Brave Stutely comes then, with seven yeomen,

chink to be seen from the outside," he reported. "Fair enough. Thanks, boss." Miller lit a second candle, then slipped the rucksack straps from his shoulders, laid the pack on the bunk and stood in silence for a moment. Mallory looked at his watch, looked back at Miller. "You were going to show me something," he prompted. "Yeah, that's right. Three things, I said." He dug into the pack, brought out a little black box hardly bigger than a match-box. "Exhibit A, boss." Mallory looked at it curiously. "What's that?" "Clockwork fuse." Miller began to unscrew the back panel. "Hate the damned things. Always make me feel like one of those bolshevik characters with a dark cloak, a moustache like Louki's and carryin' one of those black cannon-ball things with a sputterin' fuse stickin' outa it. But it works." He had the back off the box now, examining the mechanism in the light of his torch. "But this one doesn't, not any more," he added softly. "Clock's O.K., but the contact arm's been bent right back. This thing could tick till Kingdom Come and it couldn't even set off a firework." "But how on earth?" "Exhibit B." Miller didn't seem to hear him. He opened the detonator box, gingerly lifted a fuse from its felt and cotton-wool bed and examined it closely under his torch. Then he looked at Mallory again. "Fulminate of mercury, boss. Only seventy-seven grains, but enough to blow your fingers off. Unstable as hell, toothe little tap will set it off." He let it fall to the ground, and Mallory winced and drew back involuntarily as the American smashed a heavy heel down on top of it. But there was no explosion, nothing at all. "Ain't workin' so good either, is it, boss? A hundred to one the rest are all empty, too." He fished out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and watched the smoke eddy and swirl above the heat of the candles. He slid the cigarettes into his pocket. "There was a third thing you were going to show me," Mallory said quietly. "Yeah, I was goin' to show you somethin' else." The voice was very gentle, and Mallory felt suddenly cold. "I was goin' to show you a spy, a traitor, the most vicious, twistin', murderin', doublecrossin' bastard I've ever known." The American had his hand out of his pocket now, the silenced automatic sitting snugly against his palm, the muzzle trained over Panayis's heart. He went on, more gently than ever. casio exilim ex-z1050 10.1mp digital camera "Judas Iscariot had nothin' on the boy-friend, here, boss. . . . Take your coat off, Panayis." "What the devil are you doing! Are you crazy?" Mallory started forward, half-angry, half-amazed, but brought up sharply against Miller's extended arm, rigid as a bar of iron. "What bloody nonsense is this? He doesn't understand English!" "Don't he, though? Then why was he out of the cave like a flash when Casey reported hearin' sounds outside . . . and why was he the first to leave the carob grove this afternoon if he didn't understand your order? Take your coat off, Judas, or I'll shoot you through the arm. I'll give you two seconds." Mallory made to throw his arms round Miller and bring him to the ground, but halted in mid-step as he caught the look on Panayis's faceteeth bared, murder glaring out from the coal-black eyes. Never before had Mallory seen such malignity in a human face, a malignity that yielded abruptly to shocked pain and disbelief as the .32 bullet smashed into his upper arm, just below the shoulder. "Two seconds and then the other arm," Miller said woodenly. But Panayis was already tearing off his jacket, the dark, bestial eyes never leaving Miller's face. Mallory looked at him, shivered involuntarily, looked at Miller. Indifference, he thought, that was the only word to describe the look on the American's face. Indifference. Unaccountably, Mallory felt colder than ever. "Turn round!" The automatic never wavered. Slowly Panayis turned round. Miller stepped forward, caught the black shirt by the collar, ripped it off his back with one convulsive jerk. "Waal, waal, now, whoever woulda thought it?" Miller drawled. "Surprise, surprise, surprise! Remember, boss, this was the character that was publicly flogged by the Germans in Crete, flogged until the white of his ribs showed through. His back's in a heliuva state, isn't it?" Mallory looked but said nothing. Completely off balance, his mind was in a kaleidoscopic whirl, his thoughts struggling to adjust themselves to a new set of circumstances, a complete reversal of all his previous thinking. Not a scar, not a single blemish, marked the dark smoothness of that skin. "Just a natural quick healer," Miller murmured. "Only a nasty, twisted mind like mine would think that he had been a German agent in Crete, became known to the Allies as a fifth columnist, lost his usefulness to the Germans and was shipped back to Navarone

