Mither, mither,

shrugged and grinned. If you hadnt named me your rescuer, Id be tucked away in a rehab cubicle right now spinning out my brains. After Ive gone? Lars shrugged again, then gave her an impudent wink. All I need is a half-days start on em. And once Ive made the islands, there isnt an S & S team that can find me if I dont wish to be found. He sounded so confident that, for a moment, Killashandra almost believed him. As if he sensed her doubt, he leaned over her in the chair, his eyes more brilliantly blue than ever, his lips upturned in a provocative half smile. Beloved Sunny, if it wouldnt sound mawkish, Id say that meeting you has been the high point of my life so far. And confounding Elders Torkes and Ampris are adventures to lighten my darkest hour Which might yet be in a rehab booth! I know the risk, and its been worth it, Killa! He kissed her then, a light brief touch of his lips to hers but it set her blood ringing as quickly as crystal. Speaking of Elders, she began in an attempt to shake off her anxiety, we begin to bracket crystal today. She rose from the chair with a determined effort, then saw his expression. All right I grant you, learning to bracket and tune crystal wont advance you in the Elders files, but those are useful skills anywhere else in the FSP. Lars laughed. Had we but worlds enough and time Killashandra let out a great guffaw. Malaprop! But outrageous humor made a better start to a tricky day than gloom. Lars was every bit as quick to learn and adept in the use of his strong hands as Killashandra had thought hed be. To set the white crystal in the brackets, she asked Thyrol the height of the stroke of the padded hammers. They already had six in place by the time Elder Ampris appeared in the loft, Thyrol hovering anxiously behind him in the open door. Killashandra noticed, first, the breath of sweet fresh air and she flicked a quick glance at the intruders as they stood there. Lars was holding the crystal dead still. Youll feel just the slightest surface tension and a slippery, almost electric, tension when the clamps are tight enough. Tell me when you do. She tightened the brackets, keeping both little fingers under the crystal so that she could sense that surface tension. Now! Lars said. Right on! She struck the crystal with the tone hammer, and the rich deep note spun through the digital video camera case air, drifting out and causing the two door guards to risk a quick peer into the loft. A muted and discordant response came from the covered tubs of crystal shard. Then she straightened up and turned to the observers. And thats how its done, Elder Ampris. Ampriss bright brown eyes glittered as he arranged his mouth in a smile which she took to mean approbation. The lower octave is always easier, for some reason, to set and pitch, Killashandra went on affably. Were making excellent progress. And? Killashandra heard a curious vibration in that single word. Elder Ampris was overly eager to have this installation completed and it could not be simply to allow performers practice time. He also exhibited an uncharacteristic nervousness; his fingers rubbed against his thumb. I think well have the entire manual finished by tomorrow evening. Set the next pair of brackets, will you, Lars Dahl, while I watch. Killashandra stepped away from the cabinet, stood next to Elder Ampris. Hes quick and deft and once Im sure hes doing it right, well work both ends against the middle. Ampris regarded her with a blink, his mind evidently jumping to another application of that phrase. His stiff and pleased smile forewarned her. You will then perhaps be delighted to have trained assistance. Trained? Killashandra glanced at Lars who had also suspended motion, catching the smugness in Ampriss dry tone. When we could not find you anywhere in the City, Guildmember, we apprised your Guild of your disappearance. And requested a Ampriss smile took on a faintly apologetic twist, replacement. Our need, as Im sure you appreciate, is urgent. It takes nearly ten weeks to get from the Scoria system to the Ophiuchian. Not by FSP courier ship. Ampris inclined his head briefly. Your Guild values you highly, Killashandra Ree Surely youve communicated news of my rescue? Ampris spread his hands deferentially. But of course. But we did not then know how promptly the Heptite Guild would respond. The courier ship has entered our atmosphere and at this very moment is landing at the shuttleport. Trag! And there was no doubt at all in Killashandras mind that that was who had been dispatched. I beg your pardon. Lanzecki would have sent Trag

