The Greek Key

'I thought there'd be a catch.' She sighed. 'What do you want to know?'

'Everything. From the very beginning. How you met him would be a good opening.'

'I like this place. It's the first time I've been here. Silly, isn't it?' She gave him a bewitching smile. 'I suppose it is because I live here. A strange room, very cleverly designed.'

He looked round. The walls were constructed of very solid rough brown stone. Set back into the walls at intervals were alcoves containing Greek pottery – beautifully shaped vases and jugs. A soft glow illuminated the room and the windows were high up and recessed into the solid stone. At 8 p.m. there were only a few tables taken, but more guests were filtering in. Newman refilled their glasses.

'Now, about Harry Masterson,' he said firmly.

'What a persistent man you are. Well, it's a long story…'

'We have all evening.'

'Petros still had me under his thumb. He persuaded me it was my duty to help find who killed Andreas and Stephen. We Greeks call it philotimo, a matter of family honour.'

'Go on.'

'He went about it deviously – like he does everything. I had to fly to Zurich. There I stayed overnight and bought a return air ticket to London. I'd flown to Zurich by Swissair. I used British Airways to fly on to London. When I got there I stayed at the Strand Palace. I then inserted a personal advertisement in The Times newspaper.' She paused. 'Petros had written the words. The advertisement read, Will anyone interested in the Greek Key and who knows about Antikhana please contact me. Irene.'

Newman sipped champagne to conceal the shock he had received. Harry Masterson had been Tweed's sector chief for the Balkans, and that zone included Greece. Newman was also recalling that among the items Masterson had posted back to Tweed was a bracelet – a bracelet from which was suspended a symbol. The Greek key.

'What happened next?' he enquired amiably.

'Petros thought I might be contacted by one of three men – the men who were part of the commando raid on Siros when Andreas was murdered. A Colonel Barrymore, Captain Robson and Kearns, a company sergeant major. Whoever answered the advertisement was likely to be the murderer. So Petros thought. He felt sure they would have to find out who was enquiring after all these years.'

'I don't understand the Greek key bit.'

'I'm not talking about that. Too dangerous. For you…'

'There's no limit on danger.'

'Don't you want to know who got in touch with the phone number I put in the advertisement?' she asked.

'Go on,' he repeated, confident he already knew the answer.

'Harry Masterson. I was very taken aback. Then I thought it could be one of the three men using a false name. Especially because of the precautions he told me to take when he arranged to meet me.'

'What precautions?'

'I had to meet him at a certain place in Lincoln's Inn -where all the British lawyers are. It frightened me when I arrived at eleven in the morning. No one about. All those ancient courtyards. I thought it was a trap. I'd armed myself with an aerosol. He was very clever. The appointment was for the same morning he phoned. I only had less than an hour to get there.'

Yes, very clever, Newman thought. So typical of Harry -to select a rendezvous where he could watch her approach, make sure no one was following her. A thought occurred to him.

'How would he know it was you?'

'On the phone he asked me where I was and to give a description of myself, what I would be wearing. I waited for ten minutes and decided no one was coming. At that moment he came round a corner. Again he was clever. I realized he couldn't be one of the three men – he was too young. But I thought one of them might have sent him. He took me a short walk to a public place in Fleet Street, The Cheshire Cheese pub. Lots of people about. I felt safe then.'

She paused and drank half a glass of champagne. The restaurant was filling up. As he listened Newman kept a check on the new faces; for one especially. The face of Petros. He'd recognize him: from the picture Sarris, the police chief, had shown him; and even more from that moment he had spotted Petros inside the black Mercedes when they had returned early in the morning from police HQ.

'We're inside The Cheshire Cheese,' he reminded her after their meals of spit-roasted chicken had been served.

'Harry had a way with women. I felt he was OK but I still asked who he was, what he did. He said he was with Special Branch, the British secret police. I asked him to prove it and he showed me a card with his photograph. I found myself telling him about the murders of Andreas and Stephen, why I'd come to London, about Barrymore, Kearns and Robson. He said he had ways of tracing them. I couldn't believe my luck. I asked him what his interest was.'

'And he told you?' Newman was intrigued to learn what piece of fiction Harry had invented to cover that question.

'He said it might just link up with a case he had investigated and never solved. We arranged to meet the following day after he'd made certain enquiries. I've no idea where he went.,.'

I have, thought Newman. To pump Brigadier Willie Davies at the Ministry of Defence. He let her eat her meal while he traced in his mind what had happened. It was all becoming horribly clear now – the tragedy of Harry Masterson.

Harry had been given a month's leave. Unmarried, Harry detested holidays, got bored within twenty-four hours. He'd seen the advertisement Christina had placed in The Times and reacted to it for a lark – anything to occupy his time.

The moment he'd met Christina he'd been hooked – but cautious – by her story, by Christina herself. Harry liked the ladies. He had still kept up his guard by pretending to be a Special Branch officer. That had impressed Christina, had given her confidence he could help her. But at any time Harry could pull out, pleading call of duty with another case.

'What happened next?' he asked as she pushed her empty plate to one side. 'And we need more champagne…'He mimed the request to their waiter.

'When he arrived next morning at the Strand Palace he was carrying a small case. He told me to pack, that we were going on a journey, that he'd traced not only Barry-more, but Kearns and Robson, too. I was shaken to the core. He said we had to drive to the West Country, to a place called Exmoor…'

She went on to explain how they had put up at a hotel in Dunster near the coast, Harry had then driven off to visit the three men now he knew their addresses.

'He made appointments?' Newman asked.

'No, he was devious. He phoned each of the three men and said he was making an enquiry on behalf of the Ministry of Defence, that he would be with them shortly. Then he put the phone down before they could ask any questions. That way he knew they'd be where they lived when he arrived.'

'You'd told him everything you knew about the two murders – one in Cairo, one on Siros? And about Petros' vendetta?'

'Yes.' She smiled ruefully, 'Harry could get any secret out of a woman. I told him more than I intended to.'

'So what happened after he'd seen the ex-commandos?'

'He was suspicious of one of them. He wouldn't tell me which one. He told each of them the identity of the murderer was now known, that he was on his way to Athens to check with the chief of police. He thought the guilty one would follow us.'

Oh God, Newman realized, and he succeeded. At the cost of his own life. No back-up. That had been Harry's fatal blunder. But he had always been a lone wolf, brimming with self-confidence. Had he left behind a clue?

'Did he say anything about how the three men received him?'

'He was very amusing about Colonel Barrymore who tried to treat him like a common soldier. They had a violent argument. Harry ended up by telling him that if they'd had many colonels like him they would have lost the war. Then we flew out here.'

'What came next?'

'I don't really know.' For the first time she sounded depressed. 'We booked in at the Astir Palace at Vouliagmeni. That's a sea resort on the way to Cape Sounion…' Which is why we weren't able to locate where he stayed, Newman thought grimly. She continued as he watched her closely. 'He said he was going to see Chief Inspector Sarris. I don't know whether he ever did. He changed his mind a lot.' She sipped more champagne and leaned against him. 'I'm getting a bit tiddly. Lovely.'