"It is not too large a step," she had said, "from the appro-
Man the Seeker
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priation of the discoveries of a conquered country to picking the brains of your own scientists." He had stayed close to government, always with some official position that gave him a certain amount of power. "If the plagiarism is not too blatant, there are few people who will openly oppose a man who has the ear of senior officials and can influence academic appointments." She had got all this from Gilmore and I was remembering her words now as I saw Holroyd glance quickly across to where I was standing slightly apart from the others and then turn to question Cartwright. "He's politically astute and quite ruthless. He's also a publicist." By this she had meant he could write for a wider public than the purely academic. "You'll see, he'll have the Greeks eating out of his hand. He's a born schemer."
Holroyd was moving towards the table now. He shook hands with Hans, said something to Sonia which was received in stony silence, and then, after accepting a glass of ouzo, he came across to me. "Well, young man—so you changed your mind, eh?" A smile was creasing the corners of his eyes, but the eyes themselves were without warmth. "Dr. Gilmore told me he had failed to persuade you to come out to Greece."
"I changed my mind, as you say."
He nodded. "Now, come and have a drink—I want to talk to you in a moment about your father. I hope to persuade him to behave more sensibly in future. I shall expect your help." The aroma of coffee filled the air. Cartwright brought a tray of artefacts from his tent and placed it on the table, also his notebooks. The soldiers were dismantling their tent. "I have brought Mr. Leonodipoulos with me," Holroyd nodded towards the Greek official who was talking to the corporal. "I'll explain why later."
Coffee was served, and whilst we drank it the talk was entirely scientific as Cartwright explained the artefacts they had picked up in their trek down through Macedonia, mostly chippings of chert and obsidian, and all neatly labelled. Now and then he referred to his notes. Holroyd listened, smoking his pipe and only occasionally asking a question. At the end
of it, he said, "Well, at least you've got something to show for your efforts. But the earliest of these chert flakes is probably not more than seventeen thousand." He leaned forward, stabbing with the stem of his pipe at the contents of the tray. "There's nothing here, nothing that could remotely be associated with a carbon-fourteen dating of thirty-five thousand
B.P."
"No, sir, I agree."
"But that was the whole purpose of the expedition."
Cartwright nodded, his face flushed. "I understand, sir. But, as I wrote you, I have high hopes of the present location. When we've dug down—"
"That's a full season's work. You admit it yourself." And Holroyd added with harsh emphasis, "This expedition was not undertaken with a major dig in mind. You know that very well. If we had envisaged that, it would have meant a much bigger grant and a dozen or so students."
"With all due respect I think the two of us can manage to get a pilot trench cut to the Solutrean level at least."
"Solutrean, or Aurignacian—what does it matter? You don't know what's there. Whereas this expedition was based on quite positive information—a carbon-dating of bones that had already been unearthed."
"I think when you see the site itself—"
"In a moment, Alec. In a moment." Holroyd smiled, his manner suddenly more conciliatory. "What I'm trying to establish for you is the real intention of this expedition. It is purely a reconnaissance, an initial probe to test the validity of Dr. Van der Voort's theories." He turned to Sonia. "You were right about his Journal. I had a talk with Dr. Gilmore and I must accept his word for it that it is personal and deals with behaviourism. What I do not accept is that there is no record of his discoveries out here. He made three expeditions in the Central Mediterranean area, two of them entirely on his own. Last year he brought back bones for dating that would appear to be highly significant. You, as his secretary, must know—"
"I'm not his secretary," she said quickly. "I merely did some typing for him."
"You also nursed him through an illness. You lived for a time in his house." He was staring at her intently and I began to understand why he had decided to discuss the expedition publicly like this, instead of having a private talk with Cart-wright. "You could assist us greatly, and Dr. Van der Voort, if you would tell us where he was last year, also perhaps the year before—the exact locations."
She was staring back at him, very pale, very intense. "Surely it is for Dr. Van der Voort to tell you himself," she said in a tight, controlled voice.
"That is precisely my difficulty. Miss Winters. If Dr. Van der Voort were available—"
She went for him then, all the feelings that had been bottled up inside her during the days she had been in Greece bursting out of her in a torrent of words: "You of all people-to come here and complain that Dr. Van der Voort is not available. You know what is happening today—this very minute. A man called Kotiadis—Intelligence agent. Security Police—I don't know what he is—but he is hunting him down with a police dog like a—criminal. And you're responsible."
"What do you mean by that?" Holroyd's voice was sharp.
"Don't pretend you don't know." Her voice was wild and unrestrained. "Do you think I'm a fool? Who set them on to him? Who tipped off the authorities that he was a Communist? You hound him. You drive him half out of his mind. And then you have the effrontery to come here asking me— me—to tell you where he was working these last two years. That's something you'll never—"
"Calm yourself." He was leaning forward, his hand gripping her arm. "I assure you I did not inform the authorities of his political background. Why should I?" he added. "It is of no advantage to me that he has disappeared. Quite the reverse, I assure you." He turned to Cartwright. "Is that what he thinks—that I informed the authorities?"
