Clive Cussler - The Mediterranean Caper

“At least not until yesterday.” Pitt took a deep breath and waited for an obvious reaction.

Von Till’s eyelids widened on his otherwise expressionless face and be said nothing. He seemed to be weighing Pitt’s words.

Pitt immediately came back to the original subject.

“Did you and Heibert often fly together?”

“Yes, we flew patrol together many times. We even used to take up a two seater Rumpler bomber and drop incendiary bombs on the British Aerodrome which was located right here on Thasos. Kurt would fly while I acted as observer and bombardier.”

“Where was your squadron based?”

“Kurt and I were posted to Jasta 73. We flew out of the Xanthi aerodrome in Macedonia.”

Pitt lit a cigarette. Then he looked at von Till’s old, but erect figure. “Thank you for a very concise and detailed account of Heibert’s death. You omitted nothing.”

“Kurt was a very dear friend,” von Till said wistfully. “I do not forget such things easily. I can even recall the exact date and time. It happened at 9:00 P.M. on July 15,1918.” “It seems strange that no one else knew the full story,” Pitt murmured, his eyes cold and steady with purpose. “The archives in Berlin and the British Air Museum in London have no information concerning the death of Heibert. All the books I’ve studied on the subject list him as missing in a mysterious situation similar to the other great aces, such as Albert Ball and Georges Guynemer.”

“Good God,” snapped von Till, exasperated. “The German archives lack the facts because the Imperial High Command never gave a damn about the war in Macedonia. And the British would never dare publish one word about such an unchivalrous deed. Besides, Kurt’s plane was still in the air when they saw it last. The British could only assume their insidious plan was successful.

“No trace of man or plane was ever found?”

“Nothing. Heibert’s brother searched for him after the war, but Kurt’s final resting place remains a mystery.”

“Was the brother also a flyer?”

“No. I met him on several occasions prior to the Second World War. He was a fleet officer in the German navy.”

Pitt fell silent Von Till’s story was too damn pat, he thought He had the strange feeling that he was being used, like a wooden decoy on a flight of geese. A faint ominous tingling stirred inside him. He heard a tapping

of high heels on the floor and without turning knew that

Teri had entered the room.

“Hello everybody.” Her voice was light and cheer.

Pitt swung around and faced her. She was wearing a mini-dress, designed like a Roman toga, that swirled about her slender legs. He liked the color — a golden orange that complemented her ebony hair.

She looked at Pitt, her eyes immediately drawn to his uniform. Her face paled slightly, and she raised a hand to her mouth in the same gesture he had noticed on the beach. Then she smiled thinly and approached, radiating a beautiful and sexy warmth.

“Good evening gorgeous creature,” Pitt said lightly, taking her outstretched hand and kissing it.

Teri flushed, then looked up at his grinning face. “I was going to thank you for coming,” she said. “But now that I’ve seen through the naughty little trick You’ve played on me, I’ve a good notion to toss you out on your bloody.

“Don’t say it,” Pitt interrupted. His lips curved devilishly. “I know you won’t believe me, but just this afternoon the base commander took me off the garbage truck, made me a pilot, and promoted me to Major.”

She laughed. “Shame on you. You told me your rank was under that of a sergeant.”

“No. I only said that I’ve never been a sergeant, and that’s the truth.”

She slipped her hand through Pitt’s arm. “Has Uncle Bruno been boring you with his flying tales of the Great War?”

“Fascinating me maybe, but not boring,” Pitt answered. Her eyes looked scared behind her smile. He wondered what she was thinking.

Teri shook her head from side to side. “You men and your war stories.” She kept staring at Pitt’s uniform and insignia of rank. This didn’t seem like the same man she had loved on the beach. This one was much more charming and sophisticated. “You may have Dirk after dinner, Uncle Bruno, but right now he’s mine.”

Von Till expertly clicked his heels and bowed. “As you wish my dear. For the next hour and a half, you shall be our commanding officer.”

She wrinkled her nose at von Till. “That’s awfully decent of you, Uncle, in that case my first order is for both of you to march to the dinner table.”

Teri pulled Pitt out to the terrace and led him down a sloping stairway that ended on a circular overhanging balcony.

The view was breathtaking. Far below the villa the lights of Liminas were blinking on house by house.

And across the sea, the early stars began to poke their tips into a spreading blanket of black. In the middle of the balcony, a table was set with service for three. A large yellow globe containing six candles illuminated the setting and cast an intriguing glow over the table, turning the silver dinnerware to gold.

Pitt eased Teri’s chair back for her and whispered in her ear. “You better be careful. You know how stimulated I get in romantic atmosphere.”

She looked up at him and her eyes smiled. “Why do you think I planned it this way.”

Before Pitt could answer, von Till walked up followed by the giant dog, and snapped his fingers.

Instantly, a young girl in native Greek costume materialized and set down an appetizer of mixed cheeses, olives and cucumbers. Next came a chicken soup, flavored with lemon and egg yokes. Then the main course; baked oysters mixed with onions and minced nuts. Von Till uncorked the wine, — Retsina-a fine old Greek wine.

It’s resin flavor reminded Pitt of turpentine. After the serving girl cleared the dishes, she brought a tray of fruit and then poured the coffee made in the Turkish manner; the powdered beans settling like silt on the bottom of the cup.

Pitt forced down the strong unsweetened coffee and rubbed knees with: Teri. He expected a girlish grin but instead she looked at him with frightened eyes. It seemed she was trying to tell him something.

“Well. Major,” said von Till “I hope you enjoyed our little repast.”

“Yes, thank you,” replied Pitt “It was excellent.”

Von Till stared across the table at Teri. His face had set like stone, and his voice turned to ice. “I would like to be alone with the Major for a little while, my dear. Why don’t you wait in the study, we will be along shortly.”

Teri acted surprised. She shuddered faintly, gripping the edge of the table before she answered him.

“Please, Uncle Bruno, It’s too early. Can’t you wait and have your little talk with Dirk later?”

Von Till shot her a withering look. “Do as your Uncle says. I have a few important matters I would like to discuss with Major Pitt. I am sure he will not leave before seeing you.”

Pitt found himself becoming angry. Why the sudden family crisis? he wondered. He took a long breath, sensing something very wrong. An odd prickle crept up his back; that old familiar feeling of danger. Like an old and trusted friend, it always tapped him on the shoulder and warned him when a nasty situation was brewing.

Unseen, Pitt slipped a paring knife off the plate of fruits and pushed it under his pant leg and into his sock.

Teri looked at Pitt, her face paling “Please excuse me, Dirk. I don’t mean to be a ninny.”

He smiled. “Don’t worry. I have a weakness for pretty ninnies.”

“You never seem to fail to say the right thing,” she murmured.

He squeezed her hand. “I’ll join you as soon as I can.”