The Double Image

by Helen Macinnes

  Most unorthodox, Elias thought, but even if crude it had produced the required result. Maritta Maas was now on her way to the taxi, looking over at the taverna, only seeing the group of five men around a table. The taxi driver was on his feet, pulling on his jacket, shouting that he was coming. Mimi was searching her handbag, exclaiming in dismay. She had left something—her sun-tan lotion—where? Had it fallen out in the café, or in a shop? The American girl was trying to remember.

  Maritta Maas cut the discussion short. There was no time to go back to search, she was late, she had so much to do, there was only one taxi left, she couldn’t risk losing it, and where was the other taxi anyway? (Ah, thought Elias, she would notice that; she would ask that question.) But the driver’s answer was accepted. It had taken a sick man over to the monastery at Tourliani. It wouldn’t be back for another hour, perhaps two. Mimi was insisting she had to have that lotion; she was starting to burn with the sun and sea air. There was no female argument against that, it seemed. Mimi set off towards a small street, Maritta calling directions to the nearest shop. And the American girl, who had been watching the battle of wills in silence, said very sharply, “Oh, stop being such an idiot, Maritta; she won’t get lost. Why are you bossing everyone around nowadays?” That subdued Maritta completely. She got into the waiting car with only a small laugh of protest. They drove off.

  Yes, thought Elias as he glanced with unexpected approval at Craig standing within the shadows of the doorway, the unorthodox manoeuvre had been very effective. But that was the way... Sometimes you planned carefully, found nothing. Sometimes you acted on impulse, discovered much. The small scene in the square had revealed enough to rouse his curiosity. The Maas woman wanted everyone under her eye, her control. The Maas woman was in a very great hurry. The Maas woman was under considerable tension. Now, why? On a placid day like this, with no action yet expected, with only patient waiting ahead of them all, why should a well-trained agent like Maritta Maas have such seemingly small and stupid anxieties?

  Quickly Elias spoke to one of the fishermen sitting beside him and sent him walking after Mimi. Then he rose, too, and joined Craig. “There’s a lavatory near the kitchen, beside the back entrance. I’ll meet you on the lane outside. In two minutes.” He smiled and added, “That was interesting, wasn’t it?” His good humour was completely restored.

  Most interesting, Craig thought. Veronica is on the point of complete revolt. But why? He nodded and moved to the upholding arch which framed, inside the alcove it formed at the back of the room, shelves of bottles in neat rows. There was a counter, with glasses, in front of them; and the small boy watching water boil on a small stove to one side. This was the kitchen, Craig decided, and pointed to the only door he saw. “To mere?” he asked and headed through. He found himself on a narrow street, an outhouse door built under the usual flight of stone stairs to the second floor. He slowed his pace, put on his sunglasses against the white glare, lit a cigarette, consulted his guide-book, stepped aside for a girl riding side-saddle on a small mule, nodded to two old men holding up the side of a house, and put in the required two minutes without much trouble. “Just across the next street,” Elias said behind him, and fell into step.

  “Mimi?”

  “I have arranged it.”

  That was all. But the tone was amicable, a return to yesterday’s pleasant interchange on the journey here. He has decided to forget my climb on to the hillside, Craig thought, and smiled. Greeks, he was discovering, might tolerate fools, but not gladly. And yet who had been foolish? he couldn’t help wondering. Elias probably knew every inch of that hillside for a three-mile stretch on either side of the town. But had he forgotten how it might feel to be a stranger, dumped down in the middle of strange terrain, strange voices? Or does he think my job is over, now that I’ve placed Berg right here on Mykonos? In that case, he’ll have to do some rethinking. I am in, for the duration. Whatever is going to happen, I’m staying in.

  16

  Mimi was sitting with her back to the window in the barely furnished room, watching the door as if she weren’t quite sure whom to expect. The fisherman was standing near her, studying her with interest, from her slenderly tapered trouser legs to the hand she kept hidden inside her large bag. When she saw Elias and Craig, she relaxed. The hand slipped out of the bag, and she laughed for the fisherman, who was just about to leave. He grinned back, saluted her, and, with a few remarks for Elias, left.

