Levkas Man (40 page)

I entered the water with only one thing in my mind, to get the hell out of that place as quickly as possible. But then, when I was in the water, my fears left me. The practical side of me seemed to take command. Almost without thinking I swam over to the rope, drew the diver's knife from the sheath strapped to my calf, and cut the end of it where it trailed in the water. I tied a bowline, and then, making a noose, slipped it over Holroyd's arm. That was when I saw the wound in his head, the white of bone jagged around a grey pulp. His skull had been cracked like the shell of an egg. I trod water for a moment, staring at that wound half-concealed by the dark hair waving like weed in the water, understanding now what the old man had been talking about, his total rejection of rescue. Understanding, too, the broken segment of that stone lamp.

I felt suddenly very cold, cold in my guts, and I turned quickly and dived for the blow-hole, trailing the corpse behind me like a dog on a lead. What I had started to do instinctively, a sort of tidying-up operation, now became a matter of urgency, for I couldn't leave it there in the pool to stare the first rescuer in the face. But it was only when I came out through the roof into the lower caverns, the hiss of the demand valve in my ears and the blatter of my bubbled exhalations disappearing into the hole behind me, that I paused to consider what I was going to do with it.

If I took it out into the channel it would be discovered almost at once, and then the questions would start. The alternative was to conceal it in a crevice, but that meant weighting it with a rock, and the only means I had of fastening a rock to it was with the rope. I hung there in the cave, the body ballooning above me, ghostly at the end of its umbilical nylon cord. Tie a rock to it and if it were discovered, then it would be obvious that his death had not been a natural one. The bubbles of my breathing warned me that I could not stay there indefinitely. I glanced at the watch on my wrist. It was 11.12—almost an hour and a half since I had left the boat. And I had forgotten to check the time when I had entered the water in the cavern above.

I dived then to where daylight showed as a pale glimmer below the fallen slab. My torch showed a crevice above the slab. I pulled on the rope, got hold of the stiff cold body and pushed it in, trudging energetically with my flippers. I left him there, taking the rope end with me, and wriggled through under the slab into the open water of the Meganisi Channel.

I can still remember the growing brightness of the sunlight as I slanted upwards, going out past the rock with the sandal on it, across a plain of sea grass until I could see the underwater shape of
Coromandel
, a dark whale-shadow bulging below the surface of the sea, which was like the back of a mirror, flecked with a myriad dust-motes iridescent in the sun. And as I broke through it and saw the boat with its masts against the blue sky, it was like coming out of a nightmare.

I reached the ladder, clambering awkwardly out, no longer weightless, cylinder and belt dragging at me. And then Sonia's face, as I pushed the mask up blinking in the sun, and Gilmore behind her, the red sea horses bright as blood. ‘Are you all right, Paul? What happened? You've been so long.' Her voice was remote, a muffled sound, my ears clogged.

‘I'm okay,' I mumbled, collapsing on the hot deck, where I lay in a pool of water, my lungs gasping for air. I felt utterly drained, tired beyond belief. Her hands were on my shoulders, working at the straps. She was bending over me, and when she had freed me of the weight of the cylinder, she groped under my body to find the quick release clasp of the belt and slipped the lead weight from my waist.

I sat up then, feeling dazed—the sunshine, the sky, the smell of tine land and the mountains towering brown; but it was like a picture postcard, something unreal. The reality was in my mind, the memory of that cave with my father talking and Holroyd's body floating in the still dark pool.

‘What happened? Did you find him?' Sonia, still bending over me, her face drained, her eyes large. ‘Are you all right?'

‘Yes, I'm all right.' My voice sounded disembodied, remote.

‘What happened then?'

‘Nothing.'

‘You've been gone over an hour and a half. What did you find?'

‘Nothing, I tell you.' I got to my feet, standing there shivering in the sunlight.

‘But …' She was staring at me, searching my face, probing for the truth I dare not tell her. ‘You found him? You must have found him.'

I started to push past her, but she gripped my arm. ‘Please—' She was clinging to me and I flung her off.

‘Leave me alone,' I said.

‘Tell me, Paul. Please tell me what you found.' And then she added on a conciliatory note. ‘You're shivering. I'll get you a towel.'

‘I'll get it myself.'