And a little house there he did spy;

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 And to an old wife, for to save his life, 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

Thou lookest from thy tower to-day; yet a few years,

dozen words in Greek to expose Andrea's lie. Miller twisted on his side in the snow, shook his fist weakly and hoped that the contorted pain on his face might be mistaken for fury. "You two-faced, double-crossing dago! You gawddamned swine, I'll get you . . ." There was a hollow, sickening thud and Miller collapsed in the snow: the heavy ski-boot had caught him just behind the ear. Mallory said nothing. He did not even glance at Miller. Fists balled helplessly at his sides and mouth compressed, he glared steadily at Andrea through narrowed slits of eyes. He knew the lieutenant was watching him, felt he must back Andrea up all the way. What Andrea intended he could not even begin to guessbut he would back him to the end of the world. "So!" Turzig murmured thoughtfully. "Thieves fall out, eh?" Mallory thought he detected the faintest overtones of doubt, of hesitancy, in his voice. But the lieutenant was taking no chances. "No matter, fat one. You have cast your lot with these assassins. What is it the English say? 'You have made your bed, you must lie on it.'" He looked at Andrea's vast bulk dispassionately. "We may need to strengthen a special gallows for you." "No, no, no!" Andrea's voice rose sharply, fearfully, on the last word. "It is true what I tell you! I am not one of them, Lieutenant Turzig, before God I am not one of them!" He swung his hands in distress, his great moon-face contorted in anguish. "Why must I die for no fault of my own? I didn't want to come. I am no fighting man, Lieutenant Turzig!" "I can see that," Turzig said dryly. "A monstrous deal of skin to cover a quivering jelly-bag your size and every inch of it precious to you." He looked at Mallory, and at Miller, still lying face down in the snow. "I cannot congratulate your friends on their choice of companion." "I can tell you everything, Lieutenant, I can tell you everything!" Andrea pressed forward excitedly, eager to consolidate his advantage, to reinforce the beginnings of doubt. "I am no friend of the AlliesI will prove it to youand then perhaps" "You damned Judas!" Mallory made to fling himself forward, but two burly soldiers caught him and pointed his arms from behind. He struggled briefly, then relaxed, looked balefully at Andrea. "If you dare to open your mouth, I promise you you'll never live to" "Be quiet!" Turzig's voice was very cold. "I have had enough of recriminations, of cheap melodrama. Another word and you join your friend in the snow there." He looked at him a moment in silence, then swung back to Andrea. "I promise nothing. I d80 nikon digital camera will hear what you have to say." He made no attempt to disguise the repugnance in his voice. "You must judge for yourself." A nice mixture of relief, earnestness and the dawn of hope, of returning confidence. Andrea paused a minute and gestured dramatically at Mallory, Miller and Brown. "These are no ordinary soldiersthey are Jellicoe's men, of the Special Boat Service!" "Tell me something I couldn't have guessed myself," Turzig growled. "The English Earl has been a thorn in our flesh these many months past. If that is all you have to tell me, fat one" "Wait!" Andrea held up his hand. "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?"

To the stranger, and merrily spoke:

