Nest of Spies Page 9

  Thoughtfully, Fletcher turned the boat out to sea again and headed for Piraeus.

  ‘She was trying to warn you,’ Mario said, lighting a small cigarillo.

  Fletcher was well aware of this and he was already making plans.

  ‘Mario,’ he said cheerfully, ‘tonight we have some money, so let us celebrate. First, I must call and see my banker in Athens, and then we will enjoy ourselves.’

  Mario looked at him understandingly.

  ‘Sure, Stefan,’ he said. ‘Tonight we will celebrate.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  After anchoring the boat in the harbour, Fletcher hurried into Athens. It was imperative that he passed on the news of Rassitz’s whereabouts to Spencer. He phoned Spencer from the station and in a cryptic telephone conversation learned that Spencer was unable to leave his house. Undaunted, Fletcher promised to deliver the goods personally.

  He left the telephone kiosk and picked up Toni. For a few minutes they toured the town making absolutely certain they weren’t being followed and then Fletcher directed him to Spencer’s house. Whilst Toni remained on watch outside the grounds, Fletcher slipped through the shrubbery and entered the open french window of the study. He closed the window behind him and pulled the curtains. A few seconds later Spencer entered the room. He was wearing evening dress.

  ‘You’ll have to be quick,’ he said. ‘I’m entertaining. Help yourself to a drink.’

  Fletcher poured out a stiff whisky. It had been a long day.

  ‘Rassitz has arrived,’ he said.

  ‘Where?’ Spencer asked.

  ‘In Athens,’ Fletcher said.

  Spencer looked at him sharply.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Because I brought him.’

  ‘You what?’ Spencer exploded.

  ‘I brought him this afternoon from Serifos where he has been hiding in a monastery.’

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘At the Villa Acancia.’

  ‘Bah!’ Spencer growled. ‘Turkish Embassy. We can’t touch him there.’

  ‘You can’t, but I can,’ Fletcher mused. ‘But it’s too early. There is more to it than just Rassitz.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘The Communists are involved!’

  Spencer frowned.

  ‘Wait here,’ he said. ‘I will be back.’

  He left the room, but returned in a few minutes.

  ‘Let’s have the full story,’ he said, and poured himself a drink.

  Fletcher related everything that had taken place since the last time they had met. How he had been taken to see Lofer. Of his visit to Pula’s surgery and his trip to Serifos.

  ‘So you think Dr Sleitser and Lofer are the same person?’ Spencer asked when Fletcher had finished.

  ‘Yes,’ Fletcher said. ‘I feel certain.’

  ‘Leave that one with me,’ Spencer said thoughtfully. ‘I’ll know all about Dr Sleitser within twelve hours.’

  ‘What about Veti?’ Fletcher asked.

  Spencer played with his glass.

  ‘The Russians are not involved,’ he said finally. ‘Of that I am certain. Veti is either employed by the Albanians, or he is playing a lone hand.’

  Fletcher shook his head.

  ‘They don’t permit that,’ he said, ‘everything Veti does is controlled by the K.G.B. If he is not being directed from the Kremlin, then it must be from some other Communist country.’

  ‘In that case it will definitely be the Albanians. Grevosky is hardly likely to warn me about Lofer if they are using him.’

  ‘But why warn you at all?’ Fletcher asked.

  Spencer smiled.

  ‘China, old boy. Quite simply China. Albania and China are friends. Russia and China are not. So to get one over on the Chinese they put a spoke in the Albanian’s wheels. At the same time we owe them a favour.’

  ‘Well, it doesn’t make my job any easier,’ Fletcher said. ‘Russians or Albanians, they are all the same.’

  ‘Yes,’ Spencer agreed seriously. ‘You will have to watch your step. What do you think they are up to?’

  ‘Supplying weapons to Rassitz.’

  ‘The Turks can supply their own and they don’t normally deal with the Communists.’

  ‘That’s what puzzles me,’ Fletcher said. ‘But supposing Rassitz is unaware that the Communists are at the back of this. Pula is obviously the middle man. They have nothing to link him with Veti.’

  ‘You did.’

  ‘Only because I happen to know some of Veti’s men. But I doubt if Rassitz does, or any of the Turks in Athens.’

