He went galumphing back.

shivering in sodden clothes. "Anything wrong?" "Plenty," Mallory assured him. "Search party moving this way. We'll have to pull out inside half an hour." He looked at his watch. "Just on four o'clock. Do you think you could raise Cairo on the set?" "Lord only knows," Brown said frankly. He rose stiffly to his feet. "The radio didn't get just the best of treatment yesterday. I'll have a go." "Thanks, Chief. See that your aerial doesn't stick up above the sides of the gully." Mallory turned to leave the cave, but halted abruptly at the sight of Andrea squatting on a boulder just beside the entrance. His head bent in concentration, the big Greek had just finished screwing telescopic sights on to the barrel of his 7.92 mm. Mauser and was now deftly wrapping a sleeping-bag lining round its barrel and butt until the entire rifle was wrapped in a white cocoon. Mallory watched him in silence. Andrea glanced up at him, smiled, rose to his feet and reached out for his rucksack. Within thirty seconds he was clad from head to toe in his mountain camouflage suit, was drawing tight the purse-strings of his snowhood and easing his feet into the rucked elastic anklets of his canvas boots. Then he picked up the Mauser and smiled slightly. "I thought I might be taking a little walk, Captain," he said apologetically. "With your permission, of course." Mallory nodded his head several times in slow recollection. "You said I was worrying about nothing," he murmured. "I should have known. You might have told me, Andrea." But the protest was automatic, without significance. Mallory felt neither anger nor even annoyance at this tacit arrogation of his authority. The habit of command died hard in Andrea: on such occasions as he ostensibly sought approval for or consulted about a proposed course of action it was generally as a matter of courtesy and to give information as to his intentions. Instead of resentment, Mallory could feel only an overwhelming relief and gratitude to the smiling giant who towered above him: he had talked casually to Miller about driving Stevens till he died and then abandoning him, talked with an indifference that masked a mind sombre with bitterness at what he must do, but even so he had not known how depressed, bow sick at heart this decision had left him until he knew it was no longer necessary. "I am sorry." Andrea was half-contrite, half-smiling. "I should have told you. I thought you understood. . . . It is the best thing to do, yes?" "It is the only thing to do," camera in digital convertor box Mallory said frankly: "You're going to draw them off up the saddle?" "There is no other way. With their skis they would overtake me in minutes if I went down into the valley. I cannot come back, of course, until it is dark. You will be here?" "Some of us will." Mallory glanced across the shelter where a waking Stevens was trying to sit up, heels of his palms screwing into his exhausted eyes. "We must have food and fuel, Andrea," he said softly. "I am going down into the valley to-night." "Of course, of course. We must do what we can." Andrea's face was grave, his voice only a murmur. "As long as we can. He is only a boy, a child almost. . . . Perhaps it will not be long." He pulled back the curtain, looked out at the evening sky. "I will be back by seven o'clock." "Seven o'clock," Mallory repeated. The sky, he could see, was darkening already, darkening with the gloom of coming snow, and the lifting wind was beginning to puff little clouds of air-spun, flossy white into the little gully. Mallory shivered and caught hold of the massive arm. "For God's sake, Andrea," he urged quietly, "look after yourself!" "Myself?" Andrea smiled gently, no mirth in his eyes, and as gently he disengaged his arm. "Do not think about me." The voice was very quiet, with an utter lack of arrogance. "If you must speak to God, speak to Him about these poor devils who are looking for us." The canvas dropped behind him and he was gone. For some moments Mallory stood irresolutely at the mouth of the cave, gazing out sightlessly through the gap in the curtain. Then he wheeled abruptly, crossed the floor of the shelter and knelt in front of Stevens. The boy was propped up against Miller's anxious arm, the eyes lack-lustre and expressionless, bloodless cheeks deep-sunken in a grey and parchment face. Mallory smiled at him: he hoped the shock didn't show in his face. "Well, well, well. The sleeper awakes at last. Better late than never." He opened his waterproof cigarette case, profferred it to Stevens. "How are you feeling now, Andy?" "Frozen, sir." Stevens shook his head at the case and tried to grin back at Mallory, a feeble travesty of a smile that made Mallory wince. "And the leg?" "I think it must be frozen, too." Stevens looked down incuriously at the sheathed whiteness of his shattered leg. "Anyway, I can't feel a thing." "Frozen!" Miller's sniff was a masterpiece of

"I 'll serve you with all my whole heart;

