Mission of Murder, page 13
“So! You have only known him for three hours?”
Christos looked uncomfortable and nodded.
Larren realized that unless he did something to avert it the cunning Greek was going to wriggle deftly out of their predicament while still leaving him firmly under suspicion. It would suit Christos perfectly, for he would be held in a Greek jail while Kravakos made further inquiries, while Christos could go ahead with whatever plans he had for obtaining the Ameytheline antidote from Valedri.
Quickly Larren said, “But you and I were together for the whole of those three hours, my friend. You know that I could not have been seen talking alone to any criminal during that time as this Mr. Cleyton suggests.”
Christos was caught, for he could not deny his own story now without an argument that might cause Kravakos to think that he, as well as Larren, might have something to hide. He smiled, as though delighted that the point had been made, and even Larren found it hard to believe that he was probably fuming underneath.
“That’s right, Simon, we were together all the time.”
It was the first time that he had ever used Larren’s Christian name, but he slipped it in convincingly as though they had been lifelong friends.
The hapless Kravakos quite obviously didn’t know which story to believe, and the fact that his men were both watching him expectantly and waiting for him to decide failed to improve his temper. He glared at every suspect in turn and then snapped abruptly, “I am sorry, but I am not satisfied with all this. I must ask you three gentlemen to step aboard the police launch and accompany me back to Athens. One of my men will take this launch back into harbour for you.”
Christos said angrily, “I refuse. You cannot treat my friends and myself like this just because this fool has made a mistake in identity.”
The slim man looked indignant and snapped back, “I tell you there has been no mistake.”
“The police station,” Kravakos said with grim finality. “We will discuss the matter thoroughly at the police station.”
Christos made a pretence of trying to outstare the Inspector, and then admitted defeat and stepped stiffly aboard the police launch. Larren and Dimitri followed him slowly.
A few moments later they were speeding back to Athens once more, with Christos’s launch bouncing in their wake. Kravakos had refused to allow any further discussion or argument and so Larren stood in silence and watched the city and the Acropolis become clearer as they neared the mainland. Quite abruptly he realized that he might never have seen this view again, and without the arrival of Cleyton and the police he would by now have been nothing more than a lifeless slab of weighted fish food on the seabed of the Aegean. He began to wonder exactly what sort of game the slim young man named Cleyton was playing, but at that moment the answers did not appear to be as important as they would have been at any other time. The one solid fact among all the new complications was that Cleyton, whether deliberately or unwittingly, had saved his life, and even though he was now on his uncomprehending way to a Greek jail, Larren was very grateful just to be alive.
The police launch was fitted with radio so Kravakos was able to call two large black police cars and have them waiting at the harbour when they landed. He ordered Christos and Larren into the first one and rode with them to the police station; Dimitri and Cleyton followed in the second car in the care of a sergeant. When they arrived they were separated, as Larren had expected, and he found himself waiting in a small bare room adjoining Kravakos’s office under the watching eye of a uniformed policeman. His guard spoke only Greek so conversation was impossible, but Larren guessed that Kravakos would be interrogating the others one by one and checking on their stories.
There was nothing he could do except wait and wonder. He didn’t doubt that Christos and Dimitri would be able to clear themselves, but he had a horrible feeling that proving his own innocence might not be so easy. For although Christos undoubtedly had friends to whom he could appeal, and probably even a lawyer on hand, there was no one in Athens on whom Larren could call for a reference of character.
For over an hour and a half Larren was forced to sit alone in the small room with only the silent guard for company. He spent the time in a vain attempt to reason out why the mysterious stranger named Cleyton should have made his blandly lying accusations, but he could still find no answers. The only conclusions he could reach were that Cleyton had been either deliberately acting to save his life, or that the man was attempting to get him jailed out of the way and had saved him by accident. And as both possibilities were still full of whys and hows his reasoning did not take him much farther. He had to admit that he was baffled and leave it at that.
He was still brooding over the maze of question marks when Kravakos finally sent his sergeant to fetch him. Larren followed the man down a short corridor and into a small office where Kravakos sat behind a square desk. The Greek Inspector had removed his jacket and peaked cap and sat with his tie loosened and the top button of his shirt undone. His swarthy face was showing signs of weariness and a slackly-reined temper, and Larren guessed that he had already questioned the other three thoroughly without making progress.
Kravakos offered him a seat and Larren sat down. He said shortly, “I hope your inquiries have satisfied you, because I’m sorry to say that I’m already tired of your hospitality.”
Kravakos looked as though he was forcing himself to count ten silently before answering, then he said tiredly, “Mr. Larren, I am sorry, but this man Peter Loukas is a wanted murderer; and it is my job to follow every lead that might enable me to catch him. Now Mr. Cleyton has made a definite statement that he saw you talking to Loukas before boarding Mr. Christos’s boat. Mr. Christos has also made a statement to the effect that you were in his company for most of the three hours previous to accepting his invitation to join him on a short cruise. But note, Mr. Christos can only swear to most of that time. There was one short gap just before sailing when he left you to get some cigarettes at a taverna. Just a brief few minutes, but still time for you to have been seen talking to Loukas as Mr. Cleyton describes. Mr. Christos does not think it very probable for the time was too short, but he admits that it is just possible.”
