Текст книги "The Mediterranean Caper"

Автор книги: Clive Cussler

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

“Yes, I know,” said Pitt woodenly. “There were a couple of times up there when I thought our ghost had us”

“I wish I knew who the hell he was and what this destruction was all about?”Pitt’s face was a study in speculative curiosity.

“The only clue is the yellow Albatros.”

Giordino eyed his friend questioningly. “What possible meaning could the color of that old flying derelict have?”

“If you’d studied your aviation history,” Pitt said with a touch of good-natured sarcasm, “You’d remember that German pilots of the First World War painted their planes with personal, but sometimes outlandish, color schemes.”

“Save the history lesson for later,” Giordino growled. “Right now all I want to do is get out of this sweat box and collect that drink you owe me.” He rose from his scat and started for the exit hatch.

The blue stationwagon skidded to a halt beside the big silver flying boat and all four doors burst open.

The occupants leaped out shouting and began pounding on the plane’s aluminum hatch. The crowd of enlisted men soon engulfed the aircraft, cheering loudly and waving at the cockpit.

Pitt remained seated and waved back at the cheering men below the window. His body was tired and numb but his mind was still active and running at full throttle. A title kept running through his thoughts until finally he muttered it aloud. “The Hawk of Macedonia.”

Giordino turned from the doorway. “What did you say?”

“Oh nothing, nothing at all,” Pitt let his breath escape in a long audible sigh. “Come on – I’ll buy you that drink now.”

2

When Pitt awoke, it was still dark. He did not know how long he had slept. Perhaps he just dozed off.

Perhaps he bad been lost under the black cloak of sleep for hours. He did not know, nor did he care.

The metal springs of the Air Force cot squeaked as he rolled over, seeking a more comfortable position.

But the comfort of deep sleep eluded him. His conscious mind dimly tried to analyze why. Was it the steady humming noise of the air conditioner, he asked himself? He was used to drifting off under the loud din of aircraft engines, so that couldn’t be it. Maybe it was the scurrying cockroaches. God knows Thasos was covered with them. No, it was something else. Then he knew. The answer pierced the fog of his drowsy brain. It was his other mind, the unconscious one that was keeping him awake. Like a movie projector, it flashed pictures of the strange events from the previous day, over and over again.

One picture stood out above all the rest. It was the photograph in a gallery of the Imperial War Museum. Pitt could recall it vividly. The camera had caught a German aviator posing beside a World War I fighter plane. He was garbed in the flying togs of the day, and his right hand rested upon the head of an immense white German Shepherd. The dog, obviously a mascot, was panting and looking up at his master with a patronizing, doe-like expression. The flyer stared back at the camera with a boyish face that somehow looked naked without the usual Prussian dueling scar and monocle. However, the proud Teutonic military bearing could be easily seen in the hint of an insolent grin and the ramrod straight posture.

Pitt even remembered the caption under the photo:

The Hawk of Macedonia

Lieutenant Kurt Heibert, of Jagdstaffel 91, attained 32 victories over the allies on the Macedonian Front; one of the outstanding aces of the great war. Presumed shot down and lost in the Aegean Sea on July 15, 1918. For some time, Pitt lay staring in the darkness.

There would be no more sleep tonight he thought. Sitting up and leaning on one elbow, he reached over a bedside table, groped for his Omega watch and held it in front of his eyes. The luminous dial read 4:09.

Then he sat up and dropped the bare soles of his feet on the vinyl tile floor. A package of cigarettes sat next to the watch, and he pulled out one and lit it with a silver Zippo lighter. Inhaling deeply, he stood up and stretched. His face grimaced; the muscles of his back stung from the back slapping he had received from the cheering men of Brady Field right after he and Giordino had climbed from the cockpit of the PBY. Pitt smiled to himself in the dark as he thought about the warm handshakes and congratulations pressed upon them.

The moonlight, beaming in through the window of the Officers’ Quarters, and the warm clear air of early morning made Pitt restless. He stripped off his shorts and rummaged through his luggage in the dim light.

When his touch recognized the cloth shape of a pair of swim trunks, he slipped them on, snatched a towel from the bathroom and stepped out into the stillness of the night.

