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"They are stili no ordinary men but a specially picked forcean assault unit, they call themselvesflown last Sunday night from Alexandria to Casteirosso. They left that same night from Castelrosso in a motor-boat." "A torpedo boat," Turzig nodded. "So much we know already. Go on." "You know already! But how?" "Never mind how. Hurry up!" "Of course, Lieutenant, of course." Not a twitch in his face betrayed Andrea's relief. This had been the only dangerous point in his story. Nicolai, of course, had warned the Germans, but never thought it worth while mentioning the presence of a giant Greek in the party. No reason, of course, why he should have selected him for special mentionbut if he had done so, it would have been the end. "The torpedo boat landed them somewhere in the islands, north of Rhodes. I do not know where. There they stole a caique, sailed it up through Turkish waters, met a big German patrol boatand sunk it." Andrea paused for effect. "I was less than hail a mile away at the time in my fishing boat." Turzig leaned forward. "How did they manage to sink so big a boat?" Strangely, he didn't doubt that it had been sunk. "They pretended to be harmless fishermen like myself. I had just been stopped, investigated and cleared," Andrea said virtuously. "Anyway, your patrol boat came alongside this old caique. Close alongside. Suddenly there were guns firing on both sides, two boxes went flying through the airinto the engine-room of your boat, I think. Pouf!" Andrea threw up his hands draniatically. "That was the end of that!" "We wondered.. ." Turzig said softly. "Well, go on." "You wondered what, Lieutenant?" Turzig's eyes narrowed and Andrea hurried on. "Their interpreter had been killed in the fight. They tricked me into speaking EnglishI spent many years in Cypruskidnapped me, let my sons sail the boat" "Why should they want an interpreter?" Turzig demanded suspiciously. "There are many British officers who speak Greek." "I am coming to that," Andrea said impatiently. "How in God's name do you expect me to finish my story if you keep interrupting all the time? Where was I? ah, yes. They forced me to come along, and their engine broke down. I don't know what happenedI was kept below. I think we were in a creek somewhere, repairing the engine, and then there was a wild bout of fuji mx-2700 digital camera batteries drinkingyou will not believe this, Lieutenant Turzig, that men on so desperate a mission should get drunk and then we sailed again." "On the contrary, I do believe you." Turzig was nodding his head slowly, as if in secret understanding. "I believe you indeed." "You do?" Andrea contrived to look disappointed. "Well, we ran into a fearful storm, wrecked the boat on the south cliff of this island and climbed" "Stop!" Turzig had drawn back sharply, suspicion flaring in his eyes. "Almost I believed you! I believed you because we know more than you think, and so far you have told the truth: But not now. You are clever, fat one, but not so clever as you think. One thing you have forgottenor maybe you do not know. We are of the Wurttembergische . Gebirgsbataillonwe know mountains, my friend, better than any troops in the world. I myself am a Prussian, but I have climbed everything worth climbing in the Alps and Transylvaniaand I tell you that the south cliff cannot be climbed. It is impossible!" "Impossible perhaps for you." Andrea shook his head sadly. "These cursed Allies will beat you yet. They are clever, Lieutenant Turzig, damnably clever!" "Explain yourself," Turzig ordered curtly. "Just this. They knew men thought the south cliff could not be climbed. So they determined to climb it. You would never dream that this could be done, that an expedition could land on Navarone that way. But the Allies took a gamble, found a man to lead the expedition. He could not speak Greek, but that did not matter, for what they wanted was a man who could climband so they picked the greatest rock-climber in the world to-day." Andrea paused for effect, flung out his arm dramatically. "And this is the man they picked, Lieutenant Turzig! You are a mountaineer yourself and you are bound to know him. His name is MalloryKeith Mallory of New Zealand!" There was a sharp exclamation, the click of a switch, and Turzig had taken a couple of steps forward, thrust the torch almost into Mallory's eyes. For almost ten seconds he stared into the New Zealander's averted, screwed-up face, then slowly lowered his arm, the harsh spotlight limning a dazzling white circle in the snow at his feet. Once, twice, half a dozen times Turzig nodded his head in slow understanding. "Of course!" he murmured. "MalloryKeith Mallory! Of course I know him. There's not a man in my Abteilung but has