“We’ll check the boat,” McGarvey said.
Karamanlis started to protest, but Papagos cut him off. “Naturally. Maybe something went wrong, maybe they’re still aboard.”
Again Karamanlis said something to him in Greek, and Papagos stiffened, his entire attitude suddenly changing.
McGarvey took out his gun and pointed it at them, Karamanlis’ eyes going nervously from the gun to the starboard windows.
“We’ll go over there now,” McGarvey said.
“Why is it you are pulling a gun on us?” Papagos asked. “Don’t you have any trust?”
“It may be a trap over there, you know,” Karamanlis said nervously.
“Yes, it might be.” McGarvey cocked the hammer.
“Do as he says, Spyros,” Papagos said, a cunning look coming into his eyes. “And be quick about it. Let’s help Mr. McGarvey find what he’s looking for.”
The Thaxos showed no lights, nor was there any movement on her decks. She was drifting slowly to the southwest, and there was no way of telling how long she’d been left apparently abandoned, but her portside boarding ladder was down and one of her lifeboats was missing from its davits.
“She’s been abandoned,” Karamanlis said, as they bumped up against the boarding ladder.
He put the engine in neutral.
“We’ll go aboard and see,” McGarvey said, motioning with the gun. He opened the door and backed out on deck. No sounds came from the bigger ship. No machinery noises.
Nothing.
Karamanlis and Papagos followed him out of the wheelhouse, and he stepped aside so that they could tie a line to the bigger ship then precede him up the ladder.
The cargo vessel was set to blow, there was little doubt in McGarvey’s mind about it. That was what Karamanlis had told Papagos. And that was why they were both nervous.
But so long as they didn’t jump ship there was a possibility some time remained.
He had to make sure that Kathleen and Elizabeth hadn’t been left behind. It was the kind of monstrous joke that Spranger liked most.
On deck a man dressed in dungarees and a watch cap was crumpled in a heap half in and half out of a hatch. Blood had pooled behind his head. He’d obviously been shot to death.
“Spranger’s work,” McGarvey said. “The rest of the crew are probably dead as well.”
“He’s probably planted explosives,” Karamanlis said.
“Then we’d better hurry,” McGarvey said. “We’ll start with the bridge.”
“What are you looking for?” Papagos asked.
“I’ll tell you when I find it. But we’re going to check every space aboard this ship before we leave. So if you’re worried about being blown out of the water, I suggest you get on with it.”
Karamanlis and Papagos exchanged glances, and for a long moment neither of them moved, until suddenly Papagos ducked through the hatch and was gone.
McGarvey started after the man, but Karamanlis shoved him aside and darted for the rail.
“Stop,” McGarvey shouted, regaining his balance, and he snapped off a shot striking the Greek in the left leg and sending him sprawling.
Papagos fired from somewhere inside the ship, the bullet ricocheting off the hatch.
McGarvey reared back at the same time Karamanlis pulled out his pistol and fired.
The shot smacked into the bulkhead inches from McGarvey’s left shoulder, leaving him no other choice but to fire back, his shot catching the Greek in the head just below the right eye socket.
The six-man team of SEALS rode in one rubber raft powered by a highly muffled eighty horsepower outboard. The boat was big enough for them and the two hostages they hoped to free, but no larger. There were no plans to bring anyone else out alive.
They had made all possible speed from their position well to the north the moment they’d received radar vectors on the stationary object just off the eastern coast of the island, and an update on McGarvey’s position showing him converging on the same target. But they’d badly guessed Spranger’s plans, and the mad dash across had taken nearly thirty minutes.
“Definitely a muzzle flash,” Ensign Tyrell said. “Small caliber.”
“Do you see anyone on deck?” Lipton asked. They were still a half mile out, but Tyrell was studying the ship through a starlight scope which showed figures as ghostly images in all but a total absence of ambient light.
“There was a movement just behind the flash, but the decks are clear now.” Tyrell looked up. “How the hell did he get here before us?”
“They said he was a sharp sonofabitch. And the man is well motivated.”
“I’ll say,” Tyrell agreed. “But this isn’t going to make our job easier.”
“No,” Lipton said, tight-lipped. “No it won’t.”
Chapter 49
The cell in which they’d been placed was small and very cold. A tiny window in one wall was dark. Kathleen lay on one of the cots, still only semiconscious, but Elizabeth sat on the stone floor in the corner, her knees hugged to her chest. Her head was spinning from the aftermath of the drugs she’d been given since Grenoble, with the almost total lack of food or water, and with what the woman-Liese Egk-had done to her aboard the boat.
She shuddered, not so much because of the damp cold, but because of what had happened.
She felt dirty and used; as if she had been forced to age a hundred years overnight.
Yet there was enough defiance in her that she could fantasize about what would happen to her captors once her father got here.
“Keep your head down, because I’ll be coming in swinging,” he would say.
She could see him dressed in black, darting silently down a dark corridor, moving like a deadly jungle animal that no one could resist.
He’d have to be warned about the woman. It was the only trap they could possibly set for him, and yet in her heart of hearts she knew that her father would see through Liese Egk. He would recognize the woman for what she was.
“I wasn’t born yesterday. I’ve been around. I’ve seen a few things.”
In the end the Germans would be dead, Armond’s murder avenged. And she could almost feel her father’s strength flowing into her as he led her and her mother away. It would be morning. The sun would be brightly shining, warm on her shoulders and head.
Her mother said something, but her voice seemed muffled and indistinct, and for a moment Elizabeth was confused. In her fantasies only her father ever spoke.
She remembered her father from when she was a young girl, but lately she’d had a difficult time visualizing exactly how it had been. At times she wasn’t certain if she was recalling genuine memories or her fantasies.
“Elizabeth,” Kathleen said thickly.
Elizabeth looked up out of her thoughts. Her mother had rolled over. She was clutching the thin blanket up to her chin but she was still shivering. “Are you all right, mother?”
“What’s happening? Where are we?”
“I don’t know for sure,” Elizabeth grunted, getting painfully to her feet. She had to stand for a few seconds, holding onto the stone wall for support lest she lose her balance and fall.
“My God, what happened to your head?” Kathleen asked in shock.
Elizabeth raised her fingers to her bald skull. Already a light stubble had begun to appear. “Your head is the same. They wanted us to look like hospital patients.”
“But why?”
“So that they could take us across the border without question.”
“We’re not in Switzerland?” the older woman asked, panicking a little. She seemed very frail and weak.
“We’re in Greece, I think,” Elizabeth said. “The island of Santorini. Or at least I hope we are.” She tottered over to the window.