Текст книги "The Silver Stain"

Автор книги: Paul Johnston

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

‘It was. I have a name I can work with – Kondoyannis.’

‘May it bring you much joy.’ Mikis waved at the men in the pickup. ‘Christ and the Holy Mother, that was nerve-wracking. And it’s all right for you, back in Athens shortly. They can find me easily enough.’

‘Sorry about that. Anyway, there’s no reason they should come after you.’

‘Is that right? What if Dhrakakis describes the English visitor to David Waggoner?’

Mavros looked out at the sparsely covered terrain. The sea and the thick tranche of cultivated land alongside it were visible in the distance.

‘You’re right,’ he agreed. ‘That would not be ideal. Let’s hope that Waggoner’s too busy with the film to come up to the village for a while.’

‘It only takes a phone call.’

Mavros was getting irritated by Mikis being right all the time. ‘For your information, I’m not an Englishman. I’m half-Scottish.’

Mikis shook his head. ‘As if that makes any difference.’

In the context of heavily armed Cretan dope-producers, Mavros had to admit he was right. Now didn’t seem the right time to ask how often vendettas occurred on the Great Island these days.

About ten minutes out of the village, the track took a bend round a large rock. There was a line of ancient olive trees, their trunks as wrinkled as a dinosaur’s legs and their pale leaves almost touching the ground. It was then that Mavros saw the woman, stepping quickly down the hill.

‘Stop!’ he shouted, opening his door before Mikis brought the Jeep to a halt. He ran through the treeline and towards the woman, whose black hair flew out behind her as she started to stumble on more quickly. ‘Stop!’ he repeated, in English.

As he got closer, he realized her feet were bare and bleeding. She was wearing a soiled white blouse and a pair of black jeans that were badly stained with earth or something worse. Although he had caught only glimpses of her face, he was sure who she was.

‘My name’s Mavros, Maria,’ he called. ‘Cara Parks sent me to look for you.’

The woman slowed and then stopped completely, dropping to her knees and starting to sob.

Mavros reduced his own pace and approached with caution. ‘Cara’s been very worried about you.’

She turned to him, her face soaked with tears and her eyes wide. There was no doubt about her identity from the photograph he had been given, but she was thinner and there were heavy lines on her forehead and around her eyes. He managed to catch her before she toppled forward.

‘Steady,’ he said, holding her head to his chest. ‘You’re safe now.’ He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Mikis had driven the Jeep as close as he could. They needed to get Maria into the car and away from the stony hillside at speed.

‘Come on,’ he said, ‘there’s transport waiting.’

She tried to pull away from him, whimpering.

‘Don’t worry, we’re not going back to Kornaria,’ he said. ‘Is that where you’ve come from?’

The woman’s entire body was shaking and she didn’t seem to be able to speak.

Mikis arrived. ‘Is it her?’ he said, in Greek.

Mavros nodded, unsure whether she understood the language. ‘She’s in a bad way. Where’s the nearest hospital?’

‘There are clinics in the larger villages, but the best thing would be to get her to Chania.’

‘OK. You realize that we may be pursued. It looks like she’s been held captive – she has no shoes or belt – and somehow got free. Dhrakakis had her after all.’

‘Whatever you say. We need to move.’

They got the woman into the Jeep, Mavros keeping his arm round her when they were inside. She was shivering, but she seemed to be less terrified. She wouldn’t answer any of his questions, only gulping water from a bottle and chewing biscuits that the Cretan produced from beneath his seat.

Mavros was looking at the map. ‘There seems to be a choice of three roads at Karies.’

‘One of them’s only fit for goats and suicidal bikers.’

‘So which one’s quicker?’

‘The right turn that takes us down below Theriso.’ Mikis glanced at him. ‘The sensible thing to do would be to hole up somewhere and see if any tough guys come past.’

Mavros looked at Maria Kondos. She was shaking violently again and her breath was coming in rapid gasps. ‘No, this woman needs medical care. You’ll have to drive like the wind.’

