Jack Higgins

by Night Judgement at Sinos

  “A good point.”

  “Then why are you doing it?”

  “As the Americans say, stick around and I just might tell you, but only if you behave yourself.”

  She went out raging under full sail. I toasted the empty doorway and sighed. Why was I doing it? A good question. The trouble was, I didn’t really know myself—or did I?

  thirteen

  GOOD LOVING AND A LONG LIFE

  Aleko was as good as his word and better, for no more than forty minutes had elapsed when he sent for me again.

  “My agents in Geneva are standing by to make an immediate transfer to the bankers of your choice. I could, of course, give you my word that the transaction will go through today as planned, but it occurs to me that this may not satisfy you.”

  “A reasonable assumption.”

  “So I had concluded. If you will pick up the telephone, you will find they are holding a direct line to Geneva. Ask for the firm of your own choice. I wish you to feel one hundred per cent satisfied.”

  Which was fair enough. I asked for Steiner and Company, a firm of merchant bankers I had used in Geneva in happier days. The younger son, Hans, had visited Alexandria in connection with a salvage job in the Suez Canal that I had been involved in. I spoke to him briefly, then passed the phone to Aleko who told him exactly what to do in about thirty seconds flat, prefacing the address with the magic of his own name, then put the receiver down.

  “Ten minutes, Mr. Savage, no more. Better to sit down.”

  I did, choosing a comfortable club chair in black leather, and spent the time watching him closely. He was a different man, this big business Aleko, working his way through a mountain of paper at a quite incredible speed.

  The ten minutes came and went. He glanced at his watch and the phone rang as if on command. He nodded to me. I picked it up and found Hans Steiner on the other end. It was signed, sealed, delivered. For good or ill, dead or alive, I was a man of substance again.

  “Satisfied?” Aleko demanded.

  I replaced the receiver. “Perfectly—what happens now?”

  “You do what I have paid you to do. You get Andreas Pavlo out of Sinos.” He appeared to hesitate. “Captain Savage.” So it was Captain again? “Captain Savage, words are empty things. I do not ask for promises. I think that in spite of the impression you attempt to give, you are if anything bedevilled by man’s greatest curse. Moral integrity.”

  “God save me from that.”

  “I have been honest with you. I require, indeed believe, that you will be honest with me. One thing is sure. If anyone can get Pavlo out of that prison, you can.”

  “I’ll try and earn my keep,” I said. “Don’t worry about that.”

  “I have arranged accommodation for you on board, although naturally you may come and go exactly as you please. Any equipment, any facility you need, just ask. The important thing to remember is that time is of the essence. Pavlo, though still on his back, has improved so much that there is a possibility they will move him to Athens this weekend.”

  Which may give us four days. “And all the information you promised me?” I asked.

  “Is waiting in your cabin.”

  The door opened and Melos entered. “One more thing,” I said. “This contact of yours on the island. Can they be used?”

  “For information and guidance, yes, but not personally.”

  I nodded. “All right. I’ll have a look at the general situation and then I’ll come back to you.”

  I turned to the door and he said, “Your mate—Morgan Hughes. I don’t think he’s up to this sort of thing any more. I’m sure you agree. I have made arrangements for him to stay in a small taverna on the waterfront.”

  Which took care of Morg nicely. Funny, but it was somehow as if he’d been swept into the corner out of the way and I didn’t care for that. Most of all, I didn’t like the fact that I hadn’t given him a thought. Aleko had taken him into consideration—I hadn’t. I didn’t feel too proud of myself as I followed Melos along the corridor.

  The cabin was in the luxury class with the usual fitted carpets a couple of inches thick and its own bathroom. There was a large modern desk with a teak top and a swivel chair to go with it. Half a dozen foolscap files and several rolled maps and charts waited for me. Aleko’s background information.

  I lit a cigarette, sat down and started to work through it. He had been incredibly thorough. There was a file on Andreas Pavlo for a start that detailed everything about him from the day he was born and included the exact position and appearance of his appendix scar as well as his grades in Philosophy and Mathematics at university.

  It ended at four p.m. on the previous day which would seem to indicate that Aleko’s contact was getting daily information to him. The medical report was impeccable in its detail. Left arm fractured, three ribs cracked, laceration of the right lung. He had also suffered badly from exposure and severe sunburn and had been in shock for several days. He was still in intensive care, whatever that meant, in a prison hospital.

  There was a report on prison security, guard rotas, alarm systems and so forth which couldn’t have been more thorough if it had come from the governor’s office. Come to think of it, it probably had.

  Most important was the island defensive system. The fortress itself had never held more than three or four hundred prisoners in the past, but under the present political regime, at least five thousand political detainees had been added who were housed in encampments outside the fort itself.

  Because of this, the island’s general defences had been considerably strengthened. A radar system kept track of vessels in the area which were required to keep on the move in the Middle Passage on the south side of the island which was the main shipping route through to Kyros and Crete. This explained why it had been necessary for Ciasim to obtain a special licence to work on his wartime wreck.

  But there were other hazards. Not only was the coast constantly patrolled by two M.T.B.s, but most beach approaches were mined as were the beaches themselves.

