Stavros said, “What do you propose?”
Kalos dug the barrel of his Colt into Erin Whyte’s spine until she gasped in pain. “First, that the lovely captain here hand over the microfilm Andros brought from Athens.”
“I don’t have it,” she said.
Kalos pushed harder with his pistol. “I don’t believe you.”
“Andros has it,” she insisted, “back at the base.” She managed to smile. “You’ll just have to overcome half the EOE to get it.”
“You’ll just have to die so I can search you,” Kalos said. “Stavros, kill her. Kill her and restore your honor before the Party. Only then will I consider you worthy to assume the command of the EOE, or what’s left of it after we slaughter the EDES andartes in the camp.”
“And then?” demanded Stavros. “Where does it end?”
“After I deliver the microfilm Andros obtained from the Germans to the Minotaur, I will return to Zervas, kill him, and assume command of EDES, calling you and our comrades in ELAS my sworn enemies.”
Stavros saw everything, this plot the Minotaur was hatching. With Kalos as head of EDES, the National Liberation Front would effectively control its rival organization and consolidate power. “I cannot go along with this deceit.”
“Then your end has come, kapetanios.”
Kalos raised his Colt, but before he could pull the trigger, a voice shouted, “Stop it!” Michaelis emerged from behind the trees with a Thompson submachine gun shaking in his hands. “Put your gun down, Colonel.”
Kalos smiled contemptuously and replied, “No, boy, you put your gun down, or the captain here gets a bullet in her back.” He turned her toward Michaelis, making her a human shield.
Erin shouted, “Be careful, Michaelis!”
Stavros could see the confusion on his younger brother’s face as he began to waver. “Don’t do it, Michaelis.”
“Too late,” said Kalos, and his other Colt came around from behind Erin and exploded three times.
“Michaelis!” cried Stavros.
Before Michaelis could lift the heavy barrel of the Thompson to return the fire, the bullets had punched three holes across his chest, blowing him back several feet to the ground.
“No!” Stavros dropped his Sten gun and ran over to the limp, bullet-ridden body and held his brother’s head in his arms. When he looked helplessly into the eyes that had once been so full of light and life, he saw only his own horrified face. He set his brother’s head back down on a pillow of dust and turned angrily toward Kalos.
“I’m going to kill you!” he vowed when an explosion of machine-gun fire sent Kalos running into the woods for cover, leaving Stavros and Erin in the clearing as a column of gray-green uniforms and rimless helmets emerged from the trees.
Erin, thinking fast, picked up the Sten gun from the ground and unloaded a full clip at the SS paratroopers, killing several and pushing the rest back behind the trees. “What are you waiting for?” she shouted.
Stavros was staring at his brother’s corpse, unable to leave. He felt her take his hand and drag him away. “We’ve got to get back to the base and warn Andros and the others!” she cried as a shower of bullets descended on them.
90
A ndros was still a bit blurry-eyed when he stepped out of his kaliva and made his way to the edge of the encampment wearing his Special Forces uniform. Doughty was sitting on a log, thoroughly enjoying a smoke from his pipe, now that he had real tobacco from the latest supply drop instead of cut-up leaves.
“There you go, a real American operative,” the New Zealander observed.
Andros shrugged and sat down next to Doughty. “I’ll be gone with tonight’s submarine pickup, so I don’t see the point.”
Doughty smiled. “Had enough of us already, have you?”
“Some of you.”
“Oh, don’t mind Stavros. I suspect he considers the presence of Colonel Kalos and the arrival of General Andros’s son a threat to his authority.” Doughty puffed on his pipe. “You still have the roll of film?”
“Taped to my chest,” Andros replied. “Along with that film negative. What I can’t find is Captain Whyte.”
“She’s on a patrol with Stavros and Kalos.” Doughty looked at his watch. “Hmm,” he murmured. “They were supposed to be back by now.” The New Zealander tilted his head as if his ears had picked something up. A frown crossed his face as he looked over Andros’s shoulder.
Then Andros heard the high-pitched whine and swung around. A swarm of Stuka dive-bombers appeared over the trees like black vultures, sweeping down the hillside toward them. There must have been at least two dozen of them. The planes passed over in an instant, followed by a turbulent wind and a thunderclap that shook the trees.
“Dear God!” said Doughty, the pipe falling out of his gaping mouth as he and Andros jumped to their feet. “Let’s get the hell out of here!”
He pushed Andros toward the wireless tent. The wireless operator Dimitrios was breaking down the set when they burst inside. “Bad news: our escape routes are cut,” he said, furiously cramming the components into a suitcase. “One of our patrols reported a column of SS paratroopers closing in from the north before their transmission went dead.”
Andros looked to Doughty, who was clearly doing his best to remain calm. “What about the pickup for Andros here?”
“I haven’t been able to raise the submarine on the set, sir.”
There was a tremendous crash outside as the Stukas let go of their first load of bombs. Then another, this one louder, rocking the ground beneath them.
“How did they find us?” Doughty muttered, then turned to Andros. “We’ve got to assume the pickup is on and get you out of here with the film.”
Andros nodded but realized that if they were cut off from the sea and a German column was advancing from the north, their prospects for escape were limited, if not nonexistent.
“Over the gorge,” Doughty said. “But we have to hurry, before they blow the bridge.” He lifted the flap of the tent to reveal the chaos outside. Most of the andartes were running after their guns and horses as great orange balls of fire blossomed around them. The Stukas circled back for another run.
“See the woods on the far side of the clearing, Andros? On the other side are the amphitheater and the bridge. Think you can make it?”
Andros nodded and followed Doughty outside. They cut across the open encampment toward the trees. Andros was halfway across when he stumbled. The Stukas thundered in, lower than before, shattering the air and making the earth reverberate. Andros could feel the vibration in his bones as he looked up in time to see Doughty reach the edge of the woods.
“Come on, Andros! This way!”
The Stuka engines crescendoed into a shrill scream that lifted the hair on the back of Andros’s neck as he got to his feet and scrambled toward the woods. He plunged into the pine trees just as the first Stuka let go of its second load of bombs. The explosion crashed across the encampment, the force hammering at Andros’s back.
Andros looked toward the wireless tent, where he and Doughty had stood with the communications officer only a moment before. A hot orange ball of fire expanded rapidly, ripened, and burst into an ugly black pall of smoke. When it lifted, the tent had vanished. The next moment he was following Doughty through the woods.
The musty smell of cordite filled the air as they ran wildly through the trees, Stukas shrieking overhead. More bombs plowed into the kalivas, tents, toolsheds, latrines, and ammunition dumps, exploding bits of broken metal that cut down every andarte in their radius.
The gorge was coming up. Andros could make it out beyond the trees. Then there was an explosion of light. A fir tree, struck by a bomb, came crashing down nearly on top of them, blocking the path.