There 's no one shall wrong thee, friend, be not afraid

confidence in Larss ability to lend credence to the account. Dont you? I must say, when you assume that pose, Killashandra, Id hesitate to contradict you. Corish rose to his feet. But now, I think that Nahia and I had better join Hauness and prepare to disappear. If they credit Killashandras explanation, theyll not be likely to mount a twenty-five hour radar watch, will they? So we wont have that problem to contend with. Nahia had returned to the console, and was taking some hard copy from the retrieval slot. Ive all the charts we need, Olav, and my thanks for your suggestions. Just in case, I think we will take the devious course through the islands and then double back north. Lars, Olver survived the purge and you can contact us through him when you need to. Corish had her by the arm and was drawing her toward a rear exit. May I hope to see you again, Killashandra? If that is at all possible, officially, yes, of course, and I look forward to the occasion. Abruptly, annoyed at her stilted phrases, Killashandra stepped forward and swiftly embraced Nahia, kissing her on both cheeks. She stepped back, rather surprised at her uncharacteristic effusiveness until she saw the pleasure in Nahias brilliant eyes and smiling face. Oh, you are kind! Dont he ridiculous! Killashandra replied fiercely, and then smiled with embarrassment. She felt Lars take her elbow and squeeze it gently. Should I need to contact you, Killashandra, Corish added, opening the door and all but pushing Nahia out, Ill leave a message at the Piper Facility. As I already have. The door closed behind them with an emphatic slam. Come, Olav said, striding toward his front office. Well signal the jet. Fortunately, the return of the Pearl has been entered in the Harbor log and not too much time will have elapsed before we inform them of this good news. Olav paused in front of the huge console, frowning slightly at Killashandra. You are certain you wish to go through with this? It could be dangerous! Far more dangerous for them, Killashandra said with a snort. To have put me in such a situation in the first place. Then she laughed. Just think, Olav, with Larss confession that Torkes and Ampris hired him to assault me, to prove my identity, how they have compromised themselves. I actually had not considered that aspect. He turned to the console and began to send out the message. The jet cruiser responded instantly with a request for visual with which Olav instantly complied. Look toshiba digital cameras nightowl camera pleased but humble, Lars , Killashandra muttered before she turned to the screen, once more the haughty and arrogant crystal singer. Elder Torkes, I must protest! It is over five weeks since I was abducted from the City a City, I might add, in which I had already been assaulted though I had been told in unequivocal terms that Optheria was a secure planet, where everyone knew his place, and no unusual activities were condoned or permitted. Killashandra stressed the words as sarcastically as possible, enjoying the shock on the Elders face. Yet I could also be insulted by a minor and officious idiot, and kidnapped! I could be abandoned on this dreadful world. And it has taken you all this time to come to the islands which you yourself told me were populated by a dissident group. Dissident they might be, but courteous they are, and I have been made to feel far more welcome in these islands than I was during your pompous, ill-provisioned reception. I will also inform you, if you havent already heard from them, that my Guild will take a very dim view of this whole incident. In fact, reparations may well be required. Now, what have you to say to me? Honored Guildmember, I cannot adequately express our horror, our concern for you during your terrible ordeal. Those in the Harbor Masters office saw the effort which Elder Torkes was forced to make to moderate his own manner. I dont know how the Council can ever redeem itself in your eyes. Anything we can do I suggest that you begin by expressing gratitude to the young man who rescued me after that frightening hurricane Why, I thought Id be swept to sea and drowned during the night. This is the young man, and ruthlessly Killashandra pulled Lars beside her. Torkess face was unreadable as he inclined his head in the curtest possible recognition. Hes the skipper of the what did you say your boats called, Captain Dahl? The Pearl Fisher, Guildmember. I might add that he took considerable risk to himself and his vessel to put in to that island. The monsters in the lagoon and all about it were in some sort of frenzy. The storm does that, he told me. But I was so relieved to see another human after all that time Look at me! Im a sight! My hair, my skin! Im nothing but skin and bones! Our estimated time of arrival is 18:30, Guildmember. Until that time, the Harbor Master will be able to attend to your comfort to the limits

Fond wretch! as if her step disturb'd the dead!

