Santorini (14 page)

'I have a better idea. Take the two young ladies to the radio-room. It's a simple matter to lock into the telephone land lines through the Piraeus radio station. They can talk direct to their folks.'

'With Jimmy just happening to be there?'

'We share, as you say, the same nasty, suspicious minds. Before you do that, however, I think we'll go and see how our latest recruit is getting on.'

'Ah! Our resident cryptologist. Theodore.'

Theodore. After we've seen him and the young ladies have finished their calls I want you to take Irene Charial aside.'

'And engage her in casual conversation?'

'What else? It would seem that she and her uncle are less than soul-mates and, of course, she will be feeling suitably grateful to you for having permitted her to speak to her folks. Find out what you can about Andropulos. Find out what she thinks of him. See what you can discover about his business or businesses. Find out who his business contacts and friends are and what she thinks of them, assuming, of course, that she's ever met any of them. And it would be very interesting to know where his travels take him - I'm not talking about his yacht cruises when she is with him  --  and why they take him there.'

'You are asking me, sir, in effect, to ply Irene with cunning and devious questions, to entrap her, if you will, to engage in duplicity and extract unwitting information from a sweet and innocent girl?'

'Yes.'

'A pleasure, sir.'

Theodore was a cheerful, plump man in his late forties, with a pale face and thick pebble glasses, those last a very probable consequence of having spent a lifetime poring over abstruse codes.

'You have come to check on progress, gentlemen. I am making some, I'm happy to report. Took me quite some time to find the key, the connection between the code and the Odyssey. Since then, it's straightforward. These sheets are in three sections and I'm now about two-thirds of the way through the first one.'

'Found anything of interest?' Talbot said.

'Interesting? Fascinating, Captain, fascinating. Statements of his accounts, bank holdings, if you like. He has his money stashed away  --  "stashed" is the word?  --  all over the world, it seems. As a matter of interest, I'm totting up the sum of his holdings as I go along. He's made it very easy for me, everything is in US dollars. So far, let me see, it's two-eighty. Yes, two-eighty. Dollars.'

'A man could retire on that,' Van Gelder said.

'Indeed. Two-eighty. Followed by six zeros.'

Talbot and Van Gelder looked at each other in silence, then bent forward over Theodore's shoulders to look at the figures he had added up. After some seconds they straightened, looked at each other again, then lent forward once more.

Two hundred and eighty million dollars,' Talbot said. 'On that you could retire, Vincent.'

'If I scraped and pinched a bit, I might manage. Do you know where those bank accounts are kept, Theodore? Cities, countries, I mean?'

'Some I do, because he's given names and addresses, some I don't. For the second lot, he may have another code which I don't have or he just knows them by heart. By heart, I would guess. I have no means of knowing where at least half the accounts are. Just the amounts, that's all.'

'Could you show us some of those?' Talbot said.

'Of course.' Theodore pointed to some entries, flipped over several pages and indicated several more. 'Just amounts, as I said. As you see, there's a differing capital letter after each entry. They mean nothing to me. Maybe they do to Andropulos.'

Talbot leafed through the pages again. 'Five letters, just five, recur regularly  --  Z, W, V, B and G. Well, now. If you were a thrifty citizen and wanted a safe piggy-bank secure from the prying eyes of nasty parties such as police and income tax authorities, which country would you choose?'

'Switzerland.'

'I think the same far from original thought had occurred to Andropulos - for at least half his assets. Z for Zurich. W? Winterthur, perhaps. V? Off-hand, I don't know about that one.'

'Vevey?' Van Gelder said. 'On Lake Geneva?'

'I don't think so. Hardly what you might call an international banking centre. Ah! I have it. Not in Switzerland, but it might as well be. Vaduz. Liechtenstein. I don't know much about those things but I understand that once cash disappears into the vaults of Vaduz it never surfaces again. B could be Berne or Basle  --  Andropulos would know, of course. G has to be Geneva. How am I doing, Number One?'

'Splendidly. I'm sure you're right. I hardly like to point out, sir, that we still don't have the names and addresses of those banks.'

True. Crest-fallen, but only slightly. We still have names and addresses of other banks. You have a list of those cities where those banks are located?'

