The Moonspinners (24 page)

The test was far from satisfactory, but it would have to do. I gave it another minute or two, then turned to hurry back. Overriding even my desire to find Mark quickly was the fear – irrational, perhaps, but nevertheless strong – that Colin, in some mysterious manner, would vanish again while I was away from him. But no, he was there, sitting under a bush. He rose to greet me, his face eager.

I shook my head. ‘Not a sign. I honestly didn't expect it. They'll have gone to the caique. So we'll go after them, and we'd better hurry, because I've got to get back.'

‘Look, you don't have to fag yourself going all that way. I can manage on my own,' said Mark's brother.

‘I dare say, but I'm coming with you. For one thing, I've got a lot that Mark ought to know; for another, even Josef might think twice before shooting you in front of me.'

‘Well,' said Colin, ‘let me go in front. I can clear the way a bit with this stick. And give me that bag; I oughtn't to be letting you carry it.'

‘Thank you.' I surrendered the bag meekly, and followed him up the path through the trees.

He went at a fair speed. Every moment he seemed more himself again, and obviously all he wanted now was to find his brother with the least possible delay, and shake the Cretan dust off his rope soles. I didn't blame him.

‘What did you sing that for?' he asked, over his shoulder.

‘Sing what? I can't even remember what I
was
singing.'

‘Was it? Oh, yes, I believe it was.'

‘No wonder Mark didn't come out!' he said, laughing.

It was a crudity I wouldn't have expected of him, young as he was. I felt the blood sting my cheeks. ‘What
do
you mean?'

‘He's so square he's practically a cube. Nothing more tuneful than
Wozzeck
will do for Mark, or somebody-or-other's concerto for three beer glasses and a bassoon. Charlie's the same, but with her it's show-off; too, too RADA for words, Charlie is. Charlie's my sister Charlotte. Julia and I like pop – she's the next youngest to me. Ann's tone deaf.'

‘Oh, I see.'

‘You're a bit out of date, though, aren't you?'

‘I suppose so. But look, I'm dying to hear what happened to you. Suppose you tell me, and we might be able to get some sort of a story pieced together before we find Mark.'

So he told me, in snatches, breathlessly, as we toiled up the gully.

When Mark had fallen, wounded, from the track, Colin had run to him, only to be dragged back by Stratos and Josef. In the resulting struggle Colin had been knocked on the temple, and had fainted, but only for a few minutes. When he came to, they had secured him with some sort of rough bonds, stuffed a rag in his mouth, and were carrying him downhill, he could not tell in which direction. He kept as limp and still as he could, in the hazy hope that they might leave him for dead, or even relax sufficiently to give him a chance to get away.

It was a long way, and rough, and by now it was fairly dark, so his captors used most of their energy for the trek, and a good deal of their talk was in Greek, but he gathered that they were disagreeing violently about something.

‘I can't be absolutely sure I remember properly,' he said, ‘because of course I was muzzy in the head, and scared because I thought they'd murder me any minute – and besides, I was half crackers about Mark . . . I thought he was either dead, or lying bleeding to death somewhere. But some of the argument was in English – when the ones that called themselves Stratos and Tony got going – and I do remember quite a bit of what was said.'

‘Try, anyway. It could be important.'

‘Oh, I've tried. I had nothing else to do for three days except think what it was all in aid of; but it's more
impressions
than actual
memory
, if you see what I mean. I do know that Tony was blazing mad at them for shooting Mark and taking me along. We'd never have traced them, he said, we hadn't seen them properly; and in any case they could give each other alibis, “but taking the boy like this – it's stupid!”'

‘Well,' I said, ‘so it was. I still don't know why they did it.'

‘Sofia,' said Colin, simply. ‘I'd had this cut on the head, and I was bleeding like a pig. She thought if they left me, I'd bleed to death, and she made such a fuss and she was so cut up about the whole thing, I gathered, that they gave in, and just hustled me away. It was partly Tony, too. In the end he said that they might get away with Mark's shooting, as an accident, but if we were both found dead, or badly hurt, there'd be a fuss that might take in the whole district, and uncover “Alexandros' murder”, and that would get back to them, and “the London affair”.'

