Blood of Honour

perfectly.’

‘Are there any others?’ said Tanner. There were loose pieces of paper scattered around the truck, which hissed and ticked as its now broken engine cooled. He grabbed a sheet.

‘Here,’ he said, passing it to Alopex. ‘It’s all Greek to me.’

Alopex took it. ‘A warning from General Student, whoever he may be,’ he said. ‘Threats – the Germans will shoot us, burn villages, execute male populations as a reprisal against any sabotage or atrocities by us Cretans.’ He screwed it up. ‘They must have been on their way to put these up around the villages. They were wasting their time.’

‘You’d take no notice?’

‘No – hardly anyone can read.’ Alopex laughed. ‘Stupid Nazi sons of whores.’

Tanner grinned, picked up another of the notices and tucked it into his pocket. Further back up the hill he saw a guerrilla raise his rifle in salute. ‘We should hurry this up,’ he said to Alopex. ‘We need to get these men stripped and bundle some of them back in the truck. If we set fire to it, it’s just possible the Germans will think it was an accident – after all, they’re mostly young troops driving an unfamiliar vehicle on unfamiliar roads. We can leave a couple of the men on the slopes here, but they need to be dressed still and to look as though they were killed as the truck fell.’

‘Good idea. I will tell the others,’ said Alopex.

Tanner began to strip the two men they had just killed: boots, trousers, jump smocks, which, he noticed, both men had rolled up to the elbow, shirts, belts, webbing, field caps and helmets, which were quite different from the normal German coal-scuttle design. He felt in the pockets and found some cigarettes, but also letters and a few photographs. Tanner looked at them: a family shot, a mother, father and younger sister. Tanner sighed, and wiped his brow. ‘Bloody hell,’ he muttered. Both men had been young – early twenties, he guessed. Maybe even younger. Just kids. Having made a pile of their kit, he moved the bodies beside the truck. Alopex was returning with Vaughan and several of the andartes, each carrying a stripped and dead German.

‘Here,’ said Tanner. ‘Put them in the back.’

‘We’d better not take their weapons,’ said Vaughan.

Alopex looked disappointed and threw a Schmeisser into the back of the truck. ‘No, you are right – but it is hard to throw away guns.’

Seeing an oily rag in the open store box between the off-side wheels Tanner took it, hurried around to the other side, drew out his sword bayonet and punctured the fuel tank then held the rag under it until it was soaked in the fluid.

When the bodies had been dumped in the back and the men had moved out of the way, Tanner wrapped the rag around a stick, lit it and threw it at the truck. The petrol seeping onto the grass immediately flared up and, moments later, the rest of the petrol tank exploded. In no time, the entire truck was engulfed in livid flames, thick smoke billowing into the sky from the rubber tyres, the wooden flooring and sides. The bonnet burst open as fire from the ignited oil in the engine caused the metal to twist.

‘Come on,’ said Peploe, ‘we need to get out of here quickly.’ Alopex cuffed one of his men, who was still watching the spectacle, but then all of them were scampering back up the slope, through the trees, German boots around their necks and uniforms bundled under their arms. Crossing the road, they clambered back up the other side and, using the olives as cover, hurried back towards Silhos.

Only when they were halfway back to Krousonas and well clear of the burning truck did they slacken their pace and begin to relax their guard. As the village came within easy sight, its collection of largely white buildings nestling beneath the mountains, they paused to look back in the direction from which they had come. They could still see a faint wisp of dark smoke.

‘I don’t think it’ll take the Germans long to come out and investigate,’ said Vaughan.

‘Hopefully they’ll think it really was an accident,’ said Peploe.

‘Here, sir,’ said Tanner, passing to Vaughan the notice he had picked up. ‘Looks like they were on a trip to post these up round about.’

Vaughan took it. ‘The bastards,’ he muttered. ‘There’s going to be a reign of terror. This isn’t a modern war, it’s worse than the Middle Ages.’

They walked on, following Alopex and his men.

‘I’ve been meaning to ask, sir,’ said Tanner, at length. ‘That bloke Mandoukis.’

‘What of him?’

‘Do you believe him?’

Vaughan sighed. ‘Why do you think Satanas insisted he remain in the monastery? Honestly? I don’t know. He fought bloody well in Heraklion. He has family up here in the mountains, and has known these men all his life.’

‘But his wife is being held by the Germans,’ said Peploe, ‘so they could have something on him.’

‘Maybe,’ said Vaughan. ‘I hope not. But we need to be careful. If we can get his wife out as well, then I’d say we have less reason to worry. If he has betrayed them, though …’ He did not finish the sentence.

‘I can imagine,’ said Peploe.

They returned to the cave, climbing back up through the ravine in the scorching afternoon sun, their backs slick with sweat. Later, at dusk, Satanas arrived with one of his teenage grandsons, a number of armed men and several other new faces, not least Jack Hanford, an agent who had been working with Pendlebury, and another of the kapitans, Manoli Bandouvas. The latter was a large, moustachioed, broad-faced man of perhaps forty, Tanner guessed, booted and armed with no fewer than three bandoliers around his waist.

The new arrivals had brought with them important news.

‘Mandoukis was wrong,’ said Satanas. He sat on a rock before the fire, Bandouvas on one side of him, Alopex on the other. Hanford, Vaughan and Peploe sat opposite. There was, Tanner realized as he stood behind Peploe, a distinct pecking order: Satanas at the top, then Bandouvas and then Alopex. All three men, however, showed obvious regard and respect for Vaughan and Hanford. Behind them all were the andartes and the Rangers, some standing and listening, others sitting around the cave’s edge. Bottles of raki were passed around, while on another fire, meat was cooking. Tanner watched the flickering flames cast shadows and an orange glow across the old man’s face.

‘They are not being held in the Sabbionera Bastion,’ he said. ‘They are in the fortress.’

‘Damn it!’ said Vaughan.

Peploe rubbed his chin. ‘That’s not going to be easy.’

‘No,’ said Satanas, ‘although if you can get in it should be easy enough to find them. The fortress is not as big as it looks.’

‘And we know this for certain?’ said Peploe.

‘Yes. They were seen being taken there. A number of witnesses have confirmed this.’

‘I suppose it is the obvious place,’ sighed Vaughan. ‘What about the stash?’

‘So far, it seems no one has found it.’

‘Well, that’s something.’

‘And there’s a fair amount of explosives up here already, Alex,’ added Peploe. ‘Sergeant Sykes has enough switches and fuse to wreak considerable havoc.’

‘Do we have any idea how many men there are actually in the town?’ asked Tanner.

Satanas smiled. ‘Not so many. A number have moved to Rethymno, but most are out by the airfield and outside the town walls. There are perhaps a hundred at the Megaron and around the Sabbionera Bastion. There is also an encampment of paratroopers in the valley south of Gazi and at Knossos. There are guards at all the gates and troops wandering freely through the town.’

‘What we need is a big diversion,’ said Tanner. ‘Several different explosions going off in different parts of the town. At the bastions, preferably, then none of the townspeople will get hurt.’

‘That should be possible,’ said Sykes. ‘We’ve got a whole crate of time pencils back here.’

‘So we get into the town, set the explosions, lie low and then, when they start going off, make for the fortress?’ said Peploe.

‘In a nutshell, sir, yes,’ said Tanner.

Vaughan nodded. ‘I can’t think of a better plan.’

‘Pendlebury would approve,’ said Hanford. ‘Just the kind of madcap scheme he would have come up with.’ He