I was at the wheelhouse door, her hands clutching at me. ‘What happened, for God's sake?'

I looked down at her, seeing her pale face, frightened and bewildered, and wondering whether to tell her. But this wasn't something I could share with anybody else, not even her. And Dr Gilmore there, listening alert and curious. ‘It's up to the others now.' I got clear of her then and went below, where I peeled off the jacket of the wet suit and towelled myself down, standing naked in the saloon, my mind going over and over everything I'd seen, the things he'd said. And when I was dry, I wrapped the towel round me and went over to the drink cupboard. I thought a cognac would steady me, help me to see things in perspective. I poured myself a stiff one and drank it neat, feeling the fire in it reach down into my guts. But it needed more than that to deaden the memory of what had happened. I poured myself another, drinking it slowly this time and trying to think. And then Dr Gilmore came in.

He sat himself down facing me, still alert and curious, but not saying anything. He just sat there watching me, waiting until I was ready. And gradually I realized I would have to tell him.

He had shifted his position, was leaning slightly forward. ‘Holroyd's dead, is he?' And when I didn't answer, he added, ‘That why you're drinking—why you were so abrupt with Sonia.'

I nodded. ‘Yes, he's dead,' I said.

‘And Pieter?'

‘He's very weak—exhausted. He says he's not afraid of death. He wants to be left there.'

After that he got it out of me, bit by bit—the cave, the body, the whole story of that fifteen minutes or so I had spent with him. And when it was done and I had told him everything, he sat there, silent and sad-looking, not commenting, not condemning, just quietly thinking it out whilst I had another cognac. And then footsteps on the companionway and Sonia standing there.

‘Well?' She looked from one to the other of us, searching our faces. ‘All this time I've been waiting up there, not knowing …' Her voice trailed off as she stared at Gilmore.

‘Bill Holroyd is dead.'

‘But Dr Van der Voort?' She didn't care about Holroyd. His death meant nothing to her. Wide-eyed, her gaze switched from Gilmore to me. ‘Did you find him?'

‘Yes.'

‘Then why didn't you tell me? To leave me in doubt …' She stopped there, conscious suddenly of the atmosphere, the sadness in Gilmore's eyes, the lack of any sense of relief that I'd found him. ‘He's dead—is that what you mean?'

I didn't say anything. What could I say? I finished my drink, staring down at the empty glass, her eyes fixed on me, feeling a coldness in my stomach, seeing him still, propped against that wall, against the red belly of that bull.

‘Tell me,' she said. ‘For God's sake tell me. I'm not a child.'

Her gaze had shifted to Gilmore and there was a long silence. And then finally the old man said, ‘I think, my dear, you have to face the fact that they're both dead.'

I felt a sense of relief then. The decision I had been groping for confirmed and taken out of my hands. But she was too determined a person to accept it without knowing the details. ‘But how—what happened?' She was facing me again, white-faced. ‘Why didn't you tell me? Something happened while you were down there.'

‘Nothing happened,' I said.

‘Then what are you hiding from me? Why didn't you go straight ashore?'

‘Ashore?' I was confused now; the strain and the effect of the cognac. I thought she had guessed that Gilmore was lying. ‘Why should I go ashore?'

‘To tell them, of course. To tell Hans he needn't risk his life any more …'

‘You tell him,' I said, and reached for the bottle.

Her eyes widened, two angry spots of colour showing in her cheeks. ‘You're drunk.'

I nodded. ‘That's right. You expect me to stay sober after a dive like that?' The neck of the bottle was rattling on the rim of the glass.

She frowned. ‘It's not the dive that's scared you.'

‘No?' I couldn't stand it any more, this persistent probing. ‘I'm too tired to argue,' I said. ‘I'm going to my bunk.' And I went past her, walking carefully, the glass in my hand. Let Gilmore sort it out, tell her what he liked. I got to my cabin and sat on the bunk for a moment, drinking slowly, wondering what they'd do when they got through that rock fall. But my mind was comfortingly dulled, and when I'd finished my drink, I crawled naked on to my bunk. I didn't care any more. I didn't care what they did. I didn't care what they thought. I didn't even care if the wind got up and the ship broke adrift. I closed my eyes and sank into oblivion. Somebody else could deal with the whole damned mess.

