The Greek Key

Tweed sounded as fresh as sea air at nine in the evening. Newman plunged straight into a terse report of what had taken place since his arrival. Tweed listened without interrupting. At the end of five minutes Newman concluded his story.

That brings you up to date. Doesn't really take us any further as to who killed Harry.'

'It might have done. You have a pipeline into this weird Gavalas clan – Christina. Whether she can be trusted is for you to assess. What do you think?'

'I'm leaning to the idea she has broken with the whole crew. But only leaning – she's pretty street-wise and could be a first-rate actress. Pity Harry hadn't told her who the mysterious Englishman who phoned him was. Could it have been one of the commando trio?'

'Yes. All three I visited had just returned from separate holidays abroad. All had a deep suntan – which they could have picked up in Greece. The timing is right, too. One of them could have been out there at exactly the time Masterson was killed. I have ihe feeling the solution lies in Greece. That raid on Siros all those years ago. What intrigues me is the missing body – who took the dead Andreas away from that gulch? And why? I may fly out to join you when the right moment comes. What's your next move?'

To explore that old silver mine in Devil's Valley. Something very strange about, that – the way Petros takes such precautions to keep strangers sway from the place…'

'Don't!' Tweed's tone was sharp. 'I don't like the sound of Mr Petros one bit. We may do it together later. You need plenty of back-up to go into a place like that. Harry Butler and Pete Nield would be useful. Plus Marler. At the moment Butler and Nield are on Exmoor, nosing around and picking up gossip about Barrymore, Reams and Robson. How are you finding Marler?' Tweed asked casually.

'A pain. But I can handle him. One thing I will give him – he's a good man to go into the jungle with. I'll keep you in touch…'

'Don't go.' A pause. 'At this stage it seems like a vendetta directed by Petros against whoever killed his two sons, Andreas and Stephen. His main suspects being on Exmoor. Is that how you see it?'

'With the little data we have to go on yet, yes. Especially now you've told me about this Anton character. Christina hasn't mentioned him, which I find odd. Butler and Nield are on the lookout for Anton, too, I assume?'

'Anton has disappeared. I suspect he's flown by some secret route back to Greece. He didn't pass through London Airport – I've had the security chief there check the passenger manifests.'

'But it backs up the vendetta theory.' Newman paused and Tweed said nothing. 'Or is there something more?'

'I think this business could be much bigger, far more serious than we realize. I can't figure out the link between Exmoor and Greece.'

'There has to be one?'

'If there isn't, then we're wasting our time. But who pushed Masterson over a Greek cliff?' Tweed paused again. 'After he'd visited Exmoor. We're missing something…'

Florakis – Oleg Savinkov, The Executioner – crouched at the top of the mountain above his farm. It was 2 a.m. and earlier he had received a coded signal he suspected emanated from inside the Soviet Embassy in Athens.

His suspicions were correct. But he would have been surprised had he known the hand which tapped out the message was that of Colonel Rykovsky, military attache. Rykovsky had waited until the Embassy staff had gone home: hence the arrangement made via Doganis for Savinkov to be ready to receive the signal at two in the morning.

Savinkov had placed the powerful transceiver given to him in a small depression at the mountain summit. The telescopic aerial was extended as he checked his watch by the light of a pencil torch. Time to retransmit the message to England. And for that elevation was needed to cover the long distance.

His bony face was tense with concentration as he sent out the call signal, received immediate acknowledgement. He began tapping out the coded message, keeping an eye on his watch as he operated. Three minutes was the maximum agreed time for any transmission.

It was unlikely Greek counter-espionage would have detector vans as far south as this remote wilderness, but Doganis had emphasized the importance of security.

Take no chances. You are the linchpin of the whole operation.'

'What operation?' Savinkov had asked.

'I don't know, but it's big, very big, It could change the whole course of history. That's all I've been told.'

The words echoed in Savinkov's brain as he completed tapping out the signal. He felt excited as he depressed the aerial, Sifted the heavy transceiver back inside the shabby suitcase. It was a long climb back down the mountain to the farm but he would be there long before daylight.

One thousand six hundred-odd miles to the north-west another hand on Exmoor was already beginning the task of decoding the signal which had just come in from Greece. The unbreakable one-time code had been used, the novel the series of numbers referred to was Sinclair Lewis' Main Street. Half an hour later the message was decoded, written on the pad which had a sheet of protective plastic beneath the sheet to avoid any risk of an impression of the wording reproducing itself on the sheet beneath the plastic.

All equipment and preparations should be made immediately. Possible that target will land in Britain on way to or when returning from Washington summit. Potential timing September or October this year. The Greek Key.

23

'Gorbachev must go, he is destroying the military supremacy we have taken so many years to build up. His crazy glasnost will be the rain of the Soviet state,' General Lucharsky said vehemently.

By which he meant the power of the Red Army, his faithful aide, Colonel Volkov, thought as they strolled side by side in full uniform in the Moscow park. Children played ball games on the grass in the warmth of the sunlight round them as they followed one of the many twisting paths.

Lucharsky had chosen the park for this conversation because it was impossible for them to be overheard. He walked very erect, hands clasped behind him, head bowed in thought. Volkov asked the question tentatively. He was not sure Lucharsky wanted to reveal details of the plan but his curiosity drove him on.

'How can we ever hope to achieve his replacement? The Politburo is now packed with a majority in his favour…'

'Ligachev,' the General said tersely. 'He is Number Two. He does not agree with the new madness. Once Gorbachev has been removed he will take over and the yes-men in the Politburo will swing behind him.'

'But how can the present General Secretary be removed?'

'He can be killed.'

The cold-blooded audacity of the statement astounded Volkov and he was silent for a few minutes as they continued their stroll. Lucharsky took off his peaked cap and ran his hand through his blond hair, enjoying the feel of the sun on his forehead.

'But it must be done outside Russia,' Lucharsky continued, 'at a suitable moment. I set the wheels in motion when I made my unofficial visit to Greece. There are plenty of hard men in the Politburo who will welcome a return to the good old days. Fortunately, Comrade Gorbachev is playing into our hands. He agrees we must do everything possible to spread our influence in the Mediterranean. But by peaceful means. You, Comrade, have been chosen to follow up my visit to Athens. Like me, you will travel there in civilian clothes – on an unofficial visit. We are offering the Greek government special trade concessions. While you are there you will carry verbal orders from me to Colonel Rykovsky, the military attache at the Athens Embassy. I will give you those orders just before you fly to Athens via Zurich.'

'Why Greece? What is happening there?'

Lucharsky changed direction, headed for a path which twisted through a wooded area of birch trees. He had spotted two men in plain clothes who had KGB written all over them. One had a pair of field glasses slung round his neck. He might be a lip-reader. They entered the wood.