Once outside, the brilliant Mediterranean moon enveloped his body and laid bare the landscape with an eerie ghost-like emptiness. The sky was all studded with stars and revealed the milky way in a great white design across a black velvet backdrop.

Pitt strolled down the path from the Officers’ Quarters toward the main gate. He paused for a minute, looking at the vacant runway, and he noticed a black area every so often in the rows of multi-colored lights that stitched the edges. Several of the lights in the signal system must have been damaged in the attack, he thought. However, the general pattern was still readable to a pilot making a night landing.

Behind the intermediate lights, he could make out a dark outline of the PBY, sitting forlornly on the opposite side of the apron like a nesting duck. The bullet damage to the Catalina’s hull turned out to be slight and the Flight Line Maintenance crew promised that they would begin repairs first thing in the morning, the restoration taking three days. Colonel James Lewis, the base commanding officer, had expressed his apologies at the delay, but he needed the bulk of the maintenance crew to work on the damaged jets and the remaining C-133 Cargomaster. In the meantime, Pitt and Giordino elected to accept the Colonel's hospitality and stay at Brady Field, using the First Attempt’s whale boat to commute between the ship and shore. The last arrangement worked to everyone’s advantage since living quarters aboard the First Attempt were cramped and at a premium.

“Kind of early for a swim, isn’t it, buddy?”

The voice snapped Pitt from his thoughts, and he found himself standing under the white glare of floodlights that were perched on top of the guard’s shack at the main gate. The shack sat on a curb-lined island that divided the incoming and outgoing traffic and was just large enough for one man to sit in. A short, burly looking Air Policeman stepped from the doorway and eyed him closely. “I couldn’t sleep.”

As soon as he said it, Pitt felt foolish for not being more original But what the hell, he thought, it’s the truth.

“Can’t say as I blame you,” said the AP. “After all that’s happened today, I’d be real surprised if anyone on the base was sound asleep.” The mere thought of sleep triggered a reflex, and the AP yawned.

“You must get awfully bored, sitting out here alone all night,” said Pitt.

“Yeah, it gets pretty dull,” the AP said, hooking one hand in his Sam Browne belt and resting the other on the grip of a.45 Colt automatic, clinging to his hip. “If you’re going off base, you’d better let me see your pass.”

“Sorry, I don’t have one,” Pitt had forgotten to ask Colonel Lewis for a pass to get on and off Brady Field.

A swaggering, tough look crossed the AP’s face. “Then you’ll have to go back to the barracks and get It.” He swatted at a moth that flapped by his face, toward a floodlight.

“That would be a waste of time. I don’t even own a pass,” said Pitt, smiling helplessly.

“Don’t play dumb with me, buddy. Nobody gets in or out of the gate without a pass.”

“I did.”

The AP’s eyes became suspicious. “How did you manage that?”

“I flew In.”

A surprised look bit the AP. His eyes beamed in the brightness of the floods. Another passing moth lit on his white cap, but he did not notice it. Then it burst from him. “You’re the pilot of that Catalina flying boat!”

“Guilty as charged,” said Pitt.

“Say, I want to shake your hand.” The AP’s lips opened in a big tooth displaying smile. “That was the greatest piece of flying I’ve ever seen.” He thrust out a massive hand.

Pitt took the outstretched hand and winced. He had a strong grip of his own, but it seemed puny compared to the AP’s. “Thank you, but I’d have felt a lot better about it if my opponent had crashed.”

“Oh hell, he couldn’t have gone far. That old junk pile was smoking up a storm when it crossed over the hills.”

“Maybe It crashed on the other side?"

“No chance. The colonel had the whole Air Police squadron chasing all over the island in jeeps, looking for it. He searched until dark, but didn’t spot a thing.” He appeared disgusted. “What really pissed me off was getting back to the base too late for the chow line.”

Pitt grinned. “It must have gone down in the sea, or else made the mainland before falling.”

The AP shrugged his shoulders. “Could be. But one thing’s for sure; it ain’t on Thasos. You have my personal guarantee on that.”

Pitt laughed. “That’s good enough for me.” He swung the towel over his shoulder and pulled at his swim trunks. “Well it’s been nice talking to you…“

“Airman Second Class Moody, sir.”

“I’m Major Pitt.”