The driver grinned. ‘That can happen. You’d better put your belts on.’ He did the same and then upped the revs substantially. He also made a call on his mobile phone.

‘Reinforcements?’ Mavros asked when he’d finished.

‘My cousin and a couple of his mates. We work out together. One of them’s the All-Crete heavyweight wrestling champion. They’ll come to meet us.’

‘Wrestling won’t be much help against shotguns.’

‘Don’t be too sure. Those arseholes won’t fire at us in broad daylight when we’re down in the populated areas.’ He laughed hollowly. ‘They’ll wait till dark.’

‘Great.’ Mavros looked at the woman. Her tears had soaked his shirt and were running like an in-car waterfall off the leather jacket he’d put around her. ‘Maria? Tell me what happened. It might make things easier when it comes to keeping you safe.’

She gave him a brief glance and then looked away. Ahead, there were more trees and the hillside was less bleak. They had passed a couple of villages. Mikis was driving as if he was in a rally, cornering with skill and accelerating past slow-moving farm vehicles when the road allowed.

‘Under half an hour now,’ he said, casting an eye in the mirror. ‘Oh-oh, we’ve got company,’ he said, in Greek. ‘The pickup with the two hard men in the back.’

Maria Kondos clearly understood as she shrank down in the seat, her upper body jerking back and forward so rapidly that Mavros thought she was having a fit. After a few minutes, when it became clear that the Kornariates weren’t gaining on the Jeep, she began to calm down.

‘You got any weapons?’ Mavros asked, in a low voice.

Mikis felt under his seat again. ‘A hunting knife.’ He handed over a sheathed blade not much smaller than a machete. ‘And a Colt 45 automatic.’ He kept that hidden.

‘You’re kidding,’ Mavros said, in amazement. ‘What if the cops caught you with that?’

The Cretan shrugged. ‘My old man knows people. It’s not like I ever use it, except on deserted beaches for practice.’

Mavros clung on to Maria with one arm and clutched the side of his seat with the other hand as the Jeep took a bend at high speed. ‘I don’t suppose your friends have similar arsenals?’

Mikis smiled. ‘I told them to bring what they could.’ He glanced in the mirror. ‘We should be all right. Those dope-heads can’t drive for shit.’

Then the nearside front tyre burst and they slewed all over the road, finally coming to a stop centimetres from a low stone wall. There was no sign of habitation nearby.

‘Oh shit,’ said Mikis, with surprising equanimity. ‘Everyone out.’

They opened the doors and clambered over the drystone wall, Maria Kondos wailing hopelessly. Mavros got her to lie down and put his jacket over her head and shoulders, then asked her to be quiet. Mikis handed him the knife, having slipped off the sheath.

‘You ever used one of these?’ he asked.

‘I’ve never even seen one like that. Maybe it’s better if I have the pistol. I’ve occasionally fired one of those.’

‘Occasionally isn’t going to get us far. Listen, you stay here. I’m going to work my way back up the road. The villagers are bound to stop some distance away and advance on foot, after splitting up. That’ll give me some chance to pick them off.’

‘You’re going to shoot to kill?’ Mavros asked, his stomach clenching.

‘If necessary. You think they won’t? They want the woman, though, not us. Stay next to her with the knife hidden. That way you might take one of them with you when they get close – if I don’t manage to deal with them all.’ He squeezed Mavros’s knee and headed up the slope, keeping below the wall.

‘Keep calm, Maria,’ Mavros said, in a low voice. ‘It’ll be all right, you’ll see.’

He couldn’t imagine a situation further from ‘all right’, but at least Mikis was looking out for them. He wondered how long it would take his friends to show up.

In the distance, he heard the sound of brakes being applied hard, then words which he didn’t catch. Then there was a shout and the sound of a shotgun being discharged. It was rapidly followed by the thunderous boom of Mikis’s pistol.

Mavros kept Maria Kondos’s head shielded by his arms.

