"The next great sin that eer I did,

she liked before she returned to the surface. As soon as she clambered up on the fifth island, she headed for the nearest ripe polly fruit only to discover that she had lost her hatchet, the last packets of emergency rations, and the fish hooks. She slaked her thirst on overripe polly fruit, ignoring the rank taste for the sake of the moisture. That need attended to, she gathered up enough dry fronds to cushion her body, and went to sleep. She woke sometime in the night, thirsting for more of the overripe fruit which she hunted in the dark, cursing as she tripped over debris and fell into bushes, staggering about in her search until she had to admit to herself that her behavior was somewhat bizarre. About the same time she realized that she was drunk! The innocent polly fruit had been fermenting! Given her Ballybran adaptation, the state could only have been allowed by her weakened constitution. Giggling, she lay down on the ground, impervious to sand or discomfort and fell into a second drunken sleep. Much the worse for her various excesses, Killashandra awoke with a ghastly headache and a terrible need for water. Number five was a much larger island than her other way stops and she was searching so diligently to relieve her thirst that she almost passed the little canoe without its registering on her consciousness. It was only a small canoe, pulled up beyond the high tide mark, a paddle angling from the narrow prow. At another time and without her urgent need, Killashandra would not have ventured out on the open sea in such a flimsy craft. But someone had already brought it from wherever they came so it could as easily convey her elsewhere, too. Her need for water diminished by this happy discovery, Killashandra climbed the nearest polly tree and, hanging precariously to the ridged trunk, managed to saw through several stems with her short knife blade. She didnt waste time then, but threw the fruit into the small craft, slid it into the gentle waves, and paddled down the coast as fast as she could, just in case the owner should return and demand the return of his canoe. While she no longer needed to wait until noon to cross to the next island in her northern course, Killashandras previous days fright made her cautious. She keenly felt the loss of her hatchet. But good fortune continued to surprise her for, as she paddled around a narrow headland, she spotted the unmistakable sign of a small stream draining into the sea. She could even paddle a short way up its mouth and did so, pausing to scoop up a handful of sweet toshiba digital camera lens water before she jumped out of the canoe and pulled it out of sight under the bushes. Then she lay down by the water and drank until she was completely sated. By evening, just before the sun suddenly settled below the horizon in the manner characteristic of tropical latitudes, she stood out on the headland, deciding which of the island masses she would attempt to reach the next day. The nearest ones were large, by comparison, but the distant smudge lay long against the horizon. The water lapped seductively over her toes and she decided that she had fooled around with the minor stuff long enough. With the canoe, a fair start in the morning, and plenty of fruit in her little craft, she could certainly make the big island, however distant. She had the foresight to weave herself a sun hat, with a fishtail down her back to prevent sunstroke, for she wouldnt have the cooling water about her as she had while swimming. She had no experience with currents or riptides, nor had she considered the possibility of sudden squalls interrupting her journey. Those she encountered halfway across the deep blue stretch of sea to the large island. She was so busy trying to correct her course while the current pulled her steadily south that she was unaware of the squall until it pelted against her sunburned back. The next thing she knew she was waist deep in water. How the canoe stayed afloat at all, she didnt know. Bailing was a futile exercise but it was the only remedy she had. Then suddenly she felt the canoe sinking with her and, in a panic lest she be pulled down, she swam clear, and had no way to resist the insidious pull of the current. Once again the stubborn survival instinct came to Killashandras aid, and wisely she ceased struggling against the current and the run of the waves, and concentrated on keeping her head above water. She was still thrashing her arms when her legs grated against a hard surface. She crawled out of the water and a few more meters from the pounding surf before oblivion overcame her. Familiar sounds and familiar smells penetrated her fatigue and allowed her to enjoy the pangs of thirst and hunger once again. Awareness of her surroundings gradually increased and she roused to the sound of human voices raised in a happy clamor somewhere nearby. She sat up and found herself on one end of a wide curving beach of incredible beauty, on a harbor sheltering a variety of shipping. A large settlement dominated the

With the general for to dine;

into the eye of the wind. "We'll go east." Somebody had to make the decision, somebody had to be wrong, and it might as well be me. "We'll go eastJoss, how long is that spool?" "Four hundred yards. More or less." "So. Four hundred yards, then due north. That plane is bound to have left tracks in the snow: with luck, we'll cut across them. Let's hope to heaven it did touch down less than four hundred yards from here." I took the end of the line from the spool, went to the nearest antenna pole, broke off the four-foot-long flag-like frost feathersweird growths of the crystal aggregates of rime that streamed out almost horizontally to leewardand made fast the end of the line round the pole. I really made it fastour lives depended on that line, and without it we could never find our way back to the antenna, and so eventually to the cabin, through the pitch-dark confusion of that gale-ridden arctic night. There was no possibility of retracing steps through the snow: in that intense cold, the rime-crusted snow was compacted into a frozen neve that was but one degree removed from ice, of an iron-hard consistency that would show nothing less than the crimp marks of a five-ton tractor. We started off at once, with the wind almost in our faces, but slightly to the left. I was in the lead, Jackstraw came behind with the dogs and Joss brought up the rear, unreeling the line from the homing spool against the pressure of the return winding spring. Without my mask, that blinding suffocating drift was a nightmare, a cruel refinement of contrasting torture where the burning in my throat contrasted with the pain of my freezing face for dominance in my mind. I was coughing constantly in the super-chilled air, no matter how I tried to cover mouth and nose with a gloved hand, no matter how shallowly I breathed to avoid frosting my lungs. The devil of it was, shallow breathing was impossible. We were running now, running as fast as the ice-glazed slipperiness of the surface and our bulky furs would allow, for to unprotected people exposed to these temperatures, to that murderous drift-filled gale, life or death was simply a factor of speed, of the duration of exposure. Maybe the plane had ripped open or broken in half, catapulting the survivors out on to the ice-capif there were any survivors: for them, either immediate death as the heart failed in the near impossible task of adjusting the body to an instantaneous change of over 100 F, or death by exposure disposal of digital camera within five minutes. Or maybe they were all trapped inside slowly freezing. How to get at them? How to transport them all back to the cabin? But only the first few to be taken could have any hope. And even if we did get them all back, how to feed themfor our own supplies were already dangerously low? And where, in heaven's name, were we going to put them all? Jackstraw's shout checked me so suddenly that I stumbled and all but fell. I turned back, and Joss came running up. "The end of the line?" I asked. He nodded, flashed a torch in my face. "Your nose and cheek -both gone. They look bad." Gloves off, I kneaded my face vigorously with my mittened hands until I felt the blood pounding painfully back, then took the old jersey which Jackstraw dug out from a gunny sack and wrapped it round my face. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. We struck off to the north, with the wind on our right cheeks -1 had no option but to gamble on the hope that the wind had neither backed nor veeredour torches probing the ground in front of us, stopping every fifteen or twenty feet to drive a pointed bamboo marker into the frozen ground. We had covered fifty yards without sighting anything, and I was just beginning to become convinced that we must still be well to the west of the plane's touchdown point and wondering what in the world we should do next when we almost literally stumbled into an eighteen inch deep, ten foot wide depression in the snow-crust of the ice-cap. This was it, no question about that. By a one in a hundred chance we had hit on the very spot where the plane had touched downor crashed down, if the size of the depression in that frozen snow were anything to go by. To the left, the west, the ground was virginal, unmarkedten feet to that side and we should have missed it altogether. To the east, the deep depression shelved rapidly upwards, its smooth convexity now marred by two large gouge marks, one in the centre and one to the right of the track, as if a pair of gigantic ploughs had furrowed through the ground: part of the under fuselage must have been ripped open by the impact -it would have been a wonder had it not been. Some way farther to the east, and well to the right of the main track, two other grooves, parallel and of a shallow bowl shape, had been torn in the snow. The gouge marks, plainly, of the still-racing propellers: the plane must have tilted over on its