Cartwright shook his head. "No. He thought it was me."
"And that's why he attacked you?"
"Yes."
"I know all that," Sonia snapped. "He went for the wrong man."
"You mean he should have attacked me?"
She shook her head, biting her lip. "He shouldn't have attacked anybody, of course. But imagine how he felt—how you would have felt? He was engrossed with his work, and then suddenly this old bogey of Communism—"
But Holroyd was looking across at the Greek official. "Tell her, will you," he said. And then, turning back to Sonia, "I knew this would have to be explained—if not to Van der Voort himself, certainly to you, and his son since he's here. It was one of the reasons I asked Mr. Leonodipoulos to accompany me." He nodded to the Greek, who said:
"On March thirteenth the Intelligence branch of the Public Order Ministry learned that a Communist agent had entered Greece under cover of leading a scientific expedition and was operating from a camp near this village. The information came from a Yugoslav source that has generally proved reliable." He was speaking in impeccable English, smoothly and with scarcely a trace of accent. "They checked first with our Immigration people, then with my Ministry. It was not difficult to confirm that this Dr. Van der Voort had been associated with the Soviets and had published books in the Communist countries. The Security Police were informed and that evening they phoned the local headman here, Andreas Dikeli. Discreet enquiries were then made through the Russian embassy in Athens. It all seemed to confirm the information our people had been given. However, since the expedition was British-sponsored, they sent Demetrios Kotiadis, one of their most senior men, up to interview Dr. Van der Voort. When he discovered this man is disappeared in somewhat unusual circumstances—" He left it at that with a little expressive shrug.
"But—and this is the point I want to make clear to you, young lady." Holroyd had lit his pipe and was puffing at it happily. "Whilst I was in Athens I was able to convince both
the Ministry and the Security Police that Dr. Van der Voort has broken with the Russians and that his presence here in
Greece is entirely innocent."
I don't think Sonia believed him even then. "But why—" she said. "Why should you do that?"
"Well, it's the truth, isn't it?"
"Yes, but-"
"You have to have a reason, do you?" He was smiling at her, perfectly relaxed now. "Try looking at it from my point of view. Without Dr. Van der Voort this expedition will achieve nothing. And I had great hopes of a break-through, something new. I've been asked to read a paper at the Pan-European Prehistoric Congress in May and this would be an ideal platform from which to launch Dr. Van der Voort's new theory. And Mr. Leonodipoulos here is keen, very keen, that his country should be involved in any scientific advance in our evolutionary knowledge."
The Greek official nodded. "That is quite correct. Despite Dr. Van der Voort's political background, my Ministry is now satisfied that it is important for Greece that he continues his work here."
Holroyd smiled and got to his feet. "You think about that," he told her, "while we go up and look at this cave-dwelling. And remember, the Congress meets in less than two months. There's not much time."
"You mean—when he's found—he's free to go on with his work?"
"You heard what Mr. Leonodipoulos said."
"But then you don't need information from me. You will be able to talk to him personally."
"Perhaps. I hope so." He patted her arm in a fatherly way. "Well, we'll see, eh?" He turned to Cartwright, gave a peremptory jerk of his head, and as the party began to move oflF through the olive grove, he began explaining the cave to Leonodipoulos. "I'm afraid this may not appear to you very impressive, accustomed as you are to tholos tombs and the glories of Ancient Greece. But Greek civilization stemmed
from successive waves of primitive people coming down from the Black Sea coasts and the Caucasus. What Alec Cartwright hopes to unearth here, and perhaps elsewhere, is the original souce of your civilization. This may be the first of a whole series of exciting discoveries—"
His voice faded and I looked round for Sonia. She was walking slowly down to the stream. Her long bare legs, her fair hair, the white tunic of her dress—in that setting she looked like one of the early Greeks. I started to go after her, but Hans stopped me. "We go up to the dig now," he said. "She wants to be alone." That surprised me, that he should be so considerate. "She is concerned about Van der Voort."
I nodded. "She behaves as though ..." I didn't know quite how to put it to him. "How did they come to meet in the first place?" I asked. "I suppose she was also studying anthropology?"
"No. Biology."
"It was through you then?"
"Partly."
I continued to question him as we started up the track to the dig, but he was not very communicative. And yet her concern had been so deeply emotional . . . "Tell me about your own father," I said finally. *
"My father is dead. A car accident. It happened three years ago." The tone of his voice discouraged further questions and we walked on in silence.
When we reached the cave Holroyd was standing back, sucking at his pipe and looking up at the overhang, his eyes narrowed against the glare. Cartwright was watching him anxiously. "I think you're going to have trouble here." Holroyd turned to Leonodipoulos. "What we are concerned with is the fate of Neanderthal man when the oceanic climate changed to a continental one. The Neanderthalers went into a sort of decline and a new race of man—the Cro-Magnon or Aurignacian type—began to take over."