A few minutes later he heard heavy steps and then Mikis appeared further up the wall, carrying a shotgun as well as his Colt. He was with them in seconds.

‘You didn’t kill him?’ Mavros said.

‘Didn’t even hit him. He dropped his weapon and took off up the hillside. The problem now is his two friends. They split up and disappeared into the vegetation.’

He looked around. ‘I’m going to stalk the one on this side of the road. The other, we’ll have to take our chances with.’ He crawled off under the trees.

Mavros had rarely felt so helpless. He had to stay with Maria – there was no knowing what she’d do if he left her – and all he had was a king-size carving knife. It was too large to throw, not that he had any experience of that. He rubbed his back where the sharp-edged stones were jagging into it, and suddenly had a thought. He had never been much use at sport, finding team discipline hard to handle. The only exercise he’d done when he was growing up in Athens was track and field. He’d been a decent long jumper and a passable discus thrower, but his best event – oddly, given his slim build – had been the shot putt. He carefully extracted several stones from the upper part of the wall and heaped them by his leg. If he heard anyone approaching across the road, they’d get an unwelcome surprise – assuming they didn’t manage to fire first.

There was a double shotgun discharge over in the middle distance and then a single shot from the Colt. His immediately felt his spirits rise. Two down and one to go. Maybe he’d take the hint and slip away like his friend. Then he realized how unlikely that was. A Cretan villager was unlikely to leave his comrades in arms and they would regroup. Besides, the mayor of Kornaria had probably sent backup.

There was the scrape of a boot on the other side of the road. Mavros got to his knees, selecting the most rounded of the stones he’d piled up. He heard cautious steps approaching the Jeep. After a few seconds, they moved closer.

Mavros knew he would have only one chance – if he was quick, he would succeed in dropping behind the wall after he let loose. Then, if the mountain man kept coming, he’d have time to grab the knife – not that he expected it to save them.

Maria Kondos had realized how dangerous the situation was and was lying mute beneath the leather jacket. He wondered where Mikis was. Maybe he’d only got the shot off after being hit by one or both shotgun blasts. This was down to Mavros. Niki and the Fat Man came into this mind unexpectedly and he found himself wishing he was with them in the safety of his mother’s apartment.

Then the sound of leather-soled boots came much closer. He took a deep breath as he took a firm grip on the stone, fitting it between his chest and shoulder and spreading his feet in a squat. There would be no chance of a swivel. Then he stood up as quickly as he could, taking a mark on the startled villager’s head and cast the stone.

It was a direct hit on the man’s forehead and he collapsed like Goliath before David.

‘Sweet move,’ said Mikis, from behind him. The Colt was in his belt and he was holding a fancy over-and-under shotgun and a pair of almost full bandoliers in his hands. ‘The second one fell over after I fired and will soon wake up with a very sore head. What about yours?’

Mavros hurdled the wall and grabbed the man’s wrist, after kicking away the shotgun. It was slow but regular. There was a lot of blood coming from the hairline.

‘No, just knocked-’

The sound of screeching brakes rendered his words inaudible. He watched as a trio of heavily armed men got out of a Range Rover.

Mikis waved to them. ‘You’re too late, but let’s get that tyre changed before the rest of the fuckers arrive.’

Mavros watched as that feat was accomplished in a few minutes. Then he escorted Maria Kondos to the Jeep. She was still silent, but more in control of herself.

He looked over his shoulder as Mikis drove on. The Range Rover was behind them and he didn’t think any men from Kornaria would get past Mikis’s friends.

He looked at his watch. It was only one p.m., even though the day seemed to have been going on forever. He’d still have time to watch the old planes being filmed at Maleme, though now he’d had his own experience of battle in Crete he wasn’t too excited by that prospect.

Maria Kondos had fallen asleep.

TEN

‘You need to decide which hospital we’re taking her to,’ Mikis said, as they entered the heavily cultivated area south of the coast. ‘There are several private clinics, as well as the general hospital at Mournies.’

