The Collectors Book Five (The Collectors Series 5) (10 page)

              Zane ordered sketos. Laith, metrios, Bear, nescafe, and Petros, a fresh orange juice.

              “And a dozen chicken kebabs with your chilli sauce,” said Laith.

              In Greek Petros added, “Make that eighteen, my friend eats well.”

              Stavros left them chatting and returned with their drinks, fresh bread rolls and a bowl of salad. “My wife is preparing your kebabs.”

              Bear grabbed a roll and crammed it full with salad. “Rabbit food.”

              Twenty minutes later Stavros deposited a large platter covered in kebabs and a bowl containing an overpowering red liquid on the table. “Enjoy.”

              Bear dipped a piece of roll into the sauce and stuffed it into his mouth. “That is fantastic.”

              Zane and Laith stared at him.

              “If Bear says it’s good, it is,” said Petros.

              With the platter empty and Bear’s hunger pangs satisfied, Petros paid Stavros and they continued their journey.

***

The wide road wound through mountains and wooded areas. Bear slept and Petros studied his map.  “Zane, not many railway lines in this area.”

              He turned his head towards him. “Not economical. In the early twentieth century, steam locomotives serviced one town in every area. During the war, the Italians utilised the rail network to its full potential and the Germans capitalised on their efforts. You could catch a train in Athens and alight in Berlin.

              “Today the car is king. The upkeep of tracks in the mountains is not cost effective. Roads are cheaper.”

              The others slept while Laith drove through the night until they reached the town of Florina close to the border with Macedonia. He stopped the car outside a house, which appeared freshly white-washed, and jumped out. “Zane will drive from here to his village. I’m going to bed.”

              Zane, Petros and Bear alighted, stretched and walked back and forth along the road.

              Bear glanced at his watch. “Anywhere a man can find something to eat?”

              “When we reach my village you will have a feast for breakfast,” said Zane.

              “If I survive,” said Bear.

              “I’ll drive,” said Petros, “Just give me directions.”

              Petros slid behind the wheel, adjusted the seat and started the engine.

              “Straight ahead, turn right at the third crossroads.”

              The road from Florina remained good and wide until the turn off for Zane’s village. At some time a concrete slab existed but combined with a lack of money and winter rain it now resembled a farm track.

              “How far?” asked Petros.

              “Twenty kilometres but the higher we go the better it gets.”

              “I believe you.”

              At seven kilometres, the road became asphalt single track with sections cut out of the rock for passing places.

              “Before they cut the road the donkey remained our only form of transport,” said Zane.

              Surprised at what he saw, Petros drove into a modern village complete with cobbled square and a taverna.

              “Completely rebuilt,” said Zane. “During the war our latrines were holes in the ground at the far end and our home one large room where we lived. In case of a surprise attack we slept in tents dotted across the hillsides. We lived to fight and survive. A permanent roof over your head, luxury.” He pointed. “Stop the car outside Sophie’s Taverna.”

              Sophie’s was the largest two storey building in the square, built in the Greek style and painted white with blue shutters. Other buildings formed terraces or were large houses in their own plots.

              Petros’ eyes scanned the square. “I like this place.”

              “Sophie speaks good English. She studied as a girl in London. I’ve booked two rooms and breakfast will be ready when you want.”

              Bear’s stomach rumbled for all to hear. “Now would be good.”

              Zane chuckled and entered the main room of the taverna. “Sophie, my friends are here. Is their breakfast ready?”

              A well-proportioned woman strolled into the main room with a plate filled with bread and pastries. “Hot. Fresh from my oven.” She pointed to a table. “Cheese, yoghurt, cold cuts of meat, olives, boiled eggs, spinach pies, cereals and I’ll make tea or coffee for you in a minute.”

              “Should silence your stomach until lunch time,” said Zane.

              Bear pulled up a chair and began with the hot bread and cheese. “PK, this bread is delicious and the cheese a present from the gods.”

              “I’ll wash my hands and rinse my face first and then eat. Give me your bag.” Petros lifted the bags and traipsed after Sophie to the rear of the house.

              “Two rooms, clean and large bed for your friend.”

              “Thank you,” said Petros

              Sophie smiled. ”You speak English with a touch of Greek.”

              “My mother’s Cypriot and I was born there.”

              “Unusual, a blond-haired Cypriot.” She opened a door. “Bathroom.”

              “Tell my friend to leave me some food. I’ll be down in a minute.”

              “Don’t worry, there’s plenty more in my kitchen.”

***

Bear grabbed a paper serviette, wiped his mouth and hands. He turned to Petros who nibbled on a roll. “Now my body’s replenished, what’s next? Where’s this train?”

