Nest of Spies Page 8

  Fletcher watched them with a feeling of mounting concern. The Communists were not just watching from the side-lines as he had hoped, they were being very active, and that could only mean trouble. Did Salunda know of this? he wondered. Or were they being taken for a ride? Pula was obviously the go-between, the link man, and the man who knew all the answers.

  The two men abruptly stood up and left the cafe. Fletcher followed them across the square and watched them part company. The man who had followed him from the train made his way towards the pier, where the dark blue hydrofoil ferry was approaching the harbour. Pula, however, went to the shore and got into a powerful motor launch. Before the ferry had tied up, he was heading out to sea.

  Fletcher watched him leave the bay and then continued his way to the north pier, where the coaster was offloading its stores. He now felt more certain than ever, that the men in the small boat were some of Lofer’s men.

  An open truck had arrived at the end of the pier and a big, heavily made man, with close-cropped hair, was leaning against the bonnet, watching the two men in the small boat.

  Fletcher kept his distance. If the men were associated with Lofer, they had the advantage over him. They had seen his face, he hadn’t seen theirs. He saw the small boat pull away from the coaster and head for the pier. The man leaning against the truck threw away the cigarette he had been smoking and went to meet them.

  Fletcher came as close as he dared. When the boat came alongside they started transferring the stores on to the truck. The men worked silently, but when one of the larger crates failed to find its place on the truck at the first attempt the man who had been standing on the pier called out, savagely, to the other two, and told them to be careful. At the sound of his voice Fletcher got his answer. He had spoken in German! And his accent and tone had a familiar ring! He was the man who had questioned him when he had been taken to meet Lofer!

  Fletcher took a last look at his features and quickly left them to their task. He didn’t know what Salunda’s reasons were for wanting him to visit Serifos, but she had certainly provided him with an opportunity of picking up some valuable pieces of the jigsaw. All he wanted now was the confirmation that Dr Sleitser was on the island, and he would have a shrewd idea who Herr Lofer was.

  Fletcher got his confirmation from the man who ran the small bar where he went to wait for Mario. Dr Sleitser was indeed on the island. He was excavating an ancient temple, six kilometres south of the town on the coast.

  Fletcher learned a lot. Dr Sleitser had been engaged on the workings for over a month. He didn’t like visitors, especially tourists, and his men very rarely visited the town. The cargo ship in the harbour was from Trieste, and had been a frequent visitor to the island ever since the Doctor had arrived. The stores that were being offloaded were supposed to be machine parts to help the Doctor with his workings.

  It all sounded very plausible and such archaeological expeditions were not uncommon. The islands were a veritable treasure trove for such men and the Americans, in particular, were constantly unearthing fresh relics of the past. But in Dr Sleitser’s case, Fletcher was well aware that it provided an ideal front for other activities and, whether the Doctor liked it or not, he intended to see the workings for himself before he left the island.

  In view of the man’s readiness to talk, Fletcher also questioned him about the monastery and he confirmed what Salunda had told him. But he added one further piece of information which made Fletcher raise his eyebrows. The monks had not used the retreat for over three years, until a few days ago when a small party of them had suddenly arrived! It made Fletcher even more suspicious.

  For where he was sitting Fletcher saw the ferry leave the harbour and wondered what was keeping Mario. But it was a further half an hour before he got the answer. When Mario joined him his face looked serious.

  ‘That Turk who was wearing the white dinner jacket arrived on the ferry,’ he said.

  ‘Kasim!’ Fletcher exclaimed. ‘Was he alone?’

  ‘Yes, and in a hurry.’

  ‘Where did he go?’

  ‘To a vineyard about one kilometre out of town. There is a large villa surrounded by a high brick wall. I waited several minutes, but he did not come out, so I came here.’

  ‘Did anyone else follow him?’

  ‘No, I am sure.’

  ‘Good. Who owns the vineyard?’

  ‘I do not know,’ Mario replied, ‘but I can find out from my cousin.’

