While thorough the forest I rove.

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 We have had no sport for these fourteen long days, 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

-"The hart did skip, and the hart di'd l???,

moments to waitthe timing had been split-second throughout. Mallory was just tightening the waist-belt of his rucksack when a series of explosions shook the centre of the town, not three hundred yards away, explosions followed by the vicious rattle of a machine-gun, then by further explosions. Andrea was doing his stuff magnificently with his grenades and home-made bombs. Both men suddenly shrank back as a broad, white beam of light stabbed out from a platform high above the gateway, a beam that paralleled the top of the wall to the east, showed up every hooked spike and strand of barbed wire as clearly as sunlight. Mallory and Miller looked at each other for a fleeting moment, their faces grim. Panayis hadn't missed a thing: they would have been pinned on these strands like flies on flypaper and cut to ribbons by machine-guns. Mallory waited another half-minute, touched Miller's arm, rose to his feet and started running madly across the square, the long hooked bamboo pressed close to his. side, the American pounding behind him. In a few seeonds they had reached the gates of the fortress, the startled guards running the last few feet to meet them. "Every man to the Street of Steps!" Mallory shouted. "Those damned English saboteurs are trapped in a house dawn there! We've got to have some mortars. Hurry, man, hurry, in the name of God!" "But the gate!" one of the two guards protested. "We cannot leave the gate!" The man had no suspidons, none at all: in the circumstancesthe near darkness, the pouring rain, the German-clad soldier speaking perfect German, the obvious truth that there was a gunbattle being fought near-handit would have been remarkable had he shown any signs of doubt "Idiot!" Mallory screamed at him. "Dummkopf! What is there to guard against here? The English swine are in the Street of Steps. They must be destroyed! For God's sake, hurry!" he shouted desperately. "If they escape again it'll be the Russian Front for all of us!" Mallory had his hand on the man's shoulder now, ready to push him on his way, but his hand fell to his side unneeded. The two men were already gone, running pell-mell across the square, had vanished into the rain and the darkness already. Seconds later Mallory and Miller were deep inside the fortress of Navarone. Everywhere there was complete confusiona bustling purposeful confusion as one would expect with the seasoned troops of the Alpenkorps, but confusion nevertheless, with much shouting of orders, blowing of whistles, starting legitimate nikon digital camera dealers of truck engines, sergeants running to and fro chivvying their men into marching order or into the waiting transports. Mallory and Miller ran too, once or twice through groups of men milling round the tailboard of a truck. Not that they were in any desperate hurry for themselves, but nothing could have been more conspicuousand suspiciousthan the sight of a couple of men walking calmly along in the middle of all that urgent activity. And so they ran, heads down or averted whenever they passed through a pool of light, Miller cursing feelingly and often at the unaccustomed exercise. They skirted two barrack blocks on their right, then the powerhouse on their left, then an ordnance depot on their right and then the Abteilung garage on their left. They were climbing, now, almost in darkness, but Mallory knew where he was to the inch: he had so thoroughly memorised the closely tallying descriptions given him by Vlachos and Panayis that' he would have been confident of finding his way with complete accuracy even if the darkness had been absolute. "What's that, boss?" Miller had caught Mallory by the arm, was pointing to a large, uncompromisingly rectangular building that loomed gauntly against the horizon. "The local hoosegow?" "Water storage tank," Mallory said briefly. "Panayis estimates there's half a million gallons in theremagazine flooding in an emergency. The magazines are directly below." He pointed to a squat, box-like, concrete structure a little farther on. "The only entrance to the magazine. Locked and guarded." They were approaching the senior officers' quarters nowthe commandant had his own flat on the second story, directly overlooking the massive, reinforced ferro-concrete control tower that controlled the two great guns below. Mallory suddenly stopped, picked up a handful of dirt, rubbed it on his face and told Miller to do the same. "Disguise," he explained. "The experts would consider it a bit on the elementary side, but it'll have to do. The lighting's apt to be a bit brighter inside this place." He went up the steps to the officers' quarters at a dead run, crashed through the swing doors with a force that almost took them off their hinges. The sentry at the keyboard looked at him in astonishment, the barrel of his sub-machine-gun lining up on the New Zealander's chest. "Put that thing down, you damned idiot!" Mallory snapped furiously. "Where's the commandant? Quickly, you oaf! It's life or