  “The language difficulty was extreme,” Mimi said. “I was beginning to wonder if I had made a mistake.”

  “But surely he gave the password,” Elias said.

  Mimi nodded. “I was beginning to wonder if I had mistaken that, too. Pear tree. That is a very strange password.”

  “All the better,” Elias said.

  “Who chose it?” Craig asked, beginning to smile. “Partridge?”

  Mimi shook her head. “He doesn’t like it, either. No, he said some joker in Paris chose it. Operation Pear Tree.”

  “An American joker, at that.” I can hear Rosie’s voice, thought Craig, and smiled widely.

  “A password may seem foolish,” Elias said severely, “but in this operation with so many foreigners working together, there are times when we must know quickly who is to be trusted. Such as that moment,” he added for Mimi’s benefit, “after you left the square.” He went over to the window, stood carefully at its side, looked out. “Begin!” his back seemed to say to Craig.

  Craig glanced at the view outside as he pulled a chair over to Mimi. He could see clear across the small bay to the yacht anchorage under its sheltering headland. This room—or, rather, this office, for there was nothing here but a couple of chairs, a wooden table and a telephone—must lie right over one of the arcades along the front street. At least he knew where he was. In his quick journey here, Elias had really bewildered him. A very cautious man, Elias. Craig sat down, and asked bluntly, “What’s worrying Veronica?”

  Elias stirred restlessly, frowned at the harbour. Surely it wasn’t some personal matter that had brought Craig hurrying here? Sometimes Americans were really—then he was listening intently as Mimi began to talk. For her voice was urgent, serious.

  “For the first few days after Veronica and Maritta got here, everything was normal. Very pleasant. Just the two girls alone in the house, and two servants.”

  Elias broke in, still watching the harbour. “They were brought especially from Paris, two weeks ago, well in advance. Does Miss Clark realise that?”

  “No. She said they were the disagreeable type—nothing but glum silence. She was astonished that there were any servants at all just for Maritta and herself. But extra guests have appeared. Two men. One came three nights ago. The other came the following night. Friends of Uncle Peter. Maritta said it was most annoying, but what could she do—tell them to go away? Everyone wants a free bed on Mykonos. That is the trouble with renting a house.”

  “Plausible,” agreed Craig. “But haven’t they started arriving a little early?” He looked over at Elias.

  Elias’ lips tightened. Yes, it was early; too early. But something else annoyed him. “We have had expert observation on that house for almost a week. Two days ago, when extra food was ordered for this week-end, we checked. We had reports that friends of Miss Clark were expected for a short vacation.”

  “Friends of Veronica?” Craig exchanged a glance with Mimi.

  “That is what the delivery men were told. So far, these visitors have not been seen. No one knows that they have arrived.” He looked at Mimi almost angrily.

  Mimi shrugged her shoulders as much as to say, “Well, it isn’t my fault.” Then she smiled gently. “They don’t come into town. They seem to stay around the garden, in the shade of the trees or on the porch, which is well covered. And there is a wall around that garden. I know. I’ve tried to see inside, too, from a back window of my hotel. Quite useless.”

  Elias was still brooding bitterly about the unseen arrival of the two men. “They m
ust have come from the north, from another part of the island. They did not arrive by Mykonos itself.”

  Craig nodded. Silent sympathy, not criticism, was what was needed at this point. Besides, remembering the map he had been studying, there were plenty of coves and inlets around the island’s broken coast line. The small bay that formed the harbour of the town itself was really only part of a large desolate bay that stretched north far beyond the headland sheltering the yacht anchorage. That’s one route, he thought, noticing Elias’ face, that will be watched with extra care from here on.

  Elias’ anger was suppressed. But his voice was still acid with annoyance. “Miss Clark does not seem to be so stupid as the Maas woman judged. Yet did she not find it very strange that the two visitors made no effort to go out?”

  “Yes. But Maritta said one had been ill, and the other did not care for too much sun.”

