The Moonspinners (35 page)

Mark unwrapped the package. A layer of oilskin or polythene; another; a third. Then a bag of some soft species of skin, chamois leather, I supposed, drawn together at the neck. Its coverings had kept it quite dry.

Mark pulled the drawstring loose, then up-ended the bag. There was a glitter and a coloured flash, a gasp from Colin and a grunt from Lambis. Mark picked up a kind of chain, very heavily ornate, and worked in gold; as he ran it through his fingers, red glowed and burned among the gold. Colin reached out, gingerly, and picked up something – it looked like an eardrop – with a hoarfrost glitter round a flash of green.

‘I said it was jewels,' he said breathlessly.

‘This is the loot?' Lambis' voice, over our shoulders, was deep with satisfaction.

‘This is the loot, the highly identifiable loot.' Mark let the gold and ruby necklace trickle back into the mouth of the bag. ‘It begins to make sense now, doesn't it? We wanted evidence, and oh boy! What evidence we've got! If this isn't why Alexandros was murdered, then I'm the Queen of the May!'

‘“The London job”,' I quoted.

‘Big deal, eh?' Colin still sounded almost awe-stricken. He was turning the emerald drop from side to side, letting it catch the light. ‘I wonder how many pots he's got?'

‘That's a question that can wait for the police. Let's put these things back. Drop that in here, will you?' Mark held out the bag for the ear-ring, then pulled the drawstring tight, and began to tie it.

I said slowly: ‘He must have thought that's what I was after. The knife made him suspicious, but he thought we were safe under his eye for a bit. Then he came out here to check over his pots, and found me beside them, in the water. I'm not surprised, after all that's happened recently, that he saw red, and went for me regardless. I wonder if he even thought Josef might be double-crossing him? With me, I mean. He did shout something about him, and of course he must be wondering like mad where he is.'

‘What
were
you doing in the water?'

‘We broke the torch, so we couldn't signal. I was coming for you. I –
Mark
!' I put a hand to my head, which was only just beginning to clear of the sea noises and the confused terror of the chase. ‘I must have gone crazy myself! Get Lambis to put back to the rocks! There's—'

‘You're hurt?' Lambis interrupted me sharply. ‘That is blood, no?'

‘No . . .' I must have looked at him with vague surprise. I had felt nothing, was feeling nothing even now; my flesh was still cold and damp to the touch, and too numb to feel pain. But as Mark snatched up the lantern, and swung its light round to me, I saw that there was, indeed, blood on my thigh, and a dark line of it creeping down on to the deck. ‘He must have got me with the edge of the spear,' I said, faintly, because I was beginning to shake again. ‘It's all right, it doesn't hurt. We'd better go back—'

But I was interrupted again, this time by Mark, who leaped – no, surged – to his feet. ‘The bloody-minded
bastard
!' Colin and I – crouched at his feet like famine, sword and fire at the heels of the war-god – gaped up at him, dumbly.

‘By God, I'll not stand for this!' Mark towered over us, possessed, apparently, by one sudden, glorious burst of sheer, uninhibited rage. ‘I'm damned if we cut and run for Athens after this! We're getting after him, if it's the last thing we do! Lambis, can you catch him?'

I saw a grin of unholy joy split the Greek's face. ‘I can try.

‘Then get weaving! Colin, throw me the first-aid box!'

I began feebly: ‘Mark, no—'

I might have known they would take no notice of me, and this time it was three to one. My feeble protest was drowned by the roar of the caique's engine, as she jumped forward with a jerk that set every board quivering. I heard Colin shout: ‘Man, oh
man
, Lambis, cool it wild!' as he dived into the cabin. Mark dropped back to his knees beside me, saying, simply and rudely: ‘Shut up. We're going back, and that's that. Hell's teeth, do you think I'd have sat there and let them do all they've done, if they hadn't had Colin to hold me to ransom with? What d'you take me for, a bloody daffodil? Now I've got you and Colin safe under hatches, I'm going to do what I'd have done in the first place, if I'd been fit, and the pair of you hadn't been a sitting target for them. And now shut up, and for a change you can sit quiet and let
me
bandage
you
!
Colin!
Where the – oh, thanks!' This as the first-aid box hurtled from the cabin door. Mark caught it, and pulled it open. ‘And find the girl something to wear, will you? Now, keep still, and let me get that tied up.'