The AP’s face went blank. “Oh, I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t know you were an officer. I thought you were one of those civilians with NUMA. I’ll let you out this time, Major, but I’d appreciate it if you got a base pass.”

"I'll see to it first thing after breakfast.”

“My replacement comes on at 0800. If you’re not back by then, I’ll leave word so he’ll let you in without any trouble.”

“Thank you, Moody. Perhaps I’ll see you later.” Pitt waved and then turned and walked down the road towards the beach.

Pitt kept to the right side of the narrow paved road and in about a mile came to a small cove that was flanked by large craggy rocks. The moonlight showed him a path, and he took it until his feet crunched softly in the sandy beach. He dropped the towel and walked to the tide line. A wave broke, and the white of its crest slid smoothly across the packed sand and licked his feet The dying wave hesitated for a moment and then fell back, forming the trough for the next crest There was barely a breath of wind, and the glistening sea was relatively calm. The moon cast its glow on the dark water and left a shaft of silver that traveled over the surface to the horizon where the sea and sky melted together into absolute blackness. Pitt soaked up the warm stillness and moved into the water, swimming along the silver shaft An inner feeling always overcame Pitt when he was alone and near the sea. It was as though his soul seeped out of his body, and he became a thing without substance, without form. His mind was purified and cleansed: all mental labor ceased and all thoughts vanished. He was only vaguely aware of hot and cold, smells, touch, and all the other senses, except hearing. He listened to the nothingness of silence; the greatest, but most unknown, treasure of man. Forgotten for the moment were all his failures, all his victories and all his loves, even life itself was buried and lost in the stillness.

He lay dead and floated in the water for nearly an hour. Finally, a small swell slapped at his face and he unwittingly inhaled a few drops of salt water. He snorted, dispelling the discomfort and again became aware of his bodily sensations. Without watching his progress, he effortlessly backstroked toward the shore. When his hands arched and touched the dense sand, he stopped swimming and drifted onto the beach like a piece of flotsam. Then he dragged himself forward until he was only half-out of the water, letting it swirl around his legs and buttocks. The warm Aegean surf rose out of the dim light and flooded up the beach, caressing his skin, and he dozed off.

The stars were beginning to blink out one by one with the pale light of the approaching dawn when an inner alarm sounded in Pitt’s brain, and he suddenly became alert to a presence. Instantly he was awake, but he made no movement, other than peering through half-open eyes. He barely could make out a shadowy form standing over him. Focusing and straining his eyes in the faint light, he tried to distinguish a detailed shape.

Slowly, an outline materialized. It was a woman.

“Good morning,” he said and sat up.

“Oh my God,” the woman gasped. She threw a hand to her mouth as if to scream.

It was still too dark to see the wild look in her eyes, but Pitt knew it was there. “I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

The hand slowly dropped. She just stood there looking down at him. Finally she found her voice. “I… I thought you were dead.” She stammered the words softly.

“I can hardly blame you. I suppose if I stumbled on someone sleeping in the tide at this time of morning I would think the same thing.”

“You gave me quite a frightful shock, you know, sitting up and talking like that.”

“Again, my sincere apologies.” It suddenly occurred to Pitt that the woman was speaking English. Her accent was decidedly British, but it had a trace of German. He rose to his feet. “Please allow me to introduce myself; my name is Dirk Pitt.”

“I’m Teri,” she said, “and I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you alive and healthy. Mister Pitt”

She didn’t offer her last name, and Pitt didn’t press for it.

“Believe me, Teri, the pleasure is all mine.” He pointed to the sand. “Won’t you join me and help raise the sun?”

She laughed. “Thank you, I’d like that But then again, I can hardly see you. For all I know you might be a monster or something.” There was a note of whimsy in her tone. “Can I trust you?”

“To be perfectly honest, no. I think it only fair to Warn you that I’ve assaulted over two hundred innocent virgins right here on this very spot.” Pitt’s humor was overly forward, but he knew it was a good system for testing a female’s personality.

“Oh blimey, I would dearly loved to have been number two hundred and one, but I’m not an innocent virgin.” There was enough light now for Pitt to see the White of her teeth arched in a smile. “I certainly hope you won’t hold that against me.”

