The Angry Hills - Leon Uris [68]
The only thing that was real to Mike was the heartless ticking of the clock and the thought that it would all be over soon.
He knew he would have to pay for this love somehow. He became calm. There was no other way. Somehow, he would find the courage to leave her.
Lisa’s face was pale and filled with worry. “Something has gone wrong, Vassili. The submarine will not be here.”
They clung to each other.
“Dear God! What are we going to do?” she cried.
Lisa pressed herself against Mike. He was exhausted but sleepless. He was dangerously close to the breaking point. Her continued presence sapped the will from him. He drew the blanket over them and turned to look out of the rain-spattered window.
He knew now what he would have to do. Another day—two—three of lingering farewells—impossible... He would keep his appointment with Julius Chesney tomorrow.
Thursday.
Mike had hoped Lisa would be gone. It would have been easier.
The clock read ten past eleven.
He put on his jacket and tucked the pistol into his belt.
“What are you doing, Vassili?”
“I’m going out.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
Mike walked toward the door. She blocked his passage.
“Vassili! What is the matter with you?”
“I said I’m going out.”
“Are you insane? The Gestapo will have you within an hour.”
“I can’t take it any more, Lisa...”
“Darling,” she cried, “our people are working day and night! Another few days...”
“Can’t you see what’s happened? Do you want me to disgrace myself? Do you want me to crawl?”
She fell against him. Her fingers worked nervously, grasping and releasing his arms. “It is my fault for wanting you. I’ll go away, if that’s what you want.”
“It will be just as bad that way.”
He whirled her around and bolted through the door.
“Vassili!”
He stopped for an instant at the front door and looked up.
She stood at the top of the circular stairs, her fingers tearing frantically at her clothes. “Vassili! No! No!”
He closed the door behind him.
THIRTEEN
CONCORD SQUARE.
Mike stood across the street from the Piccadilly Café. There seemed little activity about. He wondered if he was making a mistake. But it seemed that Lisa was making him do foolish things. He hedged and began to turn back.
“Ah, Jay Linden, right on time. I see you got rid of your two traveling companions.”
Mike wheeled around and looked into the mastiff face of Julius Chesney. A second man, apparently a seaman, stood alongside him.
“Well, let us not stand here on the sidewalk, dear fellow. I believe a noonday nip is in order,” Chesney wheezed. “Come along. I didn’t bring the German army with me. My friend here is Antonis, the captain of the Arkadia.”
The three entered the café and found an isolated booth. They ordered krasi. Mike studied Antonis, who seemed oblivious as he puffed away on his pipe.
Chesney, talking in whispers, told Mike the Arkadia was a small, trim and fast motorboat that carried a crew of three. The ship’s papers would read: Crete, but actual destination would be Cairo. Antonis, Mike was assured, knew the route well, having made two other trips with British escapees. Mike’s sponsor, the man who was going to pay for his passage, was due to join them shortly.
“When do we sail?” Mike asked.
“As soon as we get another escapee to man the boat.”
“Since I saw you last I raised some money. If Antonis and I can handle the boat between us, I’ll buy the passage.”
The leathery old sailor nodded. He reckoned he and Mike could handle the ship.
“Four million drachmas,” Chesney shot out quickly.
“Aren’t you stretching it?”
“You are the one who seems eager to leave.”
“I’ll give you three million if we sail tonight.” Chesney scratched his jowls. “Let me see your money.”
Mike placed his bundle of cash on the table. For the first time, Julius Chesney showed emotion. His fat jowls quivered. His fleshy hand darted over the table. Mike grabbed his wrist.
“You take half now—half when we get underway.” Chesney looked at the money, sighed and withdrew his hand and watched Mike carefully as he counted off a million