The Greek Key

'I've survived so far.' Tweed moved a chair, sat down so their knees were almost touching. She was a woman who liked close combat, who liked to touch a man if he passed inspection. Tweed had a feeling he'd done just that. And he wanted her to talk. She asked him if he'd like a drink. He said mineral water would be fine. She reached out to a table standing at the end of the sofa, poured him a glass from a collection of bottles, then she helped herself to a glass of white wine. She raised her glass.

'Here's to us.'

'To us…'

'And you're not an editor.' She peered at him over the rim and sipped some wine. 'You have the eyes of a policeman. They're nice eyes.'

'I was once a policeman.' He had decided frankness -up to a point – was his best tactic with this shrewd and glamorous creature. 'What can you tell me about the Greek Key? I need your help. Very badly. A lot of people have already died here and in England. I suspect more may die unless I find out what is going on.' He took off his glasses, laid them on the table. 'I need all the help I can get.'

'Will Newman or Marler be coming back?' She watched him through half-closed eyes.

'Not unless I summon them. I wasn't thinking of doing so.'

He had trouble keeping his eyes off her beautifully moulded shoulders. The dress fitted her snugly; her well-rounded breasts projected against the cloth. She leaned forward and kissed him full on the mouth.

'That was for starters, Tweed.'

The Greek Key?'

'A group of the most dangerous men in Greece. Shadow men who operate in the dark. The police can't find them. They live secret lives. Does that sound melodramatic?'

'Yes. But it sounds just what I'm looking for. Tell me more.'

'So you don't really need your glasses to see?'

'Only long distance. When I'm driving. Times like that. Then I forget I'm wearing them. Tell me more,' he repeated.

'I've told you too much already. You want to get me killed?'

'No. I'd go a long way to prevent that. Is Anton a member?'

She blinked, lowered her eyes. He could have sworn the suggestion came to her as a great shock. That she was thinking back over incidents she had observed – trying to link them up with his question.

'I never thought of that.' She opened her full red lips and ran the tip of her tongue along her lower lip. 'I can trust you?'

'You must decide that for yourself.'

'When my mother sent me to the university – she's dead, Petros killed her with overwork on the farm – there was an English professor, Guy Seton-Charles.'

'What about him?' Tweed asked in the same quiet tone.

'There were rumours. He came to lecture from England each year. Behind his back they called him The Recruiter.'

'Who were "they"?' His voice was very soft now, careful not to disturb her mood.

'You will protect me?' She leaned close again and her eyes were enormous. She slowly removed her earclips, placed them on the table.

'Yes,' he said. 'Providing you do exactly what I tell you when the time comes.'

'You're a nice man. Some of the students who attended the Seton-Charles lectures stopped going to them.'

'Who was he recruiting for?'

'The Greek Key.' Her smooth-skinned face was almost touching his and he caught a waft of perfume. He told himself to move back but he was frightened of breaking the spell. 'I asked what it was and they wouldn't tell me. You asked me if Anton was a member. He attended the lectures and finished the course. After that he was a changed man.'

'Changed in what way?'

'He used to lay women like rows of beans. He still kept his playboy image outwardly – but he seemed to have become colder, more purposeful – dedicated. That's it. Dedicated.'

'Dedicated to what?'

'I don't know. Really, I don't, Tweed. As though he'd found some mission in life. Almost like a religious conversion. But he's an agnostic. That's all I can say.'

Tweed eased his chair away. He stood up. Christina also stood up and \vaiked towards him. He had a curious gleam in his eyes. He saw his glasses still on the table, picked them up. Before he could put them on she grasped him.

'Let's do it. Now.'

He sighed, shook his head. 'Christina, I said I would protect you. I will. But I can't if we get involved with each other. I must go. Pack your things ready for a quick departure. All except your night things.'

'I have to say thank you.'

She pressed herself against him, kissed him again.

'You'll be leaving tomorrow,' he told her.

'Unless Dimitrios or Constantine or Anton reach me tonight.'

'Which do you fear most?'

'Anton. Of course…'

'He is no longer in Greece. And you will continue to be with someone until you leave. It may be a woman.'

'What use will she be? In an emergency?'

'More deadly than a man. I must go. Lock the door and only open it for the special knock. You do have confidence in me?'

'Completely.' She ran her hands through her hair. 'We will meet again?'

'If possible. It depends on how things develop…'

He waited outside the closed door until he heard her lock it. His hands were wet with perspiration. And not from the heat.

Four people sat round a table in Newman's room. Newman himself, Nick the Greek, Paula and Marler. Two litre bottles of mineral water stood on the table with four glasses. The bottles were almost empty. Tweed was introduced to Nick who clasped his hand in a firm grip and gazed straight at him. Tweed liked what he saw.

'Bob,' he said, 'take Paula along to Christina and introduce her. I want you to stay with her, Paula. Only open the door to the special knock Bob will demonstrate.'

Paula looked amused as she stood up and smoothed down her skirt. She stood close and whispered. 'Better go into the bathroom and comb your hair again. Clean up your mouth at the same time.'

Newman had reached the door with Paula when Tweed stopped them. 'Wait a moment.' He looked at Nick. 'I understand you can find weapons. We'll all be away when we go to Devil's Valley. Paula should have some protection. A small handgun. Can you obtain one for her?'

Nick, still seated, rolled up his left trouser leg and revealed the holster strapped to it. He pulled out a small gun, a. 32 Browning automatic. He showed it to Paula.

'Do you know this gun?'

'Yes. It's a Browning. I've practised with it. That would do nicely.'

'And spare mags.' Nick handed her the gun and hauled the mags out of his pocket.

Paula dropped the mags into her handbag. She examined the Browning, released the magazine from the butt, made sure there was no bullet up the spout, all the time holding the weapon pointed at the wall. Nick watched with approval as she rammed the mag home again, dropped the weapon inside her handbag.

'You know the gun,' he said.

Tweed laid a hand on her shoulder. 'Only to be used in extreme emergency – if Christina's or your own life is in danger. You have no permit to use that in Greece. But if push comes to shove I'll square it with Peter Sarris. Take care.'

'And you take care,' she said vehemently. This whole secret expedition to Devil's Valley is madness…'

'Now go along with Bob and make friends with Christina.'

When they had gone he excused himself. Inside the bathroom he checked his appearance in the mirror. He should have done that before he'd left Christina. His hair was mussed up; traces of lipstick showed on his mouth. Christina had deliberately let him go like that – knowing there was another woman with him. Just to show Paula. Women! Thank God he'd kept control of himself.

He had a wash, used a tissue to clean off the lipstick. When he had combed his hair he went back into the bedroom.

'What's the plan?' he asked, sitting down at the table.

'She's quite a girl, Christina,' Marler remarked cynically.