Half an hour later they selected a place to picnic, just off the road near the headland on the opposite side of the bay. Thinking again of the paragraph in the morning paper, Robbie was far from happy but, as there was nothing further he could do until he received a reply from Luke, he felt that it was just as well that his mind had been occupied by Henry taking them on this expedition. After their meal they chatted, then dozed for some while. It was nearly five o'clock when they got back to the des Roses*
As Robbie passed the hall porter's desk, the porter on duty gave him a letter with his key. It was from Luke. Robbie had not expected a reply until the following day. Evidently, Luke had received his letter the previous afternoon and had got off a reply at once, so that it had come in on the morning plane. Swiftly, Robbie opened it and read:
/ am most deeply distressed to learn from your letter that your efforts have landed you in such grievous trouble, more especially as among the well-informed here all sorts of rumours are flying round. It is being said that you took Mrs. Barak away from her husband; that he was with Cepicka in the car which ran into yours and that, after your car had gone over the precipice, you had a blood row with the two of them, during which you killed Cepicka. I only pray to God that these rumours are untrue.
It is also said that, as no human remains have been found in your burnt-out car, Mrs. Barak may still be alive. This naturally leads me to speculate upon the identity of the charming young lady who brought me your cheque to cash. But the less I know from you about the business, the better; and I am grateful to you for not having compromised me in any way by admissions about what you may have done.
With regard to the Czechs, the machinery described by you bears no resemblance to the machinery normally used when drilling for oil; but, alas, I am at a complete loss to suggest to you any further line of investigation. From what you say, there are no indications whatever that they are erecting some form of radar station, and their sites cannot be designed as bases from which to launch missiles. For that it would be necessary to drill a number of holes, perhaps some twenty or thirty feet in depth, into which to sink pylons to support a heavy concrete platform, or to excavate a large chamber having a concrete platform underground; but for such a purpose one very deep hole would be completely useless.
About passing on the information you have so far secured.
Soon after you left Athens, / mentioned to a friend of mine in the N.A.T.O. set-up the possibility that the Greco-Czech tobacco/ oil deal might be well worth investigating. But I am afraid that it would be quite useless for me to pass on to the police your description of the apparatus the Czechs are using. There is little prospect that any action would be taken. You must remember that the Czechs hold a concession from the Greek Government to prospect for oil, and that we can offer no proof that it is not what they are doing, with a new type of machinery.
Further to this, I am the last person who could expect a sympathetic hearing from the Greek authorities on such a matter. It is certain that they would jump to the conclusion that, as the chief executive in Greece of one of the biggest oil companies in the world, I was simply endeavouring to hold up the Czech activities and queer their pitch, as a means of protecting my own company from future competition.
To end, Robbie, I can only say how sorry I am that for the present I can see no way to help you. But of one thing I am certain. Whatever you may have done has been brought about through your honest desire to serve your country. And whatever may befall you, you may rest assured of my continued friendship.
Up in their room, Robbie showed the letter to Stephanie. She read it through, handed it back to him with a shake of her head and said: 'It's terribly disappointing, Robbie. I feel sure Mr. Beecham would help you if he could but I do understand how he is placed, and there is nothing more we can do here. What do you intend to do now: give yourself up and trust that the truth will prevail?'
He shook his head. 'No, I won't do that. At least Luke says that he put the N.A.T.O. people on to this thing. If they have taken it seriously, they are far more likely to get to the bottom of it than I ever could. For all we know, they are on the job in half a dozen places—Patras, Kalamai, Crete, Milos, here, Chios and the rest. Even if they are investigating only one of the groups, there is still a sporting chance that they will find the answer to the riddle before the police get me. So I mean to keep out of their clutches as long as I possibly can.'
After dinner that evening they followed the same routine of sharing a table in the ballroom with the lively, talkative, somewhat inquisitive Mr. Mahogany Brown. Robbie found it beyond his powers to hide the depression into which Luke's letter had plunged him. It seemed that there was now no more that he could do, and that for him the outcome of the affair was almost certain to be disastrous. His gloom was such that the American kept on enquiring if he felt unwell, and Stephanie, having vainly tried to cheer him up, sent him off early to bed.
He went with reluctance and, having got up to his room, regretted that he had allowed himself to be got rid of. As he lay in bed, he began to be tortured by ideas that, by this time, Stephanie and Henry were out on one of the dimly lit terraces, or perhaps on the beach, and that she was letting him make love to her.
Suddenly he decided that, although he was not her husband in fact, he was in name, and that he would no longer put up with playing second fiddle to this American interloper. He would take him aside the following morning and tell him in no uncertain terms that he, Max Thevanaz, found Mr. Mahogany Brown's attentions to Madame Thevanaz unwelcome. If Mr. Mahogany Brown wanted a lady to flirt with, he must seek one elsewhere, otherwise Monsieur Thevanaz would find himself under the regrettable necessity of pushing in Mr. Mahogany Brown's face.
However, on the Saturday morning, the Fates decreed that Robbie should be deprived of any opportunity of playing the role of an exasperated husband. Soon after eleven o'clock, clad in his bathing robe, he was anxiously waiting in the main hall for the papers to come in. A taxi from the airport drove up and a couple got out. As they entered the hall, Robbie gave one look at them and his blood seemed to freeze. They were the English couple that he and Stephanie had met at Olympia, the Jacksons. At the same moment, they recognized him and Frank Jackson exclaimed:
'Why, if it isn't Mr. Grenn!'
25
A Trap is Set
'Why, so it is!' added Ursula Jackson, as she and her husband came up to Robbie. 'For a moment, I didn't recognize you with those dark glasses and your hair cut like an American student. Is that charming Miss Stephanopoulos still with you?'
'Yes ... Oh yes,' Robbie managed to reply. 'How . . . how nice to see you again.' Meanwhile, he was in agony that the reception clerk behind the desk near which he was standing might have heard him addressed as Mr. Grenn.
'We returned to Athens the day after you left Olympia,' Frank Jackson went on. 'Things looked so bad we had made up our minds to go home; but we could not get a seat in an aircraft for love nor money, and every sleeper on the trains had been booked for a week ahead. While we were still wondering what to do, the good news came through about both sides accepting the Indian offer to meditate. That was a sure sign that neither side really