“No, I’m very broadminded about that sort of thing. But I must ask you to keep secret the fact that two hundred and one wasn’t pure as the driven snow. If it ever leaked out, my reputation as a monster would be ruined.”

They both laughed and sat down together on Pitt’s towel and talked while the hot sun reluctantly began its climb over the Aegean Sea. As the blazing orange ball threw its first golden rays over the shimmering horizon, Pitt gazed at the woman in the new light and studied her closely.

She was about thirty and wore a red bikini swim suit. The bikini was not the exaggerated brief kind, even though the lower half began a good two inches below the navel. The material had a satin sheen to it and clung tautly to her body like an outer layer of skin. Her figure was a beguiling mixture of grace and firmness: the stomach looked smooth and flat and the breasts were perfect, not too small but not too large and out of scale.

Her legs were long, creamy colored and slightly on the thin side. Pitt decided to overlook this faint imperfection and swung his eyes to her face. The profile was exquisite. Her features possessed the beauty and mystery of a Grecian statue and would have rated near perfection except for a round pockmark beside her right temple. Ordinarily the scar would have been covered by her shoulder length black hair but she had thrown her head back as she watched the sunrise and the ebony strands angled back behind her shoulders, touching the sand and revealing the thin blemish.

Suddenly she turned and caught Pitt’s examining stare.

“You’re supposed to be watching the sunrise,” she said with a bemused smile.

“I’ve seen sunrises before, but this is the first time I've ever come face to face with a lovely, genuine Grecian Aphrodite.” Pitt could see her dark brown eyes flashing with enjoyment at his compliment.

“Thank you for the flattery, but Aphrodite was the Greek goddess of love and beauty, and I’m only half Greek.”

“What’s the other half?”

“My father was German.”

“in that case I must thank the gods that you look after your mother’s side.”

She gave a pouting glance. “You’d better not let my uncle hear you say that.”

“A typical kraut?

“Yes, indeed. In fact he’s why I happen to be on Thasos.”

“Then he can’t be all bad,” Pitt said, admiring her hazel eyes. “DO you live with him?”

“No, actually l was born here but I was raised in England. I suffered through school there and when I was eighteen I fell in love with a dashing motorcar salesman and married him.”

“I didn’t know car salesmen could be dashing.”

She ignored his sarcastic remark and continued. “He loved to race cars on his time off, and he was good at it too. He won trials and hill climbs and sporting car events,” She shrugged and began drawing circles in the sand with her finger. Her voice became strange and husky. “Then one weekend he was racing a supercharged MG. It was raining, and he skidded off the course and hit a tree. He was dead before I could reach his side.”

Pitt sat silent for a minute, staring at her sad face. “How long ago?” he asked simply.

“It’s been eight and a half years now,” she replied in a whisper.

Pitt felt dazed. Then anger set in. What a waste, he thought. What a rotten waste for a beautiful woman like her to grieve over a dead man for nearly nine years. The more he thought about it the angrier he became. He could see tears welling in her eyes as she lost herself in the remembrance, and the sight sickened him. He reached, over and gave her a hard backhand slap across the face.

Her eyes jerked wide, and her whole body tensed from the sharp blow. It was as if she was struck by a bullet. “Why did you strike me?” she gasped.

“Because you needed it, needed it badly,” he Snapped. “That torch you carry around is as worn out as an overcoat. I’m surprised someone hasn’t taken you over a knee and spanked it off. So your husband was dashing. So what? He’s dead and buried, and mourning over him for all these years won’t resurrect him from the grave. Lock away his memory somewhere and f orget him. You’re a beautiful woman – you don’t belong chained to a coffin full of bones. You belong to every man who turns and admires you as you pass by and who longs to possess you.” Pitt could see his words were penetrating her weak defenses. “Now you think about it. It’s your life. Don’t throw it away and play ‘Camille’ until you’re withered and gray.”

Her face was distraught in the morning sun, and her breath came in sobs. Pitt let her cry for a long time.

When she finally raised her head and turned it towards him, he could see that her cheeks were streaked with tears, mixed with tiny grains of sand, clinging to the wetness. She looked up at him, and he caught the gleam in her eyes. They were soft and scared-looking, like a little girl’s.’ He lifted her in his arms and kissed her. Her lips were warm and moist.

