“Now I know where the yellow Albatros materialized from,” said Pitt. “An old Japanese I-Boat, capable of launching a small scout plane. They haven’t been in use since World War II.”
“Yes, a handsome specimen,” von Till said jovially. “I’m honored you could identify it. Sunk by an American destroyer off Iwo Jima in 1945, raised by Minerva Lines in 1951. I’ve found the combination of submarine and aircraft a most useful method of delivering small cargoes into areas that demand extreme discretion.”
“A handy toy for also attacking United States airfields and research ships,” Pitt added.
“Touché, Major,” von Till murmured. “At dinner the other night you guessed that the plane came from the sea. You were groping blindly, but you came much closer than you thought.”
“I can see that now.” Pitt shot a quick glance at the tunnel entrance. Two more guards leaned negligently against the walls of the opening, their machine pistols hung carelessly over their shoulders. Pitt started to say: “The antique Albatros—”
“Correction.” von Till interrupted. “A replica of an Albatros. For my purposes a slow, bi-wing aircraft was the most efficient means of landing and taking off on short fields, dark beaches, or in water beside a ship; the lower wing can, or should I say could fold downward in the shape of hydrofoil pontoons. I used the Albatros D-3 design with a more modern engine, of course, because the aerodynamics provided the perfect answer to my requirements And an old shabby looking airplane would never be suspected of shall we say, slightly illegal activities. A pity it will never fly again.”
Von Till pulled a box of cigarettes from his breast pocket and lit one. Then he went on.
“My delivery plane was never meant to be armed or flown in combat It was only after I had no alternative but to assault Brady Field and your precious research ship that I had the guns installed; a drastic move perhaps but your Commander Gunn refused to be discouraged by my subtle efforts to sabotage his expedition. There was little to fear from a Sunday swimmer or a diving tourist discovering my little underwater modus operandi However, a trained ocean scientist, that was something else again. I could not take the risk. The raid was, I am still convinced, an excellent plan.
Colonel Lewis would have had no choice but to order the its name escapes me, ah yes, the First Attempt to evacuate the Thasos coast if the attack had continued unhindered. You couldn’t have known, of course, that the Albatros intended to make a token strafing run against the ship immediately after it neutralized the airfield. Inopportunely, Major Pitt, you blundered onto the scene and ruined everything.”
“The fortunes of war,” Pitt offered sarcastically.
“It is a shame Willie cannot be here to hear you say that.”
“Where is good old peeping-Tom Willie?” Pitt asked.
“Willi was the pilot,” von Till answered. “When the Albatros crashed into the sea, poor Willie was trapped in the wreckage. He drowned before we could reach him.” Von Till’s face abruptly became hard and menacing. “It seems you cost me my chauffeur and pilot as well as my dog.”
“Gullibility on Willie’s part,” Pitt said quietly. “I suckered him with the same old balloon trick that the British used on Kurt Heibert. As to the dog, before you sic another one of your hydrophobic bitches on your next unsuspecting dinner guest, I suggest you count your table utensils.”
Von Till looked at Pitt curiously for a moment Then he nodded knowingly. “Remarkable, quite remarkable. You killed my champion hound with a knife from my own dinner table. Most ungracious of you, Major, to say the least May I ask how you were forewarned?”
“Premonition,” Pitt replied. “No more, no less. You should never have tried to kill me. That was your first mistake.”
“It is a pity your escape from the labyrinth only prolonged your existence by a few hours.”
Pitt nonchalantly glanced past von Till and Darius.
The ominous black tunnel was now strangely empty; the two guards had disappeared. Not so the five guards who lined the cavern wall with the machine pistols — they looked as menacing as ever.
“Your reception committee leads me to believe you were expecting us,” Pitt murmured quietly.
“Of course we were expecting you,” von Till acknowledged matter-of-factly. “Good friend Darius here informed me of your impending arrival. The exact time became apparent when the First Attempt began acting suspiciously; no captain in his right mind would run his ship that close-in to the Thasos cliffs.”
“How many pieces of silver did it take for Darius to turn traitor?”
“The exact sum wouldn’t be of interest to you,” said von Till. “The fact is. Darius has been in my employ for ten years. You might say that our association has proved to be quite mutually rewarding.”
Pitt stared into Darius' coal-black eyes. “No matter how you slice it. it still add up to treason. That’s your second mistake, von Till Hiring a slimey cockroach of a bastard like Darius. it’s bound to backfire.”
Darius shivered in involuntary rage. The Luger protruded from his massive fist as if it were a mutant growth extension, and it was aimed unsteadily at Pitt’s navel.
Von Till shook his head tiredly. “Antagonizing Darius will only make you very, very dead.”
“What’s the difference. You’re going to kill all of us anyway.”
“Premonition again. Major? It serves you well.” Von Till spoke cheerfully. Too cheerfully to suit Pitt.
“I hate surprises,” Pitt said caustically. “How and when?”
With a practiced flourish, von Till pushed back his sleeves and carefully studied the dial of his watch. “In eleven minutes to be exact. That is all the time I can afford.”
“Why not now?” Darius growled. “Why wait? We have other business at hand.”
“Patience Darius,” von Till chided. “You’re not thinking. We can use the extra hands to load our supplies on board the submarine.” He gazed down at Pitt and smiled “Because of your wound. Major you’re excused. The rest of your men can begin by carrying the equipment you see on the dock into the forward hatch.”
“We don’t work for butchers,” Pitt spoke softly and evenly.
“Very well, if you insist.” Von Till beamed at Darius. “Shoot away his left ear. With your next bullet, take off his nose. After that his—”
“Stow it, you sadistic old hun.” The words fairly spat from Woodson’s lips. “We’ll load your goddamned pigboat.”
They had no choice. Pitt had no choice. He could only sit by helplessly and watch as Spencer and Hersong began attacking a small mountain of wooden crates on the dock and passing them to Knight and Thomas on the sub. Woodson vanished into the hatch; only his arms, rising occasionally above the deck to receive a crate, revealed his whereabouts.
The burning sensation returned to Pitt's leg in earnest now. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have sworn that a microscopic little man was running back and forth through his wound with a flamethrower. One or twice he nearly blacked out; each time he fought desperately to hold on until the engulfing waves of darkness subsided. On sheer will power alone he kept his voice on a conversational tone.
“You only answered the when half of my question, von Till.”
“Does the method of your demise really matter that much to you?’
“Like I said. I hate surprises.”
Von Till studied Pitt in cold speculation, then he shrugged. “I suppose it does no harm to hide the inevitable.” He paused to check his watch again. “You and your men will be shot A bit barbaric and ruthless, I grant, but I prefer to think of it as a rather humane death, especially when compared to being buried alive.”
Pitt thought for a moment “The loading of supplies and equipment. those men removing the guns from the wrecked Albatros, it all spells get-away. You’re folding your tent, von Till, and stealing off into the night Then after you’ve left, one minute, five minutes, maybe even half an hour. explosive charges will detonate and seal the cavern under tons of rock, entombing the six of us and erasing all evidence of your underwater smuggling operation.”