  “What do they talk about? What language do they use?”

  “French, mostly, although they speak it with a foreign accent. But Veronica does not meet then much. Maritta has been taking her to lunch and dinner in town. In fact, Maritta always seemed to be with her in those last two days. This has irritated Veronica. Then last night, she was awakened by the doves. Something had disturbed them. She could see no one from her window, but she was sure she heard voices from the direction of the dovecote. She tried to warn Maritta, only—she could not leave her room. Its door was locked. And that made her angry, my friends.”

  “And that was why she decided to find a place in town,” Craig said thoughtfully. He was pleased, too; Veronica was not the simple little fool that Maritta had taken her for. Thank God for that. The perpetual innocent was a compulsive loser. “Well, good for her! If she can get away with it,” he added more soberly.

  “She will never be allowed to leave,” Elias cut in, “not at this critical stage of their plans.”

  “Did she tell Maritta at breakfast that she was going to look for a room?” Craig asked quickly.

  “Yes. Maritta just laughed, rushed off to an appointment in town, said they could talk about that later. Veronica went for a walk in the garden, to try to think what she should do: wait to discuss it with Maritta or go straight into town herself? And then, as she passed the dovecote, she noticed a great silence. And no movement. The doves had been taken away. She tried to go in, but one of the servants stopped her, said the doves were diseased and had to be removed.” Mimi paused, watching Craig’s face. Even Elias had turned around to stare at her. “Somehow that troubled her.” And I’ve troubled you too, she thought, looking with surprise at the men’s faces.

  Craig was remembering the usual shape of a Mykonos dovecote: a square, squat tower with decorative ventilations on top and solid blank walls beneath. “Are they preparing to house a prisoner?” he asked softly. Elias only shrugged, pursed his lips. He turned back, grave-faced, to look out of the window. Craig said to Mimi, “So Veronica came right into town? And found that she wasn’t alone, even then. That man in the striped shirt was keeping an eye on her, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes. She became really frightened then. But he did it so openly and seemed so ordinary that by the time we went to the café on the quai for lunch, she could even laugh at him. He didn’t stay. He went to report, no doubt.” Mimi was smiling. “Because, before we had finished lunch, Maritta arrived with Tony and Michel.”

  “The Beard and Flowing Locks?”

  Mimi didn’t quite follow, but she caught Craig’s sharp tone. “But they are such nice boys,” she murmured. “Really very sweet.”

  “Boys... They are older than you are, baby.”

  “They are children,” she said gently. “Maritta is using them—as she has used Veronica. That is all.”

  “Have you anything on them?” he called over to Elias.

  Elias shook his head. He stood very still, and then pointed to the sky. “There it goes!” he said softly.

  Both Mimi and Craig rose to look. There were shouts from the street below. The fishermen, spreading russet nets to dry in the sun, were watching, too. “That’s a very small plane,” Craig began, and then stopped. Where could any aircraft land on this rocky island? “It’s a helicopter!” he said, watching the nose-tipping black dot as it circled widely towards the north-west as if it were headed for Athens. “When did it get here? I heard nothing.”

  “It came in by the south,” Elias said smoothly. “It landed about fifteen minutes ago near the monastery of Tourliani in the centre of the island to pick up a man who is very sick—he needs an immediate operation. It took off for Athens at once. As you see.” He turned away from the window. He said to Mimi, “I had some questions about the Maas woman, but I think you have already answered them. Except one: why was she in such haste to get back to her house? Why couldn’t she wait five minutes, ten minutes, and give you a lift to your hotel? It is on her way.”

  “That,” Mimi said firmly, “is my last piece of news. Are there any other questions before it? John—” For Craig was still watching the vanishing dot. He came away from the window, sat down again. Plenty of questions, he was thinking as he looked at Elias. Why Tourliani? He remembered his guide book’s photograph; a very small village, a few houses around a long, wide, and open square—good landing ground, certainly, and ten miles from nowhere. And once that helicopter is out of any telescope’s sight, will it stop heading north-west and swing east? “You boys really amuse me,” he told Elias with a wide grin. So Partridge was on his way to Smyrna.

