The Heights of Zervos (10 page)

'You will require absolute proof of my identity, so you had better send a wireless message to Berlin. I can give you the signal code.'

'Not while we are at sea,' Burckhardt rapped out. 'We must preserve radio silence at all costs.'

'I had assumed that,' Dietrich retorted brusquely. 'I meant after you had gone ashore. You have dealt with the two Englanders, I hope?'

'Yes, Hahnemann dealt with the whole operation most efficiently. They are only a lieutenant and a sergeant travelling home from Turkey.'

'You knew then beforehand that these two men were being put on board?'

Burckhardt paused, staring at the back of the Abwehr man who continued gazing out to sea. There was something in the way the question had been phrased which disturbed him, which made him delay his departure for the bridge. Had there been some awful slip-up somewhere? 'Knew?' he repeated warily.

'Yes, "knew", I said. Did you know?' Dietrich had swung round and was talking with his cigar in his mouth, his legs splayed as he continued to dominate the conversation.

'No,' the colonel admitted reluctantly. 'I was worried when I first heard about them but they are of very junior rank...'

'Are you certain of that? Papers can be easily forged or doctored - including army pay-books. These two men could be far more important for all we know.' He paused to give his insidious suggestion maximum impact. 'They could be on board because some hint of your operation has reached the Allies. You may be lucky they never reached the wireless-room.' He leaned forward grimly. 'I take it they did not reach the wireless-room?'

'Of course not! That was part of Hahnemann's job...'

'Any idea which arm of the service they're attached to?'

Burckhardt felt himself go very cold. Until this unnerving interview he had assumed that the two Englanders were only on board by chance, but now the Abwehr man was raising diabolical possibilities. 'Ford, the staff-sergeant, is an ammunition examiner,' he said slowly.

Had Dietrich detected the note of reluctance in his voice? He pressed the colonel for further information instantly. 'And the other man, the so-called lieutenant - Prentice?'

'He is with the Signals Corps.'

'Ah! So undoubtedly an expert wireless operator...' Dietrich shrugged his shoulders, his devastating point made. He puffed at his cigar for several seconds and then said something equally disturbing. 'Since we know they have been in Turkey for several weeks it seems an even stranger coincidence that they should choose this particular trip for returning to Greece. Don't you agree?'

'Several weeks? You know this? Is this why you are on board?' Burckhardt took a step towards Dietrich who regarded him without replying. 'They were supposed to have been saved from a ship which sank off the Turkish coast a few days ago...'

'What ship?' Dietrich pounced on the statement. 'Is this the story they have told you?'

'Yes, when Lieutenant Hahnemann was questioning them...'

'He has Intelligence training, this Hahnemann?' The ironic note was back in Dietrich's voice.

'No, but he is clever and he said their story rang true. The lieutenant — Prentice - told him this...'

'I have seen this British lieutenant,' the Abwehr man replied slowly and deliberately, 'and I would say he not only has his wits about him - he is also capable of making up a convincing story on the spur of the moment. I don't like the way the situation is developing, Colonel Burckhardt. You should have the two Englanders questioned again.'

Burckhardt's expression was remote. Under other circumstances, without the enormous responsibility of the expedition resting on his shoulders, he might have thought differently, and he had no way of knowing that he was confronted by a master of the art of psychological aggression. Without realizing it, he had been subjected to a kaleidoscope of changing impressions and anxieties from the moment he had entered the cabin, and during this ordeal he had subconsciously accepted the Abwehr man's credentials at face value. In fact, the subject of the identity of Dietrich had subtly been turned into questioning the identity of the British prisoners. He was also becoming a little worried about his own position. Had this devil been put aboard the
Hydra
to check up on the operation because it involved a naval phase - the seizure of the
Hydra
and its subsequent voyage to their objective! 'I'll get Hahnemann to have another word with the prisoners,' he said crisply.

'This Prentice, he speaks German, then?' Dietrich was staring through the porthole again as he asked the question.

'Not so far as I know - but Hahnemann speaks excellent English. I must leave for the bridge now.' He was talking again to Dietrich's back as the Abwehr man used his hand to smear a hole in the steamed-up glass. The temperature was probably at least thirty degrees higher inside the cabin than on the high seas.

'Did Hahnemann find out anything else when he was interrogating the prisoners?' Dietrich went on peering intently through the porthole and something in his attitude made the colonel wait a few seconds longer.

'I believe there was some mention of a British destroyer being in the area, but I'm convinced he was bluffing.'

'Bluffing!' Dietrich straightened up, swung round abruptly. 'First you talk about it being a coincidence that those men are aboard and now you hope he was bluffing! I'm afraid a very serious situation has arisen - a strange vessel is coming in fast from the north-east and unless I'm very much mistaken it is a British destroyer.'

Burckhardt turned to go quickly, and when Dietrich was left to his own devices he had, by default, been granted the privilege to roam round the vessel as freely as he wished.

Burckhardt was leaving the cabin when he very nearly collided with Hahnemann who was rushing down the companionway. Halting abruptly, the soldier saluted and spoke breathlessly. 'There's an emergency, sir. Lieutenant Schnell would like to see you on the bridge - it's very urgent...'

'I know!' Burckhardt was already pushing past him, heading for the staircase. Hard-faced young men of the Alpenkorps, fully uniformed, pressed themselves against the companionway wall with their rifles at their sides to let him pass. One man hastily extinguished a cigarette under his boot. The doorways to the three cabins recently occupied by the German passengers were open and inside more men of the Alpenkorps sat on the floors and leaned against the walls, their faces tense as they watched their colonel pass. The grapevine had worked already, reporting the rumour that a British destroyer was approaching fast. The whole atmosphere of the Greek ferry had changed, had become more akin to that of a troopship. Dodging round kit piled in the passage, Burckhardt made a mental note to get that shifted and then leapt up the staircase. Pushing open the door at the top he received a blast of cold wind and a douche of icy spray full in the face. Without even bothering to wipe himself he glanced quickly along the deserted, wave-washed deck. All the troops were under strict instructions to remain below decks and he was satisfied with the outward appearance of normality. Strange how the sea seemed far worse up here than down below. The thought flashed through his mind as he went into the wheelhouse.

