Levkas Man (18 page)

3

So far my involvement in my father's affairs had been largely accidental, and in writing about what happened during that hot summer in the Mediterranean, I find it difficult to decide exactly when and how I stopped fighting against the inevitable and decided to let myself become engaged emotionally in his affairs. Certainly Holroyd's arrival in the camp at Despotiko was a decisive factor. It personalized the old man's struggle for recognition and made me realize for the first time the powerful forces he had to contend with.

Holroyd was a member of the academic Establishment. It was typical of him that, instead of coming straight out to the scene of operations, he had spent a whole day in Athens first. And when he did arrive, it was in an official car and accompanied by one of the directors of the General Direction of Antiquities. They had stopped the night somewhere on their way up from Athens and Holroyd had taken the trouble to telephone ahead to say he would be arriving at eleven o'clock. As a result, nobody went up to the dig that morning and Cartwright fussed around the camp, making certain that everything was in order. The folding table and the two canvas chairs were brought out from the mess tent, mugs laid ready, a bottle of ouzo, glasses. They had even purchased some mocha coffee from the taverna. Hans dug a new latrine and then appeared, transformed in blue trousers and pale shirt, with his fair hair slicked down with water. Sonia put on a short white dress and Cartwright a tie to go with his grey flannels and elbow-patched sports jacket.

It was a little before eleven that Holroyd came into the camp. He had his pipe in his mouth and he was smiling, his round, babyish face looking pink and newly scrubbed. Cartwright went forward to meet him, holding himself very erect in an effort to conceal that slouching, gangling walk of his. I almost expected him to salute. It was all very old-fashioned and English, the two of them in grey flannels and sports jackets formally shaking hands against the exotic background of the olive grove, and the Greek official standing beside them, neat in a dark blue suit and dark glasses.

I now knew a little more about Holroyd's background, for the night before Sonia had settled down on the grass outside my tent and we had talked for nearly an hour. He was the son of a Bradford spinning mill operator and all through the early 'thirties, when he had been growing up, his father had been unemployed. He had been newpaper boy, errand boy, and then his father had got part-time work at another mill and they had moved out to Cleckheaton. Through voluntary work at a local library he had managed to bring himself to the notice of one of the founders, a rich mill owner, who had supplemented his scholarship and seen him through grammar school and then university. Anthropology was not a very popular subject at the time, and with the war just over, he had got himself appointed to a department of the Allied Military Government in Germany that was dealing with papers and documents of scientific interest.

‘It is not too large a step,' she had said, ‘from the appropriation of the discoveries of a conquered country to picking the brains of your own scientists.' He had stayed close to government, always with some official position that gave him a certain amount of power. ‘If the plagiarism is not too blatant, there are few people who will openly oppose a man who has the ear of senior officials and can influence academic appointments.' She had got all this from Gilmore and I was remembering her words now as I saw Holroyd glance quickly across to where I was standing slightly apart from the others and then turn to question Cartwright. ‘He's politically astute and quite ruthless. He's also a publicist.' By this she had meant he could write for a wider public than the purely academic. ‘You'll see, he'll have the Greeks eating out of his hand. He's a born schemer.'

Holroyd was moving towards the table now. He shook hands with Hans, said something to Sonia which was received in stony silence, and then, after accepting a glass of ouzo, he came across to me. ‘Well, young man—so you changed your mind, eh?' A smile was creasing the coners of his eyes, but the eyes themselves were without warmth. ‘Dr Gilmore told me he had failed to persuade you to come out to Greece.'

‘I changed my mind, as you say.'

He nodded. ‘Now, come and have a drink—I want to talk to you in a moment about your father. I hope to persuade him to behave more sensibly in future. I shall expect your help.' The aroma of coffee filled the air. Cartwright brought a tray of artefacts from his tent and placed it on the table, also his notebooks. The soldiers were dismantling their tent. ‘I have brought Mr Leonodipoulos with me.' Holroyd nodded towards the Greek official who was talking to the Corporal. ‘I'll explain why later.'

Coffee was served, and whilst we drank it the talk was entirely scientific as Cartwright explained the artefacts they had picked up on their trek down through Macedonia, mostly chippings of chert and obsidian, and all neatly labelled. Now and then he referred to his notes. Holroyd listened, smoking his pipe and only occasionally asking a question. At the end of it, he said, ‘Well, at least you've got something to show for your efforts. But the earliest of these chert flakes is probably not more than seventeen thousand.' He leaned forward, stabbing with the stem of his pipe at the contents of the tray. ‘There's nothing here, nothing that could remotely be associated with a carbon-14 dating of thirty-five thousand
BP.'

‘No, sir, I agree.'

‘But that was the whole purpose of the expedition.'

Cartwright nodded, his face flushed. ‘I understand, sir. But, as I wrote you, I have high hopes of the present location. When we've dug down—'

‘That's a full season's work. You admit it yourself.' And Holroyd added with harsh emphasis, ‘This expedition was not undertaken with a major dig in mind. You know that very well. If we had envisaged that, it would have meant a much bigger grant and a dozen or so students.'

‘With all due respect I think the two of us can manage to get a pilot trench cut to the Solutrean level at least.'

‘Solutrean, or Aurignacian—what does it matter? You don't know what's there. Whereas this expedition was based on quite positive information—a carbon-dating of bones that had already been unearthed.'

