The Greek Key

Tweed thought quickly. 'Now listen to me. Butler is inside The Luttrel Arms? Good. This is what you do. The unexpected. You vanish. Pay your bills. Then both of you drive to Taunton. The colonel can't follow you on a horse. Hire fresh cars in Taunton. Quite different models. Book into the main hotel in Taunton, using assumed names. Change your clothes – buy new ones which completely change your appearance. Then switch your attentions to Professor Guy Seton-Charles. Track him night and day. Don't let him know you're on his tail. You can pick him up tomorrow morning at his bungalow on that estate. Understood?'

'Will do.'

'And let Monica know the name of your new hotel, how we can contact you. Now, move!'

Tweed slammed down the phone. He started cleaning his glasses on his handkerchief. Monica watched, winked at Paula. She recognized the signs.

'Something has happened?' she ventured.

'Yes. The pressure worked…' He told them what had happened. 'Maybe crisis time is approaching.'

'And the object of the new exercise is?' Paula asked.

'To throw Barrymore and Kearns off balance. One moment they're being tracked by Butler and Nield. Suddenly the trackers disappear. I'll bet for the next week Barrymore and Kearns scour the moors looking for them, wondering where the devil they've gone. Also I'm pulling Butler and Nield out of the firing line. Maybe literally.'

'Don't follow,' Paula said.

'I didn't like the sound of the rifle Barrymore is carrying. You get shooting accidents on moors. And no one can prove it wasn't just that. And it's psychological warfare.'

'Don't follow that,' Paula said.

'We'll leave Exmoor alone for a week. Just when the hunters think they've scared off the opposition you and I arrive – asking more questions.'

They had breakfast brought in by the day guard, George. Sandwiches and coffee which they consumed at their desks, It was ten o'clock when Tweed asked Monica to put in a call to Chief Inspector Sarris of Athens Homicide.

'I met him once at a security conference in Geneva. He's very bright, but I have to try and stop him doing something. The timing is wrong. If he's not there, ask for Kalos…' Tweed spelt it out for her. 'He is Sarris' clever assistant.

Has a mind like a computer – especially where Greek history is concerned.'

Tweed returned to studying the file headed Ionides. Monica reported all the lines to Greece were busy. 'Probably travel agents booking holidays. I'll keep trying.'

'Fair enough. Meantime, try Brown's Hotel again. In Dunster I made an arrangement with Jill Kearns that if she carne up to London we'd meet. I said I'd keep in touch with the hotel so I'd know when she was here.'

'I'm calling daily. She wasn't there yesterday…'

'Nield told me she's disappeared from Exmoor, that they haven't seen her for some time. Try now…'

'She's on the line,' Monica told him a few minutes later.

'Tweed here. When did you arrive?'

'Darling, how absolutely marvellous to hear your voice. So reassuring. I'm on my own. God, am I glad to be back in civilization. I was going out of my mind on that dreadful moor.'

'Can we meet today?' Tweed asked, stemming the flood.

'You asked me when I arrived. Late yesterday. Just in time to have tea. It's out of this world, tea at Brown's. Why don't we do that?'

'Good idea. I could get there about three-thirty. Would that suit you?'

'Gorgeous. I'll count the minutes. Don't be late. They have the most scrumptious strawberry cake. But it goes quickly. Oh,' she added as an afterthought, 'I'll have something interesting to tell you. Not over the phone, darling.'

'Three-thirty then. Goodbye…'

Tweed put down the phone as though it were hot. He sighed, took out his handkerchief, mopped his forehead in mock horror. 'Good job you didn't take that conversation down.'

'She's very attractive,' Paula said in a thoughtful tone.

'Swarms all over you.' He looked at Monica. 'But you did tape-record the conversation I had with Nield?'

'Yes, I saw you nod twice. It's recorded for all time. Want to hear it played back?'

'Later. Something Nield said was significant and now it's gone. I was concentrating on getting them out of Dunster. Damned if I can remember what it was. You listen to it, Paula. See whether something strikes you. Monica, try Peter Sarris again.'

'Chief Inspector Sarris? London calling. Mr Tweed of Special Branch would like a word with you…'

Tweed spent little time over exchanging greetings. 'Robert Newman, the foreign correspondent, has told me of his conversation with you. Peter. He's fully vetted…'

'He works for you these days?' Sarris enquired.

'No, he doesn't. But when he's after a story and comes across something he feels affects national security he tells me.' That covered Newman. 'I have a big favour to ask you. Hold off any action on this character Stavros Florakis. Give him enough rope and he'll hang himself. I'm at the early stages of the investigation.'

'What investigation is that? If I may ask.'

'You may. I'm investigating the death of one of my top men – Harry Masterson. Can't tell you what it's about yet. Point is Florakis' farm is close to Cape Sounion where Masterson died in suspicious circumstances.'

'Official verdict is an accident.'

'And the unofficial? I'm on scrambler.'

'So am I,' Sarris assured him. 'We had it installed when drugs became a major problem. Unofficially? I'm only expressing my personal opinion. There are people higher up who wouldn't like this…'

'Don't worry. This chat is totally confidential.'

'Masterson was murdered. I went to the Cape myself, looked over the ground. No sane man could have stumbled over the edge. And Masterson was very sane – I saw him once at the Hilton. So, you want me to hold off the cavalry?'

'Please. We're at an early stage. Peter. I'm not sure at which end the key lies yet – yours or mine. Talking about keys, have you ever heard of the Greek Key?'

Sarris hesitated. Only for a second or two, but Tweed caught it.

'Doesn't mean a thing to me. Will we be seeing you out here?' he continued.

'Hard to say just now. How is Kalos? I remember him well at that security conference in Geneva. You have a clever assistant there.'

'Ah, but you are shrewder than some people here on the higher floors.' Sarris hesitated, this time for longer. Tweed waited, sensing the Greek was making up his mind about something. 'It is interesting you mentioned Kalos. He has made an important discovery. As you may know, Newman obtained Florakis' fingerprints. We were putting them through the computer. Kalos – as always – went his own way. He checked back through a card index of old records going back to 1946.'

'Sounds like Kalos,' Tweed commented.

'He came up trumps. An hour ago we were comparing the fingerprints of Stavros Florakis with another set under the magnifier. They matched.'

'Who is he really?' Tweed kept the excitement out of his voice.

'A certain Oleg Savinkov. Sent in by Stalin to murder leaders of EDES, the right-wing group fighting the Communists during the Civil War. Are you with me?'

'I have read about it. Go on.'

'Savinkov was nicknamed The Executioner, sometimes The Russian. So what is he doing as an impostor back in Greece? Someone has reactivated him. Can't be Gorbachev. He's in the Detente business. You still want me to hold off the dogs?'

'More than ever. And I will definitely be flying to Greece as soon as I can…

28

Newman knew there was something wrong the moment he stepped out of the elevator on Christina's floor. Nick was sitting in an armchair on guard. He was smoking a cigarette and the ash tray on the marble-topped table was filled with discarded butts,

But it was Nick's reaction as soon as the elevator doors opened which warned Newman. Nick stood up abruptly and his right hand slid inside his jacket towards the Smith amp; Wesson revolver Newman had returned to him. When he saw who it was Nick converted the movement into scratching his armpit.