Ник Картер - The Liquidator

Thank God for that, I said to myself. “But you do remember.”

“Of course. He said he was coming back, that American agents would meet him, and that he wanted me to be there.”

“I still don’t understand why you.”

“Nor do I.”

“Does he want to take you with him?”

“I cannot say. The plan, as I know it, is for me to sail to Korfu with you, meet Alex there and then return to Athens. Holiday finished.” She smiled mistily. “As I recall, so dimly, my big brother was always a pig-headed person, always demanding his own way. Perhaps he simply wants to see the last remaining member of the family.”

It was pretty clear we weren’t getting anywhere along this line, so I changed direction. “Let’s go back to the tan car last night. You were afraid. Why?”

“I don’t know. I have never been involved in this sort of thing before, so perhaps I am too much aware of... things.”

“This is a silly question, but I have to ask it. You haven’t mentioned this to anyone? I mean, just something like hearing from your brother after all these years?”

She shook her head emphatically, then had to wipe some strands of hair away from her mouth. “No. I... I do not have any close friends, McKee. No one I would be likely to talk to.”

I looked at her. “That’s kind of strange,” I said bluntly. “No close friends?”

She flushed under her tan. “Oh yes, I see. Well, I was... somewhat involved with a young man until quite recently. I am no longer. And I do not have any close girl friends. My work and my new university; I have changed my life quite a bit, so there is no one I would tell such a thing to.”

“But you were still afraid.”

She shrugged again. “You are a spy, McKee, and I feel sure that is not your real name, but no matter; don’t you become suspicious about things like that car last night?”

“Uh-huh. But not necessarily. This is a top secret operation, Christina; nobody should know anything about it except the few of us involved.”

“Yes, I suppose...”

“All right, let’s forget that. Maybe someone has leaked some details of this operation. Our job is to carry it through anyway. We have a couple of days at sea to talk, so start by telling me how Alex is supposed to contact you in Korfu.”

She hesitated, fighting the wheel as the wake from a large power boat rocked Scylla. Then she sighed and slumped against the orange life preserver she was using as a backrest. “We have agreed on a date and a time to meet. It is a taverna in Korfu.”

“Oh great!” I threw up my hands. “Just where anybody looking for him would expect to find him, coming from Albania.”

“Oh, but not one will be looking for him, McKee.”

“How do you mean?”

“In his last message he told me that time was most important. For at least two or three days after he leaves, they will not know he is missing.”

“And how does he manage that?”

“He did not say. His messages have been short.”

“Yeah, I guess they have. Korfu.” I got up, went below and returned with a bundle of rolled-up charts. When I found the one with Korfu on it I only had to look for a moment to know it was all wrong. “We’re not sailing into there,” I said.

She looked at where I was pointing. “Why not?”

“Because when your brother and I leave, we’ll have a long run, fifteen or twenty miles in either direction, until we reach the open sea. No matter what he says, somebody might be looking for Alex before we can get across to Taranto.”

She looked at the chart. Korfu, the principal city of Korfu, was tucked midway along the island’s east coast. Across just a few miles of water were the coasts of both Greece and Albania, and I wasn’t about to try a getaway with a defector from both of those countries in a boat that could do a red-hot four or five knots. Not from there, at any rate; it would take me a good piece of a day just to get out into open water from Korfu. Maybe if I hadn’t had my visit from the two heavies, one dead now, a couple of nights ago, I would have risked it. But now it was out of the question.

“But what else can we do?” Christina asked.

I took a long look at the chart. On the seaward coast of Korfu was a tiny town called Ayios Matthaios. “Do you know this place?”

Christina shook her head. “I have never been to Korfu.”

“Well, we’ll sail in there and leave the boat. I guess we can get a car of some kind to take us to Korfu.”

“But... McKee?”

“Yeah?”

“Why would we go to a place like that? You are supposed to be a tourist, and me... well. No tourist would sail to a remote place like that and drive to Korfu. Unless we were in some sort of awful hurry.”

She was right. If we were going to play this out all the way, particularly at the crucial stage, we couldn’t afford to do anything out of line. I unrolled a couple of other charts, checked a few things. “Okay, Christina, you have a point. Tonight we put in somewhere on Celphalonia. That’s the next big island after Zakinthos. Tomorrow night, Preveza, and the next afternoon Ayios Matthaios. But when we get there we’ll have some kind of trouble with the boat; that’ll be our excuse, and I’ll make it look legitimate. Overnight in Korfu, then back to...”

She was shaking her head so violently that I had to stop talking. “What’s wrong?”

“No!” she gasped. “No, not there!”

“But why not? It’s the best damned place I can see, even if it is hard to pronounce.”

“I don’t mean there.” She pointed at the chart. “Not Ayios Matthaios.” Her finger moved back up along the coastline. “There.”

“Preveza? What’s wrong with that?”

For no reason I could begin to understand she buried her face against my shoulder, clutching at my arm. “No, McKee, or whatever your name is. Please! Wherever we stop, let it never be Preveza!”

So we scratched Preveza. Christina’s objection was so hysterical that I decided not to probe, at least not then. Afterward, she seemed ashamed at her outburst, as though she wished she could take it back. But whatever she meant by it, I was grateful; it showed that she was under pressure, no longer the gorgeous water-skiing goddess who could casually pick up the American tourist and take off for a little cruise. It brought things back into focus, and that was good for me.

We spent the rest of the first day enjoying the open sea, staying well away from Zakinthos and, when the sun began to drop over the open Mediterranean, heading for Argostilion, the major city on Cephalonia. At dockside we took on more provisions, canned goods, ice, a lot of alcohol for the galley stove, then found a restaurant where we had a glum supper. Christina was silent, concentrating on her dish of indistinguishable vegetables and spices, as the sun disappeared outside.

“I suppose,” she said, “we will sleep aboard?”

“That was the plan.”

“Yes.” She said it with a resigned sigh.

“Is that a problem?”

“No.” She said it too quickly. “Can we go out into the harbor and anchor?”

“Maybe. I’ll check with the harbormaster; we can probably pick up a vacant mooring.”

“Couldn’t we just... go on?”

“You said we had three days. What’s the hurry?”

“Have you ever, sailed at night? Out on the open sea, with the sails filled by a gentle wind?”

The words sounded strange, coming from Christina. “Yes,” I replied.

“Then can’t we, McKee?” Her hand snaked across the table to lay fingers on my arm. They were cool, trembling slightly.

“You mean you want to sail all night?”

“It would be pleasure.”