“When was the last time you had a man?” he whispered.

“Not since.. “ Her voice trailed away.

Pitt took her as the long shadows of the rocks crept upward over the beach, shielding their bodies from the sun. A flight of sandpipers circled overhead and descended upon the damp sand at the water’s edge.

They scurried back and forth, playing tag with the surf. Every so often one of the birds would cast a beady eye at the two lovers in the shade, staring for a fleeting instant before returning to the chore of stabbing its long curved beak in the sand for food.

The shadows shortened as the sun rose higher in the sky. A fishing boat chugged by a hundred yards from the end of the rocks.

The fishermen, dropping their nets in the water, were too busy to notice anything unusual on the shore.

At last Pitt drew back and gazed down at Teri’s serene and smiling face.

“I don’t know whether to ask for your thanks or your forgiveness,” he said softly.

“Please accept them both along with my blessing,” she murmured.

He kissed her lightly on the eyes. “See what you’ve been missing all these years,” he said grinning.

“I agree. You’ve certainly shown me a wonderful antidote for my depression.”

“I always prescribe seduction. It’s guaranteed to cure any and all rare maladies and common ailments.”

“And what is your fee, doctor?” she said, accompanied with a feminine giggle.

“Consider it paid in full.”

“You’re not going to get off that easily. I must insist you come to my uncle’s house for dinner tonight.”

“I shall consider it an honor,” he said. “What time and how do I get there?”

“I’ll have my uncle’s driver pick you up at the entrance to Brady Field at 6 o’clock.”

Pitt’s eyebrows raised. “What makes you think I’m stationed at Brady Field?”

“You’re obviously an American and that’s where all the Americans on the island are.” Teri grasped his hand and pressed it to her face. “Tell me about yourself. What type of job do you perform in your Air Force? Do you fly? Are you an officer?”

Pitt did his best to look serious. “I’m the base garbage collector.”

Her eyes opened wide in surprise. “Are you really? You’re much too intelligent to be a garbage collector.”

She looked into his strong tan face and his intense green eyes. “Oh well, I won’t hold your occupation against you. Have you been promoted to sergeant yet?’

“No. I’ve never been a sergeant”

Suddenly a bright flash in the rocks about two hundred feet away caught Pitt’s attention. A shiny object reflected the sun’s rays for a brief instant He watched the area where the glint had shown but could detect no further flash or movement.

Teri felt him tense. “Is something the matter?” she asked.

“No, nothing,” Pitt lied. “I thought I saw something floating in the water, but it’s disappeared now. He looked at her upraised face, and his eyes turned devilish. “Well I’d better be getting back to the base, I’ve got a lot of garbage to collect”

“I should return also. My uncle will probably wonder what happened to me.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“Don’t be silly,” she laughed. She stood up and brushed the sand from her body and adjusted the bikini.

Pitt smiled, getting to his feet. “Why is it women always seem so shy and demure before they’ve been laid yet so sparkling and carefree after?”

She shrugged lightheartedly. “I guess it’s because sex releases all our frustrations and makes us feel earthy.” Her brown eyes flashed with intensity. “You see, we women have animal instincts too.”

Pitt playfully slapped her on the buttocks. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

“You’ve got a long walk. My uncle’s villa is in the mountains behind Liminas.”

“Where are the mountains and where is Liminas?”

“Liminas is a small village about six miles up the road,” she said pointing north. “But I don’t understand what you mean by asking about the mountains? Her pointing hand swung toward the inland slopes a mile behind the road. “What do you call those?”

“In California, where I come from, we call anything under three thousand feet of elevation hills.”

“You Yanks are always bragging.”

“It’s a great American pastime.”

They leisurely walked up the path from the cove.

On the shoulder, off to one side of the blacktop, sat a sporty little open-top Mini-Cooper. The British racing green paint on the tiny car was barely visible beneath an outer coating of Thasas dust

“How do you like my smashing Grand Prix racing car?” Teri asked proudly. Pitt laughed; not so much at her exaggerated statement but rather the British use of the word smashing in reference to a car. “By jove, that’s a bit of all right,” he said, mimicking her native terminology. “Is it yours?”

“Yes, I purchased it new in London just last month and drove it all the way from Le Havre.”