"This infant was called John Little," quoth he,

It was Jackstraw who heard it firstit was always Jackstraw, whose hearing was an even match for his phenomenal eyesight, who heard things first. Tired of having my exposed hands alternately frozen, I had dropped my book, zipped my sleeping-bag up to the chin and was drowsily watching him carving figurines from a length of inferior narwhal tusk when his hands suddenly fell still and he sat quite motionless. Then, unhurriedly as always, he dropped the piece of bone into the coffee-pan that simmered gently by the side of our oil-burner stovecurio collectors paid fancy prices for what they "Which name shall be changed anon; imagined to be the dark ivory of fossilised elephant tusksrose and put his ear to the ventilation shaft, his eyes remote in the unseeing gaze of a man lost in listening. A couple of seconds were enough. "Aeroplane," he announced casually. "Aeroplane!" I propped myself up on an elbow and stared at him. "Jackstraw, you've been hitting the methylated spirits again." "Indeed, no, Dr Mason." The blue eyes, so incongruously at

The tane unto the tither did say,

seriously ill and Marie LeGarde frighteningly weak and exhausted, I couldn't remain any longer. Had I been made of tougher stuff, or even had I not been a doctor, I might have brought myself to recognise that both Marie LeGarde and Theodore Mahler were expendable pawns in a game where the stakes, I was now certain, were far greater than just the lives of one or two people. I might have held everybodyor the major suspects, at leastat gunpoint until such time, twenty-four hours if need be, as Hillcrest did come up. But I could not bring myself to regard our sick passengers as expendable pawns. A weakness, no doubt, but one that I was almost proud to share with Jackstraw, who felt exactly as I did. That Hillcrest would come up eventually I felt pretty sure. The dumping of the sugar in the petrolI bit my lips in chagrin whenever I remembered that it had been I who had told them all that Hillcrest was running short of fuelhad been a brilliant move, but nothing more, now, than I had come to expect of men who thought of everything, made every possible provision against future eventualities. Still, even though furiously angry at the delay, Hillcrest had thought he could cope with the situation. The big cabin of the Sno-Cat was equipped with a regular workshop with tools fit to deal with just about every mechanical breakdown, and already his driver-mechanic-1 didn't envy him his murderous task even though he was reportedly working behind heated canvas apronshad stripped down the engine and was cleaning pistons, cylinder walls and valves of the unburnt carbon deposits that had finally ground the big tractor to a halt. A couple of others had rigged up a makeshift distillation unita petrol drum, almost full, with a thin metal tube packed in ice leading from its top to an empty drum. Petrol, Hillcrest had explained, had a lower boiling point than sugar, and when the drum was heated the evaporating gas, which would cool in the ice-packed tube, should emerge as pure petrol. Such, at least, was the theory, although Hillcrest didn't seem absolutely sure of himself. He had asked if we had any suggestion, whether we could help him in any way at all, but I had said we couldn't. I was tragically, unforgivably wrong. I could have helped, for I knew something that no one else did, but, at the moment, I completely forgot it. And because I forgot, nothing could now avert the tragedy that was to come, or save the lives of those who were about to die. My thoughts were black and bitter as the tractor roared and lurched and camera digital direct printing clattered its way south-west by west under the deepening darkness of a sky that was slowly beginning to fill with cloud. A dark depression filled me, and a cold rage, and there was room in my mind for both. I had a strange fey sense of impending disaster, and though I was doctor enough to know that it was almost certainly a psychologically induced reaction to the cold, exhaustion, sleeplessness and hungerand a physical reaction to the blow on the headnevertheless I could not shake it off: and I was angry because I was helpless. I was helpless to do anything to protect any of the innocent people with me, the people who had entrusted themselves to my care, the sick Mahler and Marie LeGarde, the quiet young German girl, the grave-faced Margaret Rossabove all, I had to admit to myself, Margaret Ross: I was helpless because I knew the murderers might strike at any time, for all I knew they might believe that Hillcrest had already told me all I needed to know ana that I was just waiting my chance to catch them completely off guard; on the other hand they, too, were almost certainly just biding their time, not knowing how much I knew, but just taking a calculated gamble, letting things ride as long as the tractor kept moving, kept heading in the right direction, but prepared to strike once and for all when the time came: and, above all, I was helpless because I still had no definite idea as to who the killers were. For the hundredth time I went over everything I could remember, everything that had happened, everything that had been said, trying to dredge up from the depths of memory one single fact, one isolated word that would point the finger in one unmistakable direction. But I found nothing. Of the ten passengers Jackstraw and I had with us, six of them, I felt certain, were almost beyond suspicion. Margaret Ross and Marie LeGarde were completely beyond it. The only things that could be said against Mrs Dansby-Gregg and Helene was that I hadn't absolute proof of their innocence, but I was certain that such proof was quite unnecessary. United States senators, as recent bribery and corruption cases had lamentably shown, had as many human failingsespecially cupidityas the next man: but, even so, the idea of a senator getting mixed up with murder and criminal activities on this massive scale was too preposterous to bear further examination. As for Mahler, I was quite aware that being a diabetic didn't bar a man