‘It isn’t up to me,’ Mavros replied. He should have called Cara Parks earlier, but his heart had only recently returned to normal pace. She answered immediately and he told her about Maria.

‘That’s fantastic, Alex. You’re a genius.’

‘I get that a lot. Listen, she needs medical care. Her feet are lacerated and I can’t tell what else might have been done to her.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘She’s in shock and she isn’t speaking.’

‘Oh.’ There was a pause. ‘OK. Rosie’s got a local fixer. I’ll get her to call you asap. I’ll come over myself.’ She rang off.

Mavros looked in the wing mirror. Mikis’s friends were close behind and there were no suspicious pickups further back.

‘So, this vendetta thing,’ he said. ‘Does it still go on?’

‘Oh yes,’ the driver said solemnly. ‘Especially in the mountain villages.’

‘Which means what, exactly?’

‘Well, I embarrassed one Kornariate and knocked another out, while you rearranged the third guy’s brains.’

‘Yeah, what about the injured men? Shouldn’t we send out an ambulance?’

Mikis looked at him as if he were slow. ‘You want to make things worse? Don’t worry about it. Those lunatics look after their own.’ He smiled weakly. ‘And they don’t take kindly either to being bested or to having their weapons confiscated.’

Mavros wasn’t feeling proud. ‘I’ve landed you in a very deep cesspit, haven’t I? I’m sorry, my friend.’

‘Forget it. That village is a bad place and the shit-heads up there obviously did something nasty to the woman. Besides, we know how to look after ourselves.’

‘I noticed.’

The Cretan smiled. ‘These things usually get sorted out eventually, but there’s no chance we’ll bribe them to lay off us. My old man doesn’t give money to wankers like them.’

Mavros’s phone rang. Rosie Yellenberg told him that a private room had been booked at the West Crete Clinic. He relayed that to Mikis, who nodded.

‘You’ve done well, Mr Mavros,’ the producer continued. ‘Would you like to go back to Athens on the Learjet tonight?’

He dismissed that without much thought. ‘No, thanks. Tomorrow will be OK. I take it I can stay at the Heavenly Blue tonight?’

Rosie Yellenberg gave a throaty laugh. ‘If Cara Parks goes back to work, you can stay as long as you like.’

As far as Mavros was concerned, the case wasn’t over. He wanted to know how Maria Kondos had got to the village – it seemed clear that someone had taken her there against her will – and he wanted to know why she had seemingly been kept in captivity.

Mikis pulled up in front of a new building on the outskirts of Chania. A lot of money had been spent on the facade, combining multicoloured concrete sections with traditional wooden balconies. No doubt the film company’s insurance would cover everything.

Maria Kondos, who stirred when the engine was switched off, was put in a wheelchair by a pair of keen orderlies and taken quickly inside.

‘What now?’ Mikis called.

Mavros had got out and was watching the patient disappear down a corridor. ‘I’m staying,’ he said. ‘You can split if you want.’

‘Let me sort out my friends. Don’t tell the film people, but it would be a good idea to have a guard outside here.’ He glanced across the road, which was wide. ‘They can take up position over there and do shifts.’

‘What about payment?’

‘The woman’s been harmed by Cretans. That goes against our code of hospitality.’ Mikis grinned. ‘Plus, my mother will find a way of putting it through the books. These Americans have far too much money.’

Mavros laughed. Not only was the driver smart and useful in a fight, he had the kind of contradictory character that Cretans were famous for.

A large Mercedes pulled up. Mavros saw the chauffeur open the door for the actress and went over. She was wearing a rose-pattern dress and dark glasses.

‘No paparazzi here,’ he said.

‘Just as well,’ Cara replied. ‘I didn’t even bring my security guys. Where is she?’

They went inside and Mavros asked at reception. They were told Maria was undergoing tests and that they couldn’t see her yet. The secretary directed them to a private lounge on the third floor and said they’d be advised when the patient could have visitors.

The empty room was comfortable and Cara sat down in a leather armchair.

Mavros went to the fridge and poured them glasses of water. He had suddenly realized that his throat was parched.

