vigorous instruction to a couple of cowed-looking employees. As Ariadne and he turned towards the steps leading down to the yard, Bond went on with his train of thought.
'From what you've been saying, this man sounds exactly the opposite of someone who'd help your side.'
'It's also your side for the moment, remember. And he's very pro-British. And although he's always been mad at me for joining the Communist Party I think he's continued to be fond of me, because he loves my father. And there's something I know about the other side which may help if he becomes obstinate.'
Litsas turned and saw them. He was tanned to a rich brown by years of sun and salt air, a remarkably handsome man in his mid-forties with thick black hair just starting to go grey, neat pointed ears close to the skull, sad and watchful brown eyes, a jutting nose, and a mouth that at the moment looked good-naturedly sensual, though Bond imagined - rightly - that it would harden to a fierce line in times of action. The belly showed no trace of fat and the shoulders and upper arms bulged with muscle. Bond put him down as a loyal friend and a totally implacable and ruthless enemy. He trusted him on sight. After an instant's pause, strong white teeth showed in an unreservedly warm and welcoming smile. '_Ariadne, khrisi mou__.'
'_Yassou, Niko, ti yinese?__'
The two embraced affectionately. Then the watchful eyes moved to Bond.
'This is James Bond, Niko, an English friend of mine.'
'How do you do, Mr Bond.' The handclasp was strong and warm. 'You've picked a good time for your visit. I'm just finishing here before I go over the road for a drink. I hope you'll join me. Let me manage these two idiots first. They know as much of carpentry as I know of... knitting.'
Apart from a few falterings (no doubt from lack of practice) this was said in a manner approaching that of a middle-class Englishman - above all, with less of the difficulty with 'ch', 'sh' and 'j' than most Greeks experience. Litsas now moved back to his workmen. Despite his gay, friendly tone, his brown eyes had not for a moment ceased their discreet but careful appraisal of Bond.
The boat under discussion was a twenty-footer with an unusual pointed stern, broad in the beam, a fishing-boat or perhaps lifeboat part-way converted into a pocket-size cabin-cruiser. Two bunks had been completed, also the skeleton of the superstructure in slender pine beams. Bond guessed that the final result would look grotesque to a yachtsman's eye, but fetchingly 'quaint' to the French or German tourist interested in a not- too-expensive hire.
No doubt feeling that words were inadequate to express his disgust, Litsas put out one large brown hand and, seemingly with a mere flick of the wrist, broke one of the vertical members away from the gunwale as if it had been fixed there with stamppaper. The two workmen put on exaggerated expressions of guilt and self-reproach. With a final sweeping gesture of contempt, Litsas turned away. He winked at Bond and Ariadne.
