Solo - Jack Higgins [78]
George was splitting logs for firewood, Maria was sitting on the bench in the sun, sewing a rent in Morgan's salt-stained jacket. His wallet was on the bench beside her, drying in the sun along with his passport and a row of drachma notes.
She put up a hand and touched his forehead. 'So - the fever is gone?' She called to George. 'See, old fool, who knows better than the doctor now?'
George leaned on his axe. 'She is a witch,' he said, 'and all the women of her clan before her. This is a known fact.'
'So, you feel better?' she asked.
'Much.'
'Good. Many hours have you slept. It was a necessary thing, the potion I gave thee.'
He glanced at his Rolex and saw that it was eight o'clock. He felt curiously light-headed as he walked through the pine trees to the ridge. He shaded his eyes, looking down to Mikali's villa in the bay below. Old George appeared at his side.
'They have gone?'
'All of them!'
'And the woman?'
The old man pointed. 'See, she comes now.'
She emerged from the trees into the clearing two hundred feet below, following the track that zigzagged between the old overgrown terraces. She was wearing sunglasses, tee-shirt and an old cotton skirt and carried a shoulder bag.
'She has concern for thee, this one, I think,' the old man told him in Greek. 'Many hours she sat beside thy bed.'
Morgan sat down carefully on a log, his eyes never leaving her and the old man placed a pack of Greek cigarettes and some matches beside him.
'I will tell Maria to make coffee,' he said and walked away.
She emerged from the pine trees ten minutes later to find him sitting there on the log smoking. She paused for a moment to look at him, strangely anonymous in the dark glasses.
'So, you're back with us again?'
'That's what they tell me.'
She sat down on the grass facing him, her back against a tree and put the shoulder bag on the ground.
'What have you got in there?' he asked.
'Sandwiches, a bottle of wine. Constantine thinks I like to go walking in the mountains each day.'
'And the old woman and the boy?'
'Oh, they're in Hydra at the Mikali town house. This time of the year they sometimes let tourists have a look round. It's something of a museum. Full of relics from the Turkish wars - that sort of thing.'
There was an awkwardness between them that this kind of conversation couldn't bridge. He said, 'Why did you stay?'
'In spite of myself,' she said and removed her sunglasses. Her face was very pale, the eyes haunted. 'I told him I was tired. Asked if he minded if I stayed on for a day or two.'
'And he agreed?'
'On the understanding that I was in my seat on time at the Albert Hall.'
'I see. So, he caught last night's plane? And Deville went with him.'
'Last night?' She shook her head slowly. 'You've lost a a day somewhere, Asa. This is Saturday - Saturday morning. They left the night before last.'
He sat there staring at her, thunderstruck, unable to take it in. 'Are you trying to tell me I've been out for the past thirty hours?'
'Something like that. Oh, you tossed and turned rather a lot, but Maria certainly knew what she was doing. Those herbs of hers are really quite something.'
'But that means the concert's tonight.' He jumped to his feet and stood there, hand clenched. 'Don't you see! The bastard could be on his way again tomorrow.'
'He phoned me last night,' she said. 'Told me he'd been with Previn at the Albert Hall and that's where he'll be for most of today. Rehearsal for tonight's concert. It's really very simple. All you have to do is ring Baker at Scotland Yard.'
There was a lengthy silence. Morgan said, 'Yes, I could do that.'
'But you won't, will you?'
He sat down on the log again and lit a cigarette.
'Look, let me explain. There's a section of DI5 called Group Four with new powers direct from the Prime Minister himself to coordinate the handling of terrorism, subversion and so on. It's run by a man called Ferguson. Baker works for him. We go back a long way, Ferguson and me. He's quite a character. Would it surprise you to know he encouraged me in this thing