'I don't have to,' Theodore said. 'I have it in my head. They're all over the place, west, east and in between. Places as different as Miami, Tijuana, Mexico City, Bogota in Colombia, Bangkok, Islamabad in Pakistan, Kabul in Afghanistan. Why anyone should want to hide away money in Kabul is quite beyond me. Country is torn by war and the Russians occupy and control the capital.'

'Andropulos would appear to have friends everywhere,' Talbot said. 'Why should the poor Russians be left out in the cold? That about the lot?'

'Quite a few other places,' Theodore said. 'Mostly smaller accounts. One exception, though. The biggest deposit of the lot.'

'Where?'

'Washington, DC.'

'Well, now.' Talbot was silent for a few minutes. 'What do you make of that, Number One?'

'I think I've just about stopped making anything out of anything. My mind has kind of taken a leave of absence. But my eyes are still working, in a fashion, you might say. I think I see a faint light at the end of the tunnel.'

'I think if we think a bit more it might turn into a searchlight. How much money?'

'Eighteen million dollars.'

'Eighteen million dollars,' Van Gelder said. 'My, my. Even in Washington, DC, a man could buy a lot with eighteen million dollars.'

Chapter 6

The Angelina, to put it at its most kindly, was a rather striking-looking craft. An eighty-tonner built of pinewood from the forests of the island of Samos, she had a dazzling white hull which contrasted strongly  --  some would have said violently - with her vermilion gunwale. Wide of beam and low in the water amidships, she had a pronounced flare aft and for'ard, a curved stem that projected high above the gunwale. As a sailing boat, she was well equipped with a standing-lug main and balance-lug foresail, together with two jibs. Had it been left at that, as she had originally been built, the Angelina, a typical example of the Tehandiri class, would not only have been striking but downright handsome. Unfortunately, it had not been left at that.

The owner, Professor Wotherspoon, although a self-avowed traditionalist, was also strongly attached to his creature comforts. Not content with converting the craft's very considerable hold  --  it was, after all, originally constructed as a cargo vessel  --  into cabins and bathrooms, he had constructed on the deck a bridge, saloon and galley which, while admittedly functional, detracted notably from the overall aesthetic effect.

Shortly before ten o'clock in the morning, the Angelina, almost slack-sailed and ghosting along under a Meltemi that hardly rated as a zephyr, tied up along the starboard side of the Ariadne. Talbot, accompanied by Denholm, climbed down a rope ladder to greet the owner.

The first impression that Talbot had of Wotherspoon was that he didn't look a bit like a professor or an archaeologist but then, he had to admit, he had no idea what a professor or archaeologist was supposed to look like. He was tall, lean, shock-haired and deeply tanned: humorous of mien and colloquial of speech, he was the last person one would expect to find wandering through the groves of Academe. He was certainly not more than forty years old. His wife, with auburn hair and laughing hazel eyes, was at least ten years younger and was also, it seemed, an archaeologist.

Introductions effected by Denholm, Talbot said: 'I appreciate this very much, Professor. Very kind of you to come. Not to say very gallant. You appreciate that there is a fair chance that you might find yourself prematurely in another world? Lieutenant Denholm did explain the dangers to you?'

'In a cautious and roundabout fashion. He's become very tight-lipped since he joined the Senior Service.'

'I didn't join. I was dragooned.'

'He did mention something about vaporization. Well, one gets a bit tired of studying ancient history. Much more interesting to be a part of the making of it.'

'It might be a very short-lived interest indeed. Does Mrs Wotherspoon share your short-lived interests?'

'"Angelina", please. We had to entertain a very prim and proper Swiss lady the other day and she insisted on addressing me as Madame Professor Wotherspoon. Ghastly. 'No, I can't say I share all of my husband's more extravagant enthusiasms. But, alas, he does have one professorial failing. He's horribly absent-minded. Someone has to look after him.'

Talbot smiled. 'A fearful thing for so young and attractive a lady to be trapped for life. Again, thank you both very, very much. I should like it if you would join us for lunch. Meantime, I'll leave Lieutenant Denholm to explain the full horrors of the situation to you  --  especially the ones you'll encounter across the lunch table.'

'Gloom and despondency,' Van Gelder said. 'It ill becomes one so young and beautiful to be gloomy and despondent. What is the matter, Irene?'

