The Heights of Zervos (16 page)

In his agitation Hahnemann replied immediately before the colonel could say a word, addressing Dietrich directly. 'If it is placed in the right position it could destroy the entire ship.'

'Something's upset their apple cart, all right.' Ford spoke quietly as he stood alongside Prentice by the porthole. Their cabin was being methodically searched by Alpenkorps soldiers who prodded the bedding gingerly with short-bladed bayonets, opened cupboard doors as though expecting something to fall out, and peered cautiously under chair seats without moving them.

'They're nervy, too.' Prentice watched the searching process curiously and he thought he sensed a desperate urgency in their efforts, like men working against a clock. Near the door Sergeant Volber stood directing operations, although his main task, under orders from Eberhay, was to protect the prisoners. During the search more than one man glanced murderously at Prentice who was responsible for the death of one of their comrades, and Volber was present to exercise strict discipline. A moment later the sergeant spoke in German, and when Prentice failed to understand, he waved his Luger to indicate they must move to one side. A soldier who pointedly did not look at them opened the porthole, peered outside, then rubbed a hand round the outer rim as though seeking something which might be suspended there. Satisfied with his search, he closed the porthole and Volber motioned them to take up their former position.

'What the hell's going on?' Ford whispered.

'Don't know - but they're as jumpy as hens with a fox in the yard.' Prentice was glad of Volber's presence: all the Germans carried carbines,* as the technically minded Ford insisted on calling them, and it had been known for a weapon to go off accidentally when aimed at a lethal spot. From the look on the faces of some of these hard-bitten youngsters a carbine could have discharged quite easily in his direction if Volber had omitted to attend the ceremony. Ford continued gazing out of the porthole where he could see on the mainland side of the gulf a chain of pinpoint lights crawling up the coast road to the north. He pressed his hand lightly on the lieutenant's arm.

'Look - must be our chaps across there.'

'I know, I've seen 'em.' Prentice hadn't relaxed Ms own gaze from tbe interior of the cabin. He could feel the deep animosity radiating from the dozen men who went on turning the cabin inside out. One soldier walking past him chanced to let go of his carbine and Prentice had to move quickly. The metal-sheathed butt of the weapon thudded heavily on the cabin floor where a moment before his right foot had stood. If that butt had contacted, it could have crippled him. Volber called out sharply in German and was still barking vehemently when the soldier left the cabin.

'Sounds as though he's going on a charge. With any luck,' Ford added. 'You know, sir, I don't think they really like us.'

'Just be ready to do a quick tap-dance if the occasion arises,' Prentice told him and continued to stare at any man who caught his eye. Yes, Ford had been right: it was a damned queer situation. On board the
Hydra
there must be at least a company of well-trained German troops and some of them expected to operate at high altitudes - he had seen several pairs of skis inside one cabin when they had been taken along earlier for interrogation by that slip of a German officer who spoke English. And behind them, a few miles across the gulf through that porthole, they could see the hooded lights of traffic moving through the night along that vital mainland road

*
Ford was referring to the Gewehr 98 K bolt-action carbine.

to the north. Prentice had no doubt that those were the lights of Allied convoys driving up to the Alkiamon Line, completely ignorant of the fact that the ship whose lights they could see across the water was carrying a German spearhead aimed at Zervos. For by now Prentice had little doubt of the Alpenkorps objective - the Germans on board were on their way to seize that vital monastery observation post overlooking the road Ford was watching through the porthole.

'A whole load of them on the way,' Ford went on, 'I can see lights right up the coast."

'What the blazes can this lot be looking for?' Prentice wondered out loud. 'And it bothers them. They're sweating.'

'They can melt away for all I care. What I can't make out is why they're still wearing their Mae Wests. It's as calm as the Serpentine outside now.' Ford's description of the gulf had an element of exaggeration because the
Hydra
was still steaming through a moderate swell, but contrasted with the seas off Cape Zervos it could indeed have been the Serpentine. The Aegean, one of the most unpredictable seas in the world, had subsided again.

