Dennis Wheatley - Mayhem in Greece

When the Czechs had set off up the hill, Robbie went forward. The peasant had brought the donkey back to the near bank. Pointing towards the hill, he called out: 'Ayia Triada. Ayia Triada.'

At this, Robbie was greatly relieved. He knew that Ayia Triada had been a Royal Villa used by the Lords of Phaestos in the summer months because it had a view of the sea. Evidently, the Czechs were about to pay it a visit. If they now glanced round and saw him it would not matter, because they would assume that he was simply coming up to have a look at the ruin.

He clambered on to the donkey, grasped the worn saddle and let the poor, scruffy beast splash its way with him across the shallow stream. On the far side, he paid the peasant and hurried after his quarry who, by then, had nearly reached the top of the hill. As he made his way up it by a winding track, he could not help noticing that the wild flowers there were more profuse and varied than any he had seen in Crete. Almost breathless, he reached the top of the rise and gave a quick look round.

There, only a little below the level on which he stood, lay the ruins of Ayia Triada. They were all roofless, but the small palace had had many outbuildings; so the area covered by chambers and walls was considerable. From its south-west front, the palace had looked out over the bay of Mesara. The bay was some miles away and the view magnificent. But the Czechs were nowhere to be seen.

From where Robbie stood, the ruins sloped slightly upward; so he hurried along one side of them until he reached higher ground, then pressed on through low scrub up a still steeper slope. When he halted and looked towards the bay again, he caught sight of the Czechs. They were walking in Indian file down a narrow path that led to a farmhouse about half a mile away. To one side of the house stood a steel pylon but, although it was mid-week, no men were working there and he could see no pile of six-foot lengths of giant screw. That confirmed what he had overheard while the two Czechs were talking. The job there had been completed.

Fearing again that one of the Czechs might turn round and see that he was spying on them, he got to his knees, then lay flat, peering out between two wild sage bushes. In the far distance, he could see the great N.A.T.O. air base that, while at the Embassy, he had heard mentioned as having recently been completed by the Americans. A mile or more from it, there was a little township on the sea shore that had a small harbour. That explained why the Bratislava had never called in at Heraklion. She must have anchored off the south of the island and landed a group with all its gear by lighter.

Robbie was still studying the scene spread out below him when in his rear a quiet voice said in English:

'I've got you covered, Mr. Grenn. Stay where you are and put your hands above your ears.'

His heart missed a beat. Still lying flat, he put his hands up as he had been told, but screwed his head round so that he could look over his shoulder. Lying a few feet behind him, and pointing an automatic at him, was Mr. Mahogany Brown.

26

The Show-down

Robbie drew in a quick breath. He knew now that the game was up and that he had lost it. There would be no chance of trapping Barak. That last hope of learning the Czech's secret and getting himself cleared of Cepicka's death on a plea of self-defence was gone. They had been too clever for him. He had been caught again and it seemed too much to hope that he would escape with his life a second time

The American's presence at Ayia Triada explained why he had so persistently forced himself on them in Rhodes. It was not that he had been attracted by Stephanie; he had kept them company from morning to night to ensure that they would have no opportunity of going off on their own and finding out anything further.

It was at Monolithos, just outside the Czech working site, that they had first met him As he had addressed them in English, they had naturally jumped to the conclusion that he was another tourist who, by coincidence, happened to be visiting that lonely spot at the same time as themselves. But, of course, he had been a Czech security agent, attached to the group, just returning from a run inland, perhaps to Rhodes, to buy something that was required. It seemed certain now that he was not an American at all, but a Czech who had either been brought up there or, like Stephanie, was of mixed parentage. Barak, Robbie felt sure, would have circulated his description to all the groups. The two engineers at Monolithos who had given them lunch had been deceived by his crew-cut and dark glasses, and by Stephanie's

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story that they were travel agents. But the so-called Mr. Mahogany Brown must have spotted him at once, and probably also identified Stephanie as the missing Mrs. Barak. They had given their name to him as Thevanaz and, on his learning that they were staying at the des Roses, he had said that he was staying there too. But he had driven off ahead of them and, as they had made a detour on their return to see the Valley of the Butterflies, he could easily have bought a few things in the town and checked in at the hotel before they got back.

It was now obvious that he had been on to them from that very first meeting. When they had failed to appear on the bathing beach on the Saturday morning, he would have enquired about them at the office and learned soon afterwards that they had flown to Crete. As there was only the once-weekly air service from Rhodes, he would have had to take the Sunday plane to Athens to follow them, then the Monday flight down to Heraklion. He must have arrived the previous evening. No doubt, he would have been to the Astir and learned that Monsieur and Madame Thevanaz had spent Saturday night there, then left. An enquiry at the Olympic Airways office would have satisfied him that no couple answering their description had since left Crete by air. He would have concluded that they had gone to earth somewhere on the island and that, by then, they would probably have found out the location at which the Czech group was working. To have hunted for them would have been looking for a needle in a haystack; but it was a good bet that they would come to Ayia Triada and try to find out what was going on there, just as they had done at Monolithos. That must be why he had come out there that morning. He had probably been prepared to lie in wait for them there for several days. As things had turned out he had been lucky, and had not had to wait long.

In a few tense moments, those thoughts ran through Robbie's agitated mind. With them alternated others. Should he attempt to run for it? If he did, he would be shot in the back before he had covered a couple of yards. Should he squirm round, wriggle to his knees and pray that, by launching himself forward, in one swift move, he would be able to grab the gun? No. That would be equally suicidal. He could not possibly reach it before his enemy pressed the trigger and a bullet smashed into his heart or skull. If he surrendered, what would become of him?

In this lonely spot, it was quite possible that 'Mahogany Brown' might decide to put an end to him there and then, and hide his body in one of the many deep ditches that scored the scrub. The only person near enough to be certain to hear the shot was the peasant with the donkey down at the ford. But they were hidden from him by the rise of the hill; so he would probably think that one of the Czechs on the opposite side were out after small game.

On the other hand, there seemed a chance that his captor would march him down to the farmhouse and keep him a prisoner there during the day, with the intention of putting an end to him, as Barak had meant to, by taking him out to sea and drowning him that night. In the latter case, Stephanie would become anxious when he failed to rejoin her and, with ten or twelve hours to work in, might, perhaps, bring help to save him before he was taken down to the beach.