  The bloody war all over again. And yet, far from feeling dismay, my interest stirred. This was going to be one hell of a problem and that was putting it mildly. Difficult, but interesting, just like the old days.

  The thing fell into four main parts. Landing on the island without being detected. Getting inside the fortress and reaching Pavlo. Bringing him out and finally, getting him off the island.

  I started sorting the information relevant to each part of the operation to start with and the door opened and Sara entered. She closed it behind her and leaned against it, watching me rather sullenly.

  “Isn’t there anything I can say to stop you going through with this?”

  “Not that I can think of. It’s too late, anyway. I’ve taken his money. It’s already waiting for me in Geneva being carefully guarded by some thoroughly trustworthy Swiss merchant bankers.”

  “I hate you,” she said bitterly. “I hate all men, but you in particular.”

  After that she came and stood so close that I ended up breathing pure Intimacy instead of oxygen, leading to another wild couple of minutes which ended with both of us shaking in our shoes and showing it.

  “I love you, too,” I said, “but work comes first. You can help me sort this stuff out if you like. I’ll show you what I’m after.”

  Which I did and she came straight back at me with the first thing she picked up, a folded map of some description which I’d missed as it had fallen to the floor.

  She opened it and frowned. “Well here’s something that doesn’t fit for a start.”

  “Why not?” I said impatiently.

  “I don’t understand it. It’s in German.”

  I must have sensed how important her find would prove to be because my stomach went hollow with excitement as I reached for it. It was old, it was creased so badly that in places the paper had worn through, but it was still quite unmistakably the Germans’ plans of their improvements to the old Turkish fort in 1942.
I examined it carefully, then turned to the official plan of the prison produced the previous years and it hit me right between the eyes at once.

  Phase 2 of the operation was taken care of which wasn’t a bad start.

  I smiled and Sara said, “Can I join in? It must be good.”

  I didn’t see why not, so I showed her. Strange, but she wasn’t anything like as enthusiastic as I was.

  Two hours, that’s all it took, for the skeleton of an idea to form in my mind. A little more thought and it would all be there, but for the moment, I’d had enough. What I needed was fresh air.

  We took the speedboat round to the quiet side of the island and ran her into a quiet little cove at the bottom of high cliffs. It was pretty well inaccessible from the land and just what I was looking for.

  I ran the prow of the boat firmly into wet sand and we went for a swim. Afterwards, we lay in the shade of a semi-circle of massive boulders and made love.

  Which was marvellous, or almost marvellous. The trouble was that Sinos and Andreas Pavlo and the old German ground plan kept clicking through my mind at a rate of knots at the most inconvenient moments.

  “Not bad,” Sara said afterwards, “but not good. I object to you having anything else on your mind at what should be one of life’s great moments.”

  “I warned you I was over the hill.”

  “That will be the day.” She smiled. “A little more concentration, that’s all you need.”

  I saw the chart, the Middle Passage, the south side of the island again in my mind’s eye. She said, “I wish you could see the look on your face. Come on, spit it out.”

  “All right. Phase One is actually landing on the island. Phase Two is getting into the fort. I’ve already explained Phase Two and it means coming in from the Middle Passage on the south side of the island.”

  “All right, what are the hazards?”

  I went through them quickly. “M.T.B. patrols to be evaded, underwater minefield to negotiate, guards to avoid on land itself. Guards and dog patrols. And a constant radar check.”

  “All of which could be avoided by an underwater approach, you stressed that when we discussed Phase Two in the cabin.”

  “But you have to make your underwater approach from somewhere,” I explained patiently, “and any vessel stopping in the Middle Passage must always accept the chance of being checked by those M.T.B.s.”

  “But Ciasim was working there the day before yesterday and nobody bothered him.”

  “He has a licence to work on that wreck from the Ministry in Athens,” I said and stopped short.

  A gull wheeling over the cliffs darted down through the shadows, a flash of white against the grey. She had that sombre look on her face again.

  “The thing is,” I said slowly, “do I have the right to involve him?”

  “I’d let him make his own mind up on that one.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “It wouldn’t be fair. He owes me too much. He’s bound to feel beholden. I’d be putting him in a hell of a position.”

  “You saved his life, didn’t you?” There was a hard edge to her voice. “Why shouldn’t he save yours? He’s the only man I’ve seen around here who looks as if he might be of some real use to you.”

  And then I saw. She wanted me to have the best chance there was. The best chance of coming through alive and if that meant involving Ciasim, well and good. There was the female of the species for you, cold-blooded as hell and utterly ruthless where their own was concerned.

  I sighed and reached out for her hand. “All right, I’ll go and see him.”

  “I think you’re being wise.”

  Was I? Perhaps, but I already felt as guilty as hell about it.

  We left the speedboat at the ramp by the old jetty and I went looking for him. He wasn’t at the Seytan. I found Abu and Yassi working away at the hull stripped to the waist, bodies shining with sweat, but no Ciasim. He had gone for a drink and they mentioned three strong possibilities, smiling shyly, but with complete admiration, at Sara.