sake, stop! Let him go! It's Panayis!" Miller didn't hear him. In the gloom his face was like stone, his head sunk farther and farther between hunching shoulders as he tightened his grip, strangling the Greek in a weird and savage silence. "It's Panayis, you bloody fool, Panayis!" Mallory's mouth was at the American's ear, his hands clamped round the other's wrists as he tried to drag him off Panayis's throat. He could hear the muffled drumming of Panayis's heels on the turf of the roof, tore at Miller's wrists with all his strength: twice before he had heard that sound as a man had died under Andrea's great hands, and he knew with sudden certainty that Panayis would go the same way, and soon, if he didn't make Miller understand. But all at once Miller understood, relaxed heavily, straightened up, still kneeling, hands hanging limply by his sides. Breathing deeply he stared down in silence at the man at his feet. "What the hell's the matter with you?" Mallory demanded softly. "Deaf or blind or both?" "Just one of these things, I guess." Miller rubbed the back of a hand across his forehead, his face empty of expression. "Sorry, boss, sorry." "Why the hell apologise to me?" Mallory looked away from him, looked down at Panayis: the Greek was sitting up now, hands massaging his bruised throat, sucking in long draughts of air in great, whooping gasps. "But maybe Panayis here might appreciate" "Apologies can wait," Miller interrupted brusquely. "Ask him what's happened to Louki." Mallory looked at him for a moment, made to reply, changed his mind, translated the question. He listened to Panayis's halting answerit obviously hurt him even to try to speakand his mouth tightened in a hard, bitter line. Miller watched the fractional slump of the New Zealander's shoulders, felt he could wait no longer. "Well, what is it, boss? Somethin's happened to Louki, is that it?" "Yes," Mallory said tonelessly. "They'd only got as far as the lane at the back when they found a small German patrol blocking their way. Louki tried to draw them off and the machine-gunner got him through the chest. Andrea got the machine-gunner and took Louki away. Panayis says he'll die for sure." CHAPTER 14 Wednesday Night 19152000 The three men cleared the town without any difficulty, striking out directly across canon sd850is digital camera country for the Castle Vygos and avoiding the main road. It was beginning to rain now, heavily, persistently and the ground was mired and sodden, the few ploughed fields they crossed almost impassable. They had just struggled their way through one of these and could just see the dim outline of the keepless than a cross-country mile from the town instead of Louki's exaggerated estimatewhen they passed by an abandoned earthen house and Miller spoke for the first time since they had left the town square of Navarone. "I'm bushed, boss." His head was sunk on his chest, and his breathing was laboured. "01' man Miller's on the downward path, I reckon, and the legs are gone. Couldn't we squat inside here for a couple of minutes, boss, and have a smoke?" Mallory looked at him in surprise, thought how desperately weary his own legs felt and nodded in reluctant agreement. Miller wasn't the man to complain unless he was near exhaustion. "Okay, Dusty, I don't suppose a minute or two will harm." He translated quickly into Greek and led the way inside, Miller at his heels complaining at length about his advancing age. Once inside, Mallory felt his way across to the inevitable wooden bunk, sat down gratefully, lit a cigarette, then looked up in puzzlement. Miller was still on his feet, walking slowly round the hut, tapping the walls as he went. "Why don't you sit down?" Mallory asked irritably. "That was why you came in here in the first place, wasn't it?" "No, boss, not really." The drawl was very pronounced. "Just a low-down trick to get us inside. Twothree very special things I want to show you." "Very special. What the devil are you trying to tell me?" "Bear with me, Captain Mallory," Miller requested formally. "Bear with me just a few minutes. I'm not wastin' your time. You have my word, Captain Mallory." "Very well." Mallory was mystified, but his confidence in Miller remained unshaken. "As you wish. Only don't be too long about it." "Thanks, boss." The strain of formality was too much for Miller. "It won't take long. There'll be a lamp or candles in hereyou said the islanders never leave an abandoned house without 'em?" "And a very useful superstition it's been to us, too." Mallory reached under the bunk with his torch, straightened his back. "Two or three candles here." "I want a light, boss. No windowsI checked. O.K.?" "Light

Till both thy eyes fall out.