'I told you, they were nervy,' Prentice replied. Inwardly, he assumed the wearing of Mae Wests was just another example of Teutonic discipline, but it was the object of the search which was nagging at his tired brain. Come to think of it, these boys didn't look as though they'd just got up in the morning. Which was a thought that gave him a certain amount of satisfaction: if they went on prowling round the ship like this they'd be exhausted before they ever got ashore. The soldiers were trooping out of the cabin when he went up to Volber. 'Speak with German who speaks Englische ...' he began. It took him a pantomime of gestures to convey that he wished to talk to the little officer who had interviewed them earlier, and when Volber returned he came back with Lieutenant Hahnemann instead.

'What is it?' Hahnemann rapped out. There was tension here, too - tension and irritability in the manner and expression with which he regarded the two prisoners.

'What are you looking for? We might be able to help,' Prentice told him blithely.

The reaction was unexpectedly violent. Hahnemann took a step forward and his right hand rested close to his hip holster. It had been a mistake, Prentice realized at once. The Jerries were more at their nerve-ends than he had realized. He spoke quickly and tersely, letting a little indignation creep into his tone. 'I meant what I said. Why wouldn't I? If I could tell you where it was - whatever you are looking for -it would have saved us having the bedding bayoneted to bits.'

'You will stay here and not send for me again.' He turned away and then looked back. 'Why are you not wearing the life-jackets?'

'Because there isn't a storm any more.'

'You put them on now and they stay on. That is an order. For your safety,' he ended abruptly. They were left alone with the guard while they tied on their Mae Wests again. Prentice was relieved to see that it was the same guard, a thirty-year-old who sat some distance from them with his machine-pistol always aimed in their general direction. A sturdy-faced character, he had shown no exceptional signs of hostility although he was careful never to let them come within ten feet of where he sat.

'I'd still like to know what they were after,' said Ford as he sat down on a pile of massacred bedding. He looked up at Prentice. 'How much longer?'

'About an hour, if they're keeping to the ferry's schedule.' Prentice's watch registered 4.30 AM and the
Hydra
had been due to dock at Katyra at 5.30 AM, a little before dawn. To keep awake he went over to the porthole again for another look at those tantalizing hooded lights of the convoy moving along the coast road. Another hour. Nothing much could happen in that time.

The ten-kilogram composite demolition charge stood on the table. It was enclosed inside a black-painted zinc container about the size and shape of a deep attach
é
case and there was a web carrying-handle at the top. Inset into the top face were two standard igniter sockets. 'Like that?' queried Dietrich innocently. He gave the impression that this was the first time in his life he had seen a ten-kilogram demolition charge.

'Its twin is hidden somewhere aboard this ship - with the difference that the clockwork time fuse has undoubtedly been attached and set in motion. Show him the fuse, Hahnemann.'

While Burckhardt waited, the engines of the ferry ticked over steadily, unpleasantly suggestive of the ticking of a time bomb. They were alone in the colonel's cabin with the exception of the temporary presence of Hahnemann who had brought in the demolition charge at the Abwehr man's request. As Dietrich had so unfortunately put it, he wanted to see what was going to blow him to kingdom come.

'The fuse,' said Hahnemann.

It was roughly shaped like an outsized egg-cup. Measuring a little over two inches across the top in diameter and six inches in overall depth, the casing was chocolate-brown bake-lite, and when Dietrich picked up the device Hahnemann showed him how it worked. The top was a hinged glass lid which had to be lifted to set the clock. Still holding the time fuse, he looked up at the lieutenant.

'And one of these is definitely missing with the charge?'

'Yes. They were in a rucksack at the bottom of the companionway stairs.'

'Not guarded?' Dietrich was looking down at the mechanism.

Hahnemann glanced at the colonel, who nodded. 'There was a mix-up of rucksacks. I'm sure it would never have happened if half the men hadn't been sea-sick. Corporal Schultz thought he had the rucksack with the charges inside with him in a cabin. It was only discovered later that he had someone else's while his own rucksack had been left outside.'

Dietrich ignored the explanation. 'Corporal Schultz is waiting in the passage? Good, I'd like to see him.'

