Gradually his tears ceased, and another series of mental pictures, similar to those of the afternoon, began to drift through his mind. From time to time, he now began to feel rather hungry and distinctly thirsty. It must, he reckoned, be at least eight hours, perhaps more, since he had finished lunch, and evidently his captors did not think it worth while to bring food and drink to a man they had condemned to death. Had they come to tell him that he could have anything he chose for his last meal, he felt sure that he could not possibly have done justice to a lavish dinner; but to try and keep his mind off what it would be like to find oneself choking and gasping without hope in the sea, he began to think of all his favourite dishes.
It was not completely dark in the shed, as faint starlight came through the open portion of the roof, yet it was sufficiently dark for him to notice instantly a pale line of light that appeared about four feet up, where the double doors of the shed met. Next second he heard the key turn in the padlock. His heart gave a thump. The door was pulled open and his eyes were dazzled by the glare of a torch that was directed full on him. Sweat again broke out on his forehead. At the thought that his murderers had come for him, he began to shake with terror.
The beam of the torch swung away from him. By its diffused light he saw the outline of its bearer, who had turned at that moment to close the door. It was neither Barak nor Cepicka, but Stephanie.
Instantly hope flamed in his mind. She could have come only to rescue him. He strove for words to cry out to her his gladness and relief, but his mouth had become so dry that, for a moment, his tongue seemed to rasp in it. Before he could speak, she said in a hard voice:
T take it you don't like the idea of dying.'
Her tone and words abruptly quashed his hope. He now felt certain that she had come there only to taunt him: to tell him what a fool she had always thought him; to say how perfectly he had demonstrated that belief to her friends by so readily blundering into this trap; to compensate herself for the way in which he had humiliated her by enjoying the sight of his fear. She hoped, perhaps, to hear him scream for mercy as Barak and Cepicka stripped him and dragged him down to the motor-boat.
He swore to himself that he would not give her that satisfaction, then replied in a surly tone: 'Of course I don't want to die. Who would?'
'Well'—her voice still held no touch of warmth—'if I save you —if I release you—will you give me your signature on a document?'
His heart bounded again. She meant, after all, to give him his life—provided he was prepared to ransom it. But what did having to pay up matter? Anything, even ruin, was preferable to being dragged at the end of a hosepipe from a motor-boat until one drowned. He gave an abrupt, unnatural laugh, and said:
'I'm ready to do a business deal. It's no good asking for a sum beyond my ability to pay, but you must know that I'm pretty well off, Ask anything in reason, and if it's within my means I'll sign on the dotted line.' Then, in his bitterness, even though he might pay for it with his life, he could not resist adding: That you should be one ahead of your pals in this is hardly surprising. Double-crossing people comes so naturally to you.'
'Yes,' she replied sharply. 'I am double-crossing them, and at considerable risk to myself. But only because I don't like the idea of being a party to murder. From the very beginning I did my utmost to persuade you to stop running into danger, but you wouldn't listen. I'm not out to rob you of your dirty, unearned, capitalist money, either. The paper you are going to sign—that is, if you still wish to be alive tomorrow morning—has to do with this absurd spying of yours. Here; read it.'
Thrusting a paper under Robbie's nose, she held her torch so that the light fell on it. The document was in her own writing, in Czech, and read:
/, Robert Grenn, hereby take oath and swear by everything I hold sacred that, as from midnight on Friday, the 18th of April, I will cease from the investigation into Czech affairs on which I have been engaged for the past month. I further undertake to return forthwith to Athens, to leave Greece within forty-eight hours and not to return to that country during the next six months.
Well, Robbie thought, there it is. The only person I've ever been committed to is Pallas Athene, and she can hardly expect me to throw away my life. When she spoke to me of carrying things through to the bitter end, she must have meant the bitterness in which my association with Stephanie has ended. At least, when I pass through Athens, I can see Luke, tell him what has happened to me, and impress upon him that the Czechs being prepared to commit murder in order to guard their secret is proof enough that it must be something worth his getting our professionals to investigate. To Stephanie he said:
'Very well. I know when I'm licked. Undo me, and I promise not to lay a finger on you. Then I'll sign this thing, and carry out its stipulations.'
Moving away, she put two of the empty boxes one on top of the other, and on the rough table so formed laid the paper and her torch. She then produced a pair of wire cutters from the pocket of her skirt and, after something of a struggle, cut the wires that ran through the short lengths of rubber pipe that kept his wrists and ankles in place.
At his first attempt to lift his arms, pains shot through them, causing him to give a low moan and quickly lower them again. He found that he was so stiff from sitting for so many hours in one position that he could hardly move. But she showed little compassion.
Stepping up to him, she said: 'Come on. We haven't all night, and I don't want to be caught here. If we are, it will be curtains for you; so this is no time to sit pulling faces just because you have pins and needles.' Then, seizing his arms, she began to pinch and pummel them vigorously.
For a few minutes, her rough ministrations caused him agony; but he managed to get to his feet, upon which she thrust a Biro pen into his hand and he signed the document.
Instead of picking it up, she left it there on the top of the box, produced a letter from her pocket, which she laid beside it, and said: 'When they find those, I'm hoping they'll be satisfied, and not come after us. One can't guarantee that, because after what you did to Barak in Corinth he is thirsting for your blood; but I'm hoping that Cepicka will persuade him that my having spiked your guns in my way, it would be pointless to take any further action. Now follow me, and for God's sake keep those big feet of yours from making more noise than you can help.'
Having switched out her torch, she led the way from the shed and, keeping in the shadow of other buildings alongside it, led him to a corner of the big yard where there was a double gate. A quick glance round had shown him that there were no lights in the little house or in any other part of the ruined factory. The gate was not locked and, after they had stepped through it, he closed it carefully behind them. Beyond the gate lay the fiat, stony surface of what had once been an outer yard. Two lorries and three cars were parked there. Stephanie led the way over to one of the cars, and he recognized the Ford Zephyr. As she got in, she said in a low voice:
'If you really believe in your Immortals, now is the time to pray to them. Barak and the others went early to bed, to get some sleep before having to get up in the small hours to settle your business. If the noise of the engine wakes them, we'll be in trouble. That big Mercedes of his would overhaul us before we had gone five miles.'
'What time is it?' Robbie asked in a whisper.
'It's not yet quite twelve. I had to wait until they were well asleep before risking coming out to you. But I wanted to get as much leeway as I could before they are due to wake. If the engine doesn't rouse them, we'll have a good three hours' start. That should give us lead enough if Barak does decide to come after us.'