Fear. Fear had been at his elbow all his life, his constant companion, his alter ego, at his elbow, or in close prospect or immediate recall. He had become accustomed to that fear, at times almost reconciled, but the sick agony of this night lay far beyond either tolerance or familiarity. He had never known anything like this before, and even in his terror and confusion he was dimly aware that the fear did not spring from the climb itself. True, the cliff was sheer and almost vertical, and the lightning, the ice-cold rain, the darkness and the bellowing thunder were a waking nightmare. But the climb, technically, was simple: the rope stretched all the way to the top and all he had to do was to follow it and dispose of the spikes as he went. He was sick and bruised and terribly tired, his head ached abominably and he had lost a great deal of blood: but then, more often than not, it is in the darkness of agony and exhaustion that the spirit of man burns most brightly.
Andy Stevens was afraid because his self-respect was gone. Always before, that had been his sheet anchor, had tipped the balance against his ancient enemy — the respect in which other men had held him, the respect he had had for himself. But now these were gone, for his two greatest fears had been realised — he was known to be afraid, he had failed his fellow-man. Both in the fight with the German caique and when anchored above the watch-tower in the creek, he had known that Mallory and Andrea knew. He had never met such men before, and he had known all along that he could never hide his secrets from such men. He should have gone up that cliff with Mallory, but Mallory had made excuses and taken Andrea instead — Mallory knew he was afraid. And twice before, in Castelrosso and when the German boat had closed in on them, he had almost failed his friends — and tonight he had failed them terribly. He had not been thought fit to lead the way with Mallory — and it was he, the sailor of the party, who had made such a botch of tying that last knot, had lost all the food and the fuel that had plummeted into the sea a bare ten feet from where he had stood on the ledge … and a thousand men on Kheros were depending on a failure so abject as himself. Sick and spent, spent in mind and body and spirit, moaning aloud in his anguish of fear and self-loathing, and not knowing where one finished and the other began, Andy Stevens climbed blindly on.
The sharp, high-pitched call-up buzz of the telephone cut abruptly through the darkness on the cliff-top. Mallory stiffened and half-turned, hands clenching involuntarily. Again it buzzed, the jarring stridency carrying clearly above the bass rumble of the thunder, fell silent again. And then it buzzed again and kept on buzzing, peremptory in its harsh insistence.
Mallory was half-way towards it when he checked in mid-step, turned slowly round and walked back towards Andrea. The big Greek looked at him curiously.
‘You have changed your mind?’
Mallory nodded but said nothing.
‘They will keep on ringing until they get an answer,’ Andrea murmured. ‘And when they get no answer, they will come. They will come quickly and soon.’
‘I know, I know.’ Mallory shrugged. ‘We have to take that chance — certainty rather. The question is — how long will it be before anyone turns up.’ Instinctively he looked both ways along the windswept cliff-top: Miller and Brown were posted one on either side about fifty yards away, lost in the darkness. ‘It’s not worth the risk. The more I think of it, the poorer I think my chances would be of getting away with it. In matters of routine the old Hun tends to be an inflexible sort of character. There’s probably a set way of answering the phone, or the sentry has to identify himself by name, or there’s a password — or maybe my voice would give me away. On the other hand the sentry’s gone without trace, all our gear is up and so’s everyone except Stevens. In other words, we’ve practically made it. We’ve landed — and nobody knows we’re here.’
‘Yes.’ Andrea nodded slowly. ‘Yes, you are right — and Stevens should be up in two or three minutes. It would be foolish to throw away everything we’ve gained.’ He paused, then went on quietly: ‘But they are going to come running.’ The phone stopped ringing as suddenly as it had started. ‘They are going to come now.’
‘I know. I hope to hell Stevens …’ Mallory broke off, spun on his heel, said over his shoulder, ‘Keep your eye open for him, will you? I’ll warn the others we’re expecting company.’
Mallory moved quickly along the cliff-top, keeping well away from the edge. He hobbled rather than walked — the sentry’s boots were too small for him and chafed his toes cruelly. Deliberately he closed his mind to the thought of how his feet would be after a few hours’ walking over rough territory in these boots: time enough for the reality, he thought grimly, without the added burden of anticipation … He stopped abruptly as something hard and metallic pushed into the small of his back.
‘Surrender or die!’ The drawling, nasal voice was positively cheerfuclass="underline" after what he had been through on the caique and the cliff face, just to set feet on solid ground again was heaven enough for Dusty Miller.
‘Very funny,’ Mallory growled. ‘Very funny indeed.’ He looked curiously at Miller. The American had removed his oilskin cape — the rain had ceased as abruptly as it had come — to reveal a jacket and braided waistcoat even more sodden and saturated than his trousers. It didn’t make sense. But there was no time for questions.
‘Did you hear the phone ringing just now?’ he asked.
‘Was that what it was? Yeah, I heard it.’
‘The sentry’s phone. His hourly report, or whatever it was, must have been overdue. We didn’t answer it. They’ll be hot-footing along any minute now, suspicious as hell and looking for trouble. Maybe your side, maybe Brown’s. Can’t approach any other way unless they break their necks climbing over these boulders.’ Mallory gestured at the shapeless jumble of rocks behind them. ‘So keep your eyes skinned.’
‘I’ll do that, boss. No shootin’, huh?’
‘No shooting. Just get back as quickly and quietly as you can and let us know. Come back in five minutes anyway.’
Mallory hurried away, retracing his steps. Andrea was stretched full length on the cliff-top, peering over the edge. He twisted his head round as Mallory approached.
‘I can hear him. He’s just at the overhang.’
‘Good.’ Mallory moved on without breaking step. ‘Tell him to hurry, please.’
Ten yards farther on Mallory checked, peered into the gloom ahead. Somebody was coming along the cliff-top at a dead run, stumbling and slipping on the loose gravelly soil.
‘Brown?’ Mallory called softly.
‘Yes, sir. It’s me.’ Brown was up to him now, breathing heavily, pointing back in the direction he had just come. ‘Somebody’s coming, and coming fast! Torches waving and jumping all over the place — must be running.’
‘How many?’ Mallory asked quickly.