Dennis Wheatley - Mayhem in Greece

Alexej was standing behind Stephanie. She opened her mouth to shout. But, as he had been with Robbie, he was too quick for her. His hands shot out, gripped her round the neck and strangled her cry.

Barak said to him in a whisper: 'Quick. Go down. Find out

who it is. Get rid of them somehow—anyhow. I'll look after her.'

With a swift, cat-like tread, Alexej ran across the room and down the stairs. Barak put away his flick-knife and took a pace towards Stephanie. Then all three of them up in the bedroom strained their ears to catch further sounds from below.

They heard Alexej wrench open the front door, then the Greek voice came loud and clear: 'We are police officers. Mr. Robert Grenn, alias Monsieur Thevanaz, I have a warrant for your arrest in connection with the murder of Mr. Carl Cepicka.'

Robbie's mind took in the words as though they had been printed in poster-size letters and held in front of his eyes. The police had succeeded in tracing him after all. The trail had been clearly laid from Rhodes to Crete, yet how they could have succeeded in discovering his hide-out he could not imagine. But what did that matter? Their arrival at this moment could have been decreed only by a Divine Providence.

Then an awful thought struck him. They had taken Alexej for the man they were after. Barak had told his underling to get rid of whoever it was, 'somehow—anyhow'. The police probably had only a rough description of the wanted man and, in the uncertain light of torches down in the hall, would not get a very clear view of Alexej's features. What if he let them believe for the moment that he was Grenn—alias Max Thevanaz—and allowed the police to march him off? Stephanie and he would again be left to Barak's mercy.

The same thought had rushed into Stephanie's mind. Again she made a move to cry out. Alexej had gone from behind her chair, but it was no more than three feet from Barak. His left hand shot out and grasped her throat in time to prevent her uttering a sound. With his right, he took her injured hand and crushed it in a sudden, fierce grip. What would have been a scream of pain passed his stranglehold on her windpipe only as an agonized gurgle. Her eyes rolled up and she slumped back in a dead faint.

Being gagged, Robbie could not cry out, but already he had resumed his desperate struggle to free himself from the post. Planting his feet firmly, he tensed all the muscles in his strong back and strained on it. Under the tug of his body, the top of the post was now attached to the rooftree by only a single nail. Compelled to witness Barak's fiendish treatment of Stephanie, Robbie was seized with a frenzy of rage. He redoubled his efforts. Barak, evidently fearing that the groaning of the post against the floorboards would catch the attention of the police below, again pulled out his knife. Flicking it open, he stepped up to Robbie and said in a fierce whisper:

'Keep still, you swine! Keep still, or I'll stick six inches of this into your stomach.'

Robbie ignored the threat. He gave another mighty heave. The old post came away at the top. Still tied to it and with his feet still planted on the floor, he suddenly fell forward. Before Barak had time to jump out of the way, the top of the post hit him on the head. He went over backwards. Robbie came down on top of him. But Robbie's last effort proved a minor repetition of Samson bringing down the pillars of the Temple. As the two men crashed to the floor, there came a rending sound. The beam of the rooftree suddenly sagged. Great lumps of plaster began to fall, the room was filled with noise and dust. One of the lumps struck Robbie on the side of the head. Darkness descended on him, in which he saw flashing stars and whirling circles. Then he

passed into oblivion.

* * * *

When he came to, he was lying in bed and a nurse was bending over him. His wounded arm was strapped to his chest and his head ached abominably. For a few moments, he had no idea where he was or what had happened to him; so he asked the nurse in English. When she shook her head and murmured a few soothing words in Greek, memory flooded back to him. He was still very muzzy 5but his thoughts flew to Stephanie and he stammered out an anxious enquiry.

The nurse had only a vague idea how her patient had received his injuries but she was positive that a girl had been brought in with him, suffering from nothing worse than shock and one hand with broken fingers, and that she was now in the women's ward. Unutterably relieved, Robbie drank the sedative that the nurse gave him and soon afterwards fell into a deep sleep.

He was woken by the sound of cheering outside the hospital, and wondered what could be going on. It was daylight now and his thoughts turned quickly to the events of the previous night. But he had little time to ponder them, for shortly afterwards another nurse and a doctor arrived to dress his wounded arm.

The doctor told him that the cheering had been due to the news having just come through that the war crisis was over. On the orders of the President of the United States, the trapped submarine had attempted a break-out during the night. It had succeeded and the blockading Soviet warships had not endeavoured to sink her. It had been a terrible risk to take because, if the Russians had attacked her, presumably the Americans would have retaliated by launching their rockets and strategic bomber force. Once the submarine was free of ice she might, too, have sent her missiles hurtling towards Moscow before she could be sunk. Evidently, when the Russian bluff had been called, they had had the good sense to refrain from an act which could have plunged half the world into chaos.

Robbie's arm, the doctor told him, would probably never regain its full former strength, because muscles and ligaments in it had been badly torn; but he had been lucky that the bullet had not shattered the bone, as he might then have had to have his arm amputated. He had sustained no permanent injury but the wound was inflamed, so he must remain where he was for several days.

He sent a message to Stephanie and asked for news of her. Then he was given another draught and slept again.

It was late afternoon when he was roused by the nurse looking into his cubicle. 'He's awake,' she said to someone behind her, 'but don't stay too long.' She stepped aside and Mahogany Brown came in. With a grin he sat down beside Robbie's bed, asked how he was, then said:

'Well, we fixed them. The boys went in with the Greek security people last night and caught every group cold. You were right about their intending to put nuclear bombs down those deep holes and start a chain reaction of earthquakes. What a night and day it's been. First scotching this Czech racket in the small hours, then the good news coming in that our sub. is out again in neutral waters and heading for home.'

Robbie said how pleased he was, then asked if the police had got Barak.

'He's dead,' came the prompt reply. 'The beam you were tied to hit him on the temple. His buddy got a broken jaw as a result of resisting the police and, like you, was brought to the prison hospital. He's only a few cubicles away.'

'So I'm in prison,' Robbie said.

'Why, yes. What did you expect? The police here are holding you for Cepicka's murder. But not to worry. I've already had a word with my Chief about how I met up with you, and found you were on a private venture gunning for the Czechs. When you are taken back to Athens, that will all be sorted out and you'll be given a clean bill for having killed Cepicka during your endeavours to prevent Greece being blown off the map.'

'It's good of you to have spoken to your Chief,' Robbie said gratefully. 'And I've certainly no right to complain about being under arrest. If the police hadn't come along to pick me up, I'd probably be dead by now. I wonder, though, how they managed to trace me. Do you happen to know?'