Five

LEGACY OF VIOLENCE

Red beasts sprawled across my vision, their eyes staring, and a great hand was on my shoulder, restraining me, as the broken face fell back screaming, and I opened my eyes to see the face of Kotiadis, dark and stubbled, hanging above me. ‘You will get up please and come to the salon.' My mouth was dry, my eyes unfocused. ‘What is it?' I murmured. ‘What do you want?' My mind was still half lost in the dream world from which he had woken me.

‘In the salon please—at once.' His voice was harsh and urgent. I could hear voices, the bump of a boat alongside.

‘Okay.' I rubbed my eyes, feeling like death. I'd no clothes on and the cabin was hot, my body bathed in sweat. Veins of light swam across the deck beams above my head, the shimmering reflection of sun on water coming in through the single porthole. ‘What's happened? Have they got through the rock fall?'

‘No. Not any more.'

‘Well, what the hell is it then?'

‘All foreign yachts are to leave Greece immediately.'

I swung my legs off the bunk and sat up. ‘Why? What's happened?'

‘It is the order of the Government.'

‘Yes, but why?'

‘I explain when you are dressed. You are to proceed now to Levkas.' He left me then.

The time was 15.18. I pumped the wash basin full of water, sluicing it over my face and body, and then, feeling a little better, I slipped on a pair of shorts and went through into the saloon. Kotiadis was standing talking to Zavelas and two officers, Sonia and Gilmore sitting silent on the far side. The place seemed overcrowded, the air acrid with the smell of Greek tobacco, and the atmosphere was tense. A sudden silence fell as I entered. ‘What's going on?' I asked Gilmore.

‘The patrol boat from Levkas,' he said. ‘They arrived about ten minutes ago.' He seemed to have shrunk and his voice sounded tired. ‘They say there is going to be a war.'

‘I do not say that,' Kotiadis exploded. ‘We prepare. That is all. And it is for your own safety.' He turned to me. ‘You will take this boat immediately to Levkas for examination.'

I looked at him warily, wondering what it was all about. ‘And if I refuse?'

‘Then you are under arrest and Kapetán Constantanidi will put men on board to take her there.' He indicated one of the officers. ‘This is Kapetán Constantanidi.' The police chief was a small, fierce little man, with a smile full of gold teeth. ‘But at the moment he has many other things to attend to, so it is better you do not refuse.'

‘What about Miss Winters and Dr Gilmore?'

‘They want us to go with the patrol boat,' Sonia said, her face white, her eyes dark-ringed. ‘They've abandoned the search and we're to leave Greece immediately.'

‘I tell you again it is for your own safety,' Kotiadis repeated. ‘There are already some Russian ships in Leros. Our government is negotiating but …' He gave a Gallic shrug. ‘All foreign nationals are to leave Greece.'

‘We heard it on the wireless,' Dr Gilmore said quietly. ‘The Russians are requesting the use of bases in the Dodecanese. The Turks are involved too, of course, and the situation is not at all healthy.'

I stood there feeling numb and unable to grasp all the implications. Man the Killer! I could hear the old man's voice—a rogue species carrying within itself the seeds of its own destruction. And Bert, nice, simple, uncomplicated Bert, talking about Armageddon starting in the Middle East. ‘They know Holroyd is dead,' Gilmore said. ‘They're presuming your father is, too.' His eyes, staring at me, seemed to convey a private message.

I didn't say anything, afraid to commit myself. Kotiadis and the police chief were watching me. And Sonia, sitting there, white-faced and still. ‘How do they know …' I hesitated. ‘About Holroyd?'

He turned to Zavelas and the ex-cop moved his big bulk nearer to me, explaining how they had broken through the fall about the time I had surfaced from my dive. It was a small hole and Thomasis had spoken to them from the other side. That was when they learned that Holroyd was dead. ‘After the fall, when Professor Holerod don't return, Thomasis go down the small tunnel to search for him. His torch is not good, but he can see water below and the Professor's body floating in it.' Zavelas could not say how it happened. ‘I guess his hands slipped on the rope as he went down, or maybe he don't find a way to get out of the water.' He shrugged. ‘Anyway, he'd drowned down there.'