Dennis Wheatley - Mayhem in Greece

Beecham was still in his office and, when he came on the line, Robbie asked if he was free that evening. The reply was what he had feared, as Luke was an extremely popular person; he was going for cocktails to the Greek Chief of Staff and afterward giving dinner to an American couple at the Ath£n£e Palace. However, his dinner date was not till nine o'clock and, at Robbie's pressing, he agreed to leave the cocktail party early so as to get to the hotel at half past eight.

Well before the time of his appointment, Robbie turned out of Stadium Street and walked through the big, glass swing-doors of Athens' most modern de-luxe hotel. Crossing the lofty hall, he went into the bar, sat down at a table and ordered himself a fresh orange juice with soda and laced with brandy. Ten minutes later, Luke, tall, fair, slim and unmistakably English in a Savile Row suit, joined him there.

When he had told the waiter to bring Luke a double dry Martini, Robbie said in a low voice: The matter I want to talk to you about is frightfully confidential, but 1 know I can trust you, and-'

'One minute,' Luke interrupted, giving a quick look round the bar. It was narrow and not very long, and there were only four other people in it; so if any of them had a mind to listen, they could easily have overheard what was being said at Robbie's table.

Luke beckoned the waiter and told him to take their drinks up to the balcony, then he said: 'We'll go upstairs. There will be fewer people there.'

On the broad balcony that overlooked the hall, two middle-aged ladies were consuming Turkish coffee and a large dish of cream cakes. No other table was occupied, and when the waiter bad set their drinks down on one, Luke turned to Robbie with a smile and said:

'Now, young man, go ahead. Let's hear what the trouble is that you've got yourself into.'

Robbie gave him a surprised glance. 'Oh, I'm in no trouble. I wanted to talk to you about oil. There isn't any in Greece, is there?'

'No; at least, not in quantities that it would pay to exploit commercially. For the sake of our poor old hard-up Greek friends I only wish there were.'

'That's what everyone says. But how about it being there all the time, only up to now no one's hit on the right way of discovering it?'

Luke frowned. 'I don't get you, Robbie. It simply is not there

to discover.'

'You, and most other people, think so. I quite understand that. But you might be wrong. I mean, the Russian boffins are a pretty brainy lot. Look at the way they've photographed the back of the moon, and sent people up in rockets. Perhaps with radar, or something of that sort, they've found a way to look right down deep into the earth and get to know through different coloured rays about what sort of things are miles below its surface.'

'Well, anything is possible these days,' Luke admitted, 'and perhaps in a few years' time something of the kind may be invented. But I'd bet my last hundred drachmas that no country has anything like that yet. You see, new scientific processes hardly ever become working propositions within a short time of their first being thought up. Years of research and experiment have to go into them before they become operational. And in all the most advanced countries there are back-room boys working on more or less parallel lines, so one way and another all of them have a pretty shrewd irea about the things their rivals are trying to achieve. It follows that, if the Russians had perfected a device for doing as you suggested, it's as good as certain that I should have heard something about it. Even if they had, there are any number of places in which they could try it out with better prospects of making a strike than in Greece. No, Robbie, it's not on. But tell me, what's put this extraordinary idea into your head?'

'A conversation I overheard yesterday, while I was lunching out at Toyrcolimano,' Robbie replied; then he told Luke the whole story up to his interview with Mr. Nassopoulos that morning.

Luke gave him a surprised grin. 'By jove, you have got a nerve. Talk about rushing in where angels fear to tread. I wonder he didn't have you thrown downstairs.'

'Why should he?' Robbie asked defensively. 'I only went to his office and asked him a civil question. Anyhow, he didn't.'

'No, and the reason why he didn't is because you are the nephew of the British Ambassador. You had better not let your uncle know what you've been up to, though. He would be hopping mad if he heard how you had taken the bull by the horns like this, or indeed if he knew you had taken any action at all in what is a strictly diplomatic affair.'

'Do you really think so? I've told you how he turned down my suggestion that I should try to find out what lies behind this business, but I took it that that was because he didn't consider me up to the job.'

On that Luke tactfully refrained from comment. Catching the eye of a waiter who was coming down the broad stairs from the big lounge on the first floor, he told the man to bring them another round of drinks. Then, after a moment's thought, he said:

'Anyway, I believe you're right that there is something fishy about this deal. From the Greeks' point of view, if the Czechs are mugs enough to ask for something that has no apparent value, they would be mugs themselves not to throw it into the package and accept the Czechs' explanation for wanting it, without enquiring further into the matter. But the Czechs' explanation does not hold water. None of these Communist Governments gives a damn for what the masses think of their administration. Most of the time, they don't even tell their people what they are up to. And if they did it wouldn't influence the elections, because they are a farce anyway.'

Robbie nodded eagerly, 'That's just how I see it. And whatever game the Czechs are playing we can be certain that it is not with the object of doing the Western Powers any good; so I mean to try and find out what it is.'

'I see.' Luke took a pull at his second dry Martini which the waiter had just set down in front of him, then shot a swift, sideways glance at his young companion, and asked: 'Are you going to tell Sir Finsterhorn about this project of yours?'

'No! Oh no!' Robbie exclaimed. 'This is my show, and until I've pulled it off I don't want him to know anything about it. You won't tell on me, Luke, will you?'

'Of course not, Robbie. I wouldn't dream of it. But you're taking on a pretty tough proposition. How do you intend to set about it?'

'Well; as I see it, the Czechs themselves are the only people who hold the answer to the riddle. I thought that somehow I might get into the Czech Legation.'

'What!' Luke sat up with a jerk. 'Play at being Gregory Sallust and burgle the place? God forbid! Any papers referring to this thing are certain to be in a safe, and you are no cracksman. Besides, if you were caught you would land yourself in most frightful trouble. No, Robbie; no.'

Robbie smiled. 'No, I'm afraid Fm not up to that sort of thing. What I thought was that I might get a job there.'

'A job! My dear chap, you wouldn't stand an earthly. Why in the world should they take you on?'

T don't see why they shouldn't. Embassies and Legations often employ staff who are not their own nationals.'

That's true,' Luke admitted after a moment; 'and I remember your telling me that you speak several Central European languages fluently. Well, perhaps they might, although I think it very unlikely. Anyway, I wish you luck.'

It was close on nine o'clock, so Robbie stood up. 'I had better be going now. Thanks for your good wishes and for letting me talk to you. You won't tell a soul about what I'm going to try to do, will you?'

Luke came to his feet and gave him a kindly pat on the shoulder. 'Certainly not, Robbie. I'm as close as an oyster about any secret that is entrusted to me. Let me know how you get on and, if there is any help that I can give you, don't hesitate to ask for it.'