The Mediterranean Caper (16 page)

“And her story?” Pitt prompted gently.

“She remembered being carried aboard a ship with a large
‘M'
painted on the funnel. That was the only thing she said that made any sense. The rest was insane babble.”

Pitt waited for more, but Zac had fallen silent, relighting his pipe and filling the room with a sweet aromatic odor.

“White slavery is a rotten business,” Pitt said tersely.

Zac nodded. “Those are only four cases of hundreds that are indirectly connected to von Till. If I could quote word for word from the INTERPOL files we would be sitting here for a month, and then some.”

“Do you think von Till masterminds the crimes?”

“No, the old devil is much too smart to become involved in the actual deed. He merely supplies the transportation. Smuggling is his game, and on a grand scale at that.”

“Why in hell hasn't the filthy bastard been stopped?” Pitt asked half angry, half confused.

“I wish I could answer that without a feeling of shame.” Zac shook his head sadly. “But I can't. Nearly every law enforcement agency in the world has tried to catch von Till with the goods, so to speak, but he has eluded every trap, murdered every agent sent to infiltrate Minerva Lines. His ships have been searched and re-searched a thousand times, yet nothing illegal is ever found.”

Pitt idly watched the smoke curl from Zac's pipe. “No one is that clever. If he's human, he can be caught.”

“God knows we've tried. Our combined law enforcement agencies have studied every inch of the Minerva ships, shadowed them day and night at sea, guarded them like hawks at the docks and searched every bulkhead with electronic detection gear.

“I can rattle off the names of at least twenty investigators—damn good ones too—who have made von Till's arrest their life's work.”

Pitt lit a second cigarette and stared at Zac steadily. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because I think you might help us.”

Pitt sat silent, scratching the irritating chest bandage. Might as well nibble at the bait, he thought.

“How?”

For the first time a flicker of devilishness showed in Zac's eyes, then disappeared as quickly as it had come.

“I understand you're quite friendly with von Till's niece.”

“I've laid her if that's what you mean.”

“How long have you known her?”

“We met for the first time on the beach yesterday.”

The surprise on Zac's face slowly turned to a sly grin. “You're either a very fast worker or a very adept liar.”

“Suit yourself,” Pitt said offhandedly. He stood up, stretching to loosen his sore muscles. “I know what you're thinking, and you can forget it.”

“It would be interesting to learn just what you see in my thoughts.”

“The oldest tactic in the world.” Pitt smiled knowingly. “Your intention would have me continue my intimate friendship with Teri in the hope that von Till would accept me as one of the family. This arrangement would in turn give me the run of the villa and a chance to observe the old kraut's actions at firsthand.”

Zac met his eyes evenly. “You have excellent perception, my dear Pitt. What do you say, are you game?”

“No chance!”

“May I ask why?”

“I met von Till over dinner last night, and we didn't part the best of friends. In fact, he even sicced his dog on me.”

Pitt knew Zac would not appreciate the humor. But what the hell, he thought, why go through the whole maddening story again. He began to wish longingly for a drink.

“From sex with the niece to dinner with the uncle, and all in the same day.” Zac shook his head incredulously. “You are indeed a fast worker.”

Pitt merely shrugged.

“It's a pity,” Zac continued. “You could have been a great help to us on the inside.” He puffed on his pipe until the embers in the bowl glowed a vivid orange-red. “We've had the villa under constant surveillance from a distance, but could detect nothing out of the ordinary. Two hundred yards; that was as near as we could get without arousing von Till's suspicions. We thought our little masquerade as tourist guides had finally paid off when you and his niece were apprehended by Colonel Zeno.”

“
Colonel
Zeno?”

Zac nodded, then paused deliberately for effect.

“Yes. He and Captain Darius are members of the Greek Gendarmerie. Technically, Zeno outranks me a few steps, you might say.”

“A rank of Colonel in the police?” Pitt asked. “Isn't that a bit unusual?”

“Not if you understood their law enforcement system. You see, with the exception of Athens and a few other larger cities which have their own metropolitan bureaus, the Greek rural and suburban areas are policed by the Gendarmerie, a branch of the national army and a very elite and efficient outfit.”

In spite of his hatred for Zeno and Darius, Pitt was impressed.

“That explains their presence, but what about you, Inspector? A narcotics agent after illegal drugs in Greece is the same as an FBI agent after a spy in Spain; it's just not done.”

“In an ordinary case, you're quite correct.” Zac's face turned grim and his voice hard. “But von Till is not an ordinary case. When we get him behind bars and put an end to his filthy smuggling operation we will automatically cut international crime by twenty percent. And that, I assure you, is no small margin.” An inner anger had taken control of Zac and he stopped for a moment, taking several deep breaths until it subsided. “In the past, each country worked separately, using INTERPOL channels to relay vital information across national borders. For instance, if I learned through the Narcotics Bureau's undercover sources that an illegal shipment of drugs was bound for England, I would simply send my information to INTERPOL London, who in turn would alert Scotland Yard. Time willing, they'd set a trap and apprehend the smugglers.”

“Sounds like a neat and workable arrangement.”

“Unfortunately it has yet to work with von Till,” Zac said quietly. “No matter how many warnings, how many traps, he always manages to evade the nets and come up like the proverbial sweet-smelling rose, fresh out of the excretion barrel. But this time it's going to be different.” He pounded the desk for effect. “Our governments have allowed us to form an international investigation team that can cross any border, use any police facilities, and have at their command men and equipment of the military.” Zac sighed heavily, then went on apologetically.