Kravakos stopped there, and Larren saw how neatly Christos had twisted things to his advantage, but it was no more than he had expected.
Kravakos went on. “On the face of it I am inclined to believe your story, Mr. Larren, for although I have had that area covered from the moment Mr. Cleyton made his accusations, there has been no report of Loukas being seen in the area. The only real cause for doubt is that I cannot think of any possible motive for Mr. Cleyton to lie.” He paused, and then added softly, “Can you?”
Larren shook his head. “I think I told you, I’ve never seen him before in my life.”
Kravakos seemed to accept that. Then he suddenly snapped, “What happened to your face, Larren? Where did you get those bruises?”
Larren flinched at the unexpected ferocity of Kravakos’s tone and answered, “It was through drinking, I had a bit too much and fell down a flight of stone steps.” As he spoke he prayed that Kravakos would not become really suspicious and insist that he remove his shirt, for the multiple bruises that covered the rest of his body could never be explained by a simple fall.
Kravakos relaxed a little and sat back. He said slowly, “I’m going to have to hold you while I make a few more inquiries, Mr. Larren.”
Larren looked shocked. “You can’t hold me here without a reason.”
“No, but I can hold you for a short time on suspicion. If you prove to be innocent I shall apologize, but until then I cannot take a chance and let you go.”
“What about Christos and Dimitri?”
“I have already released them. Mr. Christos’s brother, a man named Savino, arrived with a lawyer and I was forced to let them go. Even if you are an associate of Loukas it is clear that Mr. Christos knew nothing of it. He had only known you for a few hours.”
“And what about Cleyton?”
“He has been released also, but he is under orders not to leave Athens. He will be watched.” Kravakos leaned forward again. “And now, Mr. Larren, you and I have a lot of talking to do. I want a complete account of your movements since arriving in Athens; where you have been, and who you have talked to. And neither you nor I will get any sleep tonight until we have it all down on paper with your signature at the bottom.”
Larren felt his heart sink, for he knew full well that his movements of the last few days were too far outside the law to bear any kind of police investigation. But he managed to get a smile on to his face and pretend his willingness to co-operate.
Kravakos smiled back. “Good, but I have just thought of something that I should have done hours ago.” He pushed his chair back and pulled open a drawer in his desk, then, after turning over some forms inside he produced a folded newspaper. “Here,” he passed the paper over, “it’s an English edition of an Athens paper and it has Loukas’s picture on the front page. It’s just possible that you have spoken to the man without realizing who he was, and that would clear up everything.” He watched Larren’s face as he waited for an answer.
Larren stared at the picture of Peter Loukas, but he knew he had never seen the man before. He started to read the caption detailing the Thessaloniki bank raid and had to open the paper farther to read the lower half of the column. Then he saw a name that he did know, and he realized that now it was absolutely vital that he should escape from Kravakos and complete his mission.
The name appeared in a separate news heading and was the name of the man who Smith had claimed was more important than all the scores of paralysed and dying victims held fast by the red death; the man whose knowledge was so valuable that it could sway the balance of world power; the man whom Angelo Valedri had named as part of the blackmail price he wanted in exchange for the Ameytheline antidote.
The news heading stated quite briefly and simply that Professor Eugene Vladomir Andromavitch, the finest scientific brain alive, had vanished.
CHAPTER 14: UNDER COVER OF DARKNESS
Larren read the news paragraph through but it told him nothing more than he had already gleaned from the heading. Andromavitch had simply vanished from his London home and there was no clue to suggest where he might have gone.
However, Larren knew that the scientist’s disappearance at this particular moment could not possibly be a coincidence. Angelo Valedri had wanted the man badly for some twisted reason of his own, and regardless of whether Andromavitch had been taken by force, or whether he had been induced to give himself up in order to bring an end to the red death, there was little doubt in Larren’s mind that he must now be in Valedri’s hands.
Larren had not yet given any thought to the question of why Valedri should need a nuclear scientist, and now he was given no chance to consider the implications of the new move. Kravakos, who had been watching him closely, snapped abruptly, “Well, Larren! Do you know him?”
The demand jolted Larren back to his present position and he remembered that he was supposed to be studying the picture of the wanted Peter Loukas. Regretfully he shook his head, and he hoped that his face revealed no traces of the shock he had just received as he handed the paper back to its owner.
“I’m sorry, Inspector, but I’ve never seen the man before.”
Kravakos sighed. “All right, let us proceed with the statement of your movements.”
Larren felt a brief twist of despair wriggle through him, but he realized that the only course he could adopt was to fabricate a false story that would be difficult to either prove or disprove, and set about telling it with as honest an expression as was possible. Where it was possible he told the truth, and the rest he made as short and simple as he was capable; there was less chance of his forgetting it that way, and consequently less chance of Kravakos tripping him up when they went over it again.