For the rights of a monarch their country defending,

indescribable, and Mallory shuddered to think what it would have been like had the tavernaris had at his disposal any illumination more powerful than the two smoking oil lamps placed on the counter before him. As it was, the gloom suited him well. Their dark clothes, braided jackets, tsantas and jackboots looked genuine enough, Mallory knew, and the black-fringed turbans Louki had mysteriously obtained for them looked as they ought to look in a tavern where every islander thereabout eight of themwore nothing else on their heads. Their clothes had been good enough to pass muster with the tavernarisbut then even the keeper of a wine shop could hardly be expected to know every man in a town of five thousand, and a patriotic Greek, as Louki had declared this man to be, wasn't going to lift even a faintly suspicious eyebrow as long as there were German soldiers present. And there were Germans presentfour of them, sitting round a table near the counter. Which was why Mallory had been glad of the semi-darkness. Not, he was certain, that he and Dusty Miller had any reason to be physically afraid of these men. Louki had dismissed them contemptuously as a bunch of old womenheadquarters clerks, Mallory guessedwho came to this tavern every night of the week. But there was no point in sticking out their necks unnecessarily. Miller lit one of the pungent, evil-smelling local cigarettes, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "Damn' funny smell in this joint, boss." "Put your cigarette out," Mallory suggested. "You wouldn't believe it, but the smell I'm smelling is a damn' sight worse than that." "Hashish," Mallory said briefly. "The curse of these island ports." He nodded over towards a dark corner. "The lads of the village over there will be at it every night in life. It's all they live for." "Do they have to make that gawddamned awful racket when they're at it?" Miller asked peevishly. "Toscanini should see this lot!" Mallory looked at the small group in the corner, clustered round the young man playing a bouzoukoa long-necked mandolinand singing the haunting, nostalgic rembetika songs of the hashish smokers of the Piraeus. He supposed the music did have a certain melancholy, lotus-land attraction, but right then it jarred on him. One had to be in a certain twi-lit, untroubled mood to appreciate that sort of thing; and he had never felt less untroubled in his life. "I suppose it is a bit grim," digital camera repair manuals he admitted. "But at least it lets us talk together, which we couldn't do if they all packed up and went home." "I wish to hell they would," Miller said morosely. "I'd gladly keep my mouth shut." He picked distastefully at the mezea mixture of chopped olives, liver, cheese and appleson the plate before him; as a good American and a bourbon drinker of long standing he disapproved strongly of the invariable Greek custom of eating when drinking. Suddenly he looked up and crushed his cigarette against the table top. "For Gawd's sake, boss, how much longer?" Mallory looked at him, then looked away. He knew exactly how Dusty Miller felt, for he felt that way himselftense, keyed-up, every nerve strung to the tautest pitch of efficiency. So much depended on the next few minutes; whether all their labour and their suffering had been necessary, whether the men on Kheros would live or die, whether Andy Stevens had lived and died in vain. Mallory looked at Miller again, saw the nervous hands, the deepened wrinkles round the eyes, the tightly compressed mouth, white at the outer corners, saw all these signs of strain, noted them and discounted them. Excepting Andrea alone, of all the men he had ever known he would have picked the lean, morose American to be his companion that night. Or maybe even including Andrea. "The finest saboteur in southern Europe" Captain Jensen had called him back in Alexandria. Miller had come a long way from Alexandria, and he had come for this alone. To-night was Miller's night. "Curfew in fifteen minutes," he said quietly. "The balloon goes up in twelve minutes. For us, another four minutes to go." Miller nodded, but said nothing. He filled his glass again from the beaker in the middle of the table, lit a cigarette. Mallory could see a nerve twitching high up in his temple and wondered dryly how many twitching nerves Miller could see in his own face. He wondered, too, how the crippled Casey Brown was getting on in the house they had just left. In many ways he had the most responsible job of alland at the critical moment he would have to leave the door unguarded, move back to the balcony. One slip up there. . . . He saw Miller look strangely at him and grinned crookedly. This had to come off, it just had to: he thought of what must surely happen if he failed, then shied away from the thought. It wasn't good to think of these things, not now, not at this time. He wondered if the other two

From the seat of his ancestors, bids you adieu!

testimony on each count, managing to publicly absolve him from felonious assault as he was, in fact, acting even when he abducted her in her best interests, contractually and personally. She kept her answers concise and unemotional. Subjectively she had never been so terrified of any experience. And the equipment would record that as well. Trag and Olav had their turns in the witness chair. Each time the subliminal manipulation was mentioned, there was a significant pause in the flow of questions, though there was no hint of how this information was being received and analyzed by the Judicial Monitor, since, in point of law, this part of everyones testimony was irrelevant to the case at hand. When Olav resumed his seat between Trag and Lars, the Bailiff approached the screen. They could all see the activity of the terminal but the pattern of its flashing lights disclosed nothing. Killashandra, holding Larss hand, jumped an inch above her chair when the contralto voice began its summation. With the exception of felonious assault, the charges against the accused, Lars Dahl, are dismissed. Killashandra swallowed. Criminal intent is not apparent but disciplinary action is required by law. Lars Dahl, you are remanded into the custody of the Judicial Branch, pending disposition of the disciplinary action. You are further remanded for examination of the charge of subliminal manipulation against the Elders of Optheria. Olav Dahl, you are seconded to assist these investigations, which have now been initiated. Trag Morfane, Killashandra Ree, have you anything to add to your recorded testimonies on the charge of subliminal manipulation by the Elders of Optheria? Having already been as candid as possible, neither crystal singer could expand on the information already on record. And Killashandra did not quite understand the matter of disciplinary action for Lars and the remand orders. Then this session of the Grand Felony Court of Regulus Sector Federation is closed. The traditional crack of wood against wood ended the hearing. Perplexed by the legal formulas, Killashandra turned to Lars and his father. Are you free, or what? she demanded. Im not quite sure, Lars said with a nervous laugh. It cant mean much. Everything else was dismissed, wasnt it? He looked to Olav and was sobered by his fathers solemn expression. He has been remanded, the Bailiff explained kindly, taking Lars by the arm. I interpret the judgment to mean that the Court has dismissed all cobra digital vidoe camera charges but Lars Dahls physical assault on you in the matter of your abduction. Disciplinary action is always short term. On the second remand charge, the Court requires further discussion of the allegations about the use of subliminal conditioning by the Optherian government. If these are proved correct, then it is likely that the disciplinary action will be suspended. I can give you hard copy of the precedents involved, indeed of the entire trial, if you wish. When Lars nodded a perplexed affirmation, Then I shall program them for your quarters. If you gentlemen will come with me? A panel at the back of the seating area opened and it was toward this that Funadormi gestured Lars and his father. Come with you? Lars cried, trying to break from the Bailiffs grip. Shock and surprise briefly immobilized Killashandra and before she could make a move to reach Lars, the Bailiff, securely holding her lover, had him nearly to the open door. Wait! Please wait! she screamed, falling over the chairs in her haste. You two have been dismissed. Justice has been served! Arrangements for your transport have been made and the ground vehicle programmed to take you to the appropriate site. But Lars! Killashandras cry of protest was made to the immense back of the Bailiff which was disappearing through the aperture, totally eclipsing Lars. Olav hurried anxiously after, adding his protests. Lars Dahl! she screamed, every fear alerted to his unexpected departure. The panel closed with a final thuck just as Killashandra reached it. Justice has been served? she shrieked, beating the wall with impotent fists. What justice? What justice? LARS DAHL! Couldnt they let us say good-bye? Is that justice? She wheeled on Trag who was trying to silence her tactless accusations. You and your fool-proof verbiage. Theyve charged him after all. I want to know why and what does disciplinary action mean for a man whos put himself on the line for a whole benighted fardling useless planet? Killashandra Ree, and both crystal singers turned in astonishment as the voice issued unexpectedly from the wall. During your evidence, your psychological reactions exhibited extreme agitation and apprehension unusual when compared to your official profile which have been interpreted as fear of the accused, despite your generous testimony to his actions against you. Disciplinary action will prevent the

As they play at the ba?

