Hearts of Stone (35 page)

‘Ready?’ He glanced round and they nodded.

‘Then let’s go, Kramer.’

The Feldwebel called out, ‘Covering fire!’

The Spandau teams opened up and brilliant streaks of tracer leaped towards the heights on either side. The other men remaining in the outcrop added their fire and the air filled with the deafening roar and concussion of small-arms.

‘Go!’ Peter yelled and burst from cover and sprinted across the open ground towards the line of spoil heaps. Kramer and the others sprang after him. It took only a moment before the first of the enemy spotted them and adjusted their aim and bullets whipped past and smacked into the ground. Gritting his teeth and snatching breaths, Peter raced towards the piles of earth and rocks and tumbled into cover before he scrambled on all fours, making for the trees ahead. The others followed him. All except one man who tripped and was rising to his feet when he was struck in the side and spun round before crumpling amid the tufts of grass.

‘Leave him!’ Kramer bellowed. ‘Keep going!’

Peter led them on, keeping low beside the line of spoil heaps, acutely conscious that while they would be sheltered from the men on the hillside they would still be in view of the snipers on the cliff. Sure enough, he heard the sharp crack of a rifle but did not see the fall of the shot and increased his pace. Ahead, there was a short stretch of ground before the trees and he paused to let his men catch up. Glancing back, he saw Kramer and the others breathing hard, grim-looking and ready to exact their revenge on the Greeks who had ambushed them. A bullet struck the piled earth just above Peter’s head and he flinched.

‘Best not stick around, sir.’ Kramer grinned.

Bunching his leg muscles, Peter launched himself towards the trees. He had not gone more than five metres before several of the enemy opened fire. They had seen the direction he and the two squads had taken and anticipated their next move. Soil burst from the ground under the impact of bullets and Peter heard the dull whack of a shot striking one of his men but did not look back as he ran on. Then he was in amongst the trees and rushed forward another ten paces before stopping in their shadows and throwing himself to the ground, gasping. The others went down on either side of him, with Kramer staying on one knee as he hunched low. A final few bullets tore through the trees overhead, smashing small branches and showering them with twigs and leaves before the enemy turned their fire back on the men sheltering by the dig.

Peter cleared his throat and called out, ‘All here?’

Kramer glanced round. ‘Two men down, sir.’

Fourteen of them left then, Peter reflected. Barely enough for what he had in mind. But that could not be helped.

‘Feldwebel, take the first section with you to the edge of the forest and give harassing fire. Only go forward when I begin my attack. Clear?’

‘Yes, sir. Good luck.’

Peter nodded his thanks and then Kramer waved his men forward through the low trees, at an angle as they climbed the slope. Peter waited a moment and then beckoned to the rest to follow him. He unslung his machine pistol and cocked the weapon. There might well be a few of the enemy lying hidden under the trees to cover the ambushers’ flank. Even if that were not the case they would be aware that the Germans were moving up to counter-attack. Peter hoped that Kramer and his squad would draw their attention while his party made for the high ground dominating the hillside. The gloom beneath the boughs of the trees made the shadows seem dark and threatening and Peter had to prevent himself imagining the presence of enemies lying in wait to shoot him down. They could see the trees thinning ahead of them when the sound of firing intensified away to their left as Kramer’s section made their presence known. Peter pushed himself on, increasing his pace, until he emerged from the trees. The slope became steeper ahead of them, strewn with large rocks and stunted shrubs and pines. More than adequate concealment for his needs. He paused as his men caught up and then ordered them to follow him, keeping as low as they could to avoid being seen. Even in the failing light, the enemy on top of the cliff might pick them out as they made for the ridge.

They clambered on, breathing hard from the exertion of the climb and the strain of battle. Peter kept scanning the ground ahead, looking for any sign of the enemy, but nothing moved on the slope in front of them, only the fleeting motion of birds darting low as they hunted for insects. It took nearly ten minutes of increasingly hard climbing before the ground began to level out close to the ridge and Peter halted the men before they became silhouetted against the skyline.

‘We go along the edge here, and work our way round their line. No one is to fire until I give the order. Let’s move!’