  ‘But we still don’t know what they are supplying to Rassitz.’

  ‘No,’ Fletcher agreed. ‘If anything. It may only be money, or information.’

  ‘Until we know what it is all about, there is nothing we can do.’

  Fletcher sighed. There were times when he wished he had some other form of occupation. There was no comfort in his job. He glanced at the rows of books. How he would have liked to spend the evening in the high-backed chair reading any one of them, with a bottle of Scotch as his companion. He finished off his drink and stood up.

  ‘I’ll be in touch as soon as I know anything,’ he said.

  Spencer frowned.

  ‘Tomorrow I have to go with the Ambassador to Rhodes, but I shall be back in the evening.’

  ‘Well, I will try and keep all the parties quiet during the day so you can enjoy your trip.’

  Spencer growled.

  ‘I would swop you jobs any day,’ he grunted.

  Fletcher was about to give a suitable retort when there was an impatient tapping on the door. Spencer’s wife called out in an irritated tone.

  ‘No thanks,’ Fletcher smiled. ‘It does have certain advantages, I agree.’

  He left Spencer to pacify his wife, and returned to the taxi.

  For a while he allowed Toni to drive aimlessly around the town whilst he determined what to do. Finally, he decided to call and see Pula. He had a shrewd idea what the man was up to, and he also had a fair idea of his character. With a bit of persuasion, he reckoned he could make Pula talk. But it was a fruitless journey. There was no sign of Pula in his apartment, or his surgery.

  Fletcher then returned to Piraeus. Standing parked near his apartment was the cream Mercedes with two of Veti’s strongarm men sitting like two stuffed dummies. With an unusual lack of concern he ignored their presence and joined Mario in the Metropol Bar close to the harbour.

  It was a large, noisy room, with a cosmopolitan gathering of customers, all bent on various forms of revelry. Mario was already in high spirits when Fletcher arrived, and as the night wore on his exuberance became more volatile. Fletcher was also in fine form, but the lack of sleep and the harsh treatment he had received at the hands of Lofer’s men began to tell. Shortly before midnight he retired, and staggered back to his apartment.

  About an hour later the apartment door noiselessly opened and the dark figure of a man slipped into the room. After closing the door behind him he stealthily moved into the bedroom and saw the still form lying on the bed. He stopped at the foot of the bed, and with the quick flashing movement of an expert, projected a narrow pointed dagger from his sleeve into the form on the bed.

  The dagger sank into the figure without causing a stir, and the man moved forward, surprised at the lack of reaction received by his lethal weapon. As he did so, Fletcher hit him from behind, with a deft, sharp, karate blow, and the man sank to the floor. Fletcher dragged him out of the bedroom as Mario entered the apartment.

  ‘He followed you from the Metropol,’ Mario snarled.

  ‘Do you recognise him?’ Fletcher asked.

  Mario came over to look at the body and Fletcher turned to switch on the electric light. As he did so, he saw the nozzle of a revolver pointing at them through the slits of the louvred balcony door!

  ‘Down Mario!’ he yelled. ‘Down!’

  Frantically he pulled Mario with him to the floor, as two
sharp cracks spurted from the revolver. There was a thud, thud, as the bullets found a home, but Fletcher wasn’t hit, and, as he scrambled into the adjoining room, he heard Mario scurry towards the entrance lobby.

  Fletcher glanced at the still body of his would-be murderer and saw two bloody patches on his chest. In a flash he realised who the gunman had been after, and he dashed over to the balcony doors. Without stopping, he jumped into the bushes and brushed his way through the shrubbery to the roadway.

  But he was too late. The boulevard was deserted. Even the Mercedes had gone! He glanced back at the apartment building. There was no sign of any commotion, the block was still in darkness.

  Thoughtfully, he retraced his steps. The man on the balcony had shot the assassin because it was the easiest way out. It was unlikely he would have killed both Fletcher and Mario, and that would have left one of them to make the man talk. But who was in such a hurry to get rid of him? Was it Rassitz? Was he covering up his traces?