sensuality for our dalliance. She let herself be swung again to his side, his arm tucking hers against his ribs, his warm hand stroking hers as he guided her to the barbecue pits. She had no argument against his so firm decision. Although she murmured understanding, she seethed with abruptly interrupted sensations, forcing herself to an outward amity. Perhaps it was as well, she told herself, as they collected platters from one of the long tables and joined those awaiting slices of roasted meat. Shed need time to recover and buffer herself against the charisma of the man. He was as potent as Lanzecki. And that was the first time shed thought of the Guildmaster in a while! What did Lars mean in saying shed know why he couldnt absent himself so soon? How important was he within the island society, aside from being its first citizen to get into the Conservatory? Then they were in the midst of the eager diners, with Lars exchanging laughing comments, teasing acquaintances, his rich lilting laughter rising above theirs. Yet he kept a firm grip on Killashandra and she tried to compose her expression against the surprise in the womens faces and the curiosity of the men. Who was this Lars Dahl when he wasnt kidnapping crystal singers? Once thin slices of the juicy meat had been served them, Lars Dahl escorted her back to the table and they sank to the sand. Lars kept his left hand lightly on her thigh as he filled their plates from the foods displayed in the center of the table: breaded fried fish bits, steaming whiteroots, chopped raw vegetable, large yellow tubers which had been baked in polly leaves and exuded a pungent spiciness. He snagged a jug as it was being passed and filled their cups, deftly pouring without losing so much as a drop. Killashandra was aware of furtive glances the length of the table for Lars Dahls partner. She looked for Keralaw for her support but there was no sign of her friend. Nor could she discern any animosity in the scrutinies. Curiosity, yes, and envy. Eat. I guarantee youll need your strength Carrigana. Though she gave him a gleaming smile, she wondered why he had hesitated with the name, as if he was savoring the sound of it, the way he had rolled the rs and lengthened the final two as. Was he dissembling? Had he recognized her? He knew shed been injured by that island star-knife She almost pulled away from him, startled by a sudden knowledge that he had thrown that vicious starblade at her. She shook her head, kodak picture cameras digital smiling to answer his sudden quizzical look, and applied herself to the heaped food. His hand soothed her thigh, the fingers light and caressing. You sure can pick em, Killashandra, she thought, pulled by intense and conflicting emotions. She couldnt wait to roll with him, somewhere in the warm and fragrant plantation, with the surf pounding in rhythm with her blood. She wanted to solve the conundrums he represented, and she was determined to resolve each one to her advantage and furious that he didnt even recognize the woman he had first injured and then abducted. Yet, with all apparent complaisance, she sat, smiled, and laughed at his rather clever comments. Lars Dahl seemed to miss nothing that went on about him, and ate hugely. A beaming plump man wearing half a dozen garlands passed about a platter of the black flesh of the smacker fish, nudging Lars Dahl with a lewd whisper for his ear only, while Lars was lightly kneading her thigh, and then the plump man winked broadly at her, dumping a second slice of the fish onto her plate. She was indeed grateful for the second slice of the smacker for it was succulent and highly unusual in taste, having nothing oily or fishy about it. The fermented polly juice was more subtle than the overripe fruit she had eaten on the island. Lars kept her cup filled, though she noticed that he only sipped at his while appearing to imbibe more freely than the level in his cup suggested. When she admitted that she could eat no more of the cooked foods, he carefully picked one of the large, dark red melons, and, with one hand someone called aloud with a quick guess as to where his other hand was he split it with his knife, glancing expectantly at her. Out of the corner of her eye she had seen another woman so served scoop the seeds from her halved melon. Laughingly she did the same service, settling Lars half in his plate before taking her own. Then, before she could lift her spoon, he had made a thin slice which he lifted to her lips. The flesh of the melon was the sweetest she had ever tasted, velvety, dripping with juice once the flesh was pierced. He took his first bite on top of hers, his even, strong teeth leaving a neat semi-circle all the way to the rind. It was not the first time eating had been part of her love-making, but never before so many, even if all the pairings were performing much the same ritual. Or was that why the air was electric with sensuality? A song,

Where-ever he came, they quak'd at his name,

lifting off, sir. Carbon monoxide ain't a very healthy thing." "Exhaust leak?" "Aye. But it's more than a leak now." He pointed down at the engine. "See that stand-pipe supporting that big iron ball above the enginethe water-cooler? That pipe's as thin as paper, must have been leaking above the bottom flange for hours. Blew out a bloody great hole a minute ago. Sparks, smoke and flames six inches long. Had to shut the damned thing off at once, sir." Mallory nodded in slow understanding. "And now what? Can you repair it, Brown?" "Not a chance, sir." The shake of the head was very definite. "Would have to be brazed or welded. But there's a spare down there among the scrap. Rusted to hell and about as shaky as the one that's on. . . . I'll have a go, sir." "I'll give him a hand," Miller volunteered. "Thanks, Corporal. How long, Brown, do you think?" "Lord only knows, sir. Two hours, maybe four. Most of the nuts and bolts are locked solid with rust: have to shear or saw 'emand then hunt for others." Mallory said nothing. He turned away heavily, brought up beside Stevens who had abandoned the wheelhouse and was now bent over the sail locker. He looked up questioningly as Mallory approached. Mallory nodded. "Just get them out and up. Maybe four hours, Brown says. Andrea and I will do our landlubberly best to help." Two hours later, with the engine still out of commission, they were well outside territorial waters, closing on a big island some eight miles away to the W.N.W. The wind, warm and oppressive now, had backed to a darkening and thundery east, and with only a lug and a jiball the sails they had foundbent to the foremast, they could make no way at all into it. Mallory had decided to make for the islandthe chances of being observed there were far less than in the open sea. Anxiously he looked at his watch, then stared back moodily at the receding safety of the Turkish shore. Then he stiffened, peered closely at the dark line of sea, land and sky that lay to the east. "Andrea! Do you see" "I see it, Captain." Andrea was at his shoulder. "Caique. Three miles. Coming straight towards us," he added softly. "Coming straight towards us," Mallory acquiesced. "Tell Miller and Brown. Have them come here." Mallory camera digital canon s50 wasted no time when they were all assembled. "We're going to be stopped and investigated," he said quickly. "Unless I'm much mistaken, it's that big caique that passed us this morning. Heaven only knows how, but they've been tipped off and they're going to be as suspicious as hell. This'li be no kid-glove, hands-in-the pockets inspection. They'll be armed to the teeth and hunting trouble. There's going to be no half-measures. Let's be quite clear about that. Either they go under or we do: we can't possibly survive an inspectionnot with all the gear we've got aboard. And," he added softly, "we're not going to dump that gear." Rapidly he explained his plans. Stevens, leaning out from the wheelhouse window, felt the old sick ache in his stomach, felt the blood leaving his face. He was glad of the protection of the wheelhouse that bid the lower part of his body: that old familiar tremor in his leg was back again. Even his voice was unsteady. "But, sirsir" "Yes, yes, what is it, Stevens?" Even in his hurry Mallory paused at the sight of the pale, set face, the bloodless nails clenched over the sill of the window. "Youyou can't do that, sir!" The voice burred harshly under the sharp edge of strain. For a moment his mouth worked soundlessly, then he rushed on. "It's massacre, sir, it'sit's just murder!" "Shut up, kid!" Miller growled. "That'll do, Corporal!" Mallory said sharply. He looked at the American for a long moment, then turned to Stevens, his eyes cold. "Lieutenant, the whole concept of directing a successful war is aimed at placing your enemy at a disadvantage, at not giving him an even chance. We kill them or they kill us. They go under or we doand a thousand men on Kheros. It's just as simple as that, Lieutenant. It's not even a question of conscience." For several seconds Stevens stared at Mallory in complete silence. He was vaguely aware that everyone was looking at him. In that instant he hated Mallory, could have killed him. He hated him because-suddenly he was aware that he hated him only for the remorseless logic of what he said. He stared down at his clenched hands. Mallory, the idol of every young mountaineer and cragsman in pre-war England, whose fantastic climbing exploits had made world headlines, in '38 and '39:

Dwindled and harsh, dead-white and cloudy-clear.