Keeping hunched low they picked their way through the boulders in an extended line, the loose items on their webbing clinking and softly thudding as their sturdy boots ground over the stony soil. With the gunfight still raging away below and to the left there was no chance of the sounds of their approach giving them away and Peter kept the pace up. They had gone three hundred paces along the top of the hillside when he saw the first of the enemy clearly: two men lying on top of a flat rock, firing down at the mountain troops by the dig. The machine-gun crews were husbanding what was left of their ammunition and only an occasional burst was aimed along the slope. Even so a tracer round glanced off a rock lower down the slope and angled up, flaring a short distance over the heads of Peter and his men, causing them to stop and duck briefly before he waved them on.

A short distance further on and he could see more of the
andartes
dotting the slope, some hard to pick out in their dark clothes. He stopped the squad and assigned them their targets as they spread out over fifty metres.

‘Shoot first, cut down as many as you can, then use grenades. That’ll distract them while Kramer’s squad move in.’

Peter waited impatiently as his men moved into place and took aim. Then, glancing to both sides to ensure that they were ready, he raised his machine pistol and sighted it on a man crouching behind a rock nearly a hundred metres down the slope. He closed his left eye, took a breath and let it out gradually as he gently squeezed the trigger. The folding stock bucked into his shoulder as the gun shook and spat fire and then he released the trigger and saw that he had narrowly missed the Greek, who now spun round, looking up the slope. Peter fired again and the man tumbled into the undergrowth beside the rock. On either side the other men opened fire and Peter glimpsed more of the enemy being cut down along the hillside. He allowed them a few more seconds before he cupped a hand to his mouth and bellowed, ‘Grenades!’

He lowered his gun and took one of the charges attached to a long wooden handle and unscrewed the base. A short length of cord fell out and Peter tugged it firmly and then swung his arm back and threw the grenade down the slope in a shallow arc towards where he had seen his man disappear. There was a bright flash and puff of smoke and then the boom of the explosion reached his ears. More explosions burst along the slope on either side. Away to the left he saw a German soldier break cover from the treeline and rush forwards and the others followed, going to ground and opening fire while their comrades leap-frogged past them to the next firing position.

The attack from both flank and rear had surprised the enemy and now Peter could see others bursting from cover and scurrying along the slope to escape being caught in the Germans’ trap. His men turned their attention on the fugitives and shot down two more.

‘Don’t let them escape!’ Peter yelled, rising up and running along the ridge to keep up with the enemy. He came to the man at the end of the line and nudged him with his boot. ‘With me!’

The man scrambled up and they hurried on, pausing only to shoot when an obvious target presented itself. The firing had slackened as the Greeks broke off and made their escape, no doubt hoping to get away once night fell. Then, a short distance away, no more than thirty metres, two figures appeared between some shrubs, heading directly up the slope. Peter stopped in his tracks and snatched his machine pistol up and fired. Several rounds rattled off and the first figure tumbled over. Peter swung his weapon fractionally and pressed the trigger again. The bolt clicked sharply but the magazine was spent. He cursed and reached for the magazine release and let it drop to his feet as he reached for a replacement, all the time keeping his gaze fixed on the second figure. It turned, and he saw with surprise that it was a woman. She glanced down at her fallen comrade and then straightened up as she raised a pistol and aimed it at the Germans and fired. The bullets crashed through the undergrowth close beside them and then the woman had spent her ammunition and paused to issue a defiant shout before she ran on towards the crest of the hill.

Peter felt an icy thrust of shock course through his body. ‘Eleni,’ he muttered.

Then he felt the man behind him shoulder past; and he raised his rifle and took aim at the fleeing woman.

‘NO!’ Peter shouted, throwing himself against the soldier and knocking his weapon aside as the rifle fired. The round tore harmlessly up into the sky.

‘What the fuck, sir!’ The soldier turned on him with a furious expression.

‘Let her go.’

‘What?’

‘I said let her go. We don’t shoot women.’

The soldier looked at him in astonishment and then turned back as both watched Eleni clamber up the slope, her outline clearly delineated against the glow along the ridge. The soldier made to raise his rifle again and Peter struck it down.

‘I told you!’ he raged. ‘Let her go!’