Hahnemann went to the door and let inside a slim man in his late twenties who was clearly not at ease, and his embarrassment increased when he slipped en the polished floor. He glanced at the colonel as he saluted and Burckhardt merely told him to answer questions. He had already had a word with the negligent NCO.

'These fuses are totally reliable?' enquired Dietrich. The pink-faced corporal glanced at Hahnemann who told him briskly to answer the question. Schultz was uncertain how much to say and the colonel barked at him to get on with it.

'No, sir, not always,' Schultz began. And having begun he gained confidence and spoke rapidly. 'They have a habit when set of stopping for no reason at all. Then they can start up again of their own accord - again for no particular reason. We do know that they can be affected by jolting or vibrations. They're weird - I heard of one case where a fuse was set to detonate the charge in two days. It was put under a bridge during training and then the man who had put it there died in a motor crash. Everyone forgot about it.' He paused, his eyes on Dietrich who was staring at him fixedly. 'Two years later the bridge blew up. Yes, sir - two
years
later.'

'Thank you.' Dietrich returned the time fuse to Hahnemann who picked up the charge by the handle and left the cabin with Corporal Schultz.

'And where does that get us?' asked Burckhardt.

'It gets us into a worse state of nerves than we were before, I should have thought. You heard what he said?'

'Of course! Which point were you referring to?'

Dietrich clubbed one large fist and began drumming it slowly on the table. It took Burckhardt a moment to grasp that he was drumming in time with the beat of the
Hydra
's engines. He pursed his lips uncomfortably as Dietrich rammed the point home verbally. 'Affected by jolting or vibrations,' he said.

'We shall not be on board much longer.' He hesitated. It must by now be patently obvious when they were going ashore to anyone who knew the
Hydra
's timetable. 'Barely an hour. In the meantime the search continues and they may find it.'

'Colonel Burckhardt.' Dietrich was standing up now, his hat in his hand. 'This is likely to be the longest hour of your life. I think I'll go and help them try to find it. You never know -they say heaven protects the innocent."

As he went along the companionway, hands thrust deep inside his coat pockets, he heard the frenzied clump of nailed boots everywhere. The boots rarely stayed still for more than a short time, as though their occupants were finding it impossible to keep in one place while they continued their frantic search for the missing demolition charge. Inside one cabin he found men with moist faces pushing aside a pile of dark brown hickory skis which could not possibly have concealed the charge. A soldier who didn't look a day over nineteen was peering behind a fire-extinguisher, another impossible hiding-place. There had been tension aboard the
Hydra
ever since the Alpenkorps had arrived, tension initially through the knowledge that at any minute they might be stopped by a British warship, tension because they were aboard the vessel of a country which Germany still officially treated as a neutral in the war. But the earlier tension brought on by the secrecy, by the storm, by the sabotage of a wireless set and the death of one of their men overboard - this tension had been serenity compared with the stark, livid tension which now gripped the
Hydra
's illegal passengers.

It manifested itself in little ways. The lift of a rifle as Dietrich came round a corner. The kicking over of a bucket of sand by an Alpenkorps soldier hurrying past. The disorganized clump of those nailed boots on the ceiling when he was walking along the companionway of the lower deck. The sentry who guarded Grapos was still at bis post, his back to the port-holed steel door leading down to the hold where the Greek was imprisoned. Farther along the companionway Dietrich looked inside the half-open door which led down to the engine-room. He had one foot on the iron platform when a rifle muzzle was thrust in his face, reminding him of the muzzle which Volber had thrust at him as he opened his cabin door when they had taken over the ship. But this time he withdrew swiftly - the muzzle had wobbled slightly. la that brief glimpse he had seen below at least half-a-dozen field grey figures searching among the machinery while another man mounted guard over the chief engineer. The fear was a living mounting thing which he saw in men's faces as he climbed back to the top deck, faces damp, baggy-eyed and drawn with strain as they went on searching amid the ferry's complexities for something no larger than an attaché case. This is a formula for driving men mad, he was thinking as he went on climbing, for slowly shredding their nerves to pieces.