they might let you have some ouzo. But some of us can get ouzo and the best Hocks and the best Moselles." The soldier wrinkled his face in disgust. Like almost every fighting man he despised Quislings, even when they were on his side: in Greece they were very few indeed. "I asked you a question," he said coldly. "What vessel, and where bound?" "The caique Aigion," Mallory replied loftily. "In ballast, for Samoa. Under orders," he said significantly. "Whose orders?" the soldier demanded. Shrewdly Mallory judged the confidence as superficial only. The guard was impressed in spite of himself. "Herr Commandant in Vathy. General Graebel," Mallory said softly. "You will have heard of the Herr General before, yes?" He was on safe ground here, Mallory knew. The reputation of Graebel, both as a paratroop commander and an iron disciplinarian, had spread far beyond these islands. Even in the half-light Mallory could have sworn that the guard's complexion turned paler. But he was dogged enough. "You have papers? Letters of authority?" Mallory sighed wearily, looked over his shoulder. "Andrea!" he bawled. "What do you want?" Andrea's great bulk loomed through the hatchway. He had heard every word that passed, had taken his cue from Mallory: a newlyopened wine bottle was almost engulfed in one vast hand and he was scowling hugely. "Can't you see I'm busy?" he asked surlily. He stopped short at the sight of the German and scowled again, irritably. "And what does this haifling want?" "Our passes and letters of authority from Herr General. They're down below." Andrea disappeared, grumbling deep in his throat. A rope was thrown ashore, the stern pulled in against the sluggish current and the papers passed over. The papersa set different from those to be used if emergency arose in Navaroneproved to be satisfactory, eminently so. Mallory would have been surprised had they been anything else. The preparation of these, even down to the photostatic facsimile of General Graebel's signature, was all in the day's work for Jensen's bureau in Cairo. The soldier folded the papers, handed them back with a muttered word of thanks. He was only a kid, Mallory could see nowif he was more than nineteen, his looks belied him. A pleasant, open-faced kidof a different stamp altogether from the young fanatics camera canon digital powershot sd800 of the S.S. Panzer Divisionand far too thin. Mallory's chief reaction was one of relief: he would have hated to have to kill a boy like this. But he had to find out all he could. He signalled to Stevens to hand him up the almost empty crate of Moselle. Jensen, he mused, had been very thorough indeed: the man had literally thought of everything. . . . Mallory gestured lazily in the direction of the old watch-tower. "How many of you are up there?" he asked. The boy was instantly suspicious. His face had tightened up, stified in hostile surmise. "Why do you want to know?" he asked stiffly. Mallory groaned, lifted his hands in despair, turned sadly to Andrea. "You see what it is to be one of them?" he asked in mournful complaint. "Trust nobody. Think everyone is as twisted as. . . ." He broke off hurriedly, turned to the soldier again. "It's just that we don't want to have the same trouble every time we come in here," he explained. "We'll be back in Samos in a couple of days, and we've still another case of Moselle to work through. General Graebel keeps hisahspecial envoys well supplied. . . . It must be thirsty work up there in the sun. Come on, now, a bottle each. How many bottles?" The reassuring mention that they would be back again, the equally reassuring mention of Graebel's name, plus, probably, the attraction of the offer and his comrades' reaction if he told them he had refused it, tipped the balance, overcame scruples and suspicions. "There are only three of us," he said grudgingly. "Three it is," Mallory said cheerfully. "We'll bring you some Hock next time we return." He tilted his own bottle. "Prosit!" he said, an islander proud of airing his German, and then, more proudly still, "Auf Wiedersehen!" The boy murmured something in return. He stood hesitating for a moment, slightly shame-faced, then wheeled abruptly, walked off slowly along the river bank, clutching his bottles of Moselle. "So!" Mallory said thoughtfully. "There are only three of them. That should make things easier" "Well done, sir!" It was Stevens who interrupted, his voice warm, his face alive with admiration. "Jolly good show!" "Jolly good show!" Miller mimicked. He heaved his lanky length over the coaming of the engine hatchway. "'Good' be