The actress eyed him as he sat down opposite. ‘What have you been doing, Alex? There’s dirt all over your pants.’

He looked down. ‘Ah. We ran into a bit of trouble.’

‘Details,’ Cara said imperiously.

He gave her them, without censoring.

‘Jeez,’ she said, when he’d finished, ‘this place is worse than Tombstone in its glory days.’

Mavros shrugged. ‘Not exactly. It’s just that there are some out-of-the-way villages – Kornaria being one – that have never submitted to other people’s laws.’

‘And you think Maria was kidnapped?’

‘She was obviously held there. It’s possible she went under her own volition, but I doubt it.’

The actress, who had taken off her shades, opened her eyes wide. Mavros noticed that she hadn’t put on any make-up and there were dark rings around her eyes. Blonde hair aside, she could have been a Mediterranean.

‘I don’t understand. Why would they have imprisoned her? Are you sure that’s what happened?’

‘No. She hasn’t said a word. But she was very frightened when we found her and the lack of footwear suggests they weren’t keen on her leaving.’

Cara Parks sighed and dabbed her eyes with a tissue from her Hermes bag.

‘It’s terrible, I can’t take it in.’

‘She was running too, like a hunted beast.’ He grimaced. ‘Which is what it turned out she was.’ He watched the actress carefully. ‘Have you ever heard the name Kondoyannis?’

She caught his gaze and held it. ‘No, I don’t think so. Should I have?’

‘No,’ he replied, summoning up the nerve to ask her about the death of the young gang member in LA and who had really been driving her car.

Then a tall man in a white coat and slicked back hair walked in.

‘Good afternoon,’ he said in English, his accent excellent. ‘My name is Stavrakakis. I’m the neurologist here.’

The actress got up and offered her hand. ‘Cara Parks. Maria – Ms Kondos – is my assistant and friend.’

If Stavrakakis knew who Cara was, he didn’t show it as he outlined Maria’s injuries. The wounds on her feet had been dressed by the surgical team – they were fairly severe and she wouldn’t be able to walk for several days. A full set of tests was also being carried out.

‘I would like to ask how your assistant, friend, got into this state.’

‘Mr Mavros here found her.’ Cara stopped speaking abruptly, passing the baton to him.

He described Maria’s disappearance and her downhill flight, but said nothing about the location or the clash with the villagers.

‘You see,’ the neurologist said, ‘I’ve examined the patient closely and can see no sign of a head wound – though obviously an MRI scan will confirm that. Do you know of any reason for her silence? She has not said a word to anyone and we have tried both English and Greek. I take it from her name that she has Greek heritage.’

Cara nodded. ‘But, as far as I know, she doesn’t know the language and this is her first time in Greece.’

‘I’ll ensure that English is the sole language used. I understand you are filming out at Maleme.’

So he had recognized the actress, Mavros thought.

‘Maleme and neighbouring areas, yes.’

‘And it’s a war film. I wonder if anything could have shocked her into this condition. Has she been near explosions or suchlike?’

Cara shook her head. ‘Nothing like that. We’ve been doing pre-invasion scenes so far. It’s only today that the aircraft are flying for the first time.’

‘Did she seem normal before she disappeared?’ the doctor asked. ‘And why did she disappear?’

‘She was completely all right,’ the actress said. ‘Busy, as we always are on a shoot, but not unduly pressured.’ She didn’t offer any more information.

Stavrakakis turned to Mavros. ‘So we don’t know why she disappeared?’

‘She was seen walking out of the Heavenly Blue resort on Sunday evening. We don’t know where she was until I picked her up today.’

‘And you are. .?’

‘Alex Mavros, a member of the production team,’ Cara put in.

The doctor nodded. ‘Very well. I will let you know when I have news.’ He left the room.

Mavros looked at the actress. ‘A member of the production team?’ he asked, with a smile. ‘Rosie Yellenberg wanted me on the plane back to Athens tonight.’

