The Greek Key

'Who is Kalos?' Monica asked.

The Dormouse.'

'Sorry? Did I hear you aright?'

'You did. I met Kalos, Sarris' loyal assistant, at the security conference in Geneva. A small, stocky chap with a stubble of light brown hair peppered over his head. I nicknamed him The Dormouse -because that's what he looks like. We got on well together. When I go to Athens he's the man I'm hoping will tell me anything they know. Sarris is more cautious. Another reason for my respecting The Dormouse is his uncanny ability to track a suspect while merging with his background. Sarris told me that.'

'Maybe you'd better fly to Greece soon,' Monica suggested,

'All in good time.' He looked at the wall maps again. 'At least we have our forces well distributed – Newman and Marler in Greece, Butler and Nield on Exmoor. There's a name missing,'

'Who's that?'

'Anton. Trouble is he's a will o' the wisp. First he was back in Greece, then he slips into this country by some unknown means before slipping out again. I'd like to know how he managed that.'

After parking his car at The Anchor Butler went for a walk westward along the coast. It was dark and he passed several isolated cottages with lights burning inside. To his right he could hear the slap of the incoming sea hitting the rocks. He turned round, went back to The Anchor and into the bar. Nield was chatting to the barman, a young chap who polished glasses as he talked.

They have a ghost prowling the beaches at night,' Nield said to Harry, who ordered half a pint. 'Meet John, the barman, Local.'

'Not exactly a ghost,' John told Butler as he served him. 'A few weeks ago the old crone, Mrs Larcombe – lives in the end cottage – swears she saw flashing lights out at sea. Then another light flashing further west along the coast. Can't take her seriously.'

'Bats in the belfry?' suggested Butler, only half-listening.

'Hardly. Sharp as a tack. Local nosey parker. It was about the time that Portuguese ship, Oporto, was due to berth at Watchet.'

Butler frowned. 'Surely not at night – no ship could get inside Watchet except in broad daylight.'

They said it missed the tide, had to heave to offshore all night.'

Butler nodded, said to Nield he was hungry. Time for dinner.

Paula arrived back at nine o'clock. She took off her raincoat, sagged into the secretarial chair behind her desk, kicked off her shoes. Monica said she was making coffee. Paula grinned. 'Bless you.' Tweed leaned back in his chair, studying her.

'You look all in – and you're still wearing those glasses.'

'So I am. I'd forgotten them. Thank the Lord I was wearing my flatties. That Jill Kearns has the stamina of a goat.' Waiting until Monica had left the room, she looked at Tweed quizzically. 'I'm sure you could have ended up in bed with her. She's ravishing. And she's after you. You do know that?'

'The thought crossed my mind. Don't push it. Give me a report. About her movements.'

'Window-shopping for three days. Didn't buy a thing. Went all over the West End…'

'She didn't spot you?'

'Of course not. I wore that beret I had on in Brown's, took it off from time to time. Switched round my reversible raincoat – every conceivable variation…'

'But did she at any time use a public call box?' Tweed asked.

'Definitely not. This evening she had early dinner – at Brown's. Then went up to her room. I thought it was time to return. To report to 'Sir',' she added with mock solemnity.

'And that's it?' Tweed sounded disappointed.

'Except I found out she always stays at Brown's when she comes to town.'

'How did you discover that?'

'I chatted up the hall porter.' She looked at Monica who had come back with a tray. 'You're an angel.' She drank half her cup of black coffee, then gazed at Tweed. 'Now, what did you find – apart from the fact that Jill has wandering fingers?'

Tweed gave her a concise summary of his conversation with Jill. 'Well, did you notice anything interesting or significant she told me?'

'Robson's reference to the Greek Key,' Paula said promptly. 'I also spotted it's the first time we've heard any of the Exmoor trio mention Petros – linking him to the Greek Key. Surely that is significant?'

Tweed pursed his lips. 'Significant of what? But Robson seems to have changed his mind. On Nield's tape – recorded during their dinner talk that night at The Luttrell Arms – Robson scoffed at Barrymore's mention of the Greek Key.'

'And now he's linked Petros with it – whatever 'it' may be.'

'So I simply must confront Petros – interrogate him -sooner or later.' He caught Monica's dubious glance and looked away. 'I have something else to do urgently. Monica, try and get Jill at Brown's for me. She could be in great danger.'

'Why?' asked Paula.

'She always stays at Brown's – you just told me. They'll know that on Exmoor and I've just heard all three ex-commandos have disappeared. That they may have come to London…'

He broke off as Monica signalled she had Jill on the line. He took a deep breath and began talking. She must pack at once, book a room at the Stafford Hotel in St James's Place, pay her bill and take a taxi there. Yes, tonight. At once. He put the phone down and sighed with relief.

'Thank God for a woman who does what you ask without questions.'

'Proves what I said earlier,' Paula remarked and winked at Tweed.

He turned to Monica. 'Could you play back that recorded talk I had on the phone from Minehead with Butler? Paula, listen carefully to what he says.'

Paula rested her elbow on her desk, cupped her chin in her hand, concentrated. Butler's cool voice came through loud and clear. As the tape ended Tweed asked his question. 'Anything strike you as interesting – bearing in mind that jumble of clues Masterson sent me in a cigar box from Athens?'

'Nothing. I must be thick. And I'm tired and hungry. So what did I miss?'

'Probably nothing, as you said. It was a wisp of an idea I had. I wanted to see if it hit you in the same way. And I'm taking you out to dinner. Monica has stuffed herself with sandwiches – fortunately.'

'Wild exaggeration,' Monica protested. 'But I have eaten. And why 'fortunately'?'

'Because I want to locate Barrymore, Robson and Kearns. May, Robson's sister, let slip he'd gone to London. Start phoning hotels. Those three will be together.'

'What makes you so sure?' Paula asked. 'Before I pop along to the bathroom to fix my face. I feel a wreck.'

'Because those three have stuck together for years -trapped by the past and their fear it may come back. They're haunted men.'

The two murders forty years ago? You think they were all involved?'

'I doubt that,' Tweed replied. 'Put yourself in their places. I suspect two out of three are wondering which of them committed the murders. I also suspect the guilty man is cleverly manipulating the other two. Listen again sometime to the tape recorded by Nield at The Luttrel Arms. Now, hurry up – I have a raging appetite too!'

He went on talking as he put on his Burberry after Paula had gone to the washroom.

'We'll wait a week or two longer before I fly to Greece – wait and see if anything breaks. Newman and Marler will be pretty active out there. Their rooting around may provoke someone to make a false move, to surface. There's something going on we've missed. I sense it.'

Take-off time coming,' Monica observed. 'Your usual method. First gathering all the data – which can take ages. Suddenly it will be all action. I'm starting already. What kind of hotel might those ex-commandos be staying at?'

'Not Claridge's or The Ritz.' Tweed had his eyes half-closed as he thought. 'One of them stole the present-day equivalent of a million pounds in diamonds after killing Andreas. So he won't throw it around, show he's loaded. Try the hotels in the medium-priced range. Maybe somewhere in Kensington.'