He had propped himself up on his hands and knees and was staring up numbly, almost disbelievingly, at the narrowing walls above him. "Throw me a rope." He could see death's hand reaching out to touch him, but the urgency in his voice was still under that iron control, his face an expressionless mask. "For God's sake, throw me a rope." I thought of the trail of death Smallwood had left behind him, of the plane's dead captain, the three dead crew members, Colonel Harrison, Brewster and Mrs Dansby-Gregg, of how close to the brink of death he had brought Marie LeGarde and Mahler, of how often he had threatened death to the girl now trembling violently in the crook of my arm. I thought of these things, then I looked at Jackstraw, who carried a rope over his arm, and I saw reflected in his face the same implacability, the same bleak mercilessness that informed my own mind. And then Jackstraw moved towards the brink of the crevasse, lifted the tightly coiled rope high above his head, hurled it down on top of the man below and stepped back without a word. We turned, Jackstraw and I, with Margaret Ross supported between us, and walked slowly up the glacier to meet the officer in charge of the landing party, and as we walked we could feel the glacier shiver beneath our feet as a million tons of ice lurched down towards the head of the Kangalak Fjord. THE END 48 The match scratched noisily across the rusted metal of the corrugated iron shed, fizzled, then burst into a sputtering pool of light, the harsh sound and sudden brilliance alike strangely alien in the stillness of the desert night. Mechanically, Mallory's eyes followed the cupped sweep of the flaring match to the cigarette jutting out beneath the commodore's clipped moustache, saw the light stop inches away from the face, saw too the sudden stillness of that face, the unfocused vacancy of the eyes of a man lost in listening. Then the match was gone, ground into the sand of the airfield perimeter. "I can hear them," the commodore said softly. "I can hear them coming in. Five minutes, no more. No wind to-nightthey'll be coming in on No. 2. Come on, let's meet them in the interrogation room." He paused, looked quizzically at Mallory and seemed to smile. But the darkness deceived, for there was no humor in his voice. "Just curb your impatience, young manjust for a little longer. Things haven't gone too well tonight. You're going to have all your answers, I'm afraid, and have them all too soon." He turned abruptly, strode off towards the squat buildings that digital camera battery finder loomed vaguely against the pale darkness that topped the level horizon. Mallory shrugged, then followed on more slowly, step for step with the third member of the group, a broad, stocky figure with a very pronounced roll in his gait. Mallory wondered sourly just how much practice Jensen had required to achieve that sailorly effect. Thirty years at sea, of courseand Jensen had done exactly that were sufficient warrant for a man to dance a hornpipe as he walked: but that wasn't the point. As the brilliantly successful Chief of Operations of the Subversive Operations Executive in Cairo, intrigue, deception, imitation and disguise were the breath of life to Captain James Jensen, D.S.O., R.N. As a Levantine stevedore agitator, he had won the awed respect of the dock-labourers from Alexandretta to Alexandria: as a camel-driver, he had blasphemously out-camel-driven all available Bedouin competition: and no more pathetic beggar had ever exhibited such realistic sores in the bazaars and marketplaces of the East. To-night, however, he was just the bluff and simple sailor. He was dressed in white from cap-cover to canvas shoes; the starlight glinted softly on the golden braid on epaulettes and cap peak. Their footsteps crunched in companionable unison over the hard-packed sand, rang sharply as they moved on to the concrete of the runway. The hurrying figure of the air commodore was already almost lost to sight. Mallory took a deep breath and turned suddenly towards Jensen. "Look, sir, just what is all this? What's all the flap, all the secrecy about? And why am I involved in it? Good lord, sir, it was only yesterday that I was pulled out of Crete, relieved at eight hours' notice. A month's leave, I was told. And what happens?" "Well," Jensen murmured, "what did happen?" "No leave," Mallory said bitterly. "Not even a night's sleep. Just hours and hours in the S.O.E. Headquarters, answering a lot of silly, damnfool questions about climbing in the Southern Alps. Then hauled out of bed at midnight, told I was to meet you, and then driven for hours across the blasted desert by a mad Scotsman who sang drunken songs and asked hundreds of even more silly, damnfool questions!" "One of my more effective disguises, I've always thought," Jensen said smugly. "Personally, I found the journey most entertaining!" "One of your" Mallory broke off, appalled at the memory of the things he