embracing, that it was almost a complete circle with only a narrow bottleneck of an entrance to the north-west, a gateway dominated by searchlights and mortar and machine-gun batteries on either side. Less than three miles distant to the north-east from the carob grove, every detail, every street, every building, every caique and launch in the harbour were clearly visible to Mallory and ho studied them over and over again until he knew them by heart: the way the land to the west of the harbour sloped up gently to the olive groves, the dusty streets running down to the water's edge: the way the ground rose more sharply to the south, the streets now running parallel to the water down to the old town: the way the cliffs to the eastcliffs pock-marked by the bombs of Torrance's Liberator Squadron stretched a hundred and fifty sheer feet above the water, then curved dizzily out over and above the harbour, and the great mound of volcanic rock towering above that again, a mound barricaded off from the town below by the high wall that ended flush with the cliff itself: and, finally, the way the twin rows of A.A. guns, the great radar scanners and the barracks of the fortress, squat, narrow-embrasured, built of big blocks of masonry, dominated everything in sightincluding that great, black gash in the rock, below the fantastic overhang of the cliff. Unconsciously, almost, Mallory nodded to himself in slow understanding. This was the fortress that had defied the Allies for eighteen long months, that had dominated the entire naval strategy in the Sporades since the Germans had reached out from the mainland into the isles, that had blocked all naval activity in that 2,000 square mile triangle between the Lerades and the Turkish coast. And now, when he saw it, it all made sense. Impregnable to land attackthe commanding fortress saw to that: impregnable to air attackMallory realised just how suicidal it had been to send out Torrance's squadron against the great guns protected by that jutting cliff, against those bristling rows of anti-aircraft guns: and impregnable to sea attackthe waiting squadrons of the Luftwaffe on Samos saw to that. Jensen had been rightonly a guerrilla sabotage mission stood any chance at all: a remote chance, an all but suicidal chance, but still a chance, and Mallory knew he couldn't ask for more. Thoughtfully he lowered the binoculars and rubbed the back of his hand across aching eyes. At last he felt he knew exactly what he was up against, was grateful for the knowledge, for the opportunity nikon coolpix l18 digital camera reviews he'd been given of this long-range reconnaissance, this familiarising of himself with the terrain, the geography of the town. This was probably the one vantage point in the whole island that offered such an opportunity together with concealment and near immunity. No credit to himself, the leader of the mission, he reflected wryly, that they had found such a place: it had been Louki's idea entirely. And he owed a great deal more than that to the sadeyed little Greek. It had been Louki's idea that they first move upvalley from Margaritha, to give Andrea time to recover the explosives from old Leri's hut, and to make certain there was no immediate hue and cry and pursuitthey could have fought a rearguard action up through the olive groves, until they had lost themselves in the foothills of Kostos: it was he who had guided them back past Margaritha when they had doubled on their tracks, had halted them opposite the village while he and Panayis had slipped wraith-like through the lifting twilight, picked up outdoor clothes for themselves, and, on the return journey, slipped into the Abteilung garage, torn away the coil ignitions of the German command car and truckthe only transport in Margarithaand smashed their distributors for good measure; it was Louki who bad led them by a sunken ditch right up to the roadblock guard post at the mouth of the valleyft had been almost ludicrously simple to disarm the sentries, only one of whom bad been awakeand, finally, it was Louki who bad insisted that they walk down the muddy centre of the valley track till they came to the metalled road, less than two miles from the town itself. A hundred yards down this they had branched off to the left across a long, sloping field of lava that left no trace behind, arrived in the carob copse just on sunrise. And it had worked. All these carefully engineered pointers, pointers that not even the most sceptical could have ignored and denied, had worked magnificently. Miller and Andrea, who had shared the forenoon watch, had seen the Navarone garrison spending long hours making the most intensive house-to-house search of the town. That should make it doubly, trebly safe for them the following day, Mallory reckoned: it was unlikely that the search would be repeated, still more unlikely that, if it were, it would be carried out with a fraction of the same enthusiasm. Louki had done his work welL Mallory turned his head to look at him. The little

"And I will his godfather be;

It was Jackstraw who heard it firstit was always Jackstraw, whose hearing was an even match for his phenomenal eyesight, who heard things first. Tired of having my exposed hands alternately frozen, I had dropped my book, zipped my sleeping-bag up to the chin and was drowsily watching him carving figurines from a length of inferior narwhal tusk when his hands suddenly fell still and he sat quite motionless. Then, unhurriedly as always, he dropped the piece of bone into the coffee-pan that simmered gently by the side of our oil-burner stovecurio collectors paid fancy prices for what they Prepare then a feast, and none of the least, imagined to be the dark ivory of fossilised elephant tusksrose and put his ear to the ventilation shaft, his eyes remote in the unseeing gaze of a man lost in listening. A couple of seconds were enough. "Aeroplane," he announced casually. "Aeroplane!" I propped myself up on an elbow and stared at him. "Jackstraw, you've been hitting the methylated spirits again." "Indeed, no, Dr Mason." The blue eyes, so incongruously at

And bards burn what they call their 'midnight taper',

It was Jackstraw who heard it firstit was always Jackstraw, whose hearing was an even match for his phenomenal eyesight, who heard things first. Tired of having my exposed hands alternately frozen, I had dropped my book, zipped my sleeping-bag up to the chin and was drowsily watching him carving figurines from a length of inferior narwhal tusk when his hands suddenly fell still and he sat quite motionless. Then, unhurriedly as always, he dropped the piece of bone into the coffee-pan that simmered gently by the side of our oil-burner stovecurio collectors paid fancy prices for what they To have, when the original is dust, imagined to be the dark ivory of fossilised elephant tusksrose and put his ear to the ventilation shaft, his eyes remote in the unseeing gaze of a man lost in listening. A couple of seconds were enough. "Aeroplane," he announced casually. "Aeroplane!" I propped myself up on an elbow and stared at him. "Jackstraw, you've been hitting the methylated spirits again." "Indeed, no, Dr Mason." The blue eyes, so incongruously at

I love the look, austere, immaculate,

I must know your name, he said softly, tipping her chin up to look into her eyes. Carrigana, she managed to remember to say. Why have I never seen you before? You have, she said with a rich, suggestive chuckle, amused by her own presumption, but you are always too busy with deep thoughts to see what you look at. I am all eyes now Carrigana. A slight tremor in his soft tone sent one through her body, as his hands renewed their grip, encouraging her body to conform to his. Part of her mind recognized the sincerity in his voice while another section wondered how she could make the most of this encounter. All of her didnt care what else happened to either of them if they could just enjoy this one evening. She was so hungry it had been months since shed made love. Not yet, sweet Sunny, not yet, he said determinedly but gently disengaging himself. Weve the whole night before us, and his low voice lilted with promise. Youll know I cannot absent myself so soon. And well both be the stronger after a good meal his laughter rippled with sensuality for our dalliance. She let herself be swung again to his side, his arm tucking hers against his ribs, his warm hand stroking hers as he guided her to the barbecue pits. She had no argument against his so firm decision. Although she murmured understanding, she seethed with abruptly interrupted sensations, forcing herself to an outward amity. Perhaps it was as well, she told herself, as they collected platters from one of the long tables and joined those awaiting slices of roasted meat. Shed need time to recover and buffer herself against the charisma of the man. He was as potent as Lanzecki. And that was the first time shed thought of the Guildmaster in a while! What did Lars mean in saying shed know why he couldnt absent himself so soon? How important was he within the island society, aside from being its first citizen to get into the Conservatory? Then they were in the midst of the eager diners, with Lars exchanging laughing comments, teasing acquaintances, his rich lilting laughter rising above theirs. Yet he kept a firm grip on Killashandra and she tried to compose her expression against the surprise in the womens faces and the curiosity of the men. Who was this Lars Dahl when he wasnt kidnapping crystal singers? Once thin slices of the juicy meat had been served them, Lars Dahl escorted her back to the table and they az digital camera fix sank to the sand. Lars kept his left hand lightly on her thigh as he filled their plates from the foods displayed in the center of the table: breaded fried fish bits, steaming whiteroots, chopped raw vegetable, large yellow tubers which had been baked in polly leaves and exuded a pungent spiciness. He snagged a jug as it was being passed and filled their cups, deftly pouring without losing so much as a drop. Killashandra was aware of furtive glances the length of the table for Lars Dahls partner. She looked for Keralaw for her support but there was no sign of her friend. Nor could she discern any animosity in the scrutinies. Curiosity, yes, and envy. Eat. I guarantee youll need your strength Carrigana. Though she gave him a gleaming smile, she wondered why he had hesitated with the name, as if he was savoring the sound of it, the way he had rolled the rs and lengthened the final two as. Was he dissembling? Had he recognized her? He knew shed been injured by that island star-knife She almost pulled away from him, startled by a sudden knowledge that he had thrown that vicious starblade at her. She shook her head, smiling to answer his sudden quizzical look, and applied herself to the heaped food. His hand soothed her thigh, the fingers light and caressing. You sure can pick em, Killashandra, she thought, pulled by intense and conflicting emotions. She couldnt wait to roll with him, somewhere in the warm and fragrant plantation, with the surf pounding in rhythm with her blood. She wanted to solve the conundrums he represented, and she was determined to resolve each one to her advantage and furious that he didnt even recognize the woman he had first injured and then abducted. Yet, with all apparent complaisance, she sat, smiled, and laughed at his rather clever comments. Lars Dahl seemed to miss nothing that went on about him, and ate hugely. A beaming plump man wearing half a dozen garlands passed about a platter of the black flesh of the smacker fish, nudging Lars Dahl with a lewd whisper for his ear only, while Lars was lightly kneading her thigh, and then the plump man winked broadly at her, dumping a second slice of the fish onto her plate. She was indeed grateful for the second slice of the smacker for it was succulent and highly unusual in taste, having nothing oily or fishy about it. The fermented polly juice was more subtle than the overripe fruit she had