That sycophants are counted jolly guests,

wordlessly at me, the deep brown eyes huge in a face dead-white and strained with shock. She was shivering violently. Her hands were like ice. "You want to die of cold, Miss?" This was no time for soft and sympathetic words, and I knew these girls were trained how to behave in emergencies. "Haven't you got a hat, coat, boots, anything like that?" "Yes." Her voice was dull, almost devoid of life. She was standing alone by the door now, and I could hear the violent rat-a-tat of her elbow as it shook uncontrollably and knocked against the door. "I'll go and get them." Joss scrambled out through the windscreen to get the collapsible stretcher. While we were waiting I went to the exit door behind the flight deck and tried to open it, swinging at it with the back of my fire axe. But it was locked solid. We had the stretcher up and were lashing the wireless operator inside as carefully as we could in these cramped conditions, when the stewardess reappeared. She was wearing her uniform heavy coat now, and high boots. I tossed her a pair of caribou trousers. "Better, but not enough. Put these on." She hesitated, and I added roughly, "We won't look." "I -1 must go and see the passengers." "They're all right. Bit late in thinking about it, aren't you?" "I know. I'm sorry. I couldn't leave him." She looked down at the young man at her feet. "Do youI mean" She broke off, then it came out with a rush. "Is he going to die?" "Probably," I said, and she flinched away as if I had struck her across the face. I hadn't meant to be brutal, just clinical. "We'll do what we can for him. It's not much, I'm afraid." Finally we had him securely lashed to the stretcher, his head cushioned against the shock as best we could. When I got to my feet, the stewardess was just pulling her coat down over the caribou pants. "We're taking him back to our cabin," I said. "We have a sledge below. There's room for another. You could protect his head. Want to come?" "The passengers" she began uncertainly. "They'll be all right." I went back inside the main cabin, closing the door behind me, and handed my torch to the man with the cut brow. The two feeble night or emergency lights that burned inside were poor enough for illumination, worse still for morale. "We're taking the wireless operator and stewardess with kodac digital camera cheap us," I explained. "Back in twenty minutes. And if you want to live, just keep this door tight shut." "What an extraordinarily brusque young man," the elderly lady murmured. Her voice was low-pitched, resonant, with an extraordinary carrying power. "Only from necessity, madam," I said dryly. "Would you really prefer long-winded and flowery speeches the while you were freezing to death?" "Well, do you know, I really don't think I would," she answered mock-seriously, and I could hear her chucklingthere was no other word for itas I closed the door behind me. Working in the cramped confines of that wrecked control cabin, in almost pitch darkness and with that ice-laden bitter gale whistling through the shattered windscreens, we had the devil's own time of it trying to get the injured wireless operator down to that waiting sledge below. Without the help of the big young stranger I don't think we would ever have managed it, but manage it we eventually did: he and I lowered and slid the stretcher down to Jackstraw and Joss, who took and strapped it on the sledge. Then we eased the stewardess down: I thought I heard her cry out as she hung supported only by a hand round either wrist, and remembered that Jackstraw had said something about her back being injured. But there was no time for such things now. I jumped down and a couple of seconds later the big young man joined me. I hadn't intended that he should come, but there was no harm in it: he had to go sometime, and there was no question of his having to ride on the sledge. The wind had eased a little, perhaps, but the cold was crueller than ever. Even the dogs cowered miserably in the lee of the plane: now and again one of them stretched out a neck in protest and gave its long, mournful wolf call, a sound eerie beyond description. But their misery was all to the good: as Jackstraw said, they were mad to run. And, with the wind and ice-drift behind them, run they did. At first I led the way with the torch, but Balto, the big lead dog, brushed me aside and raced on into the darkness: I had sense enough to let him have his head. He followed the twisting route of the plane's snow-furrow, the bamboos, homing spool and antenna line as swiftly and unerringly as if it had been broad daylight, and the polished steel runners of the sledge fairly hissed across the snow. The frozen ground was smooth and flat as river ice; no ambulance could have carried the wireless