  ‘You do that, Mario. I want to visit a certain Dr Sleitser, but be careful. It wouldn’t surprise me now if even Inspector Ikarios turned up.’

  ‘Ikarios!’

  ‘Yes, even him,’ Fletcher said, and quickly explained about Pula’s meeting with one of Veti’s men and about the three Germans.

  ‘It was very thoughtful of Salunda to send us here,’ Mario chuckled when Fletcher had finished.

  ‘Very,’ Fletcher agreed, but he couldn’t help feeling it hadn’t only been to keep them occupied whilst she visited her uncle.

  They parted company. Mario went in search of his cousin, and Fletcher slipped out of the town and headed south along the coast.

  He moved quickly along the road, keeping a watchful eye that the truck didn’t suddenly come up from behind. The last thing he wanted was to be seen by the Germans.

  After covering only a short distance, he came across a woman working in an olive grove. He questioned her about the archaeological workings, and she gave him a direct route which took him across country through the orchards and the rich lush countryside which bordered the sea.

  The site of Dr Sleitser’s workings was a large amphitheatre several hundred metres across. It was on the edge of the cliffs, facing the sea. Surrounding the amphitheatre was a post-and-wire fence. Fletcher crept under it and got himself into a position where he could observe what was going on without being seen.

  At the far end of the amphitheatre the road ran into the site. It was a rough metal track, but its very existence made Fletcher curious. It had obviously not been made by the Doctor’s party in such a short time.

  The archaeological workings were a series of trenches which had exposed the foundations and bases of an ancient temple. Two men stood examining them. One was Dr Sleitser, the other a much smaller and younger man. Both wore khaki shirts and drill trousers and strong leather boots like those Fletcher had seen on the man in the small boat.

  Dr Sleitser stood erect and was gesticulating with his hands, as if explaining something to his companion. His face looked bronzed and his silvery goatee beard gave him a distinguished appearance. Fletcher watched him for a while and then turned his attention to their camp. There were only three tents, pitched close to the road, but projecting from a vertical face of the amphitheatre was a canvas covering which looked like the entrance to a cave.

  Fletcher sat patiently studying the scene, but there was so little activity that he eventually became bored. He was about to leave when the truck drove into the camp. Its arrival brought another man on to the scene. He appeared at the entrance to the camp where he had been standing sentry. The truck pulled up alongside the canvas canopy, and the three men who had been in the town got out and started to lift the boxes from the truck and stack them under the canopy.

  Fletcher remained for a further few minutes, but when the sentry started to stroll slowly around the perimeter fence he decided it was time to leave. Quickly he returned to the town. The camp and the workings had an innocent appearance. Even the lack of activity didn’t surprise him. It was approaching the hottest time of the day. Most manual work was carried out during the early hours when it was much cooler.

  But what did make him suspicious was the precautions they had taken to keep out visitors, and also the absence of any heavy equipment. Various articles of mechanical plant had been standing near the tents, but not sufficient to warrant frequent visits by the coaster which was anchored in the harbour!

  Mario was waiting for him on board. He had found out who owned the vin
eyard. It was a Syrian called Zerbib. He had come to live on the island a number of years ago, but spent a lot of time visiting. He was a popular man on the island and there was no indication of any political affiliations. Like everything else which glistened under the burning sun he appeared innocent and above reproach. But Fletcher knew the Syrians. They were mercenaries, even more so than the Greeks!

  Mario had also picked up some valuable information about Dr Sleitser’s campsite. During the occupation of Greece the Germans had used it as a site for one of their coastal gun batteries. It explained the metal road which ran into the site, but it also gave Fletcher food for thought for other reasons.

  They left the harbour straight away and headed back to the bay where they were to meet Salunda. As they passed Dr Sleitser’s camp site, Fletcher scanned the coastline with his binoculars. It was a forbidding promontory. Three needle-like rocks projected from the sea about fifty metres from the coast, and directly beneath the camp was an unusually smooth vertical rock face.

