Dennis Wheatley - Mayhem in Greece

Once out in the street, he did run most of the way to the Grande Bretagne and back. To go up in the lift there and get his torch took him only three minutes, so he was away altogether for not much more than ten. The church clocks had not yet chimed nine and, to his immense relief, the situation in the courtyard had not changed. It was still deserted, and the curtains remained drawn across the lighted windows.

Panting, and trembling a little, he again stepped up to the window of Krajcir's office. With his forefinger he prodded the smallest triangle of glass in the cracked pane. It fell inward, making only a tiny tinkle. Now that he could use a thumb and finger, it was easy to wriggle the other pieces until they became free, and one by one he laid them silently on the ground. As he pushed his arm through the now empty space, three of the big reference books on the shelf inside fell to the floor with a muffled thump. A moment later, his upthrust fingers found the catch and pressed it back. Withdrawing his arm, he tried to lever up the lower section of the window. To his dismay, it would not budge. He had overlooked the fact that it was only the upper section that was opened every day; the lower one had probably not been opened for years. It was stuck fast.

Almost crying with frustration, he stepped back and stared at it. To have to abandon his venture now would be the most bitter pill. But perhaps he could get in through the top half of the window. He was quite tall enough to get a good grip on it when it was lowered, but it had one row of panes less than the lower section, so that, even when opened to its fullest extent, it would be a tight squeeze to get his big chest and shoulders through. In any case, thre was no alternative to going in head first, so how, without risking a nasty injury, could he get down to the floor? Then, say he got stuck? The thought that he might be found there hours later, with his head and arms inside and his feet still kicking outside, was an appalling one. It would mean, too, that when he was rescued, he would be ignominiously marched off to the police station. He dared not risk it.

With a little sob of despair, he turned away and stumbled round the corner. A sudden gust of wind came down the passage from the street, and he heard a light rustle. Looking up, he found himself facing the gnarled olive tree. Instantly and without question, he accepted the sound as Athene rebuking him for his cowardice.

Turning, he strode back to the window, thrust his arm in, pulled down the upper part and took a firm grip of it with both hands. One spring and his head and shoulders were through the gap. With an awkward push, he wriggled his chest over the sash. Next moment, his arms were flailing helplessly and his hands clutching empty air. There was nothing for it now but to go on wriggling until the bulk of his body was through. The weight of it brought up his feet with a sudden jerk. With difficulty he suppressed a cry of fear, and came down with a hideous crash on the floor.

By twisting as he fell, he managed to save his head, but from the sudden pain that shot through his left thumb and shoulder, he feared he had broken the one and dislocated the other. With a groan, he picked himself up. Although his thumb and shoulder continued to hurt considerably, he found that he could still move both freely; so he concluded that neither had sustained serious damage.

As soon as he had got his breath back, he shut the window and replaced the fallen reference books on the sill. Taking out his torch, he pressed the switch, praying that the bulb had not been broken by his fall. It had not, and a bright beam from it clove the almost total darkness. As chance would have it, the beam was aimed directly on Krajcir's safe. Robbie groaned again. What a fool he had been. He had forgotten all about the safe and, naturally, Krajcir would have locked up in it such important documents as those referring to the secret project in which the Czechs were engaged. As he could not possibly open the safe, he had taken this big risk and had hurt himself badly all for nothing.

Half-heartedly, he turned the torch on to Krajcir's desk. It offered no consolation, as there was not even a pad with scribbled notes on it. He pulled open the centre drawer. Inside, there was a blue folder containing only a few sheets of paper. One glance at the top one, and Robbie's full mouth suddenly broke into a rapturous smile. Here, after all, was the very thing he was after. Evidently, Krajcir could not be in the full confidence of his Legation. He could not have realized the importance of keeping secret the reservations Barak had instructed him to make, otherwise he would have locked up the folder.

Sitting down in Krajcir's swivel chair, Robbie laid his torch on the desk, and masked its light so that no more than a glow from it could be seen through the window. Taking a piece of letter paper from the rack and one of the pencils from a nearby holder, he began to copy, in his laborious hand, the particulars listed on the papers in the folder.

At a glance, he saw that in every case a house was to be rented that would accommodate eleven people; but sometimes accommodation in hotels was also required, although for two nights only, and in each of these places on different dates, beginning at Patras on March 31st and ending at Lesbos on April 12th. The bookings at hotels suggested that in some places the houses were not easily accessible from the ports. Where hotel accommodation was required, it was to be, in every case, first class for three and third class for eight. All arrangements and accounts were to be settled by the agency. The places at which either houses or bookings were required were Patras, Corinth, Pirgos, Kalamai, Kithira, Heraklion in Crete, Rhodes, Kos, Samnos, Chios and Lesbos.

Robbie's geography, if decidedly sketchy about other parts of the world, was hard to fault on the ancient world, and he at once realized that these ports and islands formed a chain from western Greece right round the Peloponnesus and up the coast of Turkey. The fact that the hotel bookings, starting at Patras on March 31st, were for progressive dates, confirmed his idea that the Bratislava was making a trip right round Greece, dropping off groups of her passengers as she went.

He was only half-way through copying the list when he was startled by a sudden noise. It came from the outer office. There had been a faint clang of metal, then the sound of a door being slammed. It could only be the door to the street. Next moment, faint but clear, he head Krajcir's voice: 'Everything's ready for you, so it won't take long.'

Robbie's hands suddenly became damp and beads of sweat burst out on his forehead. For some reason, Krajcir had come back to the office and had brought another person with him. There were two of them, and he was trapped there.

7

A Dreadful Half-hour

Robbie's heart missed a beat. Saliva suddenly ran hot in his mouth. Here was a premature and ignominious end to his activities as a secret agent. In a matter of moments, Krajcir would find him there and telephone for the police. He would be handcuffed, like any thief, and hauled off to the station. What would happen then? He had taken nothing, but there could be no disputing that he had broken in. How else could he have got there? Besides, they would discover that a pane had been removed from the window. It would be assumed that he had intended to burgle the place. What deience could he possibly offer? None. He would be sent to prison, have to mix with crooks and bullies, perform degrading tasks, suffer acute discomfort, live on revolting food, perhaps for several months, and for ever afterward be branded as a gaol-bird.

Stimulated by the shock of imminent discovery, his normally slow brain was whirling like a teetotum. Those appalling thoughts raced through it in a matter of seconds. Next moment, the impulse to escape such a fate automatically took charge. Any attempt to get out through tjie window must obviously fail. Long before he could possibly get it open and wriggle through it again, Krajcir would be upon him, seize him by the legs and haul him back. But there was the clothes closet.