Far distant he goes, with the same emulation,

different world. There was no trans-Atlantic airliner in those days, I can tell you." "In fact," I murmured, "the Wright brothers were hardly airborne." The face had been more than familiar to me, and I was annoyed that I should have taken so long in placing it: I suppose it was because her normal setting was so utterly different from this bleak and frozen world. "Being insulting, young man?" she queried. But there was no offence in her face. "I can't imagine anyone ever insulting you. The world was at your feet even in the Edwardian days, Miss LeGarde." "You know me, then?" She seemed genuinely pleased. "It would be difficult to find anyone who doesn't know the name of Marie LeGarde." I nodded at the young girl. "See, Helene knows it too." And it was clear from the awe-struck expression on the young German girl's face that the name meant as much to her as to me. Twenty years queen of the music-hall, thirty years queen of the musical comedy stage, beloved wherever she was known less for her genius than for the innate kindliness and goodness which she tried to conceal from the world with a waspish tongue, * for the half-dozen orphanages she maintained in Britain and Europe, Marie LeGarde was one of the few truly international names in the world of entertainment. "Yes, yes, I see you know my name." Marie LeGarde smiled at me. "But how did you know me?" "From your photograph, naturally. I saw it in Life the other week, Miss LeGarde." " 'Marie', to my friends." "I don't know you," I protested. "I paid a small fortune to have that photograph retouched and made briefly presentable," she answered obliquely. "It was a splendid photograph, inasmuch as it bore precious little resemblance to the face that I carry about with me. Anyone who recognises me from that is my friend for life. Besides," she smiled, "I bear nothing but the most amicable feelings towards people who save my life." I said nothing, just concentrated on finishing the job of strapping up Helene's arm and shoulders as quickly as possible: she was blue with cold, and shivering uncontrollably. But she hadn't uttered a murmur throughout, and smiled gratefully at me when I was finished. Marie LeGarde regarded my handiwork approvingly. "I really do believe you have picked up some smattering of your trade along the way, Doctorah" free consumer report on digital camera "Mason. Peter Mason, Peter to my friends." " 'Peter' it shall be. Come on, Helene, into your clothes as fast as you like." Fifteen minutes later we were back in the cabin. Jackstraw went to unharness the dogs and secure them to the tethering cable, while Joss and I helped the two women down the ice-coated steps from the trap-door. But I had no sooner reached the foot of the steps than I had forgotten all about Marie LeGarde and Helene and was staring unbelievingly at the tableau before me. I was just vaguely aware of Joss by my shoulder, and anger and dismay on his face slowly giving way to a kind of reluctant horror. For what we saw, though it concerned us all, concerned him most of all. The injured wireless operator still lay where we had left him. All the others were there too, grouped in a rough semi-circle round him and round a cleared space to the left of the stove. By their feet in the centre of this space, upside down and with one corner completely stove in on the wooden floor, lay the big metal RCA radio transmitter and receiver, our sole source of contact with, our only means of summoning help from the outer world. I knew next to nothing about radios, but it was chillingly obvious to meas it was, I could see, to the semi-circle of fascinated onlookersthat the RCA was smashed beyond recovery. CHAPTER THREEMonday 2 A.M.3 A.M. Half a minute passed in complete silence, half a minute before I could trust myself to speak, even bring myself to speak. When at last I did, my voice was unnaturally low in die unnatural hush that was broken only by the interminable clacking of the anemometer cups above. "Splendid. Really splendid. The perfect end to the perfect day." I looked round them slowly, one by one, then gestured at the smashed transmitter. "What bloody idiot was responsible for thisthis stroke of genius?" "How dare you, sir!" The white-haired man whom I had mentally labelled as the Dixie colonel took a step forward, face flushed with anger. "Mind your tongue. We're not children to be" "Shut up!" I said, quietly enough, but there must have been something in my voice rather less than reassuring, for he fell silent, though his fists still remained clenched. I looked at them all again. "Well?" "I'm afraidI'm afraid I did it," the stewardess faltered. Her brown eyes