Then he put on the old man's hat,

beyond the high tide mark, a paddle angling from the narrow prow. At another time and without her urgent need, Killashandra would not have ventured out on the open sea in such a flimsy craft. But someone had already brought it from wherever they came so it could as easily convey her elsewhere, too. Her need for water diminished by this happy discovery, Killashandra climbed the nearest polly tree and, hanging precariously to the ridged trunk, managed to saw through several stems with her short knife blade. She didnt waste time then, but threw the fruit into the small craft, slid it into the gentle waves, and paddled down the coast as fast as she could, just in case the owner should return and demand the return of his canoe. While she no longer needed to wait until noon to cross to the next island in her northern course, Killashandras previous days fright made her cautious. She keenly felt the loss of her hatchet. But good fortune continued to surprise her for, as she paddled around a narrow headland, she spotted the unmistakable sign of a small stream draining into the sea. She could even paddle a short way up its mouth and did so, pausing to scoop up a handful of sweet water before she jumped out of the canoe and pulled it out of sight under the bushes. Then she lay down by the water and drank until she was completely sated. By evening, just before the sun suddenly settled below the horizon in the manner characteristic of tropical latitudes, she stood out on the headland, deciding which of the island masses she would attempt to reach the next day. The nearest ones were large, by comparison, but the distant smudge lay long against the horizon. The water lapped seductively over her toes and she decided that she had fooled around with the minor stuff long enough. With the canoe, a fair start in the morning, and plenty of fruit in her little craft, she could certainly make the big island, however distant. She had the foresight to weave herself a sun hat, with a fishtail down her back to prevent sunstroke, for she wouldnt have the cooling water about her as she had while swimming. She had no experience with currents or riptides, nor had she considered the possibility of sudden squalls interrupting her journey. Those she encountered halfway across the deep blue stretch of sea to the large island. She was so busy trying to correct her course while the current pulled her steadily south that she was unaware of the squall until it pelted against her sunburned back. The next thing she knew she was waist deep in water. How the website to comepare digital cameras canoe stayed afloat at all, she didnt know. Bailing was a futile exercise but it was the only remedy she had. Then suddenly she felt the canoe sinking with her and, in a panic lest she be pulled down, she swam clear, and had no way to resist the insidious pull of the current. Once again the stubborn survival instinct came to Killashandras aid, and wisely she ceased struggling against the current and the run of the waves, and concentrated on keeping her head above water. She was still thrashing her arms when her legs grated against a hard surface. She crawled out of the water and a few more meters from the pounding surf before oblivion overcame her. Familiar sounds and familiar smells penetrated her fatigue and allowed her to enjoy the pangs of thirst and hunger once again. Awareness of her surroundings gradually increased and she roused to the sound of human voices raised in a happy clamor somewhere nearby. She sat up and found herself on one end of a wide curving beach of incredible beauty, on a harbor sheltering a variety of shipping. A large settlement dominated the center of the harbor, with commercial buildings at the center gradually giving way to residences and a broad promenade that paralleled the beach before retreating into the polly plantations. For a long time Killashandra could only sit and stare at the scene, rendered witless by her great good fortune. And then not at all sure what her next step should be. To arrive, announcing her rank and title, demanding transport back to the City? How many people had been privy to her abduction? An island weapon had made the first assault against her. She had better go cautiously. She had better act circumspectly. Yes, indeed she should, she realized as she stood up and found herself without a shred of clothing on her body. Nudity might not be appreciated here. She was too far away to notice how much or how little clothing the happy group on her side of the bay was wearing. So she would get close enough to discover. She did that with little trouble, and also discovered abandoned clothing, shirts and long, full skirts of decoratively painted polly fiber as well as undecorated underskirts. So she took several of those, picking from different piles, and a conservatively marked shirt and dressed herself. She also filched several packets of food, spoiling someones picnic lunch but filling the void in her belly. No footwear had been left on the beach, so she concluded that bare