The soldier scowled back and Peter feared that he might knock him aside and finish the job, but by the time the man’s eyes were drawn back in the direction of the woman, she had passed over the crest and was gone. He lowered his rifle with an angry growl as Peter’s shoulders slumped with relief. His heart was pounding wildly and for a moment he was oblivious to the scattered shots still sounding from the slope below him as the mountain troops chased the last of the enemy away. All that mattered at that precise moment, the only thought that filled his mind, was that Eleni was alive and had escaped.

For now.

Chapter Thirty-Two

E
ven though the midday sunlight was streaming into Sturmbannführer Steiner’s office and the sky outside was a deep blue, unbesmirched by a shred of cloud, the mood inside was tense and cold. Peter was standing at ease in front of Steiner’s desk while the SS officer looked through his report of the previous day’s ambush. Steiner was hunched over the document, his neatly bandaged head showing a small dark stain over the cut he had sustained when he had tripped and fallen, as the first shots were fired. He had only emerged in the twilight, a full half-hour after the skirmish was over, staggering groggily towards the shed that was being used as a dressing station. That was where Peter had found him, and relinquished command to his superior. Despite the cut to his head, Steiner was in a strangely euphoric mood. Once his injury had been dressed, he gave orders for the mountain troops to fall back to the trucks, carrying those too wounded to walk.

As they marched out of the valley, moving cautiously in gathering darkness, they encountered the men who had been sent back to guard the vehicles. Alerted by the distant sound of gunfire they had come hurrying to the rescue, passing through the village on the way. That had been deserted, the inhabitants fleeing to hide in the surrounding hills in fear of German retaliation. Steiner took this as proof of their collaboration with the ambushers and ordered that the village be razed to the ground. His men used clusters of grenades to destroy some buildings and piled furniture in others, dowsing anything that would burn with kerosene from the villager’s lamps before lighting the fires. The flaming buildings had lit up the surrounding hills and the crimson glow was still visible from the trucks as they began to rumble back down the road towards Lefkada.

Steiner flipped the covering page back and slid the document to one side as he looked up at the junior officer standing in front of him. ‘It was a pity that Hauptmann Dietrich was killed so early in the action. But I am sure that he will receive a posthumous decoration for saving your life. That at least will offer some comfort to his family.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Peter replied flatly. He doubted that it would be of any comfort.

‘You did well, under the circumstances, Muller.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

‘Of course, I would have taken command had I been able to. And achieved much the same result, I expect. Still, I will not cavil. You did your duty and you did it well.’ He smiled quickly, before the expression faded into a slight frown. ‘There is one detail, however, that might concern any wider readership of this report. That is the matter of the woman you refused to fire on and thereby permitted to escape.’

‘Yes, sir. She was unarmed. I assumed she was a non-combatant.’

‘Really? I thought it might be because you recognised her. Eleni Thesskoudis, I believe.’

Peter froze and his anxious expression betrayed him.

‘I thought so. You were overheard by one of the men. He reported the incident to his sergeant who brought the matter to me. Once he mentioned the name Eleni, her identity was obvious. So it was our old friend Eleni Thesskoudis you saved.’

‘Yes, sir,’ he admitted.

‘Your inadvertent act of mercy may still serve our ends.’

‘Sir?’

Steiner folded his hands together and straightened up. ‘If the young woman had been shot, that would have been merely one less enemy for us to deal with. However, if she could be taken alive then I am sure some of my men could persuade her to reveal a great deal of useful information about the bands of brigands opposing us on Lefkas.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Peter swallowed. He desperately tried not to let his expression betray his fear for Eleni.

‘But that’s not why you spared her, is it?’

‘No,’ Peter admitted.

‘You let her live because you once knew her.’

‘She was my friend . . . sir, as you said.’

Steiner shrugged. ‘Whatever she was, Eleni Thesskoudis is now your enemy, and the enemy of Germany. As such it is your duty to forget your past association with her and with anyone else you knew on this island before the war. I take it you understand that, Leutnant?’

‘Yes, sir. Of course.’

‘I am glad to hear it. The fatherland has no use for men who forget their duty.’ He let the threat dangle in the air for a moment before he lightly ran his fingers through the hair above the bandage. ‘But being an intelligent officer, you will no doubt anticipate that I have taken steps to take the woman prisoner.’

Peter felt his blood run cold. ‘Sir?’