And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,

out. I dont think theres a concert tonight. Ill find out. Im not a prisoner here. I should hope not, Corish said stiffly. Look, where can I reach you? The Piper Facility, Corish replied as if there were no other suitable place in the City, where you said, and he emphasized the word, that youd leave a message for me. I was concerned when thered been no word at all from you. Foods not bad here but they wont serve anything drinkable. Typical traveler hostel. Ill see if they can recommend some place a little more Optherian. This isnt a bad world, you know. Ive met some sterling people, very helpful, very kind. Then his expression brightened. You check and leave word at the Facility only if you cant make it. Otherwise, come here at seven thirty. You have enough funds for ground transport, dont you? Now he was the slightly condescending, well traveled adult, older sibling. Of course I do. You sound just like my brother, she replied cheerfully. See you! And she broke the connection, turning to Trag and Lars. That sort of solves one problem, doesnt it? Does it? Trag asked darkly. I think so, Lars replied. Corish has an unlimited travel pass, issued by Elder Pentrom. His credentials must have come from very highly placed Federationists for that kind of assistance. More likely, his uncle is due to inherit a sizable hunk of credit of which the Optherian government will get its own share. Killashandra suggested. Lars nodded. And if his cover has been that good, its unlikely the Elders have tumbled to his true identity so he could get in touch with anyone we need, including Olav Dahl! Or Nahia or Hauness. What concerns me, Lars said, his eyes clouded with anxiety, is why hes getting in touch with you right now. He must have come back to the City from Ironwood and Nahia and Hauness. Maybe theyre in jeopardy. So many people were picked up on the search and seize Killashandra put a reassuring hand on Larss arm. I think somehow Corish would have managed to intimate that. I think he did by not admitting to finding his uncle. If he admitted to having found his uncle, Trag said, unexpectedly joining forces with Killashandra to reassure Lars, he would no longer have any need to use that travel pass, and if hes as good a Council agent as he seems to be, he wouldnt surrender that option. Lars kodak camera digital camera parts accepted that interpretation with a nod of his head and pretended to be reassured. Well know soon enough, Killashandra said kindly. Well, when you meet Corish this evening, Lars said, walk to whichever restaurant hes been recommended. That way you have some chance of open talk. The Piper is certain to recommend The Berry Bush or Frenshaws. Neither are far from the Piper, but both restaurants are run by Optherians, loyal and true to the Elders, so youll be under observation. The foods pretty good. Lars gave her an encouraging grin. Then Im taking the jammer, too. Got to keep them thinking its me that causes the static. Well, they should have had enough time to digest Corishs innocuous conversation. So Killashandra tapped out a sequence on the comunit. Mirbethan, is there a concert tonight? I shouldnt want to miss any but von Mittelstern has invited me to dinner tonight, and Ive accepted. I dont want him to come charging up here and discover Im more than the simple music student he thinks me, so Ill settle his doubts. Whatever Mirbethan thought was disguised by her reassurances that no concert was scheduled. Then please arrange transport for me this evening. By the way, when is the next concert? Im fascinated by the organ effects. Fabulous concert last night. The most unusual one Ive ever attended. Tomorrow evening, Guildmember. Mirbethans reply was gracious, but Killashandra noticed the slightly smug turn to the womans faint smile. Good. Killashandra broke the connection. Offense is the best defense, Guildmember, she added, turning to Trag. You didnt have to promise the Elders that youd discipline me for my emotional aberration, did you? Well, then, its business as usual for me in a normal fashion which means I come and go, whether they trail me or not. Right? And since Im disaffected with you, and Killashandra kissed Larss cheek, Ill go alone. Unless, Trag, you want to come and meet Corish. I might, at that, Trag said, half-closing his eyes a moment. That gives me the chance to moon after Mirbethan, Lars said slyly. Killashandra guffawed and wished him luck. Now let us attend our duties, Trag said, gesturing for Killashandra to precede them to the door. When they reached the Festival Auditorium, a large contingent of security

And a broad arrow he let flye,

his feet, walking from one display to the next, making his own estimate of the data. He looked up at Lars and Killashandra, noting with the upward lift of one eyebrow the bruised garlands they wore. He indicated the circular stairway and made a gesture which Killashandra read as a promise to join them later. They crossed the room, Lars pausing to read the displays at the head of the staircase. He made a noncommittal grunt and then indicated that she should precede him. Therefore she was first in the room, grateful that only large windows north and south broke its protection from the elements without, while a fire burned in a wide hearth on the eastern wall. The western wall was broken by four doors, the open one showing a small catering area. But Killashandras attention was immediately on the occupants of the room, three men and the most beautiful woman Killashandra had ever seen. Nahia! How dare you risk yourself! cried Lars, his face white under his tan as he brushed past Killashandra. To her complete amazement, he dropped on one knee before the woman, and kissed her hand. Chapter 13 A startled expression crossed Nahias perfect features at Larss obeisance. She shot a quick look at Killashandra, managing to convey her embarrassment even as she tried to lift Lars from his knee. My friend, this will not do, she said kindly, but firmly. Only think what effect such a gesture could have on an Elder or a Master and yes, I do most certainly know your opinion of those worthies. But Lars, such histrionics could damage our goal. Lars had by now risen to his feet. With a final few pats to his hand, an oblique apology for her public admonition, she withdrew from his grasp, moving past him toward Killashandra. Whom have you brought with you, Lars? she asked, smiling tentatively as she extended her slender hand to Killashandra. Who wears your garland? Carrigana, lately a polly planter, Lars replied, stepping back to Killashandras side and taking her other hand firmly in his. It was one way of apologizing for his effusive welcome of another woman but it was Nahia herself who effectively dissolved Killashandras incipient hostility. The touch of her hand had a soothing effect, not a shock or a jar, but a gentle insinuation of reassurance. Nahias eyes were troubled as she regarded Killashandra, her lips curving upward in a slight smile which blossomed as she felt Killashandras resistance to her dissipate. Then a little frown gathered at her brows as she camera digital photography professional htm became aware of the lingering crystal resonance within Killashandra. It was the crystal singers turn to smile reassurance and an acknowledgement of what Nahia was: an empath. Killashandra had heard of such people but she had never encountered one. The encyclopedia had not hinted the psi talents were an Optherian quality. It could be a wild talent and often was. In Nahia it was combined with unexpected beauty, integrity, and an honesty which few citizens of the Federated Sentient Worlds could project without endangering their sanity. Lars had been correct in his statement that Nahias special talents would be a galactic asset. She was Goodness personified. Nahia looked with gentle inquiry at Killashandra, struggling to identify the elusive contact with crystal. Killashandra smiled and, with a final light pressure on Nahias fine-boned hand, released her and leaned slightly against Lars. At this point, the other men stepped forward to greet the newcomers. Im Hauness, Nahias escort, said the tallest of the three, an attractive man whom Killashandra judged to be in his mid-thirties. His handclasp was strong but not crushing and he, too, exuded a charm and personality that would have been instantly apparent in any group at least any group that did not contain Nahia. Or Lars. Believe me, Lars, we had no report of such rough weather when we embarked on this journey but There are matters we must discuss with you, no matter what the risk. Erutown was the oldest, and bluntest. His manner suggested that he tended to be a humorless pessimist. He gave Killashandras hand one brief shake and dropped it. And there was no risk in the weather when we started. He hovered, his upper body inclined away from Killashandra even as his feet shifted, as if he wanted to separate Lars from Killashandra and plunge into the matters to be discussed as quickly as possible. Theach, said the third man, giving Killashandra a brief, self-effacing nod. He was the sort of nondescript human being, mild mannered, with undistinguished features, who can be encountered almost anywhere in the human population, and promptly forgotten. Only because she had heard of his mathematical abilities from Lars did Killashandra give Theach any sort of an inspection and thus noticed that his eyes were brilliant with intelligence: that he had already assumed she would discount him, indeed, hoped that

For I am weary wi hunting and fain wald lie down."