Then, down rich fields and frosty river beaches

if you continue to do that, Lars and Education Level 3. Im not applying to the Guild, only applying a member This time the footsteps stopped and the door was slid back. Mr. Fernock entered, smiling broadly when he saw the occupants. Well be underway in ten minutes, Guildmember, thanks to your invaluable assistance. And well be able to make a reasonable enough speed on five shafts to reach our destination on time. How marvelous, Killashandra said in a languid drawl. Marvelous was not really the way she felt, considering the inner turmoil Larss caresses had stimulated. She couldnt get to the City and the Conservatory fast enough. Chapter 18 Fortunately Lars was equally frustrated by their lack of privacy and made no further overtures. Perversely, Killashandra missed them. The cruiser had broken out flags and a full honor guard for the ceremonial and triumphant return. Killashandra steeled herself for yet another protocologically correct reception. She reflected on what scene she could produce to shorten the tedium, and debated whether or not a scene would produce any advantage. She had made several points. Unless she had sufficient provocation, she decided to leave well enough alone. For now. She might need to produce an effect to gain privacy within her suite. For she was determined to enjoy Lars without any surveillance for whatever time remained to them. She could, of course, stretch out the organ repair as long as she wished. Or her instruction of technicians. She could include Lars in that program. He had the perfect and absolute pitch to tune crystal as well as the strength and manual dexterity required. She must do everything she could to make him indispensable to the Elders, for whatever protection that could provide him, since he didnt seem at all interested in leaving Optheria. Even if that were possible. Were near enough for you to have a spectacular view of the City Port, Lars said, interrupting her reflections. A natural port? She smiled. Completely, though not nearly as good a natural harbor as North. Naturally. Captain Festinel awaits your arrival on the bridge. How courteous! Wheres Torkes? Burning up a few communications units with orders. He was incensed that you had to bloody your hands on the drive of a mere cruiser. Doesnt he digital cameras fo apple computers value his skin as much as I do mine? Her entry rated salutes, rigid attention from the seamen and a smile and a warm handshake from Festinel. She politely accepted his effusive thanks and then pointedly turned to watch the rapidly approaching shoreline. The City Port bustled with activity: small water taxis skipping across the waves, larger barges wallowing across their swells, and coastal freighters awaiting their turn at the piers which, with their array of mechanical unloading devices, were anything but natural. The cruisers velocity had moderated considerably now that it was in congested waters. Ponderously it approached the Federal docking area, where sleek courier vessels bobbed alongside two more squat cruisers. Killashandra had no difficulty identifying their berth it was crowded with a welcoming committee, all massed white and insipid pale colors, blurred faces turned seaward, despite the glare of the westering sun which was full in their eyes. The cruiser swung its bow slightly to port and the drive was cut, momentum carrying the big vessel inexorably to the dock and the grapples clanked against the hull, bringing it to a halt with a barely perceptible jolt. My compliments on a smooth docking, Captain Festinel and my thanks for an excellent voyage. Killashandra made gracious noises to all the bridge staff and then swept out to get the rest of the tedious formalities over. Ampris! Lars grunted as they reached the portal. Beneath them the gangway was extruding the few meters to the dock. Of course, and my quartette lined up like the puppets they are. I think I am developing a splitting headache. All that crystal whine, you know. She raised her hand to her forehead. See what line Ampris takes first. Larss face was set, his nostrils flaring a little as he settled his respiratory rate. Killashandra suppressed a perfectly natural surge of repugnance for a man who had ordered an assault on her, then hypocritically assured her that the culprit would be punished How could she punish Ampris? The method she had employed with Torkes would not work; Ampris was too wily. The gangplank had locked in place, the honor guard was arranged, Elder Torkes appeared, the welcoming committee began to applaud and, every inch the gracious celebrity, Killashandra descended. Mirbethan took a step forward, anxiously scanning Killashandras face for any sign of the ordeal.