Should bear a bow before our king,

eyes off the road. "This is Saturdayrather, it's Sunday morning now. There are one thousand two hundred men on the island of Kherosone thousand two hundred British soldierswho will be dead, wounded or prisoner by next Saturday. Mostly, they'll be dead." For the first time he looked at Mallory and smiled, a brief smile, a crooked smile, and then it was gone. "How does it feel to hold a thousand lives in your hands, Captain Mallory?" For long seconds Mallory looked at the impassive face beside him, then looked away again. He stared down at the chart. Twelve hundred men on Kheros, twelve hundred men waiting to die. Kheros and Navarone, Kheros and Navarone. What was that poem again, that little jingle that he'd learnt all these long years ago in that little upland village in the sheeplands outside Queenstown? Chimborazothat was it. "Chimborazo and Cotopaxi, you have stolen my heart away." Kheros and Navaronethey had the same ring, the same indefinable glamour, the same wonder of romance that took hold of a man and stayed with him. Kheros andangrily, almost, he shook his head, tried to concentrate. The pieces of the jig-saw were beginning to click into place, but slowly. Jensen broke the silence. "Eighteen months ago, you remember, after the fall of Greece, the Germans had taken over nearly all the islands of the Sporades: the Italians, of course, already held most of the Dodecanese. Then, gradually, we began to establish missions on these islands, usually spear-headed by your people, the Long Range Desert Group or the Special Boat Service. By last September we had retaken nearly all the larger islands except Navaroneit was too damned hard a nut, so we just by-passed itand brought some of the garrisons up to, and beyond, battalion strength." He grinned at Mallory. "You were lurking in your cave somewhere in the White Mountains at the time, but you'll remember how the Germans reacted?" "Violently?" Jensen nodded. "Exactly. Very violently indeed. The political importance of Turkey in this part of the world is impossible to over-estimateand she's always been a potential partner for either Axis or Allies. Most of these islands are only a few miles off the Turkish coast. The question of prestige, of restoring confidence in Germany, was urgent." "So?" "So they flung in everythingparatroopers, airborne troops, crack mountain brigades, hordes of StukasI'm told they stripped the Italian front kodak easyshare 12 mp digital camera of dive-bombers for these operations. Anyway, they flung everything inthe lot. In a few weeks we'd lost over ten thousand troops and every island we'd ever recapturedexcept Kheros." "And now it's the turn of Kheros?" "Yes." Jensen shook out a pair of cigarettes, sat silently until Mallory had lit them and sent the match spinning through the window towards the pale gleam of the Mediterranean lying north below the coast road. "Yes, Kheros is for the hammer. Nothing that we can do can save it. The Germans have absolute air superiority in the Aegean. . . ." "Butbut how can you be so sure that it's this week?" Jensen sighed. "Laddie, Greece is fairly hotching with Allied agents. We have over two hundred in the Athens-Piraeus area alone and" "Two hundred!" Mallory interrupted incredulously. "Did you say" "I did." Jensen grinned. "A mere bagatelle, I assure you, compared to the vast hordes of spies that circulate freely among our noble hosts in Cairo and Alexandria." He was suddenly serious again. "Anyway, our information is accurate. An armada of caiques will sail from the Piraeus on Thursday at dawn and island-hop across the Cyclades, holing up in the islands at night." He smiled. "An intriguing situation, don't you think? We daren't move in the Aegean in the daytime or we'd be bombed out of the water. The Germans don't dare move at night. Droves of our destroyers and M.T.B.s and gunboats move into the Aegean at dusk: the destroyers retire to the South before dawn, the small boats usually lie up in isolated islands creeks. But we can't stop them from getting across. They'll be there Saturday or Sundayand synchronise their landings with the first of the airborne troops: they've scores of Junkers 52s waiting just outside Athens. Kheros won't last a couple of days." No one could have listened to Jensen's carefully casual voice, his abnormal matter-of-factness and not have believed him. Mallory believed him. For almost a minute he stared down at the sheen of the sea, at the faery tracery of the stars shimmering across its darkly placid surface. Suddenly he swung around on Jensen. "But the Navy, sir! Evacuation! Surely the Navy" "The Navy," Jensen interrupted

To have, when the original is dust,

verdict. Well, well, whats his name? Corish von Mittelstern. He says that he met you on board the Athena. Mirbethan obviously doubted this. Indeed he did. A pleasant young man who knows nothing of my Guild affiliation. Put him through. Corishs image immediately replaced Mirbethans. He was frowning but his expression cleared into a broad smile once he saw Killashandra. Thank Krim I got you, Killashandra. I was beginning to doubt that you ever existed, with that Conservatory playing it so cozy. I never heard of a Conservatory monitoring the calls of a student. Theyre very careful and they prefer your complete dedication to your studies here. You mean, youve been allowed to play on one of those special organs? Killashandra affected a girlish giggle. Me? No. But I heard the most marvelous recital on the Conservatorys two-manual sensory organ last night. You wouldnt believe how versatile it is, how powerful, how stimulating. Corish, youve simply got to get to one of the concerts before you leave. The public ones will be starting soon, they tell me, but I could see if its possible to get you to one here at the Conservatory. You really have to hear the Optherian organ, Corish, before you can possibly understand what its like for me. Someone pinched her arm. Well, maybe she was overdoing it a trifle but enthusiasm was not out of order. Have you found your uncle yet? Corishs expression altered from the skeptical to the dolorous. Not yet. Oh, dear, how very disappointing. Yes, it is. And Ive only two more weeks before Im scheduled to leave. The family is going to be upset about my failure. Look, Killashandra, I know youre studying hard, and this is a chance of a lifetime for you, but could you spare me an evening? Killashandra gave Corish full marks for a fine performance. Oh, Corish, you sound so discouraged. Yes, Im sure I can wangle an evening out. I dont think theres a concert tonight. Ill find out. Im not a prisoner here. I should hope not, Corish said stiffly. Look, where can I reach you? The Piper Facility, Corish replied as if there were no other suitable place in the City, where you said, and he emphasized the word, that youd leave a message for me. I was concerned when thered been no word at best sr digital camera all from you. Foods not bad here but they wont serve anything drinkable. Typical traveler hostel. Ill see if they can recommend some place a little more Optherian. This isnt a bad world, you know. Ive met some sterling people, very helpful, very kind. Then his expression brightened. You check and leave word at the Facility only if you cant make it. Otherwise, come here at seven thirty. You have enough funds for ground transport, dont you? Now he was the slightly condescending, well traveled adult, older sibling. Of course I do. You sound just like my brother, she replied cheerfully. See you! And she broke the connection, turning to Trag and Lars. That sort of solves one problem, doesnt it? Does it? Trag asked darkly. I think so, Lars replied. Corish has an unlimited travel pass, issued by Elder Pentrom. His credentials must have come from very highly placed Federationists for that kind of assistance. More likely, his uncle is due to inherit a sizable hunk of credit of which the Optherian government will get its own share. Killashandra suggested. Lars nodded. And if his cover has been that good, its unlikely the Elders have tumbled to his true identity so he could get in touch with anyone we need, including Olav Dahl! Or Nahia or Hauness. What concerns me, Lars said, his eyes clouded with anxiety, is why hes getting in touch with you right now. He must have come back to the City from Ironwood and Nahia and Hauness. Maybe theyre in jeopardy. So many people were picked up on the search and seize Killashandra put a reassuring hand on Larss arm. I think somehow Corish would have managed to intimate that. I think he did by not admitting to finding his uncle. If he admitted to having found his uncle, Trag said, unexpectedly joining forces with Killashandra to reassure Lars, he would no longer have any need to use that travel pass, and if hes as good a Council agent as he seems to be, he wouldnt surrender that option. Lars accepted that interpretation with a nod of his head and pretended to be reassured. Well know soon enough, Killashandra said kindly. Well, when you meet Corish this evening, Lars said, walk to whichever restaurant hes been recommended. That way you have some chance of open talk. The Piper is certain to recommend The Berry Bush or Frenshaws.