  Fletcher felt disappointed. He had been hoping to see a cave or some feature where a boat could come alongside. He felt certain that Dr Sleitser and Herr Lofer were one and the same person. He felt equally certain that the archaeological workings were a front, and that the camp was being used as a storage dump. But what was being stored there, and why, still remained a mystery.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mario scowled when he saw the cloaked figure of a monk approach with Salunda, and retreated, pointedly, to the wheel-house. Fletcher waited on the shore. He was curious to meet the man.

  Salunda came up to him. Her face looked tense.

  ‘My uncle is returning with me,’ she said seriously.

  Fletcher nodded his head understanding and helped her aboard. He turned to help her uncle also, but the man had lithely jumped on to the deck. It was just as well, because Fletcher momentarily froze when he saw the man’s face. It was Abdul Rassitz! There was no mistaking the widely spaced, deep-set, brown eyes and the dark features.

  Fletcher’s pulse quickened. He cast a furtive glance at Mario and was thankful he had his back to them. The last thing he wanted was to let Rassitz know they recognised him, and Mario could not hide his emotions.

  Salunda and Rassitz disappeared into the saloon, and Fletcher joined Mario in the wheel-house. Silently he marvelled at his good fortune. Rassitz was the spearhead of trouble and he had him right there on his boat. But that was not all. He also knew where Rassitz was hiding and he had a shrewd idea where he would be on the mainland.

  The ball had bounced right into Fletcher’s lap. He now had control of the situation. He could nip the plot in the bud if it got out of hand. But just what was Rassitz planning? he wondered. What had lured the fox into the lion’s den? It was a dangerous move. If Ikarios or any of the Greek Security got wind of it, he would be a dead duck. The stakes had to be high for him to take such a gamble. Fletcher wanted to know just how high — and who was holding the pot.

  He decided against confiding in Mario at the moment. He didn’t want anything to arouse Rassitz’s suspicions.

  Salunda appeared on deck, and he went over to her. She still looked tense and on edge.

  ‘And what did you see in Serifos?’ she asked.

  Fletcher looked at her. Was she really interested? Or was she putting on an act?

  ‘A town preparing for a carnival,’ he said flatly, ‘and a small coaster offloading stores.’

  She said nothing.

  ‘The stores were being collected by three Germans. They went to Dr Sleitser’s camp.’ He paused then added: ‘Herr Lofer was also a German.’

  ‘You are very observant indeed,’ she said quietly.

  He looked her full in the face.

  ‘Very,’ he said.

  She dropped his eyes.

  ‘What else did you see?’ she asked.

  Fletcher hesitated. He didn’t intend to tell her about Pula, but she would find out about Kasim’s visit.

  ‘The Turk who was with you last night, wearing the dinner jacket,’ he said.

  ‘Kasim,’ she explained.

  ‘He arrived by ferry.’

  ‘Kasim!’ she whispered hoarsely. ‘The fool!’

  The news had shaken her. Her brow became furrowed, her eyes worried.

  ‘Where did he go to?’ she asked desperately.

  Fletcher shrugged.

  ‘I do not know,’ he lied, ‘but I shouldn’t worry. There is a ferry back to Piraeus later this evening. He will probably return with it.’

  The information seemed to ease her mind a little, but she didn’t discuss it further.

  ‘My uncle and I are to meet Ahmad tonight on the mainland at the same bay where I joined you. If all goes well you might get a bonus.’

  She turned abruptly, and went back to the cabin and Rassitz.

  Fletcher discussed their course with Mario and then settled himself on deck. He felt disappointed with Salunda. Rassitz was a fanatic, bent on stirring up trouble. If Salunda was one of his disciples she was not the woman he had hoped. He quickly shrugged off this feeling. In this type of business there was no place for personal emotions.

  For the remainder of the afternoon Fletcher sat on the deck watching the coastline of the small islands through his binoculars. He was still doing this when Salunda joined him again.

  ‘My uncle is asleep,’ she explained.

  Fletcher put down the binoculars, surprised at her presence.

  ‘Which island is that?’ she asked.

  ‘Kithnos,’ he said, ‘and those white buildings you can see are the ruins of an old Venetian fortress. There used to be a town on the island a long time ago.’