  We found him at the second place we tried, playing dominoes with two very old white-haired men, both famous divers in their day. He didn’t notice at first and we sat in a corner under the vines and left him to finish the game.

  His laughter was like a volcano’s rumble or thunder far off beyond the mountains. One of the old men won, I suspect as much by Ciasim’s design as anything else.

  “Too good for me,” he roared and got up, slapping a handful of loose change on the table. “Drinks on me and good health with it.”

  Turning to leave, he saw us and his face lit up with genuine pleasure. “Heh, Jack, baby! I’m glad to see you in decent company.” He called to the waiter inside, crossed to our table and reached for Sara’s hands. “I kiss your fingers,” he said, and did just that. “The most beautiful woman in the world.”

  “I believe you,” she said. “No reservations.”

  The wine came, a bottle of Marco served ice-cold. He filled the glasses himself and raised his own to toast us. “I wish you good loving, dear friends, and long life.”

  It was an old Turkish saying and unintentionally carried its own poignancy. Sara took my hand under the table and held it tightly.

  “Not very likely, I’m afraid.” she said and drank some of her wine.

  Dear God, for a moment there I thought she intended to tell him about herself, but no. As he lowered his glass, a frown on his face, she added, “Jack, here, seems absolutely determined on getting his head blown off.”

  When I was finished, he sat there, his face very dark and suffused with passion, his right fist tightly clenched.

  “This Aleko, this Greek pig. Why not let me handle him, Jack, in my own barbaric Turkish way?”

  He produced a knife from a sheath under his left arm, the blade razor-sharp, gleaming in the sunlight, as wicked a looking implement as I have ever seen.

  Sara was genuinely horrified. “No, not that, for God’s sake!”

  Ciasim raised a hand to calm her and put the knife away. “I was forgetting the dog is your kind.” He sighed. “And you, Jack, you feel bound to your bargain with him?”

  “I’m going through with it if that’s what you mean.”

  “Then I have no choice. I must help you.”

  “Ten thousand dollars, Ciasim, for the use of your boat as a base for just a few hours.”

  He shook his head. “You go too fast, dear friend. Tell me, who goes in to Sinos with you? Aleko’s men?”

  I shook my head. “I’ve done this kind of work before, with the commandos. It only works when you have absolute trust, complete confidence in your associates, whoever they are.”

  “And you do not care for Aleko’s men?”

  “Not particularly. I can get away with this on my own—just. I’d rather have it that way.”

  “Don’t be a fool, Savage,” Sara put in sharply.

  Ciasim nodded. “She is right. On your own, you are a corpse before you begin. No, Jack, I am afraid I will not let you use my boat, even for ten thousand dollars. I will not take your money.”

  “Not mine, his,” I said.

  “You miss my point. It is not that I have any objection to improving my fortune. It is just that I refuse to allow you to commit suicide. It is against the tenets of my religion. No, there is only one way I can be persuaded to change my mind.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “I must go with you,” he said. “Into Sinos. Into the prison to bring this poor devil out.” I stared at him, mouth open in astonishment. He added in a slightly injured tone, “You do not think me competent?”

  I was unable to reply. And Sara? If ever I saw relief on a face it was on hers.

  Ciasim swallowed his wine and patted her cheek. “You are really very, very beautiful. It is a good thing Jack is my most loving friend. Now I think we go and see this bastard Aleko.”

  fourteen

  PLAN OF ATTACK

  The aquamobile is a bullet-shaped, underwate
r scooter, driven by battery-operated propellors. Designed to operate at up to a hundred and fifty feet, it carries its own spotlight and is capable of a speed of just over three knots an hour. I needed two and they were absolutely essential to the success of the entire operation. Number one on the list I gave to Aleko.

  He accepted it without question just as he had accepted Ciasim without any hesitation when I had explained about the Seytan and the licence to work on the wreck, in the Middle Passage. He had obviously really meant it when he had said that I was in charge. The only thing that interested him was getting Andreas Pavlo out of Sinos and everything that led to that end was all right by him.

  “The uniforms you ask for,” he said. “They are essential?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He nodded. “All the additional diving equipment you mention here, we already have on board except for the underwater scooters.”

  “Lots of skin diving clubs in this part of the Mediterranean use them now,” I told him. “There’s an outfit in Athens who deal with them all the time. I’ve written the address on the back of the list. You shouldn’t have any difficulty.”

  “If they are in Athens, they will be here first thing in the morning. I will have them flown in.”

  “There’s no doubt about it,” I told him amiably. “Money talks.”

  “Always.” There was the ghost of a smile on his lips. “I was exactly fourteen when my uncle took me to America. The land of the free, Captain Savage. An ironic phrase. My English was almost non-existent. We were so poor that we ate on alternate days and no one cared. No one took any notice. You understand me?”

  “And you decided to change all that?”

  “Have I not done so?”

  Suddenly, he was all Greek, the Bostonian veneer stripped away, about seventeen different people staring out at me from those dark eyes. He spread his hands in a vaguely Continental gesture as if indicating everything around him. The boat, the luxury, the evidence of vast wealth.