  Salunda had certainly tried to warn him against some danger. Was this it? But the man didn’t look like a Turk and it was unlike them to hire a Greek. And if it wasn’t Rassitz, who else could it be? Veti perhaps? He wondered about Veti. Was Fletcher’s presence beginning to trouble him? The Mercedes had long since disappeared. Was that significant? Or were they only keeping a watch on him during normal working hours? It had to be one or the other, and Fletcher knew who would give him the answer — Salunda!

  ‘We won’t get anything out of him,’ Mario said when Fletcher joined him. ‘He’s dead.’

  Fletcher looked at the dead man’s face. It was like many others which hung around the harbour bars — rough, dark and weather-beaten.

  ‘Local?’ he asked.

  Mario shook his head and opened the man’s thick gnarled hands.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘He’s from the mountains. Probably Crete.’

  ‘Why bring in a stranger?’ Fletcher asked. ‘There are plenty of locals who would have done the job.’

  ‘They could become an embarrassment,’ Mario said. ‘This one would be out of the way altogether.’

  Fletcher grunted. Mario could be right. In which case it sounded more like Veti’s work than Rassitz’s, but he would reserve his judgement until he had spoken to Salunda.

  ‘What do we do with him?’ Mario asked.

  ‘Get rid of him,’ Fletcher replied, ‘and quick, before we have any more visitors.’

  They got a towel and wrapped it around the dead man’s chest. Mario went to fetch the car, and Fletcher dragged the body through the shrubs to the roadway. Fortunately the boulevard was still deserted, but the town would not be, and a dead body was not the ideal companion to be seen with.

  They bundled the body into the rear seat of the car and drove swiftly through the moonlit streets. When they reached the east end of the town they drove into a ship-building yard, and quickly dumped the body in a conspicuous place where it would be seen before the sun got at it.

  It was in a more relaxed atmosphere that they drove back to the apartment. Fletcher was beginning to trouble someone, that was a good sign. But whoever they were, they wouldn’t give up after one abortive attempt. They would try again, and the next time they would be even more determined.

  ‘The apartment is becoming too well known,’ Fletcher said seriously. ‘I think we will only operate from the boat from now on.’

  Mario agreed. Like Fletcher he felt safer in the middle of the harbour.

  ‘We’ll collect my belongings, and you take them aboard the Tonos, whilst I go into Athena.’

  Mario looked at him.

  ‘Is it wise to go alone?’ he asked.

  Fletcher shrugged. It was a risk he was prepared to take. He wanted to get clear of the apartment and he also wanted to know who was wanting him out of the way. Until he achieved both he wouldn’t feel happy.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Fletcher saw Inspector Ikarios as he was getting out of the car and immediately felt the full blast of his icy tones.

  ‘Good evening, Fettos. You appear to have inherited some money since last we met,’ the Inspector sneered. He was not alone. His big burly Sergeant was with him, and another similarly built policeman hovered in the background. ‘Search the car,’ the Inspector snapped.

  ‘What do you hope to find?’ Fletcher growled as the Sergeant and the other policeman started their search.

  The Inspector didn’t reply. He was looking at Fletcher and Mario in turn, a sadistic smile on his face.

  ‘Where have you been?’ he barked at Mario.

  Mario shrugged and took his time in answering.

  ‘Celebrating,’ he said.

  ‘Where?’

  Mario purposely lit a cigarette and blew smoke dangerously close to the Inspector’s face.

  ‘Metropol,’ he said.

  The Inspector turned to Fletcher.

  ‘And how can you afford to run a car and rent a luxury apartment when only five days ago you had no money?’

  But Fletcher wasn’t in the mood to play cat and mouse with him. He knew Ikarios. No matter what they said they would end up in the police station. There was that look in the Inspector’s eye which forecast a long tough night, and Fletcher had other plans.

  ‘What the hell has it got to do with you?’ he asked angrily.

  The Inspector’s face looked like thunder. ‘I’ll tell you what it has to do with me, Fettos,’ he hissed. ‘Someone reported a shooting. They heard shots coming from an apartment on the ground floor — your apartment! And if I find any evidence to confirm it, I am going to take you apart.’

  Mario pointedly blew a cloud of smoke into the Inspector’s face.

  ‘Find anything?’ Ikarios asked impatiently.

  The Sergeant shook his head.

  ‘Let’s have a look inside then,’ the Inspector snapped. ‘Get going.’