  “Boys?” picked up Mimi. “I thought you didn’t like—”

  “Boys in red and yellow shorts with shirts open to their navels. Okay, okay. They’re sweet, bare feet and all.” Then he relented: Mimi’s English was almost perfect, but her sense of joshing was still undeveloped. He became serious again. “Did Veronica read her declaration of independence to Maritta over your lunch table? Did she say she was absolutely decided about finding a room of her own?”

  “She tried. But Maritta’s technique was brilliant. She was full of understanding. She started telling me, and Tony and Michel, what a miserable place her uncle’s house had become with his friends—they were so dull and stupid. She said no wonder poor Veronica wanted to leave. She wanted to move out, too. Why, she couldn’t give any more amusing parties, couldn’t feel free to enjoy herself! She had become a housekeeper, worrying about their food and drinks and what they liked and did not like. She was going to ask them to leave. She had been cabling her Uncle Peter that morning, begging him to stop giving out invitations, she hadn’t come to Mykonos as a housekeeper.”

  “You used that word twice. Did she?”

  “She used it several times. She was implanting her reason, you see, for being in such a hurry to return to the house.” Mimi smiled for Elias. “There is your answer,” she told him. “She was rushing home to arrange a very special dinner for them tonight, in order to put them in a good mood when she asked them to leave tomorrow.”

  “Po, po, po!” Elias said. “Did she expect anyone to believe that? She will have to find a better excuse to cover her real business. She spent much time, this morning, in the house of Mr. Gerhard Ludwig.”

  “It was only half of her excuse,” Mimi said. “The other half made it very plausible, indeed!”

  “And what was the rest of her excuse?”

  “She is giving a party—on the island of Delos. Yes, she has already reserved the rooms at the tourist pavilion there—it is a simple place, so she will take food and extra blankets, and she is hiring a boat to take us across. All we have to worry about is our coats and tooth brushes. She is arranging everything. We sail at five o’clock.” Mimi laughed softly.

  “And it is a heavenly idea. She made it so—so—inspired. She woke this morning, remembered it was May Day—a time for parties—saw the sea was calm, thought of Delos, imagined how peaceful the ruined temples would look under moonlight.” Mimi looked at Elias with amused eyes. “Oh, no, everyone believed she had much to arrange for us before five o’clock, exce
pt me, and I had to pretend to believe her more than anyone.”

  “Surely Veronica didn’t forget all her fears so—” Craig began.

  “I accepted for us both, before she could make any objections,” said Mimi calmly. “And kicked her leg gently under the table.”

  “Is this wise?”

  “I think it is very wise to follow Maritta’s wishes.”

  Elias nodded. “So there are five of you going.”

  “Eight—that fills the little pavilion, doesn’t it? There will be two of Tony’s friends, whom Veronica likes. And you.”

  “Me?” Craig was incredulous. “That’s the last thing that Maritta wants. She has done everything to keep me from talking to Veronica. No, Mimi, she isn’t going to risk any confidences between Veronica and me.”

  “She is going to call your hotel and invite you herself.”

  “She doesn’t know my hotel.”

  “How many are there in Mykonos? Five, six at the most. She can try them all in a few minutes.”

  Craig looked quickly at Elias. “She will, too,” he said grimly. “Better give Madame Iphigenia instructions on how to deal with that call.”

  “You are not going?” Elias asked as he moved slowly to the telephone on the table. He stood frowning at it, not touching it.

  Mimi had risen and was on her way to the door. She had given all her news; it was time to leave. She halted, looking at Craig in wonder. “John—surely you can’t refuse a night on Delos! Think—”

  “I’ve thought of it,” he said bitterly. Marble shimmering in the moonlight, a mile of ancient columns and temples, a silver sea around them. “An island all to ourselves. I can even set it to music.”

  Mimi shrugged. “I think it’s wise to follow Maritta’s wishes,” she said again. “She does nothing without a purpose. Well—make up your mind. I’m leaving. The same way as I came in?” she asked Elias.