When strawberries go begging, and the sleek

tired, Dusty." Miller looked at him queerly, said nothing for a moment, then began to swear again. "It's my own fault, boss, my own gawddamned fault." "What do you mean, your own fault? Heavens above man, I was there when . . ." Mallory broke off, rose quickly to his feet and stared through the darkness at the south side of the square. A single shot had rung out there, the whiplash crack of a carbine followed the thin, high whine of a ricochet, and then silence. Mallory stood quite still, hands clenched by his sides. Over ten minutes had passed since he and Miller had left Panayis to guide Andrea and Brown to the Castle Vygosthey should have been well away from the square by this time. And almost certainly Louki wouldn't be down there. Mallory's instructions to him had been explicitto hide the remainder of the T.N.T. blocks in the roof and then wait there to lead himself and Miller to the keep. But something could have gone wrong, something could always go wrong. Or a trap, maybe, a ruse. But what kind of trap? The sudden, off-beat stammering of a heavy machine-gun stilled his thoughts, and for a moment or two he was all eyes and straining ears. And then another, and lighter machine-gun cut in, just for a few seconds: as abruptly as they had started, both guns died away, together. Mallory waited no longer. "Get the stuff together again," he whispered urgently. "We're taking it with us. Something's gone wrong." Within thirty seconds they had ropes and explosives back in their knapsacks, had strapped them on their backs and were on their way. Bent almost double, careful to make no noise whatsoever, they ran across the roof-tops towards the old house where they had hidden earlier in the evening, where they were now to rendezvous with Louki. Still running, they were only feet away from the house when they saw his shadowy figure rise up, only it wasn't Louki, Mallory realised at once, it was far too tall for Louki, and without breaking step he catapulted the horizontal driving weight of his 180 pounds at the unknown figure in a homicidal tackle, his shoulder catching the man just below the breast-bone, emptying every last particle of air from the man's lungs with an explosive, agonised whoosh. A second later both of Miller's sinewy hands were clamped round the man's neck, slowly choking him to death. And he would have choked to death, neither of the two men were in any mind for half-measures, had not Mallory, prompted by some fugitive intuition, stooped low over the contorted face, the staring, protruding discount digital camera bags eyes, choked back a cry of sudden horror. "Dusty!" he whispered hoarsely. "For God's sake, stop! Let him go! It's Panayis!" Miller didn't hear him. In the gloom his face was like stone, his head sunk farther and farther between hunching shoulders as he tightened his grip, strangling the Greek in a weird and savage silence. "It's Panayis, you bloody fool, Panayis!" Mallory's mouth was at the American's ear, his hands clamped round the other's wrists as he tried to drag him off Panayis's throat. He could hear the muffled drumming of Panayis's heels on the turf of the roof, tore at Miller's wrists with all his strength: twice before he had heard that sound as a man had died under Andrea's great hands, and he knew with sudden certainty that Panayis would go the same way, and soon, if he didn't make Miller understand. But all at once Miller understood, relaxed heavily, straightened up, still kneeling, hands hanging limply by his sides. Breathing deeply he stared down in silence at the man at his feet. "What the hell's the matter with you?" Mallory demanded softly. "Deaf or blind or both?" "Just one of these things, I guess." Miller rubbed the back of a hand across his forehead, his face empty of expression. "Sorry, boss, sorry." "Why the hell apologise to me?" Mallory looked away from him, looked down at Panayis: the Greek was sitting up now, hands massaging his bruised throat, sucking in long draughts of air in great, whooping gasps. "But maybe Panayis here might appreciate" "Apologies can wait," Miller interrupted brusquely. "Ask him what's happened to Louki." Mallory looked at him for a moment, made to reply, changed his mind, translated the question. He listened to Panayis's halting answerit obviously hurt him even to try to speakand his mouth tightened in a hard, bitter line. Miller watched the fractional slump of the New Zealander's shoulders, felt he could wait no longer. "Well, what is it, boss? Somethin's happened to Louki, is that it?" "Yes," Mallory said tonelessly. "They'd only got as far as the lane at the back when they found a small German patrol blocking their way. Louki tried to draw them off and the machine-gunner got him through the chest. Andrea got the machine-gunner and took Louki away. Panayis says he'll die for sure." CHAPTER