to kill you if the second officerJimmy Waterman, you called him, wasn't it -didn't play ball. Why else?" "Why else?" she echoed. She gazed at me, the wide brown eyes never leaving mine, and then I could see the slow fear touching them again and she whispered: "And who else?" "How do you mean 'Who else'?" "Can't you see? If someone had a gun on Jimmy Waterman, someone else must have had one on the pilots. You can see yourself that no one could cover both places at the same time. But Captain Johnson must have been doing exactly as he was told, just as Jimmy was." It was so glaringly obvious that a child could have seen it: it was so glaringly obvious that I'd missed it altogether. Of course there must have been two of them, how else would it have been possible to force the entire crew to do as they were ordered? Good heavens, this was twice as bad, ten times as bad as it had been previously. Nine men and women back there in the cabin, and two of them killers, ruthless merciless killers who would surely kill again, at the drop of a hat, as the needs of the moment demanded. And I couldn't even begin to guess the identity of either of them. "You're right, of course, Miss Ross," I forced myself to speak calmly, matter-of-factly. "It was blind of me, I should have known." I remembered how the bullet had passed clear through the man in the back seat. "I did know, but I couldn't add one and one. Colonel Harrison and Captain Johnson were killed by different gunsthe one by a heavy carrying weapon, like a Colt or a Luger, the other by a less powerful, a lighter weapon, like something a woman might have used." I broke off abruptly. A woman's gun! Why not a woman using it? Why not even this girl by my side? It could have been her accomplice that had followed me out to the plane earlier in the evening, and it would fit in beautifully with the facts. . . . No, it wouldn't, faints couldn't be faked. But perhaps- "A woman's gun?" I might have spoken my thoughts aloud, so perfectly had she understood. "Perhaps even meor should I say perhaps still me?" Her voice was unnaturally calm. "Goodness only knows I can't blame you. If I were you, I'd suspect everyone too." She pulled the glove and mitten off her left hand, took the gleaming ring off her third finger and passed it across to me. I examined it blankly in the light of my torch, then bent forward as I caught sight of the tiny inscription on the inside of the gold band: "J. W.-M. R. Sept. 28,1958'. I digital camera advantages and disadvantages looked up at her and she nodded, her face numb and stricken. "Jimmy and I got engaged two months ago. This was my last flight as a stewardesswe were being married at Christmas." She snatched the ring from me, thrust it back on her finger with a shaking hand and when she turned to me again the tears were brimming over in her eyes. "Now do you trust me?" she sobbed. "Now do you trust me?" For the first time in almost twenty-four hours I acted sensibly -1 closed my mouth tightly and kept it that way. I didn't even bother reviewing her strange behaviour after the crash and in the cabin, I knew instinctively that this accounted for everything: I just sat there silently watching her staring straight ahead, her fists clenched and tears rolling down her cheeks, and when she suddenly crumpled and buried her face in her hands and I reached out and pulled her towards me she made no resistance, just turned, crushed her face into the caribou fur of my parka and cried as if her heart was breaking: and I suppose it was. I suppose, too, that the moment when a man hears that a girl's fiance* has died only that day is the last moment that that man should ever begin to fall in love with her, but I'm afraid that's just how it was. The emotions are no respecters of the niceties, the proprieties and decencies of this life, and, just then, I was clearly aware that mine were stirred as they hadn't been since that dreadful day, four years ago, when my wife, a bride of only three months, had been killed in a car smash and I had given up medicine, returned to my first great love, geology, completed the B.Sc. course that had been interrupted by the outbreak of World War Two and taken to wandering wherever work, new surroundings and an opportunity to forget the past had presented themselves. Why, when I gazed down at that small dark head pressed so deeply into the fur of my coat, I should have felt my heart turn over I didn't know. For all her wonderful brown eyes she had no pretensions to beauty and I knew nothing whatsoever about her. Perhaps it was just a natural reaction from my earlier antipathy: perhaps it was pity for her loss, for what I had so cruelly done to her, for having so exposed her to dangerwhoever knew that I knew too much would soon know that she knew it also: or perhaps it was just because she was so defenceless and vulnerable, so ridiculously small and lost in Joss's big parka. And then I caught myself trying to work out the

Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair,

It was Jackstraw who heard it firstit was always Jackstraw, whose hearing was an even match for his phenomenal eyesight, who heard things first. Tired of having my exposed hands alternately frozen, I had dropped my book, zipped my sleeping-bag up to the chin and was drowsily watching him carving figurines from a length of inferior narwhal tusk when his hands suddenly fell still and he sat quite motionless. Then, unhurriedly as always, he dropped the piece of bone into the coffee-pan that simmered gently by the side of our oil-burner stovecurio collectors paid fancy prices for what they Sum other dule ye drie O. imagined to be the dark ivory of fossilised elephant tusksrose and put his ear to the ventilation shaft, his eyes remote in the unseeing gaze of a man lost in listening. A couple of seconds were enough. "Aeroplane," he announced casually. "Aeroplane!" I propped myself up on an elbow and stared at him. "Jackstraw, you've been hitting the methylated spirits again." "Indeed, no, Dr Mason." The blue eyes, so incongruously at

(I wonder what it will be like at forty?