For the night of the beach party he substituted an evening stroll through the streets of Athens, and on the previous day, spent on Kyros, he claimed that he had explored the Acropolis. Both lies sounded plausible for a tourist, and with so many fresh holidaymakers swarming over the city and its monuments every day there was no reason why they should be disbelieved. Covering up his two nights in Greece was a much harder task, but he did not think he had been missed from the Hotel Sparta on the first night and blandly stated that he had slept in his own room. The second night, when he had been interrogated by Bruno and Valedri on Kyros, he claimed that he had got drunk and slept it off in his car which he had parked up a side street. That explanation enabled him to include the supposed fall which he insisted had bruised his face, and also provided a reason for him to have returned to his hotel early that morning and slept for the first part of the day.
He knew the story was weak, and as he could obviously find no one to vouch for it, it would hardly stand up as an alibi. But it was the best that he could do and he could only hope that Kravakos would not make too thorough an investigation.
Kravakos slipped in a couple of sharp trick questions during the recital, but Larren knew enough to avoid them and the Inspector eventually listened in silence. When Larren had finished he said, “It is a pity you are staying alone in Athens, for it is clear that there is no one to substantiate all this. However, I will make inquiries at your hotel, and I will try and find this bar where you say you drank too much and fell down. It is another pity that you cannot remember this bar.”
Larren said vaguely, “It was near Syntagma Square. That’s all I know.”
Kravakos scowled. “Even if I find it and there is someone who remembers seeing you, it still will not help me to decide whether or not you were talking to Loukas this afternoon, but you realize that I must start somewhere. Now that an accusation like this has been made I must check your story and your reasons for being here in Athens before I can release you.”
Larren looked startled. “But you can’t keep me here!”
Kravakos shrugged. “I am sorry, Mr. Larren, but I must detain you overnight at least. You will have to sleep in a cell, but you will be comfortable and I shall provide every courtesy.”
Larren knew that the Greek Inspector was playing soft simply because he was completely baffled, and although he seemed prepared to give his prisoner the benefit of the doubt at the moment he was still determined to get to the truth.
Larren began to protest because that was what his part expected of him, but at the same time he knew that he had no choice but to spend the night in the Greek jail.
The cell to which Larren was eventually taken was a small, bare-walled room with no windows and a steel door with a narrow, barred inspection panel. The bed was a single palliasse and two grey blankets, and although it was nowhere near as comfortable as Kravakos seemed to think, Larren could have slept there quite satisfactorily in normal circumstances. However, these were not normal circumstances, and Larren felt no desire to sleep. He lay back in the darkness, wondering about Andromavitch and Valedri, and fretting at his own inability to do anything about them.
He fumed in frustrated anger at the hideous mess of complications in which he was now ensnared, and began to seriously wonder whether it was humanly possible to cut through them all and reach Valedri. There was Christos, who was determined to obtain the Ameytheline antidote for his own ends with the help of his self-styled crime syndicate. There was Kravakos desperately trying to establish a connection between Larren and a wanted murderer who was just a name that had been introduced as an excuse to detain him. And finally there was the mysterious Cleyton, who must also fit somewhere into the jigsaw but who so far did not seem to fit into any recognized group. The whole situation seemed to have enveloped Larren like the restraining tentacles of some evil mental octopus, and every disc-like sucker that pulled at his aching brain was tearing at his sanity and leaving behind the indented imprints of a thousand unanswerable question marks.
And meanwhile the red death would still be taking its toll, paralysing and killing in every country in Europe. And the most important nuclear scientist in the Western world would be somewhere en route to an unknown destination. Events were moving fast and the death roll was getting longer, and Larren was unable to do more than lie in jail and curse the slippery trail that had led him here.
He was still awake at dawn when the grey light began to filter into his cell through the small inspection panel in the door, and he was still no nearer to solving any of his problems. He straightened himself up stiffly, and found that his bruised muscles had congealed again while he relaxed. However, the necessity of getting himself back into shape gave him something to occupy his mind for a few moments and he painfully exercised his limbs until he had loosened up again. His limp had returned when he tried to walk around the cell, and despite an aching stream of protests from his left hip he kept flexing and straightening the leg until he could walk normally once more. Then, deciding that he was as fit as could be expected, he hammered on the door of his cell and demanded breakfast.
A Greek policeman appeared at the small window and curtly told him to wait. Larren tried to tell the man that Kravakos had instructed that he was to be treated courteously, but the policeman spoke hardly any English and simply ignored him. He slammed a small, sliding panel across the inspection slit and walked away. Larren had to wait.
An hour later the cell door opened and the same policeman brought him a meal of bread rolls, jam and coffee. When Larren tried to question him he imparted the information that Inspector Kravakos was out making inquiries, and then left.
Larren ate in gloomy silence and wondered how Kravakos would react when his inquiries produced no tangible results.
He finished his sparse breakfast and then spent an impatient morning in pacing back and forth across his tiny cell. Normally he would have done the sensible thing in this situation, which was to store up some more sleep in readiness for the time when he could move into action again. But for once Larren was unable to relax and sleep.