Upon the hills, when every little creek

something?" Miller shook his head impatiently. "Junior here's scared o' nothin'. He stayed behind to write a note. Later on he used his leg to drop behind us some place, and leave the note where it could be seen. Early on, this must have been. Note probably said that we would come out at such and such a place, and would they kindly send a welcomin' committee to meet us there. They sent it, remember: it was their car we swiped to get to town.. . . That was the first time I got real suspicious of the boy-friend: after he'd dropped behind he made up on us again real quicktoo damn' quick for a man with a game leg. But it wasn't till I opened the rucksack in the square this evenin' that I really knew." "You only mentioned two reasons," Mallory prompted. "Comin' to the others. Number threehe could fall behind when the welcomin' committee opened up in frontIscariot here wasn't goin' to get himself knocked off before he collected his salary. And number fourremember that real touchin' scene when he begged you to let him stay at the far end of the cave that led into the valley we came out? Goin' to do his Horatio-on-thebridge act?" "Going to show them the right cave to pick, you mean." "Check. After that he was gettin' pretty desperate. I still wasn't sure, but I was awful suspicious, boss. Didn't know what he might try next. So I clouted him good and hard when that last patrol came up the valley." "I see," Mallory said quietly. "I see indeed." He looked sharply at Miller. "You should have told me. You had no right" "I was goin' to, boss. But I hadn't a chanceJunior here was around all the time. I was just startin' to tell you half an hour back, when the guns started up." Mallory nodded in understanding. "How did you happen on all this in the first place, Dusty?" "Juniper," Miller said succinctly. "Remember that's how Turzig said he came to find us? He smelt the juniper." "That's right. We were burning juniper." "Sure we were. But he said he smelt it on Kostos and the wind was blowin' off Kostos all day long." "My God!" Mallory whispered. "Of course, of course! And I missed it completely." "But Jerry knew we were there. How? Waal, he ain't got second sight no more than I have. So he was tipped offhe was tipped off by the boy-friend here. Remember I said he'd talked to some of his pals in Margaritha nikon coolpix le digital camera when we went down there for the supplies?" Miller spat in disgust. "Fooled me all along the line. Pals? I didn't know how right I was. Sure they were his palshis German pals! And that food he said he got from the commandant's kitchenhe got it from the kitchen all right. Almost certainly he goes in and asks for itand old Skoda hands him his own suitcase to stow it in." "But the German he killed on the way back to the village? Surely to God" "Panayis killed him." There was a tired certainty in Miller's voice. "What's another corpse to Sunshine here. Probably stumbled on the poor bastard in the dark and had to kill him. Local colour. Louki was there, remember, and he couldn't have Louki gettin' suspicious. He would have blamed it on Louki anyway. The guy ain't human. . . . And remember when he was flung into Skoda's room in Margaritha along with Louki, blood pourin' from a wound in his head?" "High-grade ketchup. Probably also from the commandant's kitchen," Miller said bitterly. "If Skoda had failed by every other means, there would still have been the boy-friend here as a stool-pigeon. Why he never asked Louki where the explosives were I don't know." "Obviously he didn't know Louki knew." "Mebbe. But one thing the bastard did knowhow to use a mirror. Musta heliographed the garrison from the carob grove and given our position. No other way, boss. Then sometime this morning he must have got hold of my rucksack, whipped out all the slow fuse and fixed the clock fuse and detonators. He should have had his hands blown off tamperin' with them fulminates. Lord only knows where he learnt to handle the damn' things." "Crete," Mallory said positively. "The Germans would see to that. A spy who can't also double as a saboteur is no good to them." "And he was very good to them," Miller said softly. "Very, very good. They're gonna miss their little pal. Iscariot here was a very smart baby indeed." "He was. Except to-night. He should have been smart enough to know that at least one of us would be suspicious" "He probably was," Miller interrupted. "But he was misinformed. I think Louki's unhurt. I think Junior here talked Louki into letting him stay in his placeLouki was always a bit scared of himthen he strolled across to his pals at the gate, told 'em to send a strong-arm squad out to Vygos to pick up the others,

