Solo - Jack Higgins [76]
'Gone,' the boy said. 'Gone.'
He was a little afraid now, pulled away and picked up his photos. When he tried to take the one of Morgan from her hand, she reacted in instant rage, pushing him away from her violently.
She turned and hurried down the steps, still clutching the photo and ran along the tiny strip of beach. On the other side of the bay, a track climbed steeply through the pine trees. She followed it without the slightest idea of where she was going, aware of only one thing. Mikali had lied to her.
The track was steep and rocky, difficult in the light sandals she wore, fit only for mules. But she kept on climbing blindly, unaware of where she was going. Finally, she breasted the ridge and came out on a small plateau.
She sank down on a log, exhausted for the moment. She was still clutching the Polaroid photo of Morgan. She stared at it blankly then buried her face in her hands.
There was a movement close by. She looked up and Morgan stepped out of the trees.
For a moment, she actually thought she was going out of her mind. 'Asa?' she said. 'It is you, isn't it?'
He came at her in a rush, had her over the log, a hand on her throat. She felt herself choking, helpless against his strength and then was aware of George Ghika looming over them. He had Morgan by the hair and jerked back his head so sharply that Morgan cried out in pain, releasing his hold on her and fell back.
Blood began to stain the bandage on his arm. He just lay there looking at her. 'You knew all along. You warned him, didn't you? That's why he was expecting me last night.'
'What happened?' she said dully.
'Oh, he put a bullet through me and I went off the cliff into the sea. I'd be fish bait right now if it hadn't been for this old man and his wife.'
'So, he is the Cretan. You were right.'
'Are you trying to tell me you didn't know?'
She sat down on the log again, picked up the crumpled Polaroid photo and passed it to him. 'Have a look at that and let me explain about me and John Mikali.'
Old George had vanished from the scene, turning and walking away when she began to talk. When she was finished, Morgan sat there in silence for a while and she noticed there was sweat on his forehead. 'Do you believe me?'
He got up, sat beside her and put an arm about her shoulders. 'Couple of bloody fools, the pair of us, I dare say.'
'Oh, Asa Morgan, I like you.' She leaned her head on his shoulder and his good arm tightened around her.
'Ah, well, that's my Welsh good looks for you, only I'm about twenty years too late, so no nonsense. Now let's go over a few things again. Deville, you said? Jean Paul Deville.'
'That's right.'
'I bet there's more to him than meets the bloody eye.'
He was shaking a little now, his eyes wild, his face wet with sweat.
'What will you do now?' she said.
'I'm not sure. In other circumstances, I'd like to go down there and settle with him only the state I'm in at the moment, I feel I might fall down if I breathe too deeply. At least I know where the bastard will be Saturday night. On stage at the Albert Hall.'
He was in real pain now, she could see that. She said, 'You should be in bed, Asa.'
'You say he leaves for Athens this evening, to catch the night flight to London?'
'That's right.'
'You'll be going with him, of course.'
She sat there, staring at him blankly, hands folded in her lap. 'To continue to share his bed, Asa as if nothing had happened? To keep him warm for you till you get there?' She got to her feet, her face still unnaturally calm. 'I should feel sorry for you, I suppose, but I don't. You're as possessed as he is. You deserve each other.'
She walked away. When he tried to get up, he found that his legs refused to support him and called hoarsely, 'Kate, for God's sake!'
'And what on earth could he possibly have to do with it, Asa?' she said without turning round and disappeared into the pine trees.
There was a clatter of hooves behind him and George appeared with the mule, Maria following. The old