              Petros gazed at him across the table. “Zane told me it’s a day and a half stroll through the mountains.”

              “Why can’t we drive?”

              “No roads.”

              Bear checked his iphone for messages. “Blonde Bob will be in Florina at ten thirty. Fuel is ordered for her arrival.”

              “It’s the best way,” said Petros.

              Bear belched. “Somehow I don’t think Zane would make it if we took a stroll through the mountains.”

              “Charming. When he returns we drive back to Florina and hire some climbing equipment.”

Chapter Four

Blonde Bob checked the controls one more time before operating the collective and the craft lifted into clear sky. With a quick glance at her note-book she adjusted her course and speed, levelling out at one thousand feet.

***

Showered and changed into clothes more suited to travel in the rugged landscape, Petros and Bear enjoyed another cup of coffee while they waited.

              Bear glanced out the window overlooking the main street. “Here he comes and bloody hell, he’s driving what looks like a world war two jeep.”

              Petros stood. “Let’s go.” They strolled out into the street.

              Bear side-stepped out of the way as Zane stopped the vehicle. “Where on earth did you find that?”

              “Seventy years ago these marvellous machines littered the landscape. No one came to collect them so along with others we retrieve many.” He stopped and thought for a moment. “We salvaged twenty-five, give or take.”

              “Collectors of world war two vehicles would give an arm and a leg for one.”

              Zane shrugged. “Maybe they would but they’re not for sale. Jump in.”

              “Full speed to the helipad in Florina,” said Petros. “A friend of ours is arriving soon and we’ll need climbing equipment.”

              “We can borrow the rescue gear; they have rucksacks ready to go. Their team leader’s a friend.” He rubbed his chin. “Of course a suitable donation might help.”

              “How suitable?” said Petros.

              “A few hundred Euros.”

              “Good as done. Bear, how much cash are you carrying?”

              Bear shook his head with a smile on his face. “Enough.”

              The jeep, unlike the car, traversed the road to Florina with little difficulty. A dry-stone wall enclosed the helipad field and a large sign stated ‘
No Unauthorised Admittance’
.

              Zane stopped the jeep as the rattle of helicopter rotors filled the air. Each man stared into the sky as a Eurocopter 120 swooped across the field, hovered and landed in the centre of the pad. The engine noise wound down, the rotors stopped and the pilot, helmet in hand, slid out of the seat to the ground.

              Blonde Bob’s blue denim outfit fitted the curves of her slender but firm body to perfection. In her late thirties, she was tall, with the face of an angel framed by long blonde hair. Swinging her helmet, she strode towards them. She shook her head. “Bear, long time no see. Give me a kiss.”

              Bear hugged and kissed her on the lips.

              “The passion’s missing, you must be shagging someone.” She glanced sidelong at Petros with her blue- grey-eyes. “I’ve heard a lot about you but you’re married.”

              Petros shrugged. “They tell me you can fly a chopper.” He pointed to the mountains.

              Blonde Bob grinned, revealing a mouthful of perfect teeth. “I can fly through the gates of hell, put the fire out and shag the devil before he realises. Good enough?”

              The roar of a heavy diesel engine ended the conversation. “My fuel,” said Bob with a smile on her lips.

              Bob supervised the refuelling of the helicopter personally and only when satisfied did she nod to Petros. “Pay him. Who’s this old man?”

              While Petros handed over a wad of Euros, Bear introduced her to Zane.

              “Any young men in your village?”

              “Behave,” said Bear.

              “Don’t worry, I’ll be a good girl. But you know me, when I’m good I’m very, very, good and when I’m bad, I’m even better.”

              “Don’t go there,” said Bear.

              “When can we leave?” asked Petros.

              She smiled sweetly. “Five minutes. I need a pee. Where’s the loo?”

              “Behind the wall,” said Bear.

              “No problem but no peeking. You can wait in the chopper.”

              As she wandered away, the three men sauntered across to the Eurocopter.

              “How good is she?”

              “None better,” said Bear.

              They fell silent. Bob secured her safety straps. “Everyone tied in? These things can get bumpy. Where to, granddad?”

              Zane frowned.” This is my first time.”

              She laughed. “I remember my first time. The prat didn’t have a good fuck in him.”

              Zane said nothing, but a large grin covered his face.

              With the checks complete, she started the engine and waited. Her eyes moved methodically across the instrument panel as the chopper rose into the air.

              Through the intercom system, Zane spoke and pointed towards the mountains. “Head towards the flat top. From there I should see the old track.”              

              She nodded as the craft lifted. The tops of trees metres below folded as they hurtled across. A forest of tall pines covered the landscape. “Keep talking to me, old man, you know where we’re going.”

              Zane nodded and pointed ahead. “Why do they call you Bob?”