‘“The London affair”?' I asked sharply.

‘I think that's what he said. I can't be sure.'

‘It could be. And the man who was murdered was “Alexandros”, was he? It certainly sounds as if he might be someone catching up on Stratos and Tony from their London life, doesn't it? I wonder if he was Greek or English? He talked English to Tony, but then Tony's Greek isn't good.'

‘He'd be Greek, surely, if his name was – oh, I see, you mean they may just have been, what's the word? giving his name the Greek form?'

‘Hellenizing, yes. But it doesn't matter; if you heard right, then he was killed for something that happened in London. I remember now, Tony did say something about London “not being healthy” – not to me, he was only joking, to some children, but it struck me at the time. Well, to get back to Saturday night, what on earth did they intend to do with you?'

‘Quite honestly, I think they were in such a general flap about what had happened, that they were just getting away from it as quickly as they could. I gathered that Stratos and Tony were livid with Josef for losing his head and shooting Mark, and that Josef was all for cutting their losses and killing me as well, then and there, but Stratos was swithering a bit, and Tony and Sofia were dead against it. In the end they sort of gave up, and bundled me off – clear out first and think later; you know. In fact, Tony was all for bolting – really bolting, I mean, getting right away. He wanted to get straight out. I remember all that bit clearly, because I was praying he wouldn't go; with him being English, I thought I might stand a better chance talking to him than the others. And he
hadn't
a part in it, really.'

‘You mean Tony wanted to clear out on his own?'

‘Yes. I remember exactly what he said. “Well, once you shot that tourist, you landed yourselves, whatever you do with the boy. I had nothing to do with it, or with Alex, and you know that's true. I'm getting out. I'll take my cut here and now, and don't pretend you'll not be glad to see the last of me, Stratos, dear.” That was the way he talked, in a kind of silly voice; I can't quite describe it.'

‘Don't bother, I've heard it. What did Stratos say?'

‘He said, “They're no use to you, they're still hot. You can't get rid of them yet.” Tony said. “I know that. You can trust me to be careful,” and Stratos gave a beastly sort of laugh and said, “I'd as soon trust you as I'd”—' Colin stopped abruptly.

‘Yes?'

‘Oh, just an expression,' said Colin. ‘A – a slang expression, I can't quite remember what. Meaning that he wouldn't trust him, you know.'

‘Oh, yes. Well, go on.'

The gorge had widened out as we climbed higher. There was room now to walk two abreast.

‘Then Stratos said where could he go, he had no money, and Tony said, “For a start, you can give me some,” and Stratos said, “Blackmail?” and Tony said, “Well, I could talk quite a lot, couldn't I? And
I've
done nothing that matters. There's such a thing as Queen's Evidence.”'

‘He's got a nerve,' I said, half-admiringly. ‘Fancy coming out with that one, to old Stratos, with two dead men behind you, and a bleeding boy on your hands. I – er, I meant that literally.'

Colin grinned. ‘I was, too, buckets of it, and it wasn't much of a cut, when all came to all. Well, I thought Stratos would blow his lid at that, but he must have known Tony didn't mean it, because he didn't answer, and then Tony laughed in that silly way and said, “Dear boy, we were going to split anyway, so come through with the stuff now, and we'll call it a day. Where is it?” Stratos said, “When I think it's time to come through, I'll tell you. And not so much of the holier-than-thou stuff, either. What about Alex?” Tony said, “You mean the other time? I only helped afterwards; it was nothing to do with me,” and Stratos gave that laugh again and said, “Nothing ever is. You'd like to stand by looking like the Queen of Hearts and keeping your lily hands clean, wouldn't you? Well, you'll get them dirty soon enough. We've got to get the pair of them buried yet. So save your breath.”'

‘And that was all?'