unquestionably that the arbitrary restriction to Optheria is not popularly acceptable. Im glad you agree to that. In doing that, you will also need to avoid the Elders. It wouldnt do for them to discover you blithely treading the cobbles at Ironwood or the terraces of Maitland. You never told them youd kidnapped me, so why couldnt I visit other communities? Because youve now been missing for five weeks. How would you explain such an absence, much less why you havent repaired their precious Festival organ? Idve done that if that wretched security officer hadnt been in his flatulent dotage! My absence is easy to explain. I just dont explain it. She shrugged diffidently. Lars sniggered. You dont know how much our Elders dislike mysteries You have seen me playing a humble island maid, Lars. Try seeing me as a highly indignant and aristocratic member of the Heptite Guild. As she spoke, her voice became strange, disdainful, and Killashandra pulled herself arrogantly erect. Lars started to remove his arm from her shoulders in reaction to the transformation. Im more than a match for Ampris or Torkes. And they need my services far too much to annoy me again. Im obliged to mention that theyve sent for a replacement I know that. How could you? Killashandra grinned at him. Crystal singers have preternaturally acute hearing. You and your little band of conspirators were only across the room from me. I heard every word. Lars momentarily let the tiller slip but Killashandra grabbed it and steadied the helm. A second crystal singer might be all to the good, depending on who they send. But weve time to spare itll take nearly ten weeks to get another singer here. I happen to need the contract money so Ill repair their damned organ. Maybe this time, Ill get the kind of help I need. A thought suddenly struck Killashandra. By all thats holy, Ill get you! She prodded Larss chest with her forefinger. Lars snorted with derision. Im the last person welcome in the Conservatory! Ah, but you will be welcome as the man who rescued this poor abandoned crystal singer from durancevile! What? Well, that would answer why Ive been absent. But, of course, I never set eyes on my abductor drawings of a digital camera so I cant say who it might be. Killashandra fluttered her eyelashes in mock horror. There I was, taking a stroll to compose myself after that horrible confrontation with an officious oaf and wham! bung! Im coshed on the head and wake up, all alone, on a desert island, heavens know where! Killashandra got into the part with a faked swoon. Im less of a ham with a properly respectful audience, I might add. But there I am. Lost! Who knows who the dastards are using a plural will suggest a whole group of conspirators, you see And then you Killashandra laid a delicate hand on Larss arm. His eyes were bright with mirth and he had his lips pressed together against distracting laughter. You loyal despite your terrible disappointment and Killashandra put her hand to her breast and breathed hard rescued me and insisted on returning me to the safety of the City, to install the crystal manual so that the priceless organ will be ready for the Summer Festival. Thus currying favor with the powers that be which, in view of your subversive activities, is a very good idea and saving them the cost of another expensive crystal singer. We are very expensive to hire, you see. And I have the impression that the Elders are credit-crunchers. Lars began to chuckle, rubbing his chin as if he was visualizing those moments of triumph. If you can be trusted not to overact he ducked as she shook her fist at him you know, it might work. Of course it will work! I was able to gauge audience reactions to a pico. And more than just give you a well-deserved return for their meanness and chicanery to you, Ill pretend that Im so very nervous about a repetition of assault and battery that Ill need you by my side all the time. I think, Lars began, slowly, thoughtfully, Father and the others will like this plan. Lars gave a rueful snort. I got rather soundly told off for acting in a unilateral fashion when I abducted you, you know. My father is a mild mannered man most of the time Then let us by all means present this idea to him them. And by the way, speaking of mild-mannered men, what do you know about Corish von Mittelstern? The man looking for his uncle? Thats the one. Well, hes not an Optherian agent if thats what youre worried about. We checked him for residue. Checked him

But in my breast and in my brain,

dreadful disaster in Elizabeth, New Jersey, where a commuters' train had plunged through an opened span of the bridge into the waters of Newark Bay, drowning dozens of the passengers aboard, I already knew from the quick glance I had had at the cutting in the plane. But, as I had also gathered in the plane, this was a follow-up story and the reporter wasted little time on the appalling details: his interest lay in another direction entirely. It was 'reliably reported', he said, that the train had been carrying an army courier: that he was one of the forty who had died: and that he had been carrying a 'super-secret guided missile mechanism'. That was all the cutting said, but it was enough, and more than enough. It didn't say whether the mechanism had been lost or not, it most certainly never even suggested that there was any connection between the presence of the mechanism aboard the train and the reasons for the crash. It didn't have to, the cheek-by-jowl contiguity of the two items made the reader's own horrifying conclusions inevitable. From the silence that stretched out after I had read out the last words, I knew that the others were lost in the same staggering speculations as myself. It was Jackstraw who finally broke this silence, his voice abnormally matter-of-fact. "Well, we know now why you were knocked on the head." "Knocked on the head?" Zagero took him up. "What do you" "Night before last," I interrupted. "When I told you I'd walked into a lamp-post." I told them all about the finding of the cutting and its subsequent loss. "Would it have made all that difference even if you had read it?" Zagero asked. "I mean" "Of course it would!" My voice was harsh, savage almost, but the savagery was directed against myself, my own stupidity. "The fact of finding a cutting about a fatal crash which occurred in strange unexplained circumstances on the person of a man who had just died in a fatal crash in equally strange and unexplained circumstances would have made even me suspicious. When I heard from Hillcrest that something highly secret was being carried aboard the plane, the parallel would have been even more glaringly obvious, especially as the cutting was found on the manan army officerwho was almost certainly the courier, the carrier of this secret. Anything larger than a match-box in the luggage the passengers were carrying I'd have ripped open and examined, radio and tape-recorder included. reports on digital camera Smallwood knew it. He didn't know what was in the cutting, but heor Corazziniknew it was a cutting and they were taking no chances at all." "You weren't to know this," Levin said soothingly. "It's not your fault" "Of course it's my fault," I said wearily. "All my fault. I don't even know how to start apologising. You first, Zagero, I suppose, you and Solly Levin, for tying you" "Forget it." Zagero was curt but friendly. "We're just as bad -all of us. All the facts that mattered were as available to us as they were to youand we made no better use of them: less, if anything." In the tiny glow from the torch I could see him shaking his head. "Lordy, lordy, but ain't it easy to understand everything when it's too late. Easy enough to understand now why we crashed in the middle of nowherethe plane captain must have been in on it, he must have known that the mechanism was aboard and thought it important enough to put the passengers' lives second and crash-land in the middle of the ice-plateau, where Smallwood could never reach the coast." "Not knowing that I was there waiting to oblige Smallwood," I said bitterly. I shook my head in turn. "It's obvious now, all too obvious. How Corazzini damaged his hand in the shacknot by saving or trying to save the radio but by accelerating its fall after he'd pushed the hinges in. How and why he lost the toss and had to sleep on the floorto give him a chance to smother the second officer." "What you might call a good loser," Zagero said grimly. Then he gave a short laugh. "Remember when we buried the second officer? I wonder what Smallwood's burial service would have sounded like if we'd really been close enough to hear?" "I missed that," I nodded. "I missed the suggestion you made inside the plane that we should bury the murdered menif you had been guilty you'd never have dared make that suggestion for then the way these men died would almost certainly have been discovered." "You missed it," Zagero said feelingly. "How about me/said it, and I never even thought of it till now." He snorted. "Boy, am I disgusted with myself. As far as I can see the only thing I knew that you didn't was that Corazzini clouted our friend Smallwood back in the pass there simply in order to throw suspicion on me: but, then, I knew that even trying to tell you that would have been crazy." There was a long moment's silence, while we listened to the rise and fall of the Citroen's exhaust