‘Rosie’s a coin-counter,’ Cara scoffed. ‘Do you think this case is over?’

Mavros shook his head.

‘Good,’ she agreed. ‘I need to know what happened to Maria. Until she comes back to herself, I want you to keep on it.’

‘OK,’ he said, not sounding over-enthusiastic. ‘Ms Yellenberg did say that I could stay as long as I like since I found Maria.’

‘I’ll bet she did,’ Cara said sharply. ‘She wants me back at work.’

‘Are you going to oblige?’

‘Can’t really say no now, can I? But I’ll stay here for the rest of today. I want to see Maria and assure her that everything’s all right.’

Mavros looked out of the window. Mikis and his friends were crowded round the Range Rover across the road.

‘I don’t think you should stay here alone,’ he said.

Then the door opened and Rosie Yellenberg walked in.

‘Go get ’em, tiger,’ Cara Parks said, with a surprisingly warm smile.

He left the women to it.

‘Shit!’

Mavros ducked as a Messerschmitt 109 with Luftwaffe markings screamed overhead, only a few metres above the electricity poles. He watched as it streaked towards the airfield, where a Junkers 52 troop carrier was manoeuvring in a cloud of dust.

Mikis had left him at the entrance to Maleme aerodrome and gone back to the resort to talk to his father. The security guys on the gate let him through when he showed the plastic-covered card he’d been given by Alice Quincy.

‘Where’s Mr Jennet?’ he shouted, as the fighter came back to make a second pass.

The guard pointed to a group of people at the far end of the runway from the modern buildings. ‘You can wait for a lift or take a papaki.’ He indicated a row of ‘little ducks’ – Honda 50s.

Mavros hated all forms of mechanized two-wheel transport, but in this case he was prepared to make an exception. It was hot and he didn’t want to wait in the sunlight. Mounting the contraption, he was pleasantly surprised to find that he remembered how to start it and even change gear – like every Greek boy, he had messed around with them before becoming heartily sick of the racket from shot exhausts.

He made it to the crowd in a few minutes. There was a large amount of equipment spread around – not only cameras, but generators, screens and numerous other things he didn’t know the name or purpose of. Then he saw a line of chairs under sunshades, as if an impromptu cafe had been set up. Rudolf and Hildegard Kersten were at one end, while David Waggoner was at the other. Between them were members of the film crew, some working on laptops and others arranging equipment. Alice Quincy saw him and came over.

‘Hello, Mr Mavros,’ she said, struggling to make herself heard above the sound of the taxiing Ju52.

‘Alex,’ he shouted back. The noise reduced as the plane headed away.

‘Can I help you?’ The young woman was in jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt that must have made her uncomfortably hot.

‘I want to talk to Mr Jennet. Is he available?’

‘If it’s about Maria Kondos, he knows you found her.’ She shaded her eyes as dust gathered around them. ‘The runway’s concrete, but we’re throwing up dust to make it look like it was back in the war.’

‘Art’s all about the little things,’ he said.

Alice Quincy wasn’t sure how to take that, which was his intention.

‘If you don’t mind, I need to sign off with Mr Jannet. He was the one who hired me, after all.’

Irritation flashed across her face, then she nodded. ‘You’ll have to wait. He’s arranging the next shots.’

Mavros shrugged and went over to the Kerstens.

‘May I join you?’ He signalled to the old man to remain seated. Hildegard gave him a soft smile.

‘Of course,’ Rudolf said. ‘I hear you found Maria Kondos, Alex. I’m so glad.’

There were bottles of water on the table and Mavros helped himself after offering the others. He was still plagued by thirst. He wondered what it must have been like for the soldiers.

‘Did you have enough water during the battle?’ he asked.

Kersten was watching the Ju52. ‘ TanteJus, we called them,’ he said. ‘Auntie Jus. I don’t know why they had that affectionate nickname. They were slow, cramped and highly vulnerable to anti-aircraft fire. To answer your question, no, we never had enough to drink. Most of us drained our bottles within minutes of landing.’ He looked over his shoulder to the trees in the distance. ‘It may look well irrigated now, but I can assure you that back then there was very little water on the ground. We survived by taking dead men’s bottles.’