“I'm sorry, Pitt, I didn't mean to be long-winded. But I hope I've answered your question as to why I'm on Thasos.”

Pitt studied Zac carefully. The inspector looked like a man who was not used to failure. Every movement, every gesture was thoughtfully planned in advance; even his words carried an air of confident forethought. Yet, Pitt could not help detecting a glimmer of fear behind Zac's eyes; a fear of losing the game to von Till. Pitt began to wish more than ever for a drink.

“Where are the other members of your team?” Pitt asked. “So far I've only seen three of you.”

“At this moment a British Inspector is on board a Royal Navy destroyer, trailing
Queen Artemisia,
while a representative from the Turkish Police Bureau is observing her from the air in an antiquated, unmarked DC-3.” Zac spoke woodenly, as if quoting from a legal document. “Two detectives of the French Sureté Nationale are also on hand, posing as Marseille dockworkers, awaiting the
Queen
's arrival for refueling.”

A feeling of detached unreality began to creep up on Pitt. Zac's words were becoming dull and unmeaning. Indifferently, almost, with a kind of hazy academic interest, he wondered how much longer he could stay awake. He had had only a few hours' sleep in the last two days and it was catching up. Pitt rubbed his eyes and shook his head vigorously, then forced his mind back to alertness.

“Zac, old buddy.” It was the first time Pitt had called him by name. “I wonder if you would do me a personal favor.”

“If I can”—Zac grinned hesitantly—“
old buddy
.”

“I want Teri released in my custody.”

“Released in
your
custody?” Zac arched his eyebrows in accompaniment to wide innocent eyes. Steve McQueen couldn't have done it any better. “What lecherous scheme do you have up your sleeve?”

“No lechery,” Pitt said seriously. “You have no choice but to release her. Once free, it will take Teri all of twenty minutes to storm back to the villa—hell hath no fury like the wrath of a woman humiliated—demanding that Uncle Bruno do something about her shameful captivity. The old boy will put his shrewd mind into gear and, within the hour, your little underground spy network will be blown from Thasos back to the States.”

“You underestimate us,” Zac said urbanely. “I'm well aware of the consequences. Plans have been made for just such an emergency. We can be out of these quarters and working under a different cover by morning.”

“Too late,” Pitt countered sharply. “The damage is done. Von Till will be wise to your presence. He's sure to double every precaution.”

“You have a very convincing argument.”

“You're damn right I have.”

“And if I turned her over to you?” Zac asked speculatively.

“As soon as Teri is missed, if she hasn't been already, von Till will turn Thasos upside down in an exhaustive search. The safest place to hide her now is on board the
First Attempt
. He won't think to look for her there, at least not until he's sure she isn't on the island.”

Zac stared a long moment at Pitt, examining every inch of the man as if he were seeing him for the first time, wondering why someone with an excellent position and influential family would take such difficult and dangerous risks, never knowing when a miscalculation might spell the end of his career or even his death. Zac idly tapped his pipe against an ashtray, knocking the loose ashes from the round briar bowl.

“It will be as you say,” Zac murmured. “Providing, of course, the young lady will cause no trouble.”

“I don't think so,” Pitt grinned. “She has other things on her mind besides international drug smuggling. I'd say that sneaking off to the boat with me holds more interest than another dull evening with Uncle Bruno. Besides, show me a woman who doesn't crave a little taste of adventure, now and then, and I'll show you a—”

He broke off as the door opened and Giordino walked in, followed by Zeno. Giordino had a wide grin stretched across his cherub face and he clutched a bottle of Metaxa Five Star brandy in one hand.

“Look what Zeno found.” Giordino flicked off the bottle lid and sniffed the contents, screwing up his face into a mock look of ecstasy. “I've decided they're not such bad guys after all.”

Pitt laughed and turned to Zeno. “You'll have to excuse Giordino. He always comes unglued at the mere sight of booze.”

“If so”—Zeno grinned beneath his moustache—“we have much in common.” He stepped around Giordino and set a tray with four glasses on the desk.

“How's Darius?” Pitt asked.

“He is on his feet,” Zeno replied. “But he will be limping for a few days.”

“Tell him I'm sorry,” Pitt said sincerely. “I regret—”

“No regrets are necessary,” Zeno interrupted. “In our line of work these things happen.” He passed a glass to Pitt, noticing for the first time the bloodstained shirt. “You seem to have your injuries also.”

“Courtesy of von Till's dog,” Pitt said, holding the glass to the light.

Zac nodded silently. He now grasped more fully Pitt's hatred for von Till. He relaxed, hands hanging limply over the arms of the swivel chair, secure in the knowledge that Pitt had revenge on his mind, not sex.

“After you get back to your ship, we'll keep you posted by radio on von Till's activities.”

“Good,” Pitt said simply. He sipped the brandy, enjoying the fiery lava-like liquid that trickled down his throat into his stomach. “One more favor, Zac. I'd like you to use your official status and send a couple of messages to Germany.”

“Of course. What do you wish to say?”

Pitt had already picked up a pad and pencil off the desk. “I'll write everything down including names and addresses, but will have to fake my German spelling.” When Pitt finished he passed the pad to Zac. “Ask them to forward their reply to the
First Attempt
. I've added NUMA's radio frequency.”

Zac scanned the pad. “I don't understand your motives.”

“Just a wild hunch.” Pitt poured another shot of Metaxa in his glass. “By the way, when will the
Queen Artemisia
make her detour by Thasos?”

“How…but how do you know that?”