Steiner tapped the report. ‘As soon as I finished reading this earlier in the morning, I gave orders for the arrest of the parents of Eleni Thesskoudis. By now the first notices will be pinned up on the streets of Lefkada announcing that their daughter has two days to give herself up or her parents will be taken to the square outside this building and hanged, at nine o’clock the day after tomorrow.’

Peter took a half step towards Steiner, his face strained with horror at his superior’s words. ‘No . . .’

Steiner cocked an eyebrow. ‘No? Why not, Muller?’

‘Sir, they . . . they are innocent.’

‘They are Greeks. Our enemy. Innocence has nothing to do with it. What matters is results. I need their daughter and they are merely the means to achieving that end. If she loves her parents then she will surrender to us. Otherwise, they will die, and she will live with the knowledge that she could have saved them. At best we will have her, and all the information she can reveal about the
andartes
. At worst, we will have demonstrated to the Greeks that we see our threats through, and at the same time your former friend will be reduced to grieving and incapable of fighting us.’

Peter swallowed before he replied. ‘Or you will simply have fired her desire to kill Germans all the more, sir.’

‘I think not. She is a woman, after all,’ Steiner replied dismissively. ‘A weak thing, who will no longer present us with any problems.’

Peter sucked in a breath. ‘I hope you are right, sir. Truly I do. But I fear that if you carry out your threat then you will turn the islanders against us.’

Steiner laughed. ‘They are already against us! The point is that we must show them that resistance is worse than futile. It is too late to rescind my decision. The announcement has been made. To back off now would be taken exactly for what it is, a display of weakness. Surely you can see that?’

Peter thought a moment. ‘Yes, sir, I understand, but surely it would be better to imprison them as a punishment for their daughter’s actions? That would still send out the message that we are not to be trifled with.’

‘Trifled with?’ Steiner clicked his tongue. ‘Eight of our men are dead and another twelve wounded. The executions of Inspector Thesskoudis and his wife, or their daughter, if she surrenders herself, are only the start. You know the general orders as well as I do, ten civilians executed for every German soldier killed by partisans. Tomorrow, we will return to what is left of the village we burned yesterday and we will round up eighty men, and women if the numbers need making up, and bring them back here to be strung up. Even if we can’t run the
andartes
down, we can make sure that we turn their own people against them for fear of reprisals. Don’t look so uncomfortable, Muller. War is a messy business and the sooner it is over the sooner we can return to more civilised ways. Speaking of civilisation . . .’

Steiner eased himself back and regarded Peter with a broad smile. ‘There is one other matter I should appraise you of. I did not want to say anything until Salminger confirmed that he would provide me with enough men and trucks for the task at hand . . .’

‘Sir?’

The SS officer broke into a grin. ‘I found the cave, Muller! During the ambush. Shortly before the enemy attack began I came across a thicket close to the cliff, and beyond it what looked like a goat track. I had almost squeezed through when I heard the first shots and thought I might get a better overview of the fight from higher up. So I followed the track and found the entrance to a cave, hidden by a finger of rock. I went inside.’ His eyes gleamed with excitement at the memory. ‘That’s when I found it – at the back of the cave – a stone slab with an inscription. Even my Greek was good enough to translate it. The tomb of Odysseus, my friend!’

Peter felt overwhelmed by his superior’s revelation. ‘Can . . . Can it be true?’

‘Absolutely. I made quite sure of it before I left the cave when the shooting had stopped. In my excitement, I’m afraid I slipped and fell off the track. Hence . . .’ He touched the bandage on his head. ‘Anyway, Salminger’s men will return to the site and start removing the contents of the tomb. We will join them once we have concluded our duties here and demonstrated to the locals the futility of continuing to resist us. Exciting times, my dear Muller!’

‘Yes, sir.’

Steiner waited for a moment and when it was clear his mood was not shared by his subordinate his smile faded. ‘You are dismissed.’

They exchanged a salute and Peter clicked his heels before turning away and marching out of the office. With the door closed behind him he stood in the corridor and felt a slight tremble in his hands. Despite the knews of the discovery of the tomb his mind turned to the fate of Eleni’s parents. That was his responsibility. He had written the report that had led to her identification. Yet what else could he have done? It had been his action that had saved her life. For an officer to intervene as he had done was something that could not remain unremarked on by the soldier who had been at his side. But not to have acted was unthinkable. There was no doubt in his mind that she would have been killed. He had acted on instinct and knew that he would rather have died himself . . .

