Alistair Maclean - Guns Of Navarone - bzelbublive.info

"Halo!" Brown's muffled voice carried faintly from the depths of the engine-room."How's it going?""Not too bad, sir. Assembling it now."Mallory nodded in relief."How long?" he called. "An hour?""Aye, easy, sir.""An hour." Again Mallory glanced through the tarpaulin, looked back at Andrea and Stevens. "Just about right.We'll leave in an hour. Dark enough to give us some protection from our friends up top, but enough light left tonavigate our way out of this damned corkscrew of a channel.""Do you think they'll try to stop us, sir?" Stevens's voice was just too casual, too matter of fact. He was pretty sureMallory would notice."It's unlikely they'll line the banks and give us three hearty cheers," Mallory said dryly. "How many men do youreckon they'll have up there, Andrea?""I've seen two moving around," Andrea said thoughtfully. "Maybe three or four altogether, Captain. A small post.The Germans don't waste men on these.""I think you're about right," Mallory agreed. "Most of them'll be in the garrison in the village--about seven milesfrom here, according to the chart, and due west. It's not likely--"He broke off sharply, stiffened in rigid attention. Again the call came, louder this time, imperative in its tone. Cursinghimself for his negligence in not posting a guard--such carelessness would have cost him his life in Crete--Mallorypulled the tarpaulin aside, clambered slowly on to the deck. He carried no arms, but a halfempty bottle of Moselledangled from his left hand: as part of a plan prepared before they had left Alexandria, he'd snatched it from a locker atthe foot of the tiny companionway.He lurched convincingly across the deck, grabbed at a stay in time to save himself from falling overboard.Insolently he stared down at the figure on the bank, less than ten yards away--it hadn't mattered about a guard,Mallory realised, for the soldier carried his automatic carbine slung over his shoulder--insolently he tilted the wine tohis mouth and swallowed deeply before condescending to talk to him.He could see the mounting anger in the lean, tanned face of the young German below him. Mallory ignored it.Slowly, an inherent contempt in the gesture, he dragged the frayed sleeve of his black jacket across his lips, looked thesoldier even more slowly up and down in a minutely provocative inspection as disdainful as it was prolonged."Well?" he asked truculently in the slow speech of the islands. "What the hell do you want?"Even in the deepening dusk he could see the knuckles whitening in the stock of the carbine, and for an instantMallory thought he had gone too far. He knew he was in no danger--all noise in the engine-room had ceased, andDusty Miller's hand was never far from his silenced automatic--but he didn't want trouble. Not just yet. Not while therewere a couple of manned Spandaus in that watch-tower.With an almost visible effort the young soldier regained his control. It needed little help from the imagination to seethe draining anger, the first tentative stirrings of hesitation and bewilderment. It was the reaction Mallory had hopedfor. Greeks--even half-drunken Greeks--didn't talk to their overlords like that--not unless they had an overpoweringlygood reason."What vessel is this?" The Greek was slow and halting but passable. "Where are you bound for?"Mallory tilted the bottle again, smacked his lips in noisy satisfaction. He held the bottle at arm's length, regarded itwith a loving respect."One thing about you Germans," he confided loudly. "You do know how to make a fine wine. I'll wager you can't layyour hands on this stuff, eh? And the swill they're making up above"--the island term for the mainland--"is so full ofresin that it's only good for lighting fires." He thought for a moment. "Of course, if you know the right people in theislands, they _might_ let you have some ouzo. But some of us can get ouzo _and_ the best Hocks _and_ the bestMoselles."The soldier wrinkled his face in disgust. Like almost every fighting man he despised Quislings, even when theywere on his side: in Greece they were very few indeed."I asked you a question," he said coldly. "What vessel, and where bound?""The caique _Aigion_," Mallory replied loftily. "In ballast, for Samoa. Under orders," he said significantly."Whose orders?" the soldier demanded. Shrewdly Mallory judged the confidence as superficial only. The guardwas impressed in spite of himself."Herr Commandant in Vathy. General Graebel," Mallory said softly. "You will have heard of the Herr General before,yes?" He was on safe ground here, Mallory knew. The reputation of Graebel, both as a paratroop commander and aniron disciplinarian, had spread far beyond these islands.Even in the half-light Mallory could have sworn that the guard's complexion turned paler. But he was doggedenough."You have papers? Letters of authority?"Mallory sighed wearily, looked over his shoulder."Andrea!" he bawled."What do you want?" Andrea's great bulk loomed through the hatchway. He had heard every word that passed,had taken his cue from Mallory: a newlyopened wine bottle was almost engulfed in one vast hand and he wasscowling hugely. "Can't you see I'm busy?" he asked surlily. He stopped short at the sight of the German and scowledPage 20