  Fletcher looked at the Sergeant and his assistant. They were watching them like two hawks, waiting to see which way they moved. It wasn’t the ideal moment to make a break for it. He shrugged, and led the way into the apartment, but he didn’t hold out much hope. Ikarios would find the bloodstains, he was in that kind of mood.

  When they entered the apartment, however, Fletcher had more to worry about than bloodstains. Sitting facing them in the basket chair was Kasim! But he wasn’t going to say much — he was dead! His head lolled on one side, indicating a broken neck!

  Ikarios gave a delighted cry and the Sergeant brandished his automatic.

  ‘Get against the wall,’ the Sergeant snarled, ‘and keep your hands up.’

  Fletcher looked at the dead Kasim. He had wondered who had phoned the Inspector — now he knew. It was the same person who had put Kasim’s body in the basket chair! The same person who had shot the Cretan!

  He watched the Inspector touch the Turk, and the body fell forward on to the floor. The last time they had seen Kasim was in Serifos. Had he returned from the island dead or alive? he wondered. Was this Lofer’s work? Or Veti’s?

  ‘Who is he?’ Ikarios asked.

  Fletcher looked blank.

  ‘No idea,’ he lied.

  The Inspector pierced his eyes.

  ‘You would help yourself more if you cooperated,’ he said. ‘He is in your apartment.’

  ‘Would I have come back if I had known he was here?’ Fletcher asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Ikarios snapped. ‘To get rid of him.’

  ‘He has been dead for hours,’ Mario grunted.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘He’s as stiff as a board,’ Mario said.

  Ikarios examined the body again, and then ordered the policeman to phone for an ambulance.

  There were only two of them now, Fletcher thought. If they were going to make a break for it, it had to be now, before the other policeman returned. He glanced meaningly at Mario. Mario understood, and moved that fraction closer to the inspector who was examining the contents of Kasim’s pockets.

  ‘Look, Sergeant, must we stand
like this?’ Fletcher asked, and moved towards the burly policeman.

  ‘Get back,’ the Sergeant snarled, and put out his arm to push him against the wall. It was just what Fletcher had hoped he would do. In a flash he had knocked the man’s arm away, and with a lightning stroke, he smacked the side of his other hand into the Sergeant’s neck.

  As the policeman doubled up, choking for breath, Fletcher crashed his knee into the man’s jaw and sent him reeling. Mario moved with equal speed, and before the Inspector had time to get his revolver out of his pocket Mario had landed on top of him like a pouncing tiger.

  The Inspector’s head crashed onto the floor and he didn’t move. Almost with disgust Mario stood up. He saw the other policeman appear at the door and dived towards him. The policeman’s revolver spurted fire as Mario hit him, and a bullet ricocheted off the concrete ceiling. Fletcher kicked the revolver away from the policeman’s hand, and Mario put the final touches to rendering him harmless.

  Fletcher ran out to the car and started the engine.

  ‘Get back to the boat,’ he yelled to Mario. ‘Meet me at Kimo Bay.’

  Mario didn’t waste time discussing the matter. He had to get the boat out of the harbour before the Inspector put in his alert. Fletcher drove out of Piraeus with the same amount of urgency. In Athens he quickly ditched the car and went by foot to where Toni parked his taxi. Fortunately Toni was in his cab, asleep across the front seat.

  ‘Athena,’ Fletcher said, ‘quickly.’

  Toni didn’t need any second bidding. The urgency in Fletcher’s voice, and the timing of his arrival was clear enough indication that it wasn’t a sight-seeing trip.

  In Athena Fletcher directed him to the Villa Acancia.

  ‘Don’t park,’ Fletcher said, as he got out. ‘It might attract attention. Give me thirty minutes, then come back and tour the block. If I haven’t turned up within the hour go and met Mario at Kimo Bay. Tell him to contact our friends. They will know what to do.’

  When the taxi was out of sight, Fletcher scaled the high brick wall and landed in the garden which surrounded the residence. Despite the lateness of the hour there were still a number of lights on in the main building and the annexe. Cautiously he moved forward. He would have to be quick. It would soon be dawn and he wanted to get back to Mario so that they could hide the boat where Ikarios wouldn’t find them.