The Angry Hills by Leon Uris Page B

burning sun. His face was square and hard and his hair fell in black ringlets and from his right ear hung a small circular gold earring.
    Maxos was angry because he had been snatched from his boat by Zervos on the Isle of Kea. He could not fish and he could not drink krasi. Maxos did not care whether Mr. Heilser found whom he was looking for or—or if he did not find whom he was looking for. For Maxos was half fish, and away from his boat he was a fish out of water.
    “All right,” Heilser said. “Tell me the story once more.”
    “I have already told it fifty times,” Maxos grumbled.
    “I want to hear it again,” Heilser said.
    Maxos sighed. “I can go to my boat then?”
    “Perhaps.”
    Maxos grumbled again. “I was in a waterfront saloon in Nauplion drinking and minding my own business. I had just returned with a catch of fine fish. A man should mind his own business.”
    Heilser ignored the rebuff. He was more interested that Maxos was in the saloon the same night Morrison jumped the prison train near Nauplion.
    “A man was at the next table to me, drinking. He was minding his own business, too.”
    “You say you do not know who this man was?”
    “I had seen him before about four months ago in the same saloon. He was a crewman from a boat that came from Larissa Province. He was dressed like a Larissa farmer and spoke with that accent too.”
    “You did not meet this man personally?”
    “I tell you I did not. I tell you so a hundred times I did not. How many times you want me to tell you I did not?”
    “Continue with your story.”
    “As I said—his boat came once before. Four months ago.”
    “What do you know about this boat?”
    “Only that it was trading grain and tobacco and many other things, probably stolen. I do not trade with such people.”
    “How do you know about this boat?”
    “From people around the docks. There is always gossip on the docks. People do not know how to mind their own business.”
    “And this is the second trip this boat has made to Nauplion. Are you sure it is the same boat?”
    “I’m sure. I never forget a face. Same crewman.”
    “And you’re sure it comes from Larissa Province?”
    “I know a central province farmer when I see one.”
    “You were drinking—and minding your own business—then what happened?”
    “A second man comes into the saloon and tells the man who is drinking he must return to the boat. They argue. The man who is drinking does not want to return because he is going to a whorehouse. Then the second man tells him to talk quiet. They had taken a passenger aboard and had to leave Nauplion at once. That is all. They leave and I mind my own business. Next day I go out again with my boat until he,” pointing to Zervos, “comes to me on Kea and begins asking me all sorts of questions.”
    Heilser pressed a button which brought two German soldiers into the room. He nodded to them, indicating that Maxos was to be taken away.
    “I can go to my boat now?”
    Heilser did not answer.
    “Fix me a drink,” Heilser ordered Zervos.
    “What do you think?”
    “It is our answer, if there is an answer. In Nauplion we caught ten British escapees while searching for Morrison. If Morrison was in Nauplion we would have caught him too. He must have gotten away by water. He is the only one we can’t account for who escaped in that area. Could the fisherman be mistaken about Larissa?”
    “One Greek knows another. He is not mistaken.”
    “Obviously Morrison is injured. Obviously, he will sit it out for awhile in the central part of the country. He has tried to contact no one in either Athens or Salonika.”
    “He could be in any one of the thirty villages,” Zervos said. “Can we raid them all at the same time?”
    “Are you insane? There are over a hundred escapees in that area now. No, we weed the villages out one by one. It will not take long. Bring me thirty Greeks tomorrow and have them here in the morning. Also get a dozen Italian tourists.