I was told to climb up into a captured British lorry full of paratroopers. They were all armed with rifles or machine-pistols, while I didn’t even have my gravity knife. It must have been stolen when I was unconscious — or perhaps the doctor thought I might be suicidal. We drove for about half an hour, but it was impossible to see anything out of the uncovered rear because of the dust raised by the lorry’s large wheels.
‘Out!’ shouted a sergeant.
The men jumped down, brushing past me. Whatever the oper-ation was, they were avid for it. Most of them were wearing shorts — supplies of equipment and weapons were abundant now.
I climbed down slowly, my head spinning. When it cleared, I saw that we had pulled up in an olive grove outside a village. Paratroopers were already breaking down doors and pushing people out into the single unpaved street — old men, women in black, children.
‘Kersten!’ Blatter roared. ‘Over here, now!’
I went, a black curtain descending over my eyes as I tried to keep a regular pace. I blinked, but still could only see fleeting visions of my surroundings.
‘What’s the matter with you, man?’ the captain demanded. ‘Give him an MP40, sergeant.’
The weapon was shoved into my hands and ammunition clips stuffed into my pockets.
‘Follow me, at the double.’
By the time Blatter and I got to the three-sided square in the centre of the village, a large crowd had gathered. I saw wizened elderly faces and the smooth cheeks of boys. There were no young men — they would have been conscripted when the Italians invaded mainland Greece. But there were young women. And she was one of them.
I closed my eyes for a long moment, nausea flooding through me, and then opened them again. Her dark hair was matted and unwashed, and her black dress looked like it had been pulled through a thorn bush, but her eyes were as haughty as ever. She saw me and gave me a look of such untamed courage that I had to lower my eyes.
‘Every tenth man over there!’ Blatter ordered, pointing to the open field on the square’s fourth side. It was lined with eucalyptus trees, presumably watered by a stream to the rear.
Paratroopers started grabbing men from the crowd and sending them stumbling across the tall grass. I couldn’t make out any system in the count — whoever the soldiers wanted was chosen.
‘Now the women!’ Blatter screamed. ‘Check them for recoil marks.’
There was uproar from the villagers as paratroopers tore down the dresses of the women, some of them obviously grandmothers. When one of my comrades came to my saviour, he slapped her face when she held her eyes on his, and then ripped the top of her dress away. I saw her firm breasts and then my heart stopped. While the wound on her right shoulder was covered by a bloodstained bandage, her left shoulder was heavily bruised. She had managed to use a weapon even on the wrong side.
‘Over there!’ the captain ordered, pushing her towards the line of men in the meadow.
Twenty of our men had already formed a firing squad.
‘What is this?’ I stuttered. ‘These are civilians.’
‘The Reichsmarshall has ordered that exemplary measures be taken against all who dared to resist us.’ Blatter gave a tight smile. ‘Without any further process of law. Makrymari is home to many murderers and francs-tireurs. Private, join the execution detail. Immediately!’
I tried to keep my balance as I walked over. I had it in my mind to give the woman a quick death, but the order came too soon for my befuddled mind and the firing started before I could even pull back the slide on my weapon.
She was already on her back, her arms flung wide and her head an explosion of crimson.
Darkness came over me and I collapsed.
TWELVE
Mavros and Cara Parks walked out of the hotel and followed the lit path towards the beach. The actress walked close, her shoulder brushing against his.
‘The night’s beautiful here,’ she said, stopping and looking up. ‘You can see every star sprinkled across the dome of the heavens.’
‘Don’t you get that in LA?’
She laughed softly. ‘You obviously haven’t been. The city’s lit up like an operating theatre. You can’t see anything of the night sky.’
‘Not even on Mulholland Drive?’
‘You don’t give up, do you?’ she said, turning to him and then walking on.
‘I thought you brought me out here to talk about the accident,’ he said, catching up with her. ‘Rather than warble poetically about the sky at night.’
‘Perils of an English major,’ she said, looking at him thoughtfully. ‘Besides, I grew up in Arizona. You really think that old story has something to do with what happened to Maria here?’
‘I don’t know, but something strange is going on. It seems like a good place to start.’
They had reached the beginning of the beach. Cara led him to a table at the extent of the bar area. A waiter in boots, vrakaand embroidered cummerbund appeared instantly, and she ordered fizzy water. Mavros went along with that to keep sharp.
‘What do you want to know?’ the actress asked, after the drinks had arrived.
‘The accident and the boy’s death don’t interest me as much as the substitution of drivers.’
Cara stared at him. ‘Are you kidding? What do you think being a killer driver would have done to my career? Back then I wasn’t where I am now.’
‘But, as far as I’ve seen, Maria escaped punishment because the victim was out of his head.’
‘Yeah, but we didn’t know that at the time, did we? Christ, he came out of nowhere. He could have been a kid on a midnight ramble.’
Mavros wasn’t sure if she was being straight with him. If not, her professional skills were even better than he’d given her credit for.
‘So, what? You called Maria and told her to get out there as quickly as she could?’
Cara nodded.
‘And when did you tell her to take the rap?’
‘I didn’t.’ The actress’s eyes met his. ‘As a matter of fact, it was her idea. Dear Maria, she’d do anything for me. She told me to go home and leave her car in the drive — when the cops asked, I was to say I’d given Maria permission to drive the Merc. I was in shock and I had trouble driving, but I managed it. She called me from police headquarters and I went in a taxi to bail her out.’
‘You went yourself? Don’t you have people to do your dirty work?’ Mavros chose the last words carefully.
‘Dirty work? Maria stood up for me and I’m supposed to send — who? My agent? — to get her out of that stinking holding pen?’
‘I imagine most of your fellow actors would send a lawyer.’
‘Yeah, well, I must be weird, then. Besides, like I told you, Maria isn’t just my assistant, she’s my friend.’
Mavros thought about that. Was it possible that Maria Kondos was the one who was covering up? Could she be taking advantage of Cara in some way? That still didn’t explain why she left the resort under her own steam, or why she had ended up in Kornaria.
‘Good evening, Alex, Ms Parks.’
Mavros stood up as Rudolf Kersten and his wife approached the table from behind.
‘Please, don’t let us disturb you,’ the old man said, in good English. ‘We often take a turn down here in the evening.’
Mavros glanced at Cara. She was smiling at the resort owner.
‘Join us, please,’ she said, apparently relieved that their private conversation had been ended. ‘We’re enjoying the night sky.’
Rudolf looked up at the stars and the great swathe of the Milky Way — the lights at the bar were not intrusive. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘it is magnificent, indeed. And the scent of the trees passing over the water.’ There was sadness in his voice.
‘Come now,’ Hildegard said, ‘you have been here a thousand times. It’s a place of joy, Rudi.’