The thought shook him, and then, at that instant, he realised how much Eleni meant to him. How much she had always meant to him. At the same time he knew, beyond any microscopic measure of doubt, that she would not, could not, ever respond in kind. For Eleni would now always regard him with burning rage and hatred, and the thought filled his heart with leaden, aching despair.

She sensed something was wrong immediately from the way that Andreas looked at her the moment he had finished talking with the messenger at the mouth of the cave. The man had come from Lefkada that morning, breathless and anxious. He had asked to speak to the leader of the
andartes
at a nearby village and been brought to the cave blindfolded. Pausing only to accept the wineskin of watered raki that was offered to him and take several deep gulps, the man glanced at Eleni and asked to speak to Andreas alone. The two moved to the edge of the cave where they would not be overheard. Eleni saw the man take a folded sheet of paper from inside his sheepskin jerkin and pass it over. Andreas scanned it quickly and read it again carefully before he refolded the paper. He nodded his head in thanks and indicated that the messenger should warm himself beside the fire. Then, pausing to steel himself, Andreas crossed the floor of the cave to where Eleni was sitting on her sheepskin bedding.

Despite the humid warmth of the cave Eleni felt a chill of dread quickly spread down her spine and could hardly breathe at his approach. He stopped a pace away and stared at her. Only one side of his face was lit by the wavering glow of the fire and she saw the pain cut into his expression as he swallowed.

‘Eleni . . . I’m sorry.’

She swallowed, feeling panic rising. ‘Sorry? What is it?’

When she made to rise, he placed a hand firmly on her shoulder and gently eased her back down on to the sheepskin and squatted before her. ‘It’s bad news, my love. Bad news . . .’

‘Is it . . . my parents?’

He nodded.

‘Dead?’ She saw what she thought to be acknowledgement in his eyes and clasped her cheek. ‘How? Tell me, how.’

For a moment Andreas did not know how to begin to explain then he shook his head. ‘Not dead. Not yet, but they cannot be saved.’

She frowned. ‘What do you mean. For pity’s sake, tell me!’

‘They have been arrested by the Gestapo. Along with some other hostages.’ He indicated the folded sheet of paper. ‘The Germans have posted notices saying that your parents will be executed . . . unless you give yourself up.’

The words struck her like a blow and she felt giddy for an instant before Andreas reached out and took her hand. She shook his grip aside and held out her palm.

‘Show me,’ she said.

Andreas gave her the folded sheet and watched silently as she opened it and read through the short, brutal demand of the enemy. Her brow creased and her lips pressed together in a thin line as she thrust the announcement back to him with a look of agony. ‘No . . . no. How can this be? Why my parents? Why them?’

‘I don’t know, Eleni. But somehow they have discovered you are one of the
andartes
. We have been betrayed. I will not rest until I find out who is responsible. I swear it, on my life and by Holy God. They will pay for this.’ He touched his breast.

‘We must do something.’

Andreas raised his eyebrows. ‘Eleni, we cannot.’

‘No! We must do something. They must be saved. They’re innocent.’

‘Of course they are. But the Germans are holding them in the cells under the Gestapo headquarters in Lefkada. The town is surrounded by checkpoints and the garrison camp is less than a kilometre away . . . There’s nothing we can do. There are too many of them. It would be suicide to try anything.’

She looked at him coldly. ‘I cannot let them murder my parents. If you lack the courage to attempt to free them, then I’ll do it myself.’

Even as Eleni spoke the words she knew how foolish they sounded. Worse, she had impugned the honour of the man she loved. The pained look in his face only added to her despair and desperation.

‘Eleni, my love.’ He spoke softly and took her face between his hands and held her gaze as the first tear rolled down her cheek. ‘There is nothing we can do. Not I, not you. No matter how much we care for them. They are as my family now and I would give almost anything to try and save them. But I would not give your life for it. Nor would they want that. They would want you to live. To survive this war and go on to have children of your own, and grandchildren. I know this as surely as I breathe . . . And so do you. Am I wrong?’