‘But Mark, what are you going to do?' I sounded infuriatingly humble, even to myself.

‘Do? Well, my heaven, what d'you think? I'm going to hand him over to the police myself, personally, and if I've got to paste the living daylights out of him to do it, well, that'll suit
me
!'

I said meekly: ‘Do you have to be quite such a sadist with the Elastoplast?'

‘What?' He stared at me quite blankly. He really was looking very angry indeed, and quite dangerous. I smiled at him happily, well away now (as I was aware) on what Frances would have called Stage Three. Then the black look faded, to be succeeded by a reluctant grin. ‘Was I hurting? I'm very sorry.' He finished the job quite gently.

‘Not so much as I hurt you, I expect. Look, do you really think this is a good idea? I know how you feel, but—'

A quick look up, where, even in the lantern-light, I could read irony. ‘Darling, I admit I lost my temper, but there's more to it than a simple desire to clobber this thug. For one thing, this is the chance to connect him here and now with the jewels and Alexandros' murder – if we can catch him and identify him before he gets the chance to run home and cook up alibis with Tony. What's more, if we don't get straight back and alert the village elders, what's to stop Stratos and Tony lifting whatever other lobster pots they've got, and being a hundred miles away, with bulk of said loot, before we even sight Piraeus?'

‘I see.'

He shoved the things back in the box, and clipped the lid shut. ‘Mad at me?'

‘What on earth for?'

‘Because when my girl gets hurt, I've got to have another reason for hitting the chap that did it?'

I laughed, without answering, and slipped painlessly into Stage Four – a stage Frances wouldn't have recognized, as it was new to me, too.

‘Will these do?' Colin emerged from the cabin, clutching a thick, fisherman's-knit jersey, a cotton-mesh vest, and a pair of jeans. ‘You can put them on in the cabin, it's warm there.'

‘They look marvellous, thanks awfully.' I got up stiffly, Mark helping me, then Colin put the clothes into my hands, and retired modestly aft into the shadows.

The cabin was warm after the smartly moving breeze on deck. I took off Mark's jacket. The wisps of nylon which – I suspected – had been almost non-existent as garments when wet, had now more or less dried on me, and were ready to reassume their functions as clothing. I rubbed my cold flesh again vigorously with the rough towel, then wriggled into the jeans. They must be Colin's; they would be tight on him, and were even tighter on me, but they were warm, and fitted comfortably enough over the Elastoplast. The jersey – Mark's, at a guess – was wonderfully warm and bulky, and came fairly well down over the jeans. I pushed open the cabin door, and peered out.

A rush of starry wind met me, the roar of the motor, the slap and race of water . . . We had swerved, close in, round the second headland, and were tearing across the mouth of the bay towards Agios Georgios. I could see, low down, a few dim lights, and a yellow gleam that must mark the harbour mouth. Our own riding-lights were out. Lambis, at the tiller, was hardly visible, and Mark and Colin, standing together in the well, were two shadows peering intently forward. The caique jumped and bucked like a bolting horse as the cross-wind met her round the headland.

I opened my mouth to say ‘Can I do anything?' then shut it again. Common sense suggested that the question was a purely rhetorical gesture, and therefore better unasked. Besides, I knew nothing about boats, and these three were a team which, freed now of everything but a single purpose, looked a formidable proposition enough. I stayed quietly in the shelter of the cabin door.

To seaward of us, the light-boats bobbed and twinkled. Some had worked their way inshore, and one – probably the one that had passed so close to the Bay of Dolphins – was barely fifty feet from us as we roared past.

I could see the faces of its two occupants, open-mouthed and curious, turned towards us. Lambis yelled something, and their arms shot out, pointing, not towards Agios Georgios, but at the inner curve of the bay, where the hotel lay.

Lambis called something to Mark, who nodded, and the caique heeled till she lay hard over, then drove towards the looming crescent of cliff that held the bay.

Colin turned and saw me, and flashed a torch. ‘Oh, hullo! Were the things all right?'

