The Angry Hills - Leon Uris [65]
Mike peeled off a million drachmas from his roll.
“Oh, no!” Ketty protested. “I did not mean that. I would not take money from you.”
“For your daughter.”
“No—no—you will need it. You will need it for a boat to Africa.”
“Don’t argue.” He put the money on the dresser.
“You are very nice. What is your name?”
“Jay.”
“That is what I like about the Englezos. Their names are so simple.”
Their conversation stopped as a German argued with a girl outside the door.
“Dogs—dogs—always arguing. There is some wine in the night stand. Pour yourself a glass.”
“I’ve had enough to drink.”
She walked over to him and smiled. “You are a nice man, Jay. Would you like to go to bed with me?”
“I’m just not in the mood right now, honey....”
“I understand....”
A staccato knock on the door. Ketty opened it a crack and held a whispered conversation with the woman on the other side. She turned to Mike. “Soldiers outside with Gestapo. They are going to search. Get into the alcove and draw the curtain. Don’t move a muscle.”
Mike obeyed.
In another moment he heard the door open. He heard Ketty greet a man in an amorous voice. The man laughed and Ketty squealed in pretended delight as they moved about the room. The man spoke in German. He heard the smack of a kiss.
He heard the German grunting as he pulled off his boots.
The bed creaked just a few feet from where Mike stood flat against a wall. Amorous moans—kisses—the bed creaking faster...
A smashing rap on the door. “Gestapo!” a voice boomed.
Mike heard the German stumble into his trousers, sputtering oaths. The door opened.
“What the hell is this!”
“Major! Forgive us, but a British escapee is in the area.”
“Well, he isn’t in here, dammit!” The door slammed.
The hours passed. It was two A.M.
Ketty came to the room once more and flopped to the bed, exhausted. “Those louts never go home,” she mumbled. “There are three drunks in the parlor now.... There are some of them that like to beat the girls....”
She rose and drew the curtain to the alcove and splashed cold water on her face.
As Mike began to get his bearings, he planned his next move. Obviously Lisa could not be trusted and he boiled over at the thought that she had duped him.
There was hilly country and a forest near Chalandri. He would hide out there. It was three days till Thursday and he would keep the appointment with Julius Chesney at the Piccadilly Café.
He told himself it was foolish to return to Chalandri, but he seethed with anger at himself as he realized he would try to see Lisa again.
“I’ll leave just as soon as it turns light,” Mike said.
Ketty was wiping her face with a towel. “Do you have a place to stay?”
“Yes, in Chalandri.”
“I’d better drive you out there now, before it turns light.”
“What about the curfew?”
Ketty smiled sarcastically. “There are some things the Germans do not put a curfew on. I am allowed to travel. You are welcome to stay here, if you like.”
“It’s out of the question.”
“I’ll give you my phone number. You can never tell when you’ll need me.”
ELEVEN
FOUR A.M.
The night was star-studded. Mike skirted the lemon grove on Lazarus’ farm. The ground began to rise at the boundary of the field. He came to a ditch.
It would be dangerous to continue without more light. A stray dog could upset everything if he crossed a strange field. The forest was several kilometers away—a good hour’s hike.
Mike scooted down into the ditch and decided to wait out the night. From the rise he could see the full stretch of the farm and the farmhouse and the outlines of the pump house.
He was still shaken from the events of the night, but he was so bleary-eyed and exhausted that he dozed off. It was close to freezing in the ditch.
Mike rolled over and blew into his hands and flexed his fingers and massaged his numbed legs. A gray tint of dawn and a rooster crowing at a nearby farm. He stumbled