Clive Cussler - The Mediterranean Caper

“I’ll be waiting.” Suddenly her eyes brimmed with tears and she turned away and ran up the stairway.

“I am sorry for speaking so harshly to Teri,” the old German apologized. “I had to talk to you privately and she rarely appreciates my desire to converse without feminine interruption. It is often necessary to become firm with women. Do you agree?”

Pitt nodded. He could think of nothing worthwhile to say.

Von Till inserted a cigarette in a long ivory holder and lit it. “I am extremely interested in hearing about the attack yesterday on Brady Field. My information from that section of the island tells me it was a very old and unknown type of airplane that struck your facility.”

“Old maybe,” said Pitt, “but not unknown.”

“Are you saying you have determined the make of airplane?”

Pitt studied von Till’s face. Silently be dawdled with a fork, then slowly laid it back on the tablecloth.

“The aircraft was positively identified as an Albatros

“And the pilot?” The words came slowly from Von Till's tight mouth. “Do you know the Identity of the pilot?”

“Not yet, but we will shortly.”

“You seem confident of an early capture.”

Pitt took his time about answering. He slowly and methodically lit a cigarette. “Why not. It shouldn’t be difficult to trace a sixty year old yellow antique aircraft to its owner.”

A smug grin crossed von Till’s face. “Macedonian Greece is an area of rugged terrain and desolate countryside. There are many thousands of square miles of mountains, valleys and eroded plains where even one of your monstrous jet bombers could be hidden and never detected.”

Pitt grinned back. “Who said anything about searching mountains or valleys?”

‘Where else would you look?”

“In the sea,” Pitt said pointing at the black water far below. “Probably in the same spot where Kurt Heibert crashed back in 1918.”

Von Till arched an eyebrow. “Are you asking me to believe in ghosts?”

Pitt grinned. “When we were little boys we believed in Santa Claus. And when we became big boys we believed in virgins. Why not add ghosts to the list also?”

“No thank you, Major. I find cold facts and figures superior to superstition.”

Pitt’s voice was even and distinct. "That leaves us with another avenue to explore.”

Von Till sat erect, his eyes squinting at Pitt.

“What if Kurt Heibert is still alive?”

Von Till’s mouth dropped open. Then he caught himself and exhaled a cloud of cigarette smoke. “That’s ridiculous. If Kurt were still alive he would be over seventy years old. Look at me, Major. I was born in 1899. Do you think a man of my age could fly an open cockpit plane, not to mention attacking an air field? No, I don’t think so.”

“The facts are on your side, of course,” said Pitt. He paused a moment, running his long fingers through his hair. “Still, I can’t help wondering if Heibert isn’t connected in some way.” His eyes shifted from the old German to the great white dog and he felt a vague tension grip his body. Intrigue hung heavily around them. He came to the villa at Teri’s invitation expecting only to enjoy a quiet dinner. Instead, he found himself engaged In a battle of wits with her uncle, a shrewd old Teuton who, Pitt was certain, knew more about the raid on Brady Field than he was telling. It was time to cast a spear and the hell with the consequences. He locked his eyes on von Till. “If the Hawk of Macedonia really did vanish sixty years ago and reappeared yesterday, the interesting question is; where did he spend his time between? In heaven, in hell… or on Thasos?”

A confused look replaced von Till’s arrogant mask. “I don’t quite understand what you mean.”

“Mean hell,” snarled Pitt. “Either you’re taking me for a complete fool or else you’re acting like one. I don’t think I should be telling you about the attack on Brady Field, but rather you should be telling me.”

He lingered over the words, enjoying the situation.

Von Till was on his feet in an instant, his oval face contorted with anger. “You have probed too far and too deep. Major Pitt, into areas that don’t concern you. I shall take no more of your absurd implications.

I must ask you to leave my villa.”

A look of contempt crossed Pitt’s face. “Whatever's fair,” he said turning to the stairway.

Von Till glared at him bitterly. “No need to return through the study, Major,” he said pointing to a small doorway that clung to the far wall of the balcony. “This corridor will lead you to the front entrance.”

“I’d like to see Teri before I leave.”

“I see no reason to prolong your presence.” Von Till blew a contemptuous cloud of smoke toward Pitt’s face, driving home the angered words. “I also demand that you never see or talk to my niece again.”

Pitt’s hand clenched into fists. “And if I do?’

Von Till smiled menacingly. “I will not threaten you, Major. If you persist in exercising aggressive stupidity, I shall merely punish Teri.”

“You rotten shit-eating kraut,” Pitt snarled, fighting down a surging urge to kick von Till in the crotch. “I don’t know what the hell your little conspiracy amounts to, but I can definitely go on record as stating that I’ll take great personal pleasure in screwing it up. And I can begin by telling you that the attack on Brady Field failed to achieve its intention. The National Underwater Marine Agency’s ship is staying right where it’s anchored until its scientific research activities are completed.”

Von Till’s hands trembled but his face remained impassive. “Thank you, Major. That is a bit of information I did not expect quite so soon.

At last, the old kraut is dropping his guard, Pitt thought. There could be no doubt about it now, it was von Till who had plotted to get rid of the First Attempt. But why? The question still remained unanswered. Pitt tried a shot in the dark. “You’re wasting your time, von Till. The divers on the First Attempt have already discovered the sunken treasure. They’re in the act of raising it now.”

Von Till broke out in a broad smile, and Pitt knew immediately the lie was a mistake.

“A very poor attempt, Major. You could not be more wrong.”

He drew the Luger from under his armpit and pointed the dark blue barrel at Pitt’s neck. Then he opened the corridor door. “If you please?” he said, beckoning with the gun toward the threshold.

Pitt took a quick glance through the darkened doorway. The corridor beyond was dimly lighted with candles and seemed completely deserted. He hesitated. “Please express my thanks to Teri for the excellent dinner.”

“I shall pass on your compliment”

“And thank you, Herr von Till,” Pitt said sarcastically, “for your hospitality.”

Von Till smirked, clicked his heels and bowed. “It was my pleasure” He placed a hand on the head of the dog, whose lip curled, showing a prodigious white fang.

The door’s archway was low and Pitt had to stoop to enter the tunnel-like entrance. He took a few cautious steps.

“Major Pitt!”

“Yes,” Pitt replied, turning and facing the fat shadow at the entryway.

There was a sadistic anticipation in von Till’s voice. “it is a pity you will not be able to witness the next flight of the yellow Albatros.”

Before Pitt could answer the door slammed shut and a heavy bolt dropped into its catch like a thunderclap and echoed ominously toward the unseen reaches of the dim corridor.

A spasm of anger swept over Pitt. He was half tempted to slam his fist against the door, but one look at the heavy planking changed his mind. Turning again to the corridor, he found it still empty. He shivered unconsciously. He had no illusions as to what lay ahead. It was certain now that von Till never meant for him to leave the villa alive. He remembered the knife and felt a tinge of assurance as he slipped it out of his sock. The flickering yellow light from the candles, mounted in rusted metal holders high on the walls.