Solo - Jack Higgins [67]
'And Mikali?'
'His villa is about seven kilometres down the coast from here on a promontory in the pine trees opposite to Dokos. Very beautiful. He uses a motor launch to ferry his supplies and so on.'
'Can I hire a boat to take me there?'
The waiter shook his head. 'Not if he hasn't invited you.'
Morgan tried to look dismayed. 'Then what do I do? I'd hate to have come all this way for nothing.' He took a one-hundred-drachma note from his wallet and laid it carefully down on the table. 'If you could help in any way, I'd be very grateful.'
The waiter picked up the note calmly and slipped it casually into his top pocket. 'I tell you what. I do you a favour. I get him on the telephone. If he wants to see you, then that's up to him. Okay?'
'That's fine.'
'What's your name?'
'Lewis.'
'Okay. You stay here. I'll be back in a couple of minutes.'
The waiter went inside the taverna to the desk and checked in a small directory, then he lifted the receiver from the wall phone and dialled a number. Mikali answered himself.
'Heh, Mr Mikali, this is Andrew, the waiter at Niko's,' he said in Greek.
'And what can I do for you?'
'There's a man here come in on the hydrofoil from Athens asking how to get to your place. A journalist. He says he was hoping for an interview.'
'What is he, an American?'
'No, Welsh, he says. His name is Lewis.'
'Welsh?' Mikali sounded faintly amused. 'That certainly makes a change. Okay, Andrew, I'm in a good mood, but only for an hour, mind you, that's all he's got. I'll send Constantine in for him. You point him to the boat when it comes in.'
'Okay, Mr Mikali.'
The waiter returned to Morgan. 'You're in luck. He says he'll see you, but only for an hour. He's sending his boatman for you, old Constantine. I'll tell you when they get here.'
'That's marvellous,' Morgan said. 'How long?'
'Long enough for you to have something to eat.' The waiter grinned. 'The fish I can especially recommend. Fresh in tonight.'
Morgan ate well, mainly to fill the time and found himself enjoying it. He was just finishing when the waiter tapped him on the shoulder and pointed and Morgan saw a white motor launch coming round the point.
'Come on,' the waiter said. 'I'll take you down and introduce you.'
The launch bumped against the harbour wall and a young boy of eleven or twelve jumped to the wharf with a line. He wore a patched jersey and jeans. The waiter tousled his hair and the boy gave him a flashing smile.
'This is Nicky, Constantine's grandson and here is Constantine himself.'
Constantine Melos was a small, powerful-looking man with a face tanned to a deep mahogany shade by a lifetime at sea. He wore a seaman's cap, check shirt, patched trousers and sea boots.
'Don't be misled by appearances,' the waiter whispered. 'The old bastard owns two good houses in town.' He raised his voice. 'This is Mr Lewis.'
Constantine didn't manage a smile. He said in broken English, 'We go now, mister.'
He turned and went back into the wheelhouse. 'Probably thinks the Devil will get him if he's out after dark,' the waiter said. 'They're all the same, these old ones. Half the women think they're witches. I'll see you again, Mr Lewis.'
Morgan stepped on board, the boy moved after him, coiling the line and the motor launch moved out of harbour past the once heavily fortified battery with its Venetian guns pointing out to sea as if they still expected the Turks to come.
It was a fine evening although the coast of the Peloponnese about four miles away was already fading into a kind of purple twilight and on the Hydriot shore, lights gleamed in the windows. The boat surged forward as Constantine boosted power and Morgan went into the wheelhouse and offered him a cigarette. 'How long?'
'Fifteen - twenty minutes.'
Morgan looked out across the evening sea, black as ink as the sun slipped out of sight beyond the bulk of Dokos on the far horizon.
'Nice,' he said.
The old man didn't bother to reply and, after a while, Morgan gave up and went below to the saloon where he found the boy