‘Tony just laughed and said, “You poor sweets, I'll have some coffee and sandwiches ready for you when you get back from the graveyard,” Then,' said Colin, ‘we got to the mill. I just knew it was a building of some sort, because I heard a door creak open, and then they humped me up the stairs. It was foully bumpy.'

‘It can't be exactly easy to carry a body up a narrow spiral staircase.'

‘It's beastly for the body,' said Colin cheerfully. ‘They got a rope from somewhere, and one of them tied me up properly. By that time, Tony had gone. I heard him say, “I said you could count me out. I had nothing to do with it, and I'll have nothing to do with this, either. If you touch him, you're bigger fools than I thought you were.” And he went.'

‘The Levite,' I said.

‘What? Oh, passing by on the other side, you mean? I suppose so, but he may have been some use, because after he'd gone there was another really terrific argument, and the woman started sort of screaming at the men, till it sounded to me as if someone had put a hand over her mouth. It was dark, of course; they used their torch in flashes, and kept well back where I couldn't see them. When Sofia insisted on doing my head, she had her veil pulled right up so's I could only see her eyes. She cleaned my face and put something over the cut. It had stopped bleeding. Then she took that horrible gag out of my mouth and gave me a drink, and made them put a more comfortable one on. She was crying all the time, and I think she was trying to be kind. The men were arguing in whispers, in Greek. In the end Stratos said to me, in English, “You will be left here, and we will not hurt you. You cannot escape, even if you get the ropes off. The door will be watched, and you will be shot.” I had a feeling that it might be bluff, but I wasn't wild keen to call it, not just then, anyway. And later, when I did try to get free, I couldn't.' He paused. ‘That was all. In the end, they went.'

‘If I'd only known. I passed your mill twice when you were in it.'

‘Did you? I suppose,' said Colin wisely, ‘that if there'd been only the one, you'd have thought of it straight away, but with those dozens, all with their sails going, and so conspicuous, you wouldn't even notice them. If you see what I mean.'

‘Oh, yes.
The Purloined Letter
.'

‘The what?'

‘A story by Poe. A classic about how to hide something. Go on. What happened next day?'

‘Sofia came very early and gave me food. She had to loose my hands and take the gag off for that, so I tried to ask her about Mark, and begged her to let me go. Of course she would know I'd be asking about Mark, but all she would do was shake her head and dab her eyes on her veil, and point up the mountain. In the end, I latched on to it somehow that the men had gone up to look for him by daylight.'

‘Josef had, anyway.'

‘Yes, and found him gone. But I wasn't to know that, more's the pity. Mind you, I'd a pretty good idea that once they'd made sure Mark was dead, I'd be for the high jump myself, but I couldn't get any more out of Sofia, when she came again. That night, when she brought my food, she wouldn't talk at all. Her eyes just looked scared, and sort of dumb. Then yesterday morning I knew they'd decided to kill me. I'm sure they had. That's what made me sure Mark was dead.'

He might have been discussing the weather. Already the past had slipped away from him in the moment of happiness and present hope. In spite of that tough independence he was, I thought, still very much a child.

He went on: ‘I didn't think it all out at the time, but, looking back, I think I can see what had happened. They'd been worrying themselves sick about where Mark had got to; Josef must have spent the whole two days out raking the countryside, and found no trace. You said he'd been up to the hill villages too, and he'd have drawn blank there; and of course nothing had happened in Agios Georgios. So they'd reckoned they could count Mark dead. I don't think Josef would ever have thought twice about murdering me, but I expect Sofia made trouble with Stratos, and Tony may have been against it, too – if he ever bothered to mention it again that is. He may just have shut his eyes and let them get on with it.'

‘Perhaps. I think you're right, though; I don't see how they could ever have let you go – I know Frances just assumed they'd have murdered you. What happened?'

‘It was Josef, not Sofia, who brought the food yesterday. I'd heard a man's boots coming up the stairs and I managed to roll over and peek down through those holes in the floor. He was in that Cretan rig, with a knife in his belt, and the rifle in one hand and my food in the other. He stopped on the floor below, stood the rifle against the wall, and – you remember those square tins?'