With their purchases packed inside their small, cheap suitcases, they were picked up by the Americans promptly at ten o'clock and were driven off into the darkness.
On their way to Tripolis, Robbie's mind had been so fully occupied by the harrowing events in which he had recently been involved, and in anxious -speculation about the future, that he had remained oblivious of the road they were travelling. But now, soon after they left the chief market town of Arkadia, he again became highly conscious of the perils of the road.
They met no coaches or private cars; but it seemed that, owing perhaps to some commercial arrangement, a whole fleet of lorries was taking this road into the interior by night. Sometimes they could see the approaching lights snaking along the curves of the mountain-side a mile or more ahead; at others they came upon them round a blind corner, with only the briefest warning, and it seemed that they now came head-on to one about every five minutes.
Knowing that, when passing any other vehicle, the outer wheels of the car were usually no more than three feet from the edge of a precipice, such encounters caused Robbie to shut his eyes and hold his breath. To add to his fears, the Americans were none too happy about it, either, for the lorries never used their horns when coming round a corner. The driver's only warning of their approach was the beam that their headlamps cast on the road ahead. Moreover, when they did come rushing forward, like huge, fiery-eyed monsters, it was their custom to keep their dazzling lights still on until within fifty feet of the vehicle they were about to pass, then black them out completely. To get by in total darkness, without a scraping of the sides which might have proved fatal, or giving too wide a berth, which would have proved equally so, called for good nerves and fine judgment.
Fortunately, their driver displayed both, and at last the long, long road, with its innumerable bends, from the mountains down to the west side of the gulf of Navplia, had been safely negotiated. Less than a quarter of an hour later, the kindly Americans set them down in the irregular central square in Argos and wished them luck.
There were cafds there, with lights still burning and people in them; so, carrying their fibre suitcases, they made enquiries at one of them for rooms. A waiter gave one glance at their dirty and dishevelled state, then directed them further down the street to a cafe that was also an hotel. It was a shoddy-looking place, and Robbie demurred about going into it; but Stephanie told him that it was just the sort of cheap rooming house in which no one would look for anyone like himself. Still posing as German students, they went in, and were met by a scruffy-looking landlord in an open-necked shirt. He spoke a few words of German and took them up to two sparsely furnished rooms with thin mattresses on iron beds.
Robbie then told Stephanie that he was very anxious to have a talk with her, and asked if she was too tired to go downstairs for a drink before they turned in. She replied that she was not feeling too bad, as she had managed to sleep for an hour in the car on the way from Tripolis. At that he marvelled, as he had thought the only reason they had all kept silent for most of that perilous drive was from fear of distracting the driver.
In a dimly lit room downstairs, with a small bar at one end of it, they sat down at a bare wooden table. Several of the others were still littered with dirty glasses, but the people who had used them had gone home. Robbie asked the landlord for ouzo and he brought a bottle, two thick glasses and a carafe of water. He then dumped on the table the usual saucers of black olives, gherkins and some kind of stringy vegetable soaked in oil, and left them.
When the landlord had gone and Robbie had poured the drinks, he said:
'Just before the Americans came along and gave us a lift, you were suggesting that I should continue trying to find out what Barak and Co. are doing, and you released me from my promise not to do so. Having thought things over, it seems to me that my case will be little worse if the police pick me up in a week or two than if I give myself up tomorrow morning. I also think that you're right in your idea that I'd be in a much stronger position if, in the meantime, I could secure definite evidence that Barak is up to no good. But what I am not clear about yet is your attitude. Before Barak pushed you over the cliff, I heard you shout that you were sick to death of him and the Party and all its filthy works; and now you are suggesting that I should continue to spy on your own people. Am I to take it that you really mean to break with them for good?'
She drew heavily on the cigarette she was smoking, then nodded: 'Yes. I couldn't go back now, even if I wanted to. Since you heard me quarrelling with Vaclav, you probably also heard me threaten that I'd report him to a man named Janos for taking bribes. Janos's official job is butler at the Legation; but he is the real boss, and even Havelka goes in fear of him. He could have V&clav expelled from the Party, sent home and given a prison sentence. But that wouldn't do me any good now. Cepicka will have been the only person other than Vaclav to see the document you signed and the letter I left behind at Pirgos; and he is dead. V&clav believes me dead too, but the moment I turn up alive he will destroy both the document and my letter—if he hasn't done so already. They were my let-out that I was acting in good faith with the Party. Without them, it will be taken for granted that, in helping you to escape, I deliberately betrayed the Party because you were my lover. That will be the version of the affair that Vaclav will be reporting to Janos tomorrow; so whatever I might say about Vaclav now, whether it's believed or not, I'd be finished and better dead myself.'
T see. Yes,' Robbie murmured. 'You had told me before, of course, that for a long time your husband hadn't meant anything to you. But how about the Party? Up till this afternoon, you were definitely playing fdr their side. When you shouted out about their filthy works, were you really fed up with the way the Communists ran their show or were you referring only to Barak having planned to murder me?'
Stephanie hesitated a moment, then she said: 'All this having happened only this afternoon, I haven't quite got my bearings yet. You see, my father was a Communist and I was brought up as one. I have accepted Communist principles all my life, and I still believe that, if the ideal State on Communist lines could be established, it would better the lot of the great majority of people. But the trouble is that it never works in practice. It results only in dispossessing the old ruling class and putting another in its place. If the new lot were all idealists and prepared to work for the benefit of the masses, that might be all right. But they are not. Nine out of ten of them are out only for themselves and are quite unscrupulous; so it's a case of "dog eat dog" and every smaller dog goes in constant terror of being eaten by a bigger one. None of them dares to take any action because he believes it to be right. Instead, they spend their time spying on one another and either betraying their superiors or covering up their blunders, whichever suits their own book the better. In the meantime, they grab all the perks and privileges there are to grab and leave the masses they are supposed to represent to struggle along as best they can. Greece is a poor country, but the people here are far better off than they are in Czechoslovakia. In some of the slum areas and villages there, the poverty is appalling; yet the Party never does anything about it.'
To Robbie, it was evident that she was now pouring out thoughts which she had long kept pent-up; so he made no comment when she paused to take a drink.