would have simply tried to vanish Not Admiral Erich Heibert He was much too cunning Somehow he made his way through the Allied line. to England, where the bonafide von Till was living, murdered him and took his place.”
'How was it possible,” Darius demanded.
“It wasn’t only possible,” Pitt said to Darius, “it was accomplished to the letter. They were both roughly the same size and build. A few alterations here and there by a skilled surgeon, a few gestures and speech mannerisms, practiced until perfect and the man who stands before you became a dead ringer for the original Bruno von Till. Why not? There were no close friends, von Till was sort of a loner, no one knew him well. His wife had died childless. There was. however, a nephew who had been born and raised in Greece. Even he didn’t catch on to the switch till years later Then it cost him his life. Mere child’s play for a professional killer like Heibert The nephew and his wife were murdered in a faked boating accident Teri, their young daughter, was spared No benevolence on Heibert’s part I assure you. The public image of a considerate and protective grand uncle was too good to pass by.”
Pitt stole another encompassing look at the guards, the tunnel and the Japanese I-Boat. Then he turned back to von Till.
“After the switch, smuggling was merely a sideline for you. Heibert. The inventive creation of a submarine attached to the keel of a ship came natural for an old U-Boat commander. To the outside world, Heibert, alias von Till, had it made. Minerva Lines was thriving, the money was rolling in. But you were worried, things were going too well The more prominent you became, the better your chances of being exposed. So you moved to Thasos, rebuilt the villa and played the role of an eccentric millionaire recluse. Business as usual was no problem. A high-power short-wave radio was installed so you could operate Minerva Lines without ever setting foot on the mainland of Europe. But your perverted past was too strong. You let the company fleet run down. to a fourth rate freight hauler, and turned your talents almost entirely to smuggling—”
“Where is all this talk leading?” Darius interrupted.
“The fait accompli — the pay-off,” Pitt explained. “It seems that Admiral Heibert here was conspicuous by his absence at the Nuremberg War Trials. His name is right up there next to Martin Bormann on the wanted war criminals list. A real sweetheart this one. While Eichmann was burning the Jews, Heibert was emptying the POW camps by driving Allied prisoners into the holds of old merchant vessels and setting them adrift in the North Sea, trusting to British and American bombers to do the Nazi’s own dirty work.
In spite of the fact that he had disappeared at the end of the war, he knew what was in store if he stayed in Germany. He was convicted in absentia by the International Military Tribunal at Nuremberg and sentenced to death. It’s a pity he wasn’t hung before now, still it’s better late than never.”
Pitt had played his last card. There was nothing left for him but to hope, he could stall no more.
“Well there you have it. A few facts, a few educated guesses. The story’s a bit sketchy I admit. The Germans could only radio a brief outline of the information they had in their files. The exact details may never become known. No matter, you’re a dead man Heibert”
Von Till looked at Pitt in cold speculation. “Pay no attention to the Major, Darius. His whole make-believe talk is nothing but the clever stall of a desperate man—”
Von Tin paused, listening. At first the sound was faint — it seemed like an eerie thumping. Then Pitt recognized it as the heavy tread of hobnail boots moving closer along the wooden deck. The mist was back, and its moist atmosphere cloaked any shape or form, while at the same time it amplified the approaching footsteps into a kettledrum beat. It sounded as though the unseen noisemaker was lifting his feet and dropping them with much more force than necessary. Then a ghostly and faceless figure, dressed in the uniform of von Till’s bodyguards, grew out of the mist. Barely discernible, the figure stopped several feet back and clicked his heels.
“The Queen Jocasta has dropped anchor, sir.” The voice spoke in a low guttural tone.
“You idiot!” von Till snapped, angry at the interruption. “Return to your post.”
“No more delays,” Darius snarled. “Just one bullet in the Major’s groin so he can linger in agony.” The Luger’s muzzle fell to Pitt's lower torso.