"His name shall be alterd," quoth William Stutely,

wrong." "A sensible man!" Skoda purredbut Mallory could have sworn to an undertone of disappointment in the voice. "Proceed, my friend." "Captain Mallory has no eye for detail," Miller drawled. "I was with him that day. He is malignin' a noble bird. It was a vulture, not a buzzard." Just for a second Skoda's smile slipped, then it was back again, as rigidly fixed and lifeless as if it had beeii painted on. "Very, very witty men, don't you think, Turzig? What the British would call music-hall comedians. Let them laugh while they may, until the hangman's noose begins to tighten. . . ." He looked at Casey Brown. "Perhaps you" "Why don't you go and take a running jump to yourself?" Brown growled. "A running jump? The idiom escapes me, but I fear it is hardly complimentary." Skoda selected a cigarette from a thin case, tapped it thoughtfully on a thumb nail. "Hmm. Not just what one might call too co-operative, Lieutenant Turzig." "You won't get these men to talk, sir." There was quiet finality in Turzig's voice. "Possibly not, possibly not." Skoda was quite unruffled. "Nevertheless, I shall have the information I want, and within five minutes." He walked unhurriedly across to his desk, pressed a button, screwed his cigarette into its jade holder, and leaned against the table, an arrogance, a careless contempt in every action, even to the leisurely crossing of the gleaming jackboots. Suddenly a side door was flung open and two men stumbled into the room, prodded by a rifle barrel. Mallory caught his breath, felt his nails dig savagely into the palms of his hands. Louki and Panayisi Louki and Panayis, bound and bleeding, Louki from a cut above the eye, Panayis from a scalp wound. So they'd got them too, and in spite of his warnings. Both men were shirtsleeved; Lould, minus his magnificently frogged jacket, scarlet tsanta and the small arsenal of weapons that he carried stuck beneath it, looked strangely pathetic and woe-begonestrangely, for he was red-faced with anger, the moustache bristling more ferociously than ever. Mallory looked at him with eyes empty of all recognition, his face expressionless. "Come now, Captain Mallory," Skoda said reproachfully. "Have you no word of greeting for two old friends? No? Or perhapi you are just overwhelmed?" he suggested smoothly. "You had not expected to see them so soon again, eh, Captain Mallory." "What cheap trick is this?" Mallory asked contemptuously. "I've never seen these men before in my life." His eyes caught those of Panayis, held there involuntarily: digital slr camera jargon the black hate that stared out of those eyes, the feral malevolencethere was something appaffing about it. "Of course not," Skoda sighed wearily. "Oh, of course not. Human memory is so short, is it not, Captain Mallory." The sigh was pure theatreSkoda was enjoying himself immensely, the cat playing with the mouse. "However, we will try again." He swung round, crossed over to the bench where Stevens lay, pulled off the blanket and, before anyone could guess his intentions, chopped the outside of his right hand against Stevens's smashed leg, just below the knee. . . . Stevens's entire body leapt in a convulsive spasm, but without even the whisper of a moan: he was still fully conscious, smiling at Skoda, blood trickling down his chin from where his teeth had gashed his lower lip. "You shouldn't have done that, Hauptmann Skoda," Mallory said. His voice was barely a whisper, but unnaturally loud in the frozen silence of the room. "You are going to die for that, Hauptmann Skoda." "So? I am going to die, am I?" Again he chopped his hand against the fractured leg, again without reaction. "Then Imay as well die twice overeh, Captain Mallory? This young man is very, very toughbut the British have soft hearts, have they not, my dear Captain?" Gently his hand slid down Stevens's leg, closed round the stockinged ankle. "You have exactly five seconds to tell me the truth, Captain Mallory, and then I fear I will be compelled to rearrange these splintsGott in Himmel! What's the matter with that great oaf?" Andrea had taken a couple of steps forward, was standing only a yard away, swaying on his feet. "Outside! Let me outside!" His breath came in short, fast gasps. He bowed his head, one hand to his throat, one over his stomach. "I cannot stand it! Air! Air! I must have air!" "Ah, no, my dear Papagos, you shall remain here and enjoyCorporal! Quickly!" He had seen Andrea's eyes roll upwards until only the whites showed. "The fool is going to faint! Take him away before he falls on top of us!" Mallory had one fleeting glimpse of the two guards hurrying forwards, of the incredulous contempt on Louki's face, then he ificked a glance at Miller and Brown, caught the lazy droop of the American's eyelid in return, the millimetric inclination of Brown's head. Even as the two guards came up behind Andrea and lifted the flaccid arms across their shoulders, Mallory glanced half-left, saw the nearest sentry less than four feet

The copious use of claret is forbid too,

16 Teradias house was situated on one of the upper levels facing North Harbor, and as they hurried up the steep, zigzag stairs that linked the terraces, Killashandra saw that much of the debris occasioned by the hurricane had already been removed. Groups of young people were unhurriedly staking polly trees upright and replanting those young pollys which had been entirely uprooted. Others were pruning bushes or restoring bedding plants. Are there any snakes in this paradise? Killashandra asked when they paused at the first level to let her catch her breath. Snakes? What are those? Lars asked, humoring her. Normally, a long, slender, legless reptile only I meant humans with unpleasant characteristics. She made a weaving, sinuous gesture with her hand, and grimaced with distaste. Surely the Elders make use of informers and spies. Oh, they do. Most of whom report themselves to us and pass back such information as we want the Elders to have. Lars grinned as his fingers caressed her arm. Its not naive of us; islanders stick together. The Elders can give us little that we lack except the freedom to leave the planet. To be sure, not many of us would leave: its having the option to do so. And my father has a small detector so that people posing as tourists can be quickly identified. Father has a theory that only a certain type of personality is attracted to such an infamous occupation, and they often give themselves away. Strangely enough, by not singing! He gave her a mischievous grin. I was relieved to hear you singing lustily at the barbecue. I nearly didnt because, if I could recognize your tenor, you might have spotted me as that midnight soprano. So I sang alto. But, Lars, isnt Nahia in jeopardy for being here? Someone might just slip up and mention her presence? Lars took her by the elbows and pulled her against him, unconcernedly stroking her hair. Beloved Sunny, Nahia would be protected under any circumstances but, as it happens, only my father, you, and the people she came with, know she was on this island during the hurricane. Her partys ocean jet has been secreted in another of the Back caves, unseen by anyone. Its still there and wont emerge until weve had a chance to jam the cruisers surveillance systems. Nahia and Hauness will use the islands to screen them from any possibility of detection when the cruiser takes you all right, and me back to the Mainland. Satisfied? I told you my father is efficient. He is. There best digital bridge camera will also be no one here tonight from Wing Harbor who might inadvertently remember the girl Lars Dahl had as his partner. But No one in Wing will feel slighted: theyre all too busy with storm damage. Every building on the waterfront collapsed. And Wingers avoid Elder inspection as they would a smacker school. Killashandra did feel relieved by his explanations. She was rather pleased, too, as she reviewed her confrontation with Torkes. Nor would she fail to be exceedingly cautious in the presence of any of the elders. Torkes would never forgive her for that tongue-lashing, and she knew that he would do everything he could to rank the others against her if a second confrontation was to occur. Still, she was glad she had launched her frontal assault on the fardling tyrant. We shant leave anything to chance, however, Sunny, Lars went on as they climbed to the last terrace level. If sun-bleached hair and eyebrows alter your appearance enough to deceive an FSP agent Corish was not expecting me to be on that beach, any more than you Then Teradia can restore your beauty. With more sophisticated clothes, and that hauteur of yours, youll be every inch the crystal singer. Lars halted, swinging her into his arms again. No one was in sight. Will the impressively beautiful crystal singer still favor her island lover? He smiled down at her, but tension caught at the corners of his grey-tinged eyes. Dont tell me you who braves hurricanes, Elders, and Masters feared my ranting? She soothed the creases from his eyes. I assume a role, Lars Dahl, from some opera or other. I play no role with you, no matter under what circumstances. Believe me. Lets not lose a moment of what we have together! She stood on tiptoe to kiss him and the hunger they both felt made them tremble. How are we going to make out, Killa, on board that cruiser? And back on the Mainland? Oh, citizen! Killashandra laid her hand gracefully against her bosom, fluttering her eyes, as much to keep back the tears as to embellish her assumed character. When I trust to you my safety, where else shall you be but with me, wherever I go, even in my bedchamber? And have you seen where they quartered me in the Conservatory? Youll see, Lars. It will all be arranged my way! By then they had reached an establishment with a modest sign spelling out Teradia in graceful lettering. Teradia herself greeted them, a woman as tall as

My deir son, now tell me O.