In so far as one so young and beautiful could look morose, Irene Charial gazed out morosely over the taffrail of the Ariadne.

'I am not, Lieutenant-Commander Van Gelder, in the mood for flattery.'

'Vincent. Flattery is an insincere compliment. How can the truth be flattery? But you're right about the word "mood". You are in a mood. You're worried, upset. What's troubling you?'

'Nothing.'

'Being beautiful doesn't mean you're above telling fibs. You could hardly call that flattery, could you?'

'No.' A fleeting smile touched the green eyes. 'Not really.'

'I know this is a very unpleasant situation you find yourself in. But we're all trying to make the best of it. Or did something your parents say upset you?'

'You know perfectly well that that's not true.' Van Gelder also knew it, Denholm had reassured him on that point.

'Yes, that's so. You were hardly in a cheerful frame of mind when I first met you this morning. Something worries you. Is it so dreadful a secret that you can't tell me?'

'You've come here to pry, haven't you?'

'Yes. To pry and probe. Crafty, cunning, devious questions to extract information from you that you don't know you're giving away.' It was Van Gelder's turn to look morose. 'I don't think I'm very good at it.'

'I don't think you are, either. That man sent you, didn't he?'

'What man?'

'Now you're being dishonest. Commander Talbot. Your captain. A cold man. Distant. Humourless.'

'He's neither cold nor distant. And he's got a very considerable sense of humour.'

'Humour. I don't see any signs of it.'

'I'm beginning not to be surprised.' Van Gelder had stopped smiling. 'Maybe he thought it would be wasted on you.'

'Maybe he's right.' She appeared not to have taken offence. 'Or maybe I just don't see too much to laugh about at the moment. But I'm right about the other thing. He's remote, distant. I've met people like him before.'

'I doubt it very much. In the same way that I doubt your power of judgement You don't seem to be very well equipped in that line.'

'Oh.' She made a moue. 'Flattery and charm have flown out the window, is that it?'

'I don't flatter. I've never claimed to have charm.'

'I meant no harm. Please. I see nothing wrong with being a career officer. But he lives for only two things - the Royal Navy and the Ariadne.'

'You poor deluded creature.' Van Gelder spoke without heat. 'But how were you to know? John Talbot lives for only two things  --  his daughter and his son. Fiona, aged six, and Jimmy, aged three. He dotes on them. So do I. I'm their Uncle Vincent.'

'Oh.' She was silent for some moments. 'And his wife?'

'Dead.'

'I am sorry.' She caught his arm. 'To say I didn't know is no excuse. Go ahead. Call me a clown.'

'I don't flatter, I don't charm - and I don't tell lies.'

'But you do turn a pretty compliment.' She took her hand away, leaned on the rail and looked out over the sea. After some time, she said, without looking around: 'It's my Uncle Adam, isn't it?'

'Yes. We don't know him, we don't trust him and we think he's a highly suspicious character. You will forgive me talking about your nearest and dearest in this fashion.'

'He is not my nearest and dearest.' She had turned to face him. There was neither vehemence in her voice nor marked expression in her face: at most, a slight degree of bewilderment in both. 7 don't know him, / don't trust him and / think he's a highly suspicious character.'

'If you don't know him, what on earth are - were - you doing aboard his yacht?'

'I suppose that, too, seems suspicious. Not really. Three reasons, I would think. He's a very persuasive man He seems to be genuinely fond of our family  --  my younger brother and sister and myself - for he is forever giving us presents, very expensive presents, too, and it seemed churlish to refuse his invitation. Then there was the element of fascination. I know practically nothing about him, nor what his business activities are or why he spends so much time in foreign countries. And, of course, perhaps both Eugenia and I are snobs at heart and were flattered by the invitation to go cruising on a very expensive yacht.'

'Well, good enough reasons. But still not good enough to explain why you went with him if you dislike him.'

'I didn't say I disliked him. I said I distrusted him. Not the same thing. And I didn't begin distrusting him until this trip.'

'Why start now?'

'Alexander is why.' She gave a mock shudder. 'Would you

trust Alexander?'

'Candidly, no.'

'And Aristotle is almost as bad. The three of them spent hours talking together, usually in the radio-room. Whenever Eugenia or I went near them, they stopped talking. Why?'