Clive Cussler: The Mediterranean Caper

“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.

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.”

“Wait a minute,” Giordino cut in. “Are you suggesting that somebody was smuggling out of here before Christ?”

“You didn’t do your homework,” Pitt grinned. “If you’d read the brochure that Zeno handed out before we started on the tour of the ruins, you’d know that Thasos was originally settled by the Phoenicians to exploit its gold and silver deposits. The tunnels and shaft are part of an ancient mine. Eventually it was worked out and abandoned. The Greeks discovered it a few hundred years later and thought it was some kind of mysterious labyrinth built by the Gods.”

A movement on the dock attracted Pitt’s attention and he looked up.

Zacynthus appeared seemingly out of nowhere and stood, staring down at Pitt for several long moments.

Finally he asked:

“How’s the leg?”

Pitt shrugged. “It’ll probably smart a bit when the barometer drops, but it shouldn’t slow up my sex life.”

“Colonel Zeno sent two of his men after a stretcher. They should be here in a few minutes.”

‘Were you able to overhear any of our enlightening conversation?”

Zacynthus nodded. “Every word. The acoustics in here would do credit to Carnegie Hall.”

“You’ll never prove any of it,” von Till said in contempt. His lips curled in a sneer, but there was a trace of desperation in his eyes.

“As I’ve said,” Pitt murmured tiredly, “I don’t have to prove anything. At this minute, four war criminal investigators are flying here from Germany, courtesy of the United States Air Force, who were only too happy to lend a helping hand after your little shooting party at Brady Field. Each one of those four men is a specialist. They know every hidden identity trick in the book. Plastic surgery, a different voice, your advanced age, nothing will fool them. I’m afraid it’s the end of the voyage for you, Admiral.”

“I am a Greek citizen,” von Till said arrogantly.

‘“They have no legal right to abduct me to Germany."

“Cut the masquerade," Pitt lashed back. “Von Till was the Greek citizen, not you. Colonel Zeno, will you please explain the facts of life for the Admiral.”

“With pleasure, Major.” Zeno had left the conning tower of the Japanese I-boat and was now standing next to Zacynthus. He grinned broadly under the big, flowing moustache and eyed von Till with piercing scrutiny. ‘We take a dim view of anyone who enters our country illegally and we greatly dislike playing host to a wanted war criminal. If you are indeed Admiral Erich Heibert, as Major Pitt claims, I shall personally see to it that you are turned over to the war criminal investigators and placed on the first plane back to Germany and the gallows.”

“A most appropriate and convenient ending,” Zacynthus said slowly. “It saves the taxpayers the expense of a long, drawn-out trial for narcotics smuggling. On the other hand, we lose the opportunity to bag half the illegal drug buyers in North America.”

“Aren’t you forgetting that opportunity makes the thief,” Pitt grinned.