"I do not understand." Leonodipoulos was frowning. "Why does this new type, this Cro-Magnon, take over?"
"Aye, well, there you've put your finger on it." Holroyd nodded. "That's the question we've all been asking ourselves. Mousterian man—the Neanderthalers—had been in existence a long time, sixty thousand years at least. We've found traces of him all over Europe, in Russia, in the Near East, in Africa, and with the passage of time you would expect his artefacts, his chippings of flint and chert and obsidian for use as weapons, to show a gradual improvement. And yet the reverse is the case, particularly after the emergence of Cro-Magnon man."
"You have told me," Leonodipoulos said, "that this Cro-Magnon is our own species."
"Yes. Homo sapiens sapiens. He's named after the Cro-Magnon cave-shelter at Les Eyzies in the Dordogne. That was where the first skeletons were unearthed, in 1868. But where he came from, that too is a mystery. The general view is that he came from Asia. Dr. Van der Voort thinks from Africa." He put a match to his pipe. "So there you have it—two mysteries. Where did he come from? Why did Mousterian man disappear? Did this taller, more intelligent type of man—a man with a bigger brain capacity, with a head like ours, no ape-like brow ridges and a square jaw—destroy the Neanderthalers, or did Mousterian man just fade away naturally, a sort of death wish, like an African under the spell of a witch doctor?" His pipe was drawing again, his round babyish face smiling. "Fascinating, isn't it? But whether this cave-shelter will throw any light on it—" He took his pipe out of his mouth, shaking his head, still smiling. "Difficult to say. But perhaps Van der Voort will be able to tell us."
His inspection of the dig took about half an hour and most of his comments were directed to Leonodipoulos. He seemed very anxious to establish the importance of the research they were doing into the prehistory of man in Greece. Several times he referred to the tourist attraction of the caves in the Dordogne region of France. But what interested me, as I stood there listening to him, was the way he managed to convey how primitive man, and the animals he hunted, could be asso-
ciated, through the juxtaposition of bone remains, with definite climatic conditions and the period of their existence established in geological time by relating each new find to others of the same period. It was, in fact, a short lecture on how early man had developed along similar lines in different parts of the world, and the way he put it, in his slow, matter-of-fact North Country voice, even I could understand and appreciate why, once all the correlated parts of a discovery-human bones, animal bones, artefacts and the soil in which they had been found—had been established and the date determined, then the name given to that discovery was used to describe others of a similar type.
Finally, standing once again on the slope below the cave, he pointed the stem of his pipe at the overhang and said, "There's been a lot of water coming down this hillside. The evidence is there at the back of the cave." He turned to Cartwright. "I'm afraid, when you get down a little deeper, you'll find that whole layers of occupation have been washed down the slope or are interspersed with detritus from above. It looks as though Van der Voort has put you to work on a dig of extreme complexity."
We went back to the camp then. It was pleasant under the trees and Sonia had prepared a cold lunch. Holroyd seated himself next to me. "Now about your father . . . you will appreciate from what I've been saying that the whole success of this expedition depends on him." His eyes were fixed on me. "You saw him yesterday?"
I nodded. In view of what he had said earlier there seemed no point in denying it.
"Where?" And when I told him, he said, "Good. Then they'll pick him up today. Did he talk to you about the future at all? Did he say whether he planned to concentrate on this cave site or move on to another area?"
"We were interrupted."
"I see. Well, it doesn't matter. He'll be able to tell us that himself, I hope." He concentrated for a moment on his food. He was a very purposeful eater, the sort of man who regards
food solely as fuel for his energy, and he talked and ate at the same time. "How did you know where to find him, eh?" He seized a glass of water and drank deeply, his little eyes watching me. "Alec didn't know. Nor did that Greek fellow—he had to follow you. Well?"
I hadn't expected the question and I hesitated.
"You turn up here out of the blue, after the police have been searching the countryside for him without success for nearly three weeks, and the very next day you go straight to the place where he's been hiding out." He jabbed at my arm with his forefinger. "You found something
in his house— his notes—locations where he worked last year?"
I didn't say anything, and he smiled as though my silence was sufficient answer. "Now, how long did you have together before you were interrupted?"
"I don't know. About fifteen or twenty minutes, I suppose."
"And what did you talk about?"
I hesitated. "The dunes mainly," I said, and I began to explain to him the significance of that odd stretch of country. But he wasn't interested in that. He wanted to know whether I had been shown any excavations, any prehistoric bones or artefacts. He brushed aside my description of the ventilation shafts. "Modern—Roman," he said impatiently. "I'm talking about things that are thirty-five thousand years old. Surely you realize that by now."
The others had fallen suddenly silent and I looked up to find Kotiadis coming into the clearing. He was alone and he came straight to where I was sitting, walking fast and with purpose. "Here's your rucksack," he said and dumped it on the table in front of me. "You know where I find it?"
"Where is he?" I demanded.
"That is what I come to ask you." He was hot and tired and extremely angry. "He has been hiding out in the top of that old shaft for a long time. The evidence is everywhere."
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