By Jack Higgins
The Greek islands, sun-drenched and tranquil, evoke images from a vacationer brochure. It takes a distinct mind's eye to dredge their blood-soaked background whilst, as a subject matter land in WW II, island revolts have been beaten through the occupying Germans.
In these days, Hugh Lomax was once despatched by way of the British to assist the Greeks of their fight. He succeeded brilliantly, yet on leaving for an additional project used to be betrayed. those that collaborated with him have been accomplished and survivors, no longer unnaturally, held Lomax accountable for the carnage.
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Extra resources for Dark Side of the Island, the (Classic Jack Higgins Collection)
They don't like anybody. " "So do I. " Papademos knocked the ash from his pipe on the rail, "We'll be here for four hours. Why don't you have a quick look round for old tunes' sake and then go on to Crete with me? They'll show you a better time in Herak-leion than they will here," Lomax shook his head. " Papademos shrugged and went back into the deck-house. They were close inshore now, the great central peak of the island towering three thousand feet above them. As the little steamer rounded the curved promontory crowded with its white houses, a single-masted caicque, sails bellying in the breeze, moved out to sea.
Do I just walk off the boat? " Papademos shrugged. "There's a police sergeant called Kytros who attends to all that. " By now a couple of sailors had the gangway in position. The steward went first and Lomax put on a pair of sunglasses and followed him. As he took out his wallet to tip the man, he was aware that the three old men were all sitting up straight and looking at him curiously. The boy who had been fishing was winding in his line. As the steward went back on board, he hurried across, the dog at his heels.
Someone ran in through the entrance of the churcl¯ and paused and then steps sounded on the stone flags of the aisle. It was the perfume he first became aware of, strange and somehow alien in that place, like lilac fresh after rain, and it tingled in his nostrils bringing his head up sharply. A young girl was standing there in the half-darkness, a scarf covering her head peasant-fashion. She was breathing heavily as if she had run a long way and she stood there staring down at him and no word was spoken.