‘Fine, I'm as warm as anything now. The pants are a bit tight, that's all, I hope I don't split them.'

‘They don't look it, do they, Mark?'

Mark turned, looked obediently, and said, simply: ‘Boy, oh
boy
!'

Colin, laughing, vanished past me into the cabin.

‘Well, well,' I said, ‘something tells me you must really be feeling better.'

‘Sure. Try me. Just one hundred per cent –
there he is!
'

I dived after him to the side, peering to starboard. Then I saw it, too, barely a hundred yards ahead of us, a small shape, a dark tip on an arrow of white, hurtling into the curve of the bay.

‘They're right, he's making for home!'

‘Nicola!' Lambis hailed me from the stern. ‘What is it like? Is there a landing place?'

‘No, but there's flat rocks right to the edge of the water. It's quite deep, right up to them.'

‘How deep?' This was Mark.

‘I can't say, but deep enough for a caique. He takes the
Eros
in himself, and it's bigger than this. I've swum there; I'd say eight feet.'

‘Good girl.' I must be far gone, I thought, when this casual accolade from an obviously preoccupied man could make me glow all through. Stage Five? Heaven alone knew – and heaven alone could care, because I didn't . . .

Next moment a more substantial warmth met my hands, from the mug which Colin thrust into them. ‘Here, it'll warm you up, it's cocoa. I'd say you've just time, before we waltz in to clobber the bastards.'

This got through. Mark half-turned, but at that moment the note of the caique's engine changed, and Lambis spoke, urgently and quietly:

‘Here, we go in now. See him? He will make fast in a moment. Colin, light the lamp again; he must have seen us now. When we get in, you make her fast; I will go to help Mark. Take the boat-hook; you know what to do.'

‘Yes.' But the boy hesitated a moment. ‘If he has a gun?'

‘He won't use it,' said Mark. ‘He can't know who we are, for a start.'

This was undoubtedly true, but it had already occurred to me that Stratos might be making a fairly shrewd guess. In any case, whether or not he guessed whose caique was pursuing him, he must know that its owners had rescued me from his murderous attack, and were bound on an errand, if not of violent retribution, then, at least, of angry enquiry – which would lead to the very uproar he wanted to avoid. We were, in other words, hard on the heels of a man both angry and involved to the point of desperation.

‘Anyway,' Mark was saying, ‘we've got one too, remember. Now, don't worry, here we go.'

I pushed the empty mug back into the cabin, and shut the door. I half expected to be told to go in after it, but nobody even noticed me. Lambis and Mark were both leaning out, watching the dim rocks of the shore rush to meet us. Colin, on the prow, held the boat-hook at the ready. The caique heeled more sharply still, then drove in.

Stratos had seen us, of course. But even at the cost of helping us, he had to have light. As the light-boat ran in to the landing, he switched on the huge lamps, and I heard Lambis give a grunt of satisfaction.

Stratos cut his engine, and the boat lost way abruptly, slipping alongside the rocks. I saw him, the figure of my nightmare, rope in one hand, boat-hook in the other, poised beside the lights. Then his boat touched, kissed stone, and jarred to a rocking halt as the boat-hook flashed out and held her. I saw him glance back, and seem to hesitate. Then the lights went out.

‘Ready?' Lambis' voice was almost inaudible, but it affected me like a shout.

‘Okay,' said Mark.

The three of them must, of course, have worked together at berthing the caique many times before. This time, done fast and in semi-darkness, it was a rough berthing, but still surprisingly slick.

The engine accelerated briefly, and was killed. The caique jumped forward, then skidded sideways against the moored boat, using her as a buffer. I heard poor
Psyche
grind against the rock as the caique scraped along her sides. She was empty. Stratos was already on shore: I saw him, caught momentarily in our lurching lights, bending to fling a couple of rapid loops of rope round a stanchion.

Then Mark, in a standing leap from the caique's bows, landed beside him.

As the Cretan swung to face the challenge, Mark hit him. I heard the blow connect, sickeningly, and Stratos went staggering back. Mark jumped after him, and then they were beyond the reach of our lights, a couple of plunging, swearing shadows, somewhere in the scented darkness under the tamarisks.