"Some suits I'll give to thee;

Harbor where the main medical facility was situated. Tide and wind are in our favor this morning, Killa, he said, reaching his arm about her waist and drawing her in to him without taking his eyes from the display. He tapped for an overlay of the route he had chosen and she could see how it made use of the swift channels between the islands and the fuller morning tide. Well be in North before we know it. He made a final correction and laid in the course. Now the display cleared to show him the compass headings and the minimum required tacking to slip into the swift current just beyond Bar Islands western reef. Is the spinnaker set, Tanny? Aye, aye skipper, the young man called from the bow as Killashandra watched the vivid red and orange sail bellying out briefly over the bowsprit before the wind caught it. Theres an exhilaration to sailing a fast, trim ship, with a following wind and a current to assist smooth passage. The Pearl slipped into the flow as effortlessly as a slide down a greased pole. The sea was almost calm, and gunmetal green-gray, not quite the same color as the gray sky. Lucky its today instead of yesterday, Killashandra said, settling herself in the cockpit beside Lars. He had the tiller on its upper setting so that he could see forward without the cabin blocking him. Theyre all secure below? Secure and asleep! Ill check on the half hour. They sat together enjoying wind, sea, and sail while Tanny coiled lines and set all fair. Then he joined them in the cockpit, maintaining the companionable silence. Just before noon, sailing smartly on the same westerly current that had nearly defeated Killashandra, they rounded the Toe and tacked eastward to sail right up to the large North Harbor pier at the elbow of the Angel. When Lars had been able to estimate his time of arrival, he had called it in, so medics and grav units were waiting for the injured. Killashandra, dutifully checking every half hour, had had no problems with her patients but it was an immense relief to turn them over to trained medical technicians. Father wants a word with us, Lars said quietly in Killashandras ear as they watched their passengers being trundled away. Tanny, anchor the Pearl at buoy twenty-seven, will you? And keep her ready. Dont know where well have to go next. Stay on the page, okay? Tanny nodded, his expression rather strained, as if he was relieved to stay on the Pearl, whose eccentricities he could cope with and understand. If digital camera magazine community forums the Wing Harbor on the south side of Angel Island had appeared rustic and homely to Killashandras eyes, North Harbor was the antithesis: that is, within the framework of the Charters prohibition against raping a natural world. The colorful buildings set up above the harbor behind sturdy sea walls utilized manmade materials and modernistic surfaces in some sort of tough, textured plastic and a good deal of plasglas so no vista would be hidden from the occupiers. If the architecture lacked warmth or grace, it was also practical in a zone where wind speeds could make a dangerous missile out of a polly branch. Lars guided Killashandra up a ramp that climbed to the top of the Elbow, where a dormered structure commanded views of the main harbor as well as the smaller curved bay that featured the old stratovolcano that was the Angels Head. A small sailing craft was tacking cautiously through the Fingerbone reefs at the end of the Hand. From the different colors in the sea, Killashandra could distinguish the safer, deeper channel, but she didnt think shed like to sail that in a ship as large as the Pearl. To her surprise, the first person they saw as they entered the Harbor Masters office was Nahia. She had been using the terminal and upon their entry she half rose, her expression eager for Larss news of the stranded crystal singer. We neednt have worried ourselves for a moment about out captive, Nahia. Lars strode up to the empath and, before she could protest, kissed her hand. Lars, you simply must stop that, Nahia protested, giving Killashandra a worried glance. Why? I only do you a courtesy you fully deserve! Would Nahia comfort Lars, Killashandra wondered, after she had departed Optheria? The woman is all right, isnt she, Carrigana? Nahia was by no means reassured by Larss droll comment. Never better, Killashandra replied affably. She wondered why Lars was drawing the game out when he had specifically said he didnt wish to deceive Nahia. She gave him a sharp glance. Wheres father! Im here, Lars, and theres trouble on its way, the Harbor Master said, appearing from the front office. Im only grateful we had the hurricane, for it slowed down the official transport. Theres to be a full search of the Islands. Torkes leads it so itd be the height of folly to protest

