The Angry Hills - Leon Uris [12]
The train stopped.
There was a sound of digging outside.
The door of the compartment opened. A man wearing the Red Cross arm band of a medic entered.
After examining the wounded soldier opposite Mike, the medic opened his kit and pumped a shot of morphine into the man’s arm. “Easy now, chappie, the doctor will be by shortly.” The medic turned to Mike. “I see you’re up now. How are you feeling?”
“Little the worse for wear.”
“We examined you when they put you aboard last night. Couldn’t locate a wound. If you’re feeling better you’d best rejoin your unit. You’ll find them somewhere about on the train.”
“What’s going on out there?” Mike asked.
“We’ve reached Corinth—taking on another detachment of troops.”
“What’s the digging?”
“Sappers. They’re going to blow the bridges after the last of the trains pass. We’re withdrawing into lower Greece, the Peloponnesus.”
Mike felt his heart sink. He had to make a move quickly.
“I say. You’d better get back to your unit.”
“Who’s in command of the train?” Mike asked curtly.
“Colonel Potter—why?”
Mike flashed Major Howe-Wilken’s card at the medic. “Find the Colonel and tell him I wish to speak to him immediately.”
“Yes, sir.” The medic retreated to the door.
“Soldier!”
“Yes, Major.”
“Not a word to anyone but Colonel Potter.”
“Yes, sir.”
The medic left.
The rest would be quite simple, Mike thought. He’d explain the entire story to Colonel Potter. He had the papers and his own passport to authenticate everything. It was, after all, British responsibility. They would be obligated to escort him back to Athens or arrange a flight out.
Several moments passed. Mike stared out of the window and watched the new troops board. Poor devils, he thought. At least he’d be out of Greece soon....
As the last unit boarded the train one of the men attracted his attention. He didn’t know why, but Mike found himself staring at a short man wearing large horn-rimmed glasses. Perhaps he looked so much out of place in the company of soldiers. The man couldn’t have been much over five feet tall and his uniform literally hung on him. Another peculiarity—the little man carried none of the paraphernalia of soldiers. There was only an outsized pistol strapped to his waist. He certainly seemed no part of an army. Mike’s curiosity gave way to uneasiness.
Something about him—something about him...What was it? Yes...Yes, he was standing in the guard shack at the airdrome. The sentry said something, something about a man who was looking for him. A little man with horn-rimmed glasses. The sentry had given a name but Mike couldn’t remember it.
The little man boarded the train.
Mike tried to reason with himself. He was still jumpy, that’s all. No—no—he wasn’t jumpy. Stergiou’s office—the voice that spoke to him from the shadows... The man with the walrus mustache, Howe-Wilken, his voice had whispered, “They have friends, everywhere.... They’ll get you, Morrison.”
The train jerked into motion.
The door opened. Mike looked up with a start. It was the medic.
“Major Howe-Wilken.”
“Yes.”
“Colonel Potter will see you, sir. The Colonel is in the fourth car forward, third compartment.”
Mike stumbled into the aisle as the train lurched around a bend. He hung onto the hand rail and moved down the car past the compartments of wounded soldiers. One thought: get off the train—get off it!
He reached the end of the car and pulled at the door. It was stuck tight. He tugged hard again and it opened. A blast of air greeted him as he stepped onto the platform. He gripped the rail and braced himself to jump. The ground tore past him with terrifying speed. No, it would be suicide.
Mike looked about. Maybe—maybe, with luck, he could reach Colonel Potter.
He stepped forward to the next platform and peered through the door window. The car had no compartments. It was jammed with soldiers. Good luck.
Mike opened the door and looked about cautiously. He scanned