The Dark Side of the Island - Jack Higgins [42]
He paused, obviously undecided, and Lomax moved from behind the boulder and tapped him on the shoulder. "And where might you be going?"
Yanni smiled sheepishly. "I didn't mean no harm, Mr. Lomax. I thought you might get into trouble again like this afternoon."
"Well you thought wrong," Lomax said. "Does Katina know you're here?"
"If I'd told her, she'd have wanted to come too."
Lomax turned him round firmly and gave him a push. "Now yon get back down to the villa before she starts worrying about you."
The boy moved away. He paused once and looked round, but Lomax hardened his heart and waved him on and he disappeared reluctantly into the dark shadow of the ravine. For a moment Lomax stood there, a smile touching his mouth, and then he turned and started to climb again.
When he moved over the rim of the plateau near the top of the mountain and looked again upon the Tomb of Achilles, night was at hand.
He stood in the desolate light of gloaming and the mountain was tipped with orange fire. Below him the sea was black with depth, purple and grey near the shore, and the lights of the villa seemed very far away.
The beauty of it was too much for a man and he felt strangely sad and drained of all emotion and then the fire on the mountain died and night enveloped him. A small wind whispered between the pillars of the temple and there was only the silence.
He turned cold and a thrill of elemental fear moved inside him. Here on top of this mountain, standing amid the ruins of an ancient race, he was faced with the silence of eternity and the realisation of his own insignificance in the general scheme of things. Whatever a man did came to nothing in the final analysis.
That being so, he could only do what had to be done and hope for the best. He crossed the plateau and started down towards the other side of the island.
14
A Fine Night for Dying
The moon was rising as he went down the hill through the olive trees and he could taste the salt on the wind. The farm was shrouded in the darkness of the hollow, still and quiet with no light showing anywhere, and he ducked under a fence and moved cautiously across the yard.
An old and battered pick-up truck, relic of the war years, was parked by the porch. The radiator was still warm when he touched it and he stood for a moment, a slight frown on his face, and then mounted the steps to the porch and opened the door.
There was a slight eerie creaking from the hinges, but no other sound. He moved into the kitchen, eyes probing the darkness, and paused suddenly, aware with complete certainty that he was not alone.
A foot scraped on a flagstone and Dimitri Paros said from the shadows, "Come right in, Mr. Lomax. We hoped you'd call."
Lomax took a quick step backwards and something exploded in the pit of his stomach, doubling him over. He sank to his knees and keeled slowly over on to one side.
A lamp was turned on, flooding the room with light, and he lay with his knees drawn up, fighting for breath while his wrists were tied behind his back.
He was aware of voices speaking together in Greek and the sound of laughter and then someone grabbed him by the lapels and hauled him to his feet.
There were two others besides Dimitri and stamped in the same mould, young fishermen in shabby reefer jackets and patched jeans. One of them was shaking with excitement and the other kept wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
Dimitri's head was heavily bandaged, his face drawn with pain. "You're going to die, Englishman," he said, and his eyes were like stone. "For making a fool of me in front of my friends with your dirty tricks and for sending my father to his death in Fonchi camp."
Lomax was managing to draw air into his tortured lungs once more, but his mouth was so parched that he found difficulty in speaking. He moistened dry lips and croaked, "I didn't send your father to his death, or anyone else. He was a