“How long will you be staying with your uncle?

“I took a three month holiday so I’ll be here at least another six weeks. Then I’m going to return home by boat. The drive across the continent was fun but far too tiring."

Pitt opened the door for her, and she slid behind the steering wheel. She groped under the front seat for a moment and pulled out a set of keys. She inserted one in the ignition and started the engine. The exhaust coughed once and then blasted forth with a nasty little growl.

He leaned on the dusty door and lightly kissed her.

“I hope your uncle won’t be waiting for me with a shotgun.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll probably talk your arm off. He likes Air Force men. He was a flyer in the First World War.”

“Don’t tell me,” Pitt said sarcastically. “I bet he claims to have flown with Richthofen.”

“Oh no, he was never in France. He fought right here in Greece.”

Pitt’s sarcasm vanished and a cold, eerie feeling came over him. He gripped the doorframe until his knuckles turned white. “Has your uncle ever mentioned… Kurt Heibert?

“Many times. They used to fly patrols together.” She shoved the gearshift into first. Then she smiled and waved. “See you tonight. Now don’t be late, cheery bye.”

Before Pitt could say another word, the midget car leapt up the road. He watched it snarl off into the distance toward the north. The dusty green blur passed over a crest of pavement and the last thing he saw was Teri’s black hair whipping in the wind. Already it was beginning to get uncomfortably hot. Idly, he turned and began walking back to the airfield. He stepped on a sharp object with his bare foot and Cursed under his breath while he hopped about on one leg trying to remove a small burr. Jerking it from his heel angrily, he flipped it in a roadside bush. He was carefully watching the ground to avoid another sting when he noticed a set of footprints. Whoever made them had. been wearing hobnailed soles.

Pitt knelt and studied the indentations. He could easily distinguish his and Teri’s prints since they had both been barefoot. His mouth twisted grimly. In several places, the shoe prints covered the bare ones.

Someone had followed Teri toward the beach, he reasoned. He raised one hand, and shielded his eyes, looking at the sun. It was still quite early so he decided to pursue the trail. The tracks led half-way down the path and then veered off in the direction of the rocks. Here the trail ended so he scrambled over the hard craggy surface and picked up the scent again on the other side. The tracks angled back to the road, only further away from the path this time. A branch scraped a thorny limb across Pitt’s arm, drawing thin lines of blood, but he was not aware of it. He was beginning to sweat when he stepped back on the road.

At last the hobnailed prints ended and heavy tire tracks began. The tire’s tread left a peculiar set of diamond-shaped patterns in the dirt beside the pavement. There was no traffic visible in either direction so Pitt calmly laid the towel down in the center of the road, sat on it and began to re-enact the scene in his mind.

Whoever shadowed Teri had parked here, walked back to her car and then followed her down the path. But before reaching the beach, the stalker must have heard voices so he turned and made his way In the darkness to the rocks where he hid, spying on the girl and Pitt. After it became light from the dawn, the intruder returned to the road, using the rocks to conceal his movements, It was an elementary puzzle, and it fit neatly together, except for the fact that three pieces were missing. Why had Teri been followed and by whom? A thought occurred to Pitt and he smiled to himself. The simple answer was very likely a local peeping tom. If that were the case the observer got more than he bargained for. A knot formed in Pitt’s stomach. It was the third missing piece that bothered him the most. Something in his logical mind would not jell. He looked over at the tire tracks again. They were too large for an ordinary car. They could only come from a more massive vehicle, say a truck. His eyes narrowed, and his brain began to churn. He wouldn’t have heard Teri drive up because he was asleep. And the truck had probably coasted to a stop, noiselessly.

Pitt’s intent gaze turned from the diamond tread tire tracks to the beach. The tide was creeping over the sand and erasing all signs of recent human activity. He gauged the distance from the road to the beach and began to term the problem in the manner of a fifth grade school teacher.

If a truck is at point A, and two people are on the beach 250 feet away at point B, why wouldn’t the two people on the beach hear the truck start its engine in the silence of early morning?

The answer eluded him, so Pitt shrugged and gave up. He shook out the towel and wrapping it around his neck, walked back along the deserted road toward the main gate, whistling, “It’s a Long Road to Tipperary.”