The Greek Key

'I've come to take a look at a couple of furniture vans,' he informed a short middle-aged man who introduced himself as Mr Latimer, owner of the bankrupt business. 'They mayn't be what I'm after, but I come on spec…'

He slurred his vowels and spoke with a coarse accent. Latimer showed him the four vans still for sale. Seton-Charles chose the two largest, then began haggling over the price, which was expected. He bargained carefully: not offering too little but refusing to agree to Larimer's first price.

They compromised and Seton-Charles pulled a bundle of well-used fifty-pound notes from a pocket in his stained overalls. He paid the agreed deposit and Latimer held several of the notes up to the naked light bulb suspended over a roughened table.

"Done.' he had said 'You'll collect soon? Pay the balance before you drive them away?'

'Only way to do business. Night…'

As he settled between grubby sheets that night Seton-Charles was satisfied. Within two days he'd have both vans hidden away in the barn at Cherry Farm. Although God knew what Jupiter wanted them for.

41

At the Grande Bretagne Newman had caught on to the game Christina was playing. She was holding back on supplying more information to keep him there as a protector against Petros and the Gavalas family. He was on the verge of threatening to leave – to force her hand – when something happened that decided him to he patient a little longer.

The killer heatwave had broken. It was a mere SOT. September temperature. Marler arrived at 9 a.m. in Newman's room, sprawled on a sofa. He lit a cigarette.

'Well,' said Newman, 'get on with it. What's happened?'

'Patience, chum. You know I've been paying frequent visits to the Cape Sounion area. Object of the exercise to keep an eye on Florakis traipsing up the mountain at night with that transmitter.'

'You're sure it is a transmitter?'

'Absolutely. Took a pair of high-powered night glasses with me. Spent night after night watching him. It's stopped.'

'What has?'

'Do listen. Florakis has stopped making his excursions with the jolly old transmitter. I realized something last night – out of the blue, so to speak. It coincides with no moon.'

'You mean he only transmits when there's a moon? Doesn't make sense.'

'Transmits for about two weeks – when the moon's waxing and waning. Only possible explanation? It's important to the man he's transmitting to. Something else happened. Equally important. Tweed wants to interview friend Petros, I believe?'

'Yes he does. When he can get out here…'

'Better make it soon. That snide Dimitrios spotted me watching by the sea shore. Crept up on me. Thought I must be deaf and blind. Put down his rifle, came up behind me, grabbed hold of me. Thought he was going to throttle me, silly ass.'

'So why not tell me what happened next?' Newman asked in a resigned tone.

'Just going to. He ended up flat on the ground, arms pinned to his sides, my knee in his groin. He gave me a splendid opportunity to get him talking. He talked.'

'And how did you accomplish that feat?'

'As I said, we were by the edge. No one about. Still dark. I dragged him to the water's edge. Goes down deep there. Held his head under water three times. He thought I was going to drown him. Which I would have done if he hadn't opened his mouth.'

'Get on with it,' Newman snapped. 'What did you learn?'

'Within two weeks Petros is leaving Devil's Valley. He's owner of a cattle farm in the far north. Macedonia. Tweed would have trouble finding him there. Two weeks,' Marler repeated. 'Up to Tweed, wouldn't you say?'

'I'll call him from the Embassy. But first I'm going back for a word with Christina. You made Dimitrios talk. I'm going to do the same job on her about Anton.' A thought occurred to him as he grasped the door handle. 'Surely you've blown it. Dimitrios will go straight back to Petros and tell him what happened?'

'Doubt that. I warned him. If I heard he'd said anything the next time I saw him would be the last. For him. And he's going to keep quiet for another reason. If he told Petros he'd spilt the beans the old man would kill him.

You'll want me to guard Christina when you go to the Embassy, I take it?'

'I'll want you to do just that. Stay with her.'

'Hurry it up, then. I'm short of sleep.'

Christina had just finished drying her washed mane when Newman entered her room. She threw it back over her shoulders.

'How do I look?'

'Never mind that.' His voice was harsh. 'Marler and I will be leaving if you don't start telling me everything you know about Anton. You're on your own.'

'No!' She was appalled. 'Petros will find me. He'll kill me.'

'That's your problem. A family tiff…'

Tiff! Don't you realize yet what he's like?'

'Start telling me then.' Newman perched on the edge of the bed. He folded his arms and stared out of the window, not looking at her as she slumped into a chair.

'I'm frightened. I've told you so much about them already. If Anton found out he'd be even worse than Petros. Anton is cruel.'

'I'm still waiting.' He looked at his wristwatch. 'But not for long.'

'You're a bastard…'

'I have diplomas to prove it. Stop stalling.'

She sat down in a large armchair, curled herself inside it like a cat, exposing her long legs. He made a point of not admiring them as she began.

'Anton is one of those people who can do anything. An expert at scuba-diving. Good with boats. Anything mechanical. He can design and build a word processor, a video recorder, a transceiver. And repair them if they break down. He's experienced with hydraulics. He got an estimate for a lift to be installed in his warehouse at Piraeus. thought it too much – so he built the damned thing himself. He's a good horse rider, but I told you that…' Once started, she didn't stop. 'He's an expert on handguns and rifles. A crack shot with both. Won some kind of trophy once at Bisley in England. For God's sake, isn't that enough? Oh, and he's a hell-raiser with the women. I think I told you that before.'

'A bit of an all-rounder,' Newman mused.

'He's also good at carpentry. Very good.'

'Carpentry?'

'Building anything out of wood. He made all the furniture for his room at the farm in Devil's Valley. That's the only decently furnished room. The rest is a slum.'

'Why didn't you tell me this before? People must know his many talents.'

'No, not many. He's very secretive. He likes his image of playboy. It amuses him to fool people. I loathe him -and I've never understood him. One more thing, he can fly any kind of light aircraft. Cessnas, Pipers, etc. He belonged to a flying club, then resigned once he'd mastered flying. Said he was bored with it. I think he craves excitement, new worlds to conquer. And he's very ambitious -to become one of the most important men in Greece. I really think I've given you the lot.' She watched him through her eyelashes. 'Do I still get protection?'

'You do. For as long as we can manage it. I have to go out for a short time. Marler will stay with you.'

'He'd better keep his distance,' she said viciously and picked up a hairbrush, 'or I'll crack his skull with this.'

'Argue it out with him while I'm gone.' Newman grinned. 'All I think he wants is kip – sleep. Alone…'

Tweed put down his office phone after asking Newman to call him daily. He sat for a few minutes, thinking. Paula and Monica were careful to keep quiet while they worked.

'Paula,' he announced, 'we have to fly to Greece – and soon. Inside the next couple of weeks. Monica, book a couple of first-class return tickets via Zurich. Open date. Bob has just told me Petros is leaving Devil's Valley for some other farm he has up in Macedonia. No one knows the territory up there. Marler and Newman do know Devil's Valley. I need to interrogate the old villain. He's crazed with a lust for vengeance. I want to find out whether he had Masterson killed.'