Sick, and going to die,

be the longest possible time before the killers became restive, suspected that I was deliberately stalling, and took over. Or tried to take over. For it had been my further intention that, after an hour or two, Jackstraw should produce his rifleit was strapped to his shoulders night and dayand I my automatic, and hold them all at the point of the gun until Hillcrest came up. If all had gone well, he should have been with us by midnight. Our troubles would have been over. But it had not gone well, our troubles were as bad as ever, the Sno-Cat was bogged down and with Mahler now seriously ill and Marie LeGarde frighteningly weak and exhausted, I couldn't remain any longer. Had I been made of tougher stuff, or even had I not been a doctor, I might have brought myself to recognise that both Marie LeGarde and Theodore Mahler were expendable pawns in a game where the stakes, I was now certain, were far greater than just the lives of one or two people. I might have held everybodyor the major suspects, at leastat gunpoint until such time, twenty-four hours if need be, as Hillcrest did come up. But I could not bring myself to regard our sick passengers as expendable pawns. A weakness, no doubt, but one that I was almost proud to share with Jackstraw, who felt exactly as I did. That Hillcrest would come up eventually I felt pretty sure. The dumping of the sugar in the petrolI bit my lips in chagrin whenever I remembered that it had been I who had told them all that Hillcrest was running short of fuelhad been a brilliant move, but nothing more, now, than I had come to expect of men who thought of everything, made every possible provision against future eventualities. Still, even though furiously angry at the delay, Hillcrest had thought he could cope with the situation. The big cabin of the Sno-Cat was equipped with a regular workshop with tools fit to deal with just about every mechanical breakdown, and already his driver-mechanic-1 didn't envy him his murderous task even though he was reportedly working behind heated canvas apronshad stripped down the engine and was cleaning pistons, cylinder walls and valves of the unburnt carbon deposits that had finally ground the big tractor to a halt. A couple of others had rigged up a makeshift distillation unita petrol drum, almost full, with a thin metal tube packed in ice leading from its top to an empty drum. Petrol, Hillcrest had explained, had a lower boiling point than sugar, and when the drum was heated the evaporating gas, which would cool in the tokina lenses for digital nikon cameras ice-packed tube, should emerge as pure petrol. Such, at least, was the theory, although Hillcrest didn't seem absolutely sure of himself. He had asked if we had any suggestion, whether we could help him in any way at all, but I had said we couldn't. I was tragically, unforgivably wrong. I could have helped, for I knew something that no one else did, but, at the moment, I completely forgot it. And because I forgot, nothing could now avert the tragedy that was to come, or save the lives of those who were about to die. My thoughts were black and bitter as the tractor roared and lurched and clattered its way south-west by west under the deepening darkness of a sky that was slowly beginning to fill with cloud. A dark depression filled me, and a cold rage, and there was room in my mind for both. I had a strange fey sense of impending disaster, and though I was doctor enough to know that it was almost certainly a psychologically induced reaction to the cold, exhaustion, sleeplessness and hungerand a physical reaction to the blow on the headnevertheless I could not shake it off: and I was angry because I was helpless. I was helpless to do anything to protect any of the innocent people with me, the people who had entrusted themselves to my care, the sick Mahler and Marie LeGarde, the quiet young German girl, the grave-faced Margaret Rossabove all, I had to admit to myself, Margaret Ross: I was helpless because I knew the murderers might strike at any time, for all I knew they might believe that Hillcrest had already told me all I needed to know ana that I was just waiting my chance to catch them completely off guard; on the other hand they, too, were almost certainly just biding their time, not knowing how much I knew, but just taking a calculated gamble, letting things ride as long as the tractor kept moving, kept heading in the right direction, but prepared to strike once and for all when the time came: and, above all, I was helpless because I still had no definite idea as to who the killers were. For the hundredth time I went over everything I could remember, everything that had happened, everything that had been said, trying to dredge up from the depths of memory one single fact, one isolated word that would point the finger in one unmistakable direction. But I found nothing. Of the ten passengers Jackstraw and I had with us, six of them, I felt certain, were almost beyond suspicion. Margaret Ross and Marie LeGarde were

While thorough the forest I rove.