Whan ye gang ovir the sea O?

do, just nothing at all. . . . Then Andrea's head was close to his again. "A stone," Andrea whispered. "Over there, behind him." Cautiously at first, then frantically, Mallory pawed the cliff-top with his right hand. Earth, only earth, grass roots and tiny pebblesthere was nothing even half the size of a marble. And then Andrea was thrusting something against him and his hand closed over the metallic smoothness of a spike: even in that moment of desperate urgency, with the slender, searching beam only feet away, Mallory was conscious of a sudden, brief anger with himselfbe had still a couple of spikes stuck in his belt and had forgotten all about them. His arm swung back, jerked convulsively forward, sent the spike spinning away into the darkness. One second passed, then another, he knew he had missed, the beam was only inches from Andrea's shoulders, and then the metallic clatter of the spike striking a boulder fell upon his ear like a benison. The beam wavered for a second, stabbed out aimlessly into the darkness and then whipped round, probing into the boulders to the left. And then the sentry was running towards them, slipping and stumbling in his haste, the barrel of the carbine gleaming in the light of the torch held clamped to it. He'd gone less than ten yards when Andrea was over the top of the cliff like a great, black cat, was padding noiselessly across the ground to the shelter of the nearest boulder. Wraith-like, he flitted in behind it and was gone, a shadow long among shadows. The sentry was about twenty yards away now, the beam of his torch darting fearfully from boulder to boulder when Andrea stuck the haft of his knife against a rock twice. The sentry whirled round, torch shining along the line of the boulders, then started to run clumsily back again, the skirts of the greatcoat fluttering grotesquely in the wind. The torch was swinging wildly now, and Mallory caught a glimpse of a white, straining face, wide-eyed and fearful, incongruously at variance with the gladiatorial strength of the steel helmet above. God only knew, Mallory thought, what wild panic-stricken thoughts were passing through his confused mind: noises from the cliff-top, metallic sound from either side among the boulders, the long, eerie vigil, afraid and companionless, on a deserted cliff edge on a dark and tempest-filled night in a hostile landsuddenly Mallory felt a deep stab of compassion for this man, a man like himself, someone's well-beloved husband or brother or nikon coolpix digital camera 6mp son who was only doing a dirty and dangerous job as best he could and because he was told to, compassion for his loneliness and his anxieties and his fears, for the sure knowledge that before he had drawn breath another three times he would be dead.. . . Slowly, gauging his time and distance, Mallory raised his head. "Help!" he shouted. "Help me! I'm falling!" The soldier checked in mid-stride and spun round, less than flve feet from the rock that hid Andrea. For a second the beam of his torch waved wildly around, then settled on Mallory's head. For another moment he stood stock still, then the carbine in his right hand swung up, the left hand reaching down for the barreL Then he grunted once, a violent and convulsive exhalation of breath, and the thud of the hilt of Andrea's knife striking home against the ribs carried clearly to Mallory's ears, even against the wind. . . . Mallory stared down at the dead man, at Andrea's impassive face as he wiped the blade of his knife on the greatcoat, rose slowly 'to his feet, sighed and slid the knife back in its scabbard. "So, my Keith!" Andrea reserved the punctilious "Captain" for company only. "This is why our young lieutenant eats his heart out down below." "That is why," Mallory acknowledged. "I knew it or I almost knew it. So did you. Too many coincidencesthe German caique investigating, the trouble at the watch-towerand now this." Mallory swore, softly and bitterly. "This is the end for our friend Captain Briggs of Castelrosso. He'll be cashiered within the month. Jensen wifi make certain of that." Andrea nodded. "He let Nicolai go?" "Who else could have known that we were to have landed here, tipped off everyone all along the line?" Mallory paused, dismissed the thought, caught Andrea by the arm. "The Germans are thorough. Even although they must know it's almost an impossibility to land on a night like this, they'li have a dozen sentries scattered along the cliffs." Unconsciously Mallory had lowered his voice. "But they wouldn't depend on one man to cope with five. So" "Signals," Andrea finished for him. "They must have some way of letting the others know. Perhaps flares" "No, not that," Mallory disagreed. "Give their position away. Telephone. It has to be that. Remember how they were in Cretemiles of field

