Alistair Maclean - Guns Of Navarone - bzelbublive.info

"Hasn't been used for weeks. Still full of kerosene, though. Very useful in that damn' dungeon up there--if we canever find the place. . . ."He froze into a sudden listening Immobility, eyes unfocused and head cocked slightly to one side. Gently, ever sogently, he set the lamp down, walked leisurely across to Miller."Remind me to apologise at some future date," he murmured. "We have company. Give me your gun and keeptalking.""Castelrosso again," Miller complained loudly. He hadn't even raised an eyebrow. "This is downright monotonous.A Chinaman--I'll bet it's a Chinaman this time." But he was already talking to himself.The silenced automatic balanced at his waist, Mallory walked noiselessly round the hut, four feet out from the walls.He had passed two corners, was just rounding the third when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a vague figurebehind him rising up swiftly from the ground and lunging out with upraised arm. Mallory stepped back quickly underthe blow, spun round, swung his balled fist viciously and backwards into the stomach of his attacker. There was asudden explosive gasp of agony as the man doubled up, moaned and crumpled silently to the ground. Barely in timeMallory arrested the downward clubbing swipe of his reversed automatic.Gun reversed again, the butt settled securely in his palm, Mallory stared down unblinkingly at the huddled figure, atthe primitive wooden baton still clutched in the gloved right hand, at the unmilitary looking knapsack strapped to hisback. He kept his gun lined up on the fallen body, waiting: this had been just too easy, too suspicious. Thirty secondspassed and still the figure on the ground hadn't stirred. Mallory took a short step forward and carefully, deliberatelyand none too gently kicked the man on the outside of the right knee. It was an old trick, and he'd never known it tofail--the pain was brief, but agonisung. But there was no movement, no sound at all.Quickly Mallory stooped, hooked his free hand round the knapsack shoulder straps, straightened and made for thedoor, half-carrying, half-dragging his captive. The man was no weight at all. With a proportionately much heaviergarrison than even in Crete, there would be that much less food for the islanders, Mallory mused compassionately.There would be very little indeed. He wished he hadn't hit him so hard.Miller met him at the open door, stooped wordlessly, caught the unconscious man by the ankles and helpedMallory dump him unceremoniously on the bunk in the far corner of the hut."Nice goin,' boss," he complimented. "Never heard a thing. Who's the heavyweight champ?""No idea." Mallory shook his head in the darkness. "Just skin and bones, that's all, just skin and bones. Shut thedoor, Dusty, and let's have a look at what we've got."CHAPTER 8Tuesday1900--0015A minute passed, two, then the little man stirred, moaned and pushed himself to a sitting position. Mallory held hisarm to steady him, while he shook his bent head, eyes screwed tightly shut as he concentrated on clearing themuzziness away. Finally he looked up slowly, glanced from Mallory to Miller and back at Mallory again in the feeblelight of the newly-lit, shuttered lantern. Even as the men watched, they could see the colour returning to the swarthycheeks, the indignant bristling of the heavy, dark moustache, the darkening anger in the eyes. Suddenly the manreached up, tore Mallory's hand away from his arm."Who are you?" He spoke in English, clear, precise, with hardly a trace of accent."Sorry, but the less you know the better." Mallory smiled, deliberately to rob the words of offence. "I mean that foryour own sake. How are you feeling now?"Tenderly the little man massaged his midriff, flexed his leg with a grimace of pain."You hit me very hard.""I had to." Mallory reached behind him and picked up the cudgel the man had been carrying. "You tried to hit mewith this. What did you expect me to do--take my hat off so you could have a better swipe at me?""You are very amusing." Again he bent his leg, experimentally, looked up at Mallory in hostile suspicion. "My kneehurts me," he said accusingly."First things first. Why the club?""I meant to knock you down and have a look at you," he explained impatiently. "It was the only safe way. Youmight have been one of the W.G.B.. . . Why is my knee--?""You had an awkward fall," Mallory said shamelessly. "What are you doing here?""Who are you?" the little man countered.Miller coughed, looked ostentatiously at his watch."This is all very entertainin', boss--""True for you, Dusty. We haven't all night." Quickly Mallory reached behind him, picked up the man's rucksack,tossed it across to Miller. "See what's in there, will you?" Strangely, the little man made no move to protest."Food?" Miller said reverently. "Wonderful, wonderful food. Cooked meat, bread, cheese--and wine." ReluctantlyMiller closed the bag and looked curiously at their prisoner. "Helluva funny time for a picnic."Page 46