Hildegard had turned away, as if mention of the fighting was abhorrent to her.

‘Look at that,’ Rudolf said, pointing to the group of men in wartime jumpsuits and parachutes outside the now stationary Ju52. ‘I’ve told them several times that they should hold the end of their cords between their teeth as they climb the ladder. Only one of them paid attention.’

‘Did they use Maleme for jumps after it was captured?’ Mavros asked, puzzled.

‘No, they’re pretending this is an airfield outside Athens. I boarded during the night, but it’s true there were later waves. The producers didn’t see any need to film on the mainland as well.’

Mavros watched as the men finished clambering on board and the plane taxied to the other end of the runway. He noticed that there were cameras mounted on pickup trucks all around, presumably to give many different angles to the flight.

‘This morning they filmed inside the TanteJu,’ the old man said. ‘They could only fit six men in with the cameras and other equipment. Now they’re going to record the drop, both from inside the plane and from the ground.’

There was an increasing roar as the plane’s three engines were gunned and it started down the runway, dust rising in its wake. Pickups kept up with it, the cameras pointing at the dun-green fuselage. The black crosses on the side and swastika on the tail gave Mavros a bad feeling, but he told himself to get a grip. It was only a movie.

The Ju52 moved sluggishly down the runway, eventually pulling into the air not far in front of the hangars. It headed out to sea, followed by a pair of smaller and more modern planes that filmed it from above, below and alongside. Eventually the troop carrier turned and came back towards them, the engines pulsing more powerfully now. Mavros felt hairs raise all over his body. From what he remembered, there had been dozens of planes in each wave. It must have been the most incredible sight for the defenders – awe-inspiring and terrifying. He leaned forward and looked over at David Waggoner. He was watching through binoculars, his jaw set firm. What memories was this bringing back to him?

The Messerschmitt made another pass, diving over the airfield. Lights flashed from its machine-gun slits – Mavros assumed that the sound of firing would be added at the editing stage. Then the TanteJu came over the land, only a few hundred feet above them. Cameras all around were trained on it, as the door was pulled back and a man appeared.

‘They are Greek paratroopers,’ Kersten said. ‘I have spent many days instructing them in the jump and landing positions that we used. Now we will see if I was successful.’ He gave a rueful smile.

Mavros watched as the man launched himself into the air with his arms and legs extended in the shape of an ‘X’. A few seconds later, another man dived out, then another and another. Their parachutes sprouted into inverted white cups at what seemed far too close to the ground. Mavros felt his palms sweating as the men came down fast. They hit the ground and rolled forward, then started pulling in their chutes. The last man shook in his harness and then hung limp for as long as he could before making a different kind of landing.

‘They didn’t shoot so many of us in the air,’ Kersten said. ‘That was Allied propaganda. A man falling at that speed is not an easy target. But they certainly did kill hundreds in the trees and on the ground before they reached the weapons canisters.’ His eyes clouded and he turned away.

Hildegard was immediately on her feet and at her husband’s side. She spoke to him in German, before turning to Mavros.

‘I told him this would be too much for him. He didn’t need to be here today. His work has already been done.’

‘No,’ the old man said, his eyes damp. ‘It is good that I saw it. Now I understand what it was like for the Cretans, seeing the invader come in with all his hubris and conceit.’ His wife wiped his face with a tissue. ‘We had no right,’ he said, his voice wavering. ‘No country has the right to invade another. But the Cretans had every right to fight us with everything they had.’

Mavros looked up as a shadow fell over them.

‘Not weeping for your lost comrades, are you, Kersten?’ David Waggoner said callously. ‘The ones who were shot to pieces in the olive groves and slaughtered in the open ground?’

Mavros stood up and put his hand on Waggoner’s arm. ‘You’re wrong,’ he said bluntly. ‘Leave him alone.’