Casey, I think. Reefs, perhaps?" Casey looked in long silence, finally shook his head. "Bow-wave," he said unemotionally. "It's the destroyers coming through." CHAPTER 17 Midnight Commander Vincent Ryan, R.N., Captain (Destroyers) and Commanding officer of His Majesty's latest Sclass destroyer Sirdar, looked round the cramped chart- room and tugged thoughtfully at his magnificent Captain Kettle beard. A scruffier, a more villainous, a more cut and battered-looking bunch of hard cases he had never seen, he reflected, with the possible exception of a Bias Bay pirate crew he had helped round up when a very junior officer on the China Station. He looked at them more closely, tugged his beard again, thought there was more to it than mere scruffiness. He wouldn't care to be given the task of rounding this lot up. Dangerous, highly dangerous, he mused, but impossible to say why, there was only this quietness, this relaxed watchfulness that made him feel vaguely uncomfortable. His "hatchetmen," Jensen had called them: Captain Jensen picked his killers well. "Any of you gentlemen care to go below," he suggested. "Plenty of hot water, dry clothesand warm bunks. We won't be using them to-night." "Thank you very much, sir." Mallory hesitated. "But we'd like to see this through." "Right, then, the bridge it is," Ryan said cheerfully. The Sirdar was beginning to pick up speed again, the deck throbbing beneath their feet. "it is at your own risk, of course." "We lead charmed lives," Miller drawled. "Nothin' ever happens to us." The rain had stopped and they could see the cold twinkling of stars through broadening rifts in the clouds. Mallory looked around him, could see Maidos broad off the port bow and the great bulk of Navarone slipping by to starboard. Aft, about a cable length away, he could just distinguish two other ships, high-curving bow-waves piled whitely against tenebrious silhouettes. Mallory turned to the captain. "No transports, sir?" "No transports." Ryan felt a vague mixture of pleasure and embarrassment that this man should call him "sir." "Destroyers only. This is going to be a smashand-grab job. No time for dawdlers to-nightand we're behind schedule already." "How long to clear the beaches?" "Half digital usb microscope camera an hour." "What! Twelve hundred men?" Mallory was incredulous. "More." Ryan sighed. "Half the ruddy inhabitants want to come with us, too. We could still do it in half an hour, but we'll probably take a bit longer. We'll embark all the mobile equipment we can." Mallory nodded, let his eye travel along the slender outlines of the Sirdar. "Where are you going to put 'em all, sir?" "A fair question," Ryan admitted. "5 p.m. on the London Underground will be nothing compared to this little lot But we'll pack them in somehow." Mallory nodded again and looked across the dark waters at Navarone. Two minutes, now, three at the most, and the fortress would open behind that headland. He felt a hand touch his arm, half-turned and smiled down at the sad-eyed little Greek by his side. "Not long now, Louki," he said quietly. "The people, Major," he murmured. "The people in the town. Will they be all right?" "They'll be all right. Dusty says the roof of the cave will go straight up. Most of the stuff will fall into the harbour." "Yes, but the boats?" "Will you stop worrying! There's nobody aboard themyou know they have to leave at curfew time." He looked round as someone touched his arm. "Captain Mallory, this Is Lieutenant Beeston, my gunnery officer." There was a slight coolness in Ryan's voice that made Mallory think that he wasn't overfond of his gunnery officer. "Lieutenant Beeston is worried." "I am worried!" The tone was cold, aloof, with an indefinable hint of condescension. "I understand that you have advised the captain not to offer any resistance?" "You sound like a B.B.C. communiqu6," Mallory said shortly. "But you're right. I did say that. You couldn't locate the guns except by searchlight and that would be fatal. Similarly with gunfire." "I'm afraid I don't understand." One could almost see the lift of the eyebrows in the darkness. "You'd give away your position," Mallory said patiently. "They'd nail you first time. Give 'em two minutes and they'd nail you anyway. I have good reason to believe that the accuracy of their gunners is quite fantastic." "So has the Navy," Ryan interjected quietly. "Their third shell got the Sybaris's B magazine." "Have you got any idea why this