  He handed her the binoculars.

  ‘It looks very beautiful,’ she said wistfully.

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘All the islands are beautiful.’ He sighed, and looked at the calm blue sea, and the green island. ‘It is so peaceful and beautiful here that you wonder how the world can go so wrong.’

  ‘You are a strange man, Fettos,’ she said, ‘for a…’

  She didn’t finish her sentence.

  ‘Gun-runner? Smuggler? Mercenary?’ Fletcher asked.

  She flushed, but said nothing.

  ‘Why?’ Fletcher asked. ‘Because I like the islands? Or because I am a philosopher? All sailors are philosophers.’

  ‘I love my island, also,’ she said evading his question.

  She was referring to Cyprus, Fletcher thought, but he didn’t question her about it.

  ‘How many languages can you speak?’ she asked suddenly, changing the subject.

  The question took Fletcher by surprise.

  ‘Oh, Greek, Turkish and a smattering of Arabic,’ he said.

  ‘And English!’ she added.

  He turned to look at her. Their eyes met, but she looked away.

  ‘I am sorry,’ she apologised. ‘I didn’t mean to pry. I saw a book, this morning. When I was preparing the breakfast.’

  Fletcher mentally cursed himself. He had no right to leave an English book in his cabin. Desperately, he wondered if she suspected him. But she had found the book that morning and Rassitz had still come with her. He would never have done that if there had been any suspicions.

  ‘I can speak a little English,’ he said calmly. ‘In my business you have to be able to converse with all nationalities. It is also good for the tourists. I got that book from an English schoolteacher last year. She said it would improve my vocabulary.’

  She appeared to accept his explanation. ‘Where do you live, Fettos?’ she asked.

  ‘In a small village on the island of Chios. It is very much like that island.’

  She looked pensively at the picturesque coastline.

  ‘Why do you lead this kind of life?’

  ‘To pay for the boat,’ he replied. ‘It cost Mario and me a lot of money. Soon it will be ours.’

  ‘What will you do then?’

  ‘Fish, and sail the islands.’

  Her questi
oning puzzled him. He felt it was leading up to something.

  ‘Are you married?’ she asked abruptly.

  Fletcher smiled. ‘Unfortunately, no.’

  ‘Where will you go after we leave you?’

  ‘Back to Piraeus.’

  ‘Don’t,’ she said hurriedly. ‘Don’t, Fettos. Go back home.’

  There was a note of concern in her voice. He turned to face her. She was trying to tell him something. He put his hand on her arm. She didn’t resist his action. In fact she came closer.

  ‘Why, Salunda?’ he asked tenderly. ‘Why?’

  She opened her mouth to say something and hesitated.

  ‘Karima!’ A high pitched screaming voice called out from the well of the saloon. ‘Karima!’

  It was Rassitz!

  Salunda stood up abruptly. The spell was broken. Whatever she was going to say remained unsaid. She rushed back to the cabin and the door was slammed and bolted.

  ‘Rassitz!’ Mario hissed. ‘That bastard!’

  He spat, demonstratively, over the side of the boat. When he re-entered the wheel-house, he brought out his dagger and stuck it forcibly into the woodwork.

  ‘Stefan,’ he said. ‘We kill him.’

  Fletcher came up beside him.

  ‘No, Mario,’ he said quietly. ‘No.’

  Mario looked at him with disgust.

  ‘He is a snake. He will cause trouble.’

  ‘If we kill him,’ Fletcher whispered, ‘it will make a martyr out of him. They would find out who did it, and it would be very embarrassing for our friends in London. We cannot afford that. We must watch him and see what he is up to.’ He paused dramatically. ‘If at the last moment he has an accident that does not involve my friends, that is another matter.’

  Mario silently put his dagger away and brought the boat back on its course. He had got the message.

  Fletcher only saw Salunda again once on the trip back to the mainland, and that was when she and Rassitz left the boat. Ahmad was waiting for them. He handed the money over to Fletcher, and rushed Salunda and Rassitz away from the beach.