Yet we'll go no more a-roving

adroit escape. So, one does not dispute with you Elders here? Killashandra asked, watching him move off through the throng. It is good for us, I assure you, Ampris replied with a chuckle. Fortunately Torkes is more flexible than he sounds, for when he changes Seats, he becomes totally committed to his immediate responsibility. When Killashandra looked quizzical, he added: We Elders change our duties every four years, so as not to become too narrow in our understanding of the overview. I see. Then you are wiser than your years, Ampris said, for I cannot believe that an administrator who is tone deaf can effectively guide Music: or that an Elder who cannot integrate should have charge of the Treasury. However, the governmental mechanism is so weighty that four years of mismanagement generally produce no more than annoying miscalculations and minor blunders easily corrected. The brilliance of the Founding Fathers of Optheria is once more unquestionably elucidated. Thyrol appeared, respectfully inclining his upper body at his interruption. Elder Ampris, Guildmaster Ree, if you will proceed to the dining chamber? The beauty of the hall, the elegantly set table and Elder Ampriss earlier comment deceived Killashandra into anticipating a far better meal. Although presented in appealing style, the miniscule portions did not appeased Killashandras heavy appetite. Nor was she offered enough of any one food to make a positive identification of its constituents or savor its taste. The courses were accompanied by beverages which were so bland that the water had more zest to it and not a brew or a ferment among them. Killashandras exasperated sigh caught the attention of Elder Pentrom, her right-hand dinner partner. Something is amiss? he asked politely and then stared for a brief moment at her clean plate. He was but halfway through the food on his. Doesnt Optheria produce brews, or vintages or something with more taste than these, Elder Pentrom? You mean an alcoholic beverage? he said, as if she had made a particularly obscene suggestion. Killashandra favored him with a longer look and decided that with his prim mouth, sharp chin, and tiny eyes, no other reaction could have been expected. Indeed I do mean alcoholic beverages. He opened his mouth to protest, but before he could utter a word she said, Alcohol is essential to the proper metabolic function of a crystal singer. I digital camera large view screen have never heard that in all my years as Medical Supervisor of this planet. Have you encountered many crystal singers in your career? Piqued by yet another dogmatic encounter, Killashandra discarded any semblance of tact. These people needed a set-down and she was in the enviable position of being able to give it with impunity. In actual fact, no Then how can you possibly dispute my statement? Or question my requirements? This, and she waved a scornful hand at the goblet before her, bilge That beverage is a nutritious liquid, carefully combined to supply the adult daily requirements of vitamins and minerals to ensure No wonder it tastes so revolting. And may I point out that any brewmaster worth his license provides the same vitamins and minerals in a form palatable enough to satisfy the inner man as well. The Medical Supervisor hitched his chair back, throwing his serviette on the table in preparation for harangue, and suddenly they were the center of attention. Young woman Spare me your condescension, Elder, Killashandra replied as she rose gracefully to her feet and glared down at him. She swept the table with a reproving look. I shall retire to my apartment until such time as my dietary requirements can be met with enough food she flipped over her empty plate to satisfy my appetite and sufficient alcoholic beverages to keep my metabolism functioning. Good evening! In the stunned silence, Killashandra left the room. Doors the size and density of the ones securing the dining chamber did not slam satisfactorily but she had enjoyed her exit so much that she did not miss that part of the finale. In the corridor, she startled minions, lounging against the walls. Does anybody know where my apartments are in this mausoleum? she demanded. When all raised their hands, she pointed to the nearest. Take me there. When he hesitated and looked anxiously at the door, she repeated her order in a louder and more authoritative tone. He scurried forward, more desirous of avoiding her immediate wrath than courting disfavor of an absent authority. Tell me, she asked in a pleasant tone when they had entered a small lift, is food plentiful on Optheria? He cast her a very nervous glance and when she smiled winningly at him, relaxed a little, though he kept as far from her in the carriage as possible. There is plenty of food on Optheria. Too much. This year

To have, when the original is dust,

"What do I know of Panayis? What does anyone know of Panayis? That he has the luck of the devil, the courage of a madman and that sooner the lion will lie down with the lamb, the starving wolf spare the flock, than Panayis breathe the same air as the Germans? We all know that, and we know nothing of Panayis. All I know is that I thank God I am no German, with Panayis on the island. He strikes by stealth, by night, by knife and in the back." Louki crossed himself. "His hands are full of blood." Mallory shivered involuntarily. The dark, sombre figure of Panayis, the memory of the expressionless face, the hooded eyes, were beginning to fascinate him. "There's more to him- than that, surely," Mallory argued. "After all, you are both Navaronians" "Yes, yes, that is so." "This is a small island, you've lived together all your lives" "Ah, but that is where the Major is wrong!" Mallory's promotion in rank was entirely Louki's own idea: despite Mallory's protests and explanations he seemed determined to stick to it. "I, Louki, was for many years in foreign lands, helping Monsieur Viachos. Monsieur Viachos," Louki said with pride, - "is a very important Government official." "I know," Mallory nodded. "A consul. I've met him. He is a very fine man." "You have met him! Monsieur Vlachos?" There was no mistaking the gladness, the delight in Louki's voice. "That is good! That is wonderful! Later you must tell me more. He is a great man. Did I ever tell you" "We were speaking about Panayis," Mallory reminded him gently. "Ah, yes, Panayis. As I was saying, I was away for a long time. When I came back, Panayis was gone. His father had died, his mother had married again and Panayis had gone to live with his stepfather and two little stepsisters in Crete. His stepfather, half-fisherman, halffarmer, was killed in fighting the Germans near, Candiathis was in the beginning. Panayis took over the boat of his father, helped many of the Allies to escape until he was caught by the Germans, strung up by his wrists in the village squarewhere his family livednot far from Casteli. He was flogged till the white of his ribs, of his backbone, was there for all to see, and left for dead. Then they burnt the village and Panayis's familydisappeared. You understand, Major?" "I understand," Mallory said grimly. "But Panayis" "He should casio digital camera 8.1 have died. But he is tough, that one, tougher than a knot in an old carob tree. Friends cut him down during the night, took him away into the hifis till he was well again. And then he arrived back in Navarone, God knows how. I think he came from island to island in a small rowing-boat. He never says why he came backI think it gives him greater pleasure to kill on his own native island. I do not know, Major. All I know is that food and sleep, the sunshine, women and wineall these are nothing and less than nothing to the dark one." Again Louki crossed himself. "He obeys me, for I am the steward of the Vlachos family, but even I am afraid of him. To kill, to keep on killing, then kill againthat is the very breath of his being." Louki stopped momentarily, sniffed the air like a hound seeking some fugitive scent, then kicked the snow off his boots and struck off up the hill at a tangent. The little man's unhesitating sureness of direction was uncanny. "How far to go now, Louki?" "Two hundred yards, Major. No more." Louki blew some snow off his heavy, dark moustache and swore. "I shall not be sorry to arrive." "Nor I." Mallory thought of the miserable, draughty shelter in the dripping rocks almost with affection. It was becoming steadily colder as they climbed out of the valley, and the wind was rising, climbing up the register with a steady, moaning whine: they had to lean into it now, push hard against it, to make any progress. Suddenly both men stopped, listened, looked at each other, heads bent against the driving snow. Around them there was only the white emptiness and the silence: there was no sign of what had caused the sudden sound. "You heard something, too?" Mallory murmured. "It is only I." Mallory spun round as the deep voice boomed out behind him and the bulky, white-smocked figure loomed out of the snow. "A milk wagon on a cobbled street is as nothing compared to yourself and your friend here. But the snow muffled your voices and I could not be sure." Mallory looked at him curiously. "How come you're here, Andrea?" "Wood," Andrea explained. "I was looking for firewood. I was high up on Kostos at sunset when the snow lifted for a moment. I could have sworn I saw an old hut in a gully not far from hereit was dark and square against the snow. So I left" "You are right," Louki interrupted.