low. "I stole it, Dr Mason." "You did indeed. A remarkably small-time activity for a person who operates on the scale you do. It was just your bad luck, Mahler, that I happened to be looking directly at you when the theft of the sugar was mentioned back in the cabin. It was just your bad luck that when we had our coffee just now it was dark enough for me to have a swig from your cup without your knowledge: it was so stiff with sugar that I couldn't even drink the damn' stuff. Curious, isn't it, Mahler, that such a tiny thing as giving way to a momentary impulse of greed should ruin everything? But I believe it's always the way: the big slip-up never brings the big criminal to book, because he never makes any. If you'd left that sugar alone when you were smashing up the valves, I'd never have known. Incidentally, what did you do with the rest of the sugar? In your grip? Or just thrown away?" "You're making a very grave mistake, Dr Mason." Mahler's voice was steady now, and if it held any trace of worry or guilt I couldn't detect it. But I was now far beyond the naive stage of expecting to detect anything of the sort. "I didn't touch those valves. And, apart from the few handfuls I took, the sugar bag was quite intact when I left it." "Of course, of course." I waved the Beretta. "Back to the tractor, my friend, and let's have a look at this case of yours." "Don't be crazy," I snapped. "I have a gun, Mahler. Believe me, I won't hesitate to use it." "I believe you. I think you would be quite ruthless if the need arose. Oh, I don't doubt you're tough, Doctor, as well as being headstrong, impulsive and not very subtle, but because I rather respect your efficient and selfless handling of an awkward and ugly situation for which you were in no way responsible, I don't want to see you make a complete fool of yourself in public." He lifted his right hand towards the lapel of his coat. "Let me show you something." I jerked the Beretta forward, but the gesture was quite needless. As he pushed his hand under his topcoats, Mahler's gestures were smooth and unhurried, just as smooth and unhurried when he brought his hand out again and passed over to me a leather-covered card. I stepped back a few feet, flipped open the card and glanced down at it. That one glance was enoughor should have been enough. I'd seen these cards scores of times before, but I stared down at this one as if I'd never seen one in my life. This was a completely new factor, it knocked all my preconceived notions on the head, and I needed cheap canon digital camera slr time, time for reorient a tion, for understanding, for quelling the professional fear that came hard on the heels of that understanding. Then, slowly, I folded the card, pulled down my snow-mask, stepped close to Mahler and pulled his down also. In the harsh glare of the torch, his face was blue and white with the cold, and I could see the jutting of the jaw muscles as he clamped his teeth together to keep them from chattering uncontrollably. "Breathe out," I said. He did as I asked, and there was no mistaking it, none at all: the sweet acetone breath of the advanced and untreated diabetic can't possibly be confused with anything else. Wordlessly, I handed him back the card and thrust the automatic into my parka pocket. At last I said quietly: "How long have you had this, Mr Mahler?" "Thirty years." "A pretty advanced condition?" When it came to discussing a man's illness with him, I had little time for the professional reticence of many of my colleagues: besides, the average elderly diabetic had survived to that age simply because he was intelligent about the dietary and medical treatment of his trouble, and usually knew all about it. "My doctor would agree with you." I caught the smile on his face as he pushed his mask up, and there wasn't much humour in it. "So would I." "Twice daily injections?" "Twice," he nodded. "Before breakfast and in the evening." "But don't you carry a hypo and" "Normally," he interrupted. "But not this time. The Gander doctor gave me a jab and as I can usually carry on a few hours overdue without Ul effects I thought I'd wait until we got to London." He tapped his breast pocket. "This card's good anywhere." "Except on the Greenland ice-cap," I said bitterly. "But then I don't suppose you anticipated a stop-over here. What diet were you on?" "High protein, high starch." "Hence the sugar?" I looked down at the white crystals still clenched in my left mitten. "No." He shrugged. "But I know sugar used to be used for the treatment of coma. I thought maybe if I stuffed enough into myself.. . . Well, anyway, you

And in thy stead I've got a deal of judgement,

wouldnt believe how versatile it is, how powerful, how stimulating. Corish, youve simply got to get to one of the concerts before you leave. The public ones will be starting soon, they tell me, but I could see if its possible to get you to one here at the Conservatory. You really have to hear the Optherian organ, Corish, before you can possibly understand what its like for me. Someone pinched her arm. Well, maybe she was overdoing it a trifle but enthusiasm was not out of order. Have you found your uncle yet? Corishs expression altered from the skeptical to the dolorous. Not yet. Oh, dear, how very disappointing. Yes, it is. And Ive only two more weeks before Im scheduled to leave. The family is going to be upset about my failure. Look, Killashandra, I know youre studying hard, and this is a chance of a lifetime for you, but could you spare me an evening? Killashandra gave Corish full marks for a fine performance. Oh, Corish, you sound so discouraged. Yes, Im sure I can wangle an evening 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 olympus digital camera parts 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 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

"What news? What news?" said bold Robin Hood;

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 "What news, fain wouldest thou know? 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