pocket and held it gingerly above his head. At first he could see nothing, for the darkness was deeper below and the mirror misted from the warmth of his body. And then the film vanished in the chill mountain air and he could see two, three and then half a dozen men breaking cover, heading at a clumsy run straight up the face of the hilland two of them had come from the extreme right of the line. Andrea lowered the mirror and relaxed with a long sigh of relief, eyes crinkling in a smile. He looked up at the sky, blinked as the first feathery flakes of falling snow melted on his eyelids and smiled again. Almost lazily he brought out another charger for the Mauser, fed more shells into the magazine. "Boss?" Miller's voice was plaintive. "Yes? What is it?" Mallory brushed some snow off his face and the collar of his smock and peered into the white darkness ahead. "Boss, when you were in school did you ever read any stories about folks gettin' lost in a snowstorm and wanderin' round and round in circles for days?" "We had exactly the same book in Queenstown," Mallory conceded. "Wanderin' round and round until they died?" Miller persisted. "Oh, for heaven's sake!" Mallory said impatiently. His feet, even in Stevens's roomy boots, hurt abominably. "How can we be wandering in circles if we're going downhill all the time? What do you think we're ona bloody spiral staircase?" Miller walked on in hurt silence, Mallory beside him, both men ankle-deep in the wet, clinging snow that had been falling so silently, so persistently, for the past three hours since Andrea had drawn off the Jaeger search party. Even in mid-winter in the White Mountains in Crete Mallory could recall no snowfall so heavy and continuous. So much for the Isles of Greece and the eternal sunshine that gilds them yet, he thought bitterly. He hadn't reckoned on this when he'd planned on going down to Margaritha for food and fuel, but even so it wouldn't have made any difference in his decision. Although in less pain now, Stevens was becoming steadily weaker, and the need was desperate. With moon and stars blanketed by the heavy snowcloudsvisibility, indeed, was hardly more than ten feet in any directionthe loss of their compasses had assumed a crippling importance. He didn't doubt his ability to find the vifiageit was simply a matter of walking downhill till they came to the stream that ran through the valley, then following that north make money using your digital camera till they came to Margarithabut if the snow didn't let up their chances of locating that tiny cave again in the vast sweep of the hillsides . . . Mallory smothered an exclamation as Miller's hand closed round his upper arm, dragged him down to his knees in the snow. Even in that moment of unknown danger he could feel a slow stirring of anger against himself, for his attention had been wandering along with his thoughts. . . . He lifted his hand as vizor against the snow, peered out narrowly through the wet, velvety curtain of white that swirled and eddied out of the darkness before him. Suddenly he had ita - dark, squat shape only feet away. They had all but walked straight into it. "It's the hut," he said softly in Miller's ear. He had seen it early in the afternoon, half-way between their cave and Margaritha, and almost in a line with both. He was conscious of relief, an increase in confidence: they would be in the vifiage in less than half an hour. "Elementary navigation, my dear Corporal," he murmured. "Lost and wandering in circles, my foot! Just put your faith . . ." He broke off as Miller's fingers dug viciously into his arm, as Miller's head came close to his own. - "I heard voices, boss." The words wer.e a mere breath of sound. "Are you sure?" Miller's silenced gun, Mallory noticed, was still in his pocket. Miller hesitated. "Dammit to hell, boss, I'm sure of nothin'," he whispered irritably. "I've been imaginin' every damn' thing possible in the past hour!" He pulled the snow hood off his head, the better to listen, bent forward for a few seconds, then sank back again. "Anyway, I'm sure I thought I heard somethin'." "Come on. Let's take a look-see." Mallory was on his feet again. "I think you're mistaken. Can't be the Jaeger boysthey were half-way back across Mount Kostos when we saw them last. And the shepherds only use these places in the summer months." He slipped the safety catch of his Colt .455, walked slowly, at a halfcrouch, towards the nearest wall of the hut, Miller at his shoulder. - They reached the hut, put their ears against the frail, tarpaper walls. Then seconds passed, twenty, half a minute, then Mallory relaxed. "Nobody at home. Or if they are, they're keeping mighty quiet. But no chances, Dusty. You go that way. I'll go this. Meet at the doorthat'll

"O wind thy horn, thou proud fellow,

are enemy held" "So's this one. Chap's got to have his H.Q. somewhere." Rutledge explained patiently. Suddenly his expression brightened. "I say, old boy, I know just the thing for you. A boat to escape observation and investigationthat was what Cairo insisted I get. How about a German E-boat, absolutely perfect condition, one careful owner. Could get ten thou. for her at home. Thirtysix hours. Pal of mine over in Bodrum" "Bodrum?" Mallory questioned. "Bodrum? Butbut that's in Turkey, isn't it?" "Turkey? Well, yes, actually, I believe it is," Rutledge admitted. "Chap has to get his supplies from somewhere, you know," he added defensively. "Thanks all the same"Mallory smiled"but this is exactly what we want. We can't wait, anyway." "On your own heads be it!" Rutledge threw up his hands in admission of defeat. "I'll have a couple of my men shove your stuff aboard." "I'd rather we did it ourselves, sir, It'swell, it's a very special cargo." "Right you are," the Major acknowledged. "No questions Rutledge, they call me. Leaving soon?" Mallory looked at his watch. "Half an hour, sir." "Bacon, eggs and coffee in ten minutes?" "Thanks very much." Mallory grinned. "That's one offer we'll be very glad to accept." He turned away, walked slowly down to the end of the pier. He breathed deeply, savouring the heady, herb-scented air of an Aegean dawn. The salt tang of the sea, the drowsily sweet perfume of honeysuckle, the more delicate, sharper fragrance of mint all subtly merged into an intoxicating whole, indefinable, unforgettable. On either side, the steep slopes, still brilliantly green with pine and walnut and holly, stretched far up to the moorland pastures above, and from these, faintly borne on the perfumed breeze, came the distant, melodic tinkling of goats' bells, a haunting, a nostalgic music, true symbol of the leisured peace the Aegean no longer knew. Unconsciously almost, Mallory shook his head and walked more quickly to the end of the pier. The others were still sitting where the torpedo boat had landed them just before dawn. Miller, inevitably, was stretched his full length, hat tilted against the golden, level rays of the rising sun. "Sorry to disturb you and all that, but we're leaving In half universal digital camera spotting scope mount an hour; breakfast in ten minutes. Let's get the stuff aboard." He turned to Brown. "Maybe you'd like to have a look at the engine?" he suggested. Brown heaved himself to his feet, looked down unenthusiastically at the weather-beaten, paint-peeled caique. "Right you are, sir. But if the engine is on a par with this bloody wreck.. . ." He shook his head in prophetic gloom and swung nimbly over the side of the pier. Mallory and Andrea followed him, reaching up for the equipment as the other two passed it down. First they stowed away a sackful of old clothes, then the food, pressure stove and fuel, the heavy boots, spikes, mallets, rock axes and coils of wire-centred rope to be used for climbing, then, more carefully, the combined radio receiver and transmitter and the firing generator fitted with the old-fashioned plunge handle. Next came the gunstwo Schmeissers, two Brens, a Mauser and a Coltthen a case containing a weird but carefully selected hodge-podge of torches, mirrors, two sets of identity papers and, incredibly, bottles of Hock, Moselie, ouzo and retsima. Finally, and with exaggerated care, they stowed away for'ard in the forepeak two wooden boxes, one green in colour, medium sized and bound in brass, the other small and black. The green box held high explosive TN.T., amatol and a few standard sticks of dynamite, together with grenades, gun-cotton primers and canvas hosing; in one corner of the box was a bag of emery dust, another of ground glass, and a sealed jar of potassium, these last three items having been included against the possibility of Dusty Miller's finding an opportunity to exercise his unique talents as a saboteur. The black box held only detonators, percussion and electrical, detonators with fulminates so unstable that their exposed powder could be triggered off by the impact of a falling feather. The last box had been stowed away when Casey Brown's head appeared above the engine hatch. Slowly he examined the mainmast reaching up above his head, as slowly turned for'ard to look at the foremast. His face carefully expressionless, he looked at Mallory. "Have we got sails for these things, sir?" "I suppose so. Why?" "Because God only knows we're going to need them!" Brown said bitterly. "Have a look at the engine-room, you said. This isn't an engine-room. It's a bloody