Inside the enclosed area everything was quiet and there was a feeling of disciplined control, but under the silence Burckhardt sensed an atmosphere of nerves tautly strained as the
Hydra
ploughed on through mounting seas. Lieutenant Schnell of the German Navy, wearing inconspicuous dark trousers and a dark woollen sweater, was holding the wheel while the ferry's captain, Nopagos, stood a few feet away with a signalling lamp in his hands. Behind him, crouched on his knees out of sight, an Alpenkorps soldier held a machine-pistol trained on the captain's back.

'Over there. To starboard.' It was the helmsman who had spoken, nodding his head towards the north-east. Schnell was a typical German naval officer, round-faced, his dark hair neatly trimmed, a man of thirty with watchful eyes and a steady manner. Taking in the situation at a glance, Burckhardt accepted a pair of field-glasses from another soldier whose uniform was covered with a civilian raincoat. To starboard a slim grey silhouette was bearing down on the
Hydra
, a silhouette with lights at her masthead. Burckhardt focused the glasses on the ship and his lips tightened. Yes, it was a British destroyer sailing on an oblique course which would take her across the bows of the ferry within a mile or two. He handed back the glasses and moved into the shadows in case other glasses were aimed in his direction from that distant bridge. They wouldn't be able to pick out individuals yet, but within a few minutes they'd pick up all the detail they wanted if the destroyer maintained its present course. He spoke quickly to Schnell. 'What is Nopagos doing with that signalling lamp in his hands?'

'He will have to use it in a minute...'

'I don't like that.'

'We have no alternative.' Schnell had half-turned round to stare at the oncoming warship. 'She is bound to signal us, so tell the Greek I understand the use of signals at sea.'

Burckhardt thought quickly. It was a damnable situation: the very existence of the expedition now depended on the signal-lamp in the hands of a Greek whose ship had just been shanghaied from under him. He saw the knuckles of Schnell's hands whitened under the overhead light as he gripped the wheel and steadily kept to his course. Still crouched on the floor, the Alpenkorps soldier with the machine-pistol moved gently with the sway of the ship, his face drawn with tension as he watched Burckhardt and then transferred his gaze to Nopagos' back. Burckhardt maintained his outward appearance of calm confidence, his hands thrust into his coat pockets, although inwardly his nerves were screwed up to fever pitch. He began speaking to Nopagos in his careful, Teutonic-sounding Greek.

'The British destroyer may start signalling. If that happens you only use your lamp when I give the order. I want you to understand this clearly - the man at the wheel is a German naval officer thoroughly conversant with signalling procedures. He will be watching. If you make any attempt to send a distress signal, we shall know. If there is an emergency we shall engage the British destroyer and we shall undoubtedly be sunk. I hope you realize that it is unlikely anyone will be saved in seas like this...' Without putting it in so many words he managed to convey that Nopagos' crew were hostages. He had just finished speaking when the moonlit wake of the oncoming destroyer became clearly visible. A few seconds later the door to the bridge opened and Dietrich came inside. Burckhardt swung round and turned away again when he saw who it was. Completely unruffled by his reception, the Abwehr man walked across to join the colonel after glancing at the approaching destroyer.

'It's probably just a routine check,' he remarked, 'but let's hope they are not expecting a signal from their friends locked up below.'

A nerve jumped by the side of Burckhardt's neck underneath his collar. Dietrich had hardly arrived before voicing the most alarming suggestion at this critical moment. He had just quietened his mind after the Abwehr man's remark when the door burst open again and Hahnemann strode onto the bridge with a furious expression. He had hesitated to stop Dietrich following Burckhardt up to the bridge but now felt he should keep an eye on him. Burckhardt turned on him instantly. 'Hide that gun you bloody fool - they may be watching the bridge. And while you're here - had either of those British soldiers any means of signalling in their possession?'

'No signalling lamp,' Hahnemann reassured him quickly. 'They definitely had no signalling equipment of any kind. The lieutenant, Prentice, had a revolver under his pillow. But nothing to send a message with.'

Burckhardt glanced at Dietrich with an expressionless face, but the Abwehr man was still studying Hahnemann, who glared back at him defiantly. 'And no torch?' Dietrich queried in a deceptively mild tone. 'Not even a pocket torch?'

Hahnemann looked confused. He started to answer Dietrich, then his face stiffened and he addressed Burckhardt. 'One of them had a torch, yes, sir. It was inside the pocket of his coat hanging up behind the door.'

Dietrich caught Burckhardt's glance and he lifted his eyebrows in an expression of foreboding, then frowned at Schnell who had turned to say something. 'Here it comes, sir. They've started.' Across the swelling Aegean where the waves were growing higher a light began to wink on and off from the destroyer. Schnell bad half-turned to starboard, his eyes fixed on the flashing lamp which went on with Its brief explosions. On the bridge no one moved or spoke as all eyes were fixed hypnotically on the signalling light and Burckhardt could feel the stillness of men suspended in a state of horrible anticipation. So much depended on the next few minutes but Burckhardt had no intention of surrendering, whatever happened. He had had some experience of the devastating fire a British destroyer could lay down; in Norway he had seen a German troop transport reduced to a burning hulk by only a few salvoes. What those four-inch guns might do to the hull of the
Hydra
was something he preferred not to contemplate. The lamp stopped flashing and Schnell spoke.