"And mine is ragged and torn;

afforded. Endlessly patient, quiet and deadly, tremendously fast in spite of his bulk, and with a feline stealth that exploded into berserker action, Andrea was the complete fighting machine. Andrea was their insurance policy against failure. Mallory turned back to look out the window again, then nodded to himself in imperceptible satisfaction. Jensen probably couldn't have picked a better team if he'd scoured the whole Mediterranean theatre. It suddenly occurred to Mallory that Jensen probably had done just that. Miller and Brown had been recalled to Alexandria almost a month ago. It was almost as long since Stevens's relief had arrived aboard his cruiser in Malta. And if their battery-charging engine hadn't slipped down that ravine in the White Mountains, and if the sorely harassed runner from the nearest listening post hadn't taken a week to cover fifty miles of snowbound, enemy patrolled mountains and another five days to find them, he and Andrea would have been in Alexandria almost a fortnight earlier. Mallory's opinion of Jensen, already high, rose another notch. A far-seeing man who planned accordingly, Jensen must have had all his preparations for this made even before the first of the two abortive parachute landings on Navarone. It was eight o'clock and almost totally dark inside the plane when Mallory rose and made his way for'ard to the control cabin. The captain, face wreathed in tobacco smoke; was drinking coffee: the co-pilot waved a languid hand at his approach and resumed a bored scanning of the scene ahead. "Good evening." Mallory smiled. "Mind if I come in?" "Welcome in my office any time," the pilot assured him. "No need to ask." "I only thought you might be busy. . . ." Mallory stopped and looked again at the scene of masterly inactivity. "Just who is flying this plane?" he asked. "George. The automatic pilot." He waved a coffeecup in the direction of a black, squat box, its blurred outlines just visible in the near darkness. "An industrious character, and makes a damn' sight fewer mistakes than that idle hound who's supposed to be on watch. . . . Anything on your mind, Captain?" "Yes. What were your instructions for to-night?" "Just to set you blokes down in Castelrosso when it was good and dark." The pilot paused, then said frankly, "I don't get it. A ship this size for only five men and a couple of hundred odd pounds of equipment. Especially to kodak easy share c digital camera Castelrosso. Especially after dark. Last plane that came down here after dark just kept on going down. Underwater obstructiondunno what it was. Two survivors." "I know. I heard. I'm sorry, but I'm under orders too. As for the rest, forget itand I mean forget. Impress on your crew that they mustn't talk. They've never seen us." The pilot nodded glumly. "We've all been threatened with court-martial already. You'd think there was a ruddy war on." "There is. . . . We'll be leaving a couple of cases behind. We're going ashore in different clothes. Somebody will be waiting for our old stuff when you get back." "Roger. And the best of luck, Captain. Official secrets, or no official secrets, I've got a hunch you're going to need it." "If we are, you can give us a good send-off." Mallory grinned; "Just set us down in one piece, will you?" "Reassure yourself, brother," said the pilot firmly. "Just set your mind at ease. Don't forgetI'm in this ruddy plane too." The clamour of the Sunderland's great engines was still echoing in their ears when the stubby little motorboat chugged softly out of the darkness and nosed alongside the gleaming hull of the flying-boat. There was no time lost, there were no words spoken; within a minute the five men and all their gear had been embarked; within another the little boat was rubbing to a stop against the rough stone Navy jetty of Castelrosso. Two ropes went spinning up into the darkness, were caught and quickly secured by practised hands. Amidships, the rust-scaled iron ladder, recessed deep into the stone, stretched up into the star-dusted darkness above: as Mallory reached the top, a figure stepped forward out of the gloom. "Captain Mallory?" "Yes." "Captain Briggs, Army. Have your men wait here, will you? The Colonel would like to see you." The nasal voice, peremptory in its clipped affectation, was far from cordial. Mallory stirred in slow anger, but said nothing. Briggs sounded like a man who might like his bed or his gin, and maybe their late visitation was keeping him from either or both. War was hell. They were back in ten minutes, a third figure followIng behind them. Mallory peered at the three men standing on the edge of the jetty, identified them, then peered around again. "Where's Miller got to?" he asked. "Here, boss, here." Miller groaned, eased