“Whatever’s fair,” Pitt said quietly. He had a strange expressionless stare that was more disturbing to von Till than any show of fear ever could have been.
Von Till arched forward in a curt precise bow.
“I’m sorry. Major,” the old German said slowly and very deliberately. “Our interesting little chat has come to an end. Please forgive me if I fall to provide the traditional blindfold and last cigarette.” He said nothing more, the evil, venomous smirk on his face spoke for him, and Pitt braced himself for the almost certain blast from Darius’ gun.
18
A gun roared: not the sharp bark of a Luger, but the heavy, ear-stunning roar of a big bore, forty-five Colt automatic Darius shouted in pain as the Luger flew from his hand into the water. Giordino, in a uniform at least two sizes too large. nimbly leaped off the dock onto the sub deck and shoved the Colt into von Till’s left ear. Then he turned to admire his marksmanship.
“Well, what do you know, I even remembered to remove the safety.'
“Nice going” Pitt said. 'Errol Flynn couldn’t have made a more dramatic entrance.”
Their faces confused and uncomprehending, von Till and Darius stood frozen in mute shock. The hot flood lights glazed through the mist, burning it away completely, and the guards on the ledge could see that something totally unexpected had occurred on the sub’s deck. As if drawn by one string, all five men raised their machine pistols and aimed them directly at Pitt.
“Keep your fingers off the triggers.” Giordino’s voice boomed against the rock walls “Shoot Major Pitt and I splatter your boss’s brains half way to Athens. Shoot and you all die. There are guns trained on your hearts-I'm not bluffing. Look at the tunnel.”
If there was one thing in the cavern whose supply outdistanced its necessity, it was the machine pistol.
There were ten more of them in the bands of the toughest bunch of men Pitt had ever seen. They were grouped in loose formation around the tunnel entrance, four in the prone position, three kneeling and three standing. Pitt almost had to look twice to make them out clearly; their black and brown camouflaged field dress blended perfectly into the craggy shadows. Only their maroon berets, the hallmark of an elite outfit, betrayed their presence to the casual eye.
Giordino continued: “Now please turn your attention to the submarine at my rear.”
It wasn’t exactly the straw that broke the camel’s back, but it was the ugly, air cooled machine gun, gripped by a fiendishly grinning Colonel Zeno on the I-Boat’s conning tower, that broke the bodyguards will to fight Slowly they lowered their guns and raised their hands in the air; all except one, he hesitated and paid the price.
Zeno fanned the trigger of his weapon. Two bullets, no more. spat from the air-cooled barrel in one brief blast The unthinking unfortunate guard slumped soundlessly to the ground and rolled limply into the water, staining the brilliant cobalt blue with a growing cloud of red.
“Now walk, don’t run to the nearest exit,” Giordino said casually, “your hands clasped on your heads.”
Pitt, the tired expression on his face reflecting the gnawing pain in his leg said to Giordino: “You sliced your timing pretty thin.”
“The capital of Italy wasn’t constructed in twenty-four hours,” Giordino paraphrased pontifically. “After all, swimming ashore, finding Zacynthus, Zeno, and their roving band of commandos, and then leading them through that godawful labyrinth on the run wasn’t the most leisurely of chores.”
“Did you have any trouble with my directions?”
“No problem. The elevator shaft was right where you said it’d be.”
Von Till moved close to Pitt, his eyes cold as ice. “Who told you about the elevator?”
“No one,” Pitt replied tersely. “Wandering through the labyrinth, I accidentally took a side corridor that ended at a ventilator shaft. I heard the sound of generators somewhere beyond the opening. Their purpose came to me when I was sure of the sea cavern. Your villa sits on a near vertical line above the shoreline cliffs. An underground elevator had to be the only means of moving from the villa to the cavern without detection. The shaft, the cavern, and passageways were a made to order arrangement for smuggling. courtesy of the Phoenicians over two thousand years ago.”