‘I think when you see the site itself—'

‘In a moment, Alec. In a moment.' Holroyd smiled, his manner suddenly more conciliatory. ‘What I'm trying to establish for you is the real intention of this expedition. It is purely a reconnaissance, an initial probe to test the validity of Dr Van der Voort's theories.' He turned to Sonia. ‘You were right about his Journal. I had a talk with Dr Gilmore and I must accept his word for it that it is personal and deals with behaviourism. What I do not accept is that there is no record of discoveries out here. He made three expeditions in the Central Mediterranean area, two of them entirely on his own. Last year he brought back bones for dating that would appear to be highly significant. You, as his secretary, must know—'

‘I'm not his secretary,' she said quickly. ‘I merely did some typing for him.'

‘You also nursed him through an illness. You lived for a time in his house.' He was staring at her intently and I began to understand why he had decided to discuss the expedition publicly like this, instead of having a private talk with Cartwright. ‘You could assist us greatly, and Dr Van der Voort, if you would tell us where he was last year, also perhaps the year before—the exact locations.'

She was staring back at him, very pale, very intense. ‘Surely it is for Dr Van der Voort to tell you himself,' she said in a tight, controlled voice.

‘That is precisely my difficulty. Miss Winters. If Dr Van der Voort were available—'

She went for him then, all the feelings that had been bottled up inside her during the days she had been in Greece bursting out of her in a torrent of words: ‘You of all people—to come here and complain that Dr Van der Voort is not available. You know what is happening today—this very minute. A man called Kotiadis—Intelligence agent, Security Police—I don't know what he is—but he is hunting him down with a police dog like a—criminal. And you're responsible.'

‘What do you mean by that?' Holroyd's voice was sharp.

‘Don't pretend you don't know.' Her voice was wild and unrestrained. ‘Do you think I'm a fool? Who set them on to him? Who tipped off the authorities that he was a Communist? You hound him. You drive him half out of his mind. And then you have the effrontery to come here asking me—
me
—to tell you where he was working these last two years. That's something you'll never—'

‘Calm yourself.' He was leaning forward, his hand gripping her arm. ‘I assure you I did not inform the authorities of his political background. Why should I?' he added. ‘It is of no advantage to me that he has disappeared. Quite the reverse, I assure you.' He turned to Cartwright. ‘Is that what he thinks—that I informed the authorities?'

Cartwright shook his head. ‘No. He thought it was me.'

‘And that's why he attacked you?'

‘Yes.'

‘I know all that,' Sonia snapped. ‘He went for the wrong man.'

‘You mean he should have attacked me?'

She shook her head, biting her lip. ‘He shouldn't have attacked anybody, of course. But imagine how he felt—how you would have felt? He was engrossed with his work, and then suddenly this old bogey of Communism—'

But Holroyd was looking across at the Greek official. ‘Tell her, will you,' he said. And then, turning back to Sonia, ‘I knew this would have to be explained—if not to Van der Voort himself, certainly to you, and his son since he's here. It was one of the reasons I asked Mr Leonodipoulos to accompany me.' He nodded to the Greek, who said:

‘On March 13 the Intelligence branch of the Public Order Ministry learned that a Communist agent had entered Greece under cover of leading a scientific expedition and was operating from a camp near this village. The information came from a Yugoslav source that has generally proved reliable.' He was speaking in impeccable English, smoothly and with scarcely a trace of accent. ‘They checked first with our Immigration people, then with my Ministry. It was not difficult to confirm that this Dr Van der Voort had been associated with the Soviets and had published books in the Communist countries. The Security Police were informed and that evening they phoned the local headman here, Andreas Dikeli. Discreet enquiries were then made through the Russian Embassy in Athens. It all seemed to confirm the information our people had been given. However, since the expedition was British-sponsored, they sent Demetrios Kotiadis, one of their most senior men, up to interview Dr Van der Voort. When he discovered this man is disappeared in somewhat unusual circumstances—' He left it at that with a little expressive shrug.

‘But—and this is the point I want to make clear to you, young lady.' Holroyd had lit his pipe and was puffing at it happily. ‘While I was in Athens I was able to convince both the Ministry and the Security Police that Dr Van der Voort has broken with the Russians and that his presence here in Greece is entirely innocent.'

I don't think Sonia believed him even then. ‘But why—' she said. ‘Why should you do that?'

‘Well, it's the truth, isn't it?'

‘Yes, but—'

‘You have to have a reason, do you?' He was smiling at her, perfectly relaxed now. ‘Try looking at it from my point of view. Without Dr Van der Voort this expedition will achieve nothing. And I had great hopes of a break-through, something new. I've been asked to read a paper at the Pan-European Pre-historic Congress in May and this would be an ideal platform from which to launch Dr Van der Voort's new theory. And Mr Leonodipoulos here is keen, very keen, that his country should be involved in any scientific advance in our evolutionary knowledge.'

The Greek official nodded. ‘That is quite correct. Despite Dr Van der Voort's political background, my Ministry is now satisfied that it is important for Greece that he continues his work here.'

Holroyd smiled and got to his feet. ‘You think about that,' he told her, ‘while we go up and look at this cave-dwelling. And remember, the Congress meets in less than two months. There's not much time.'

‘You mean—when he's found—he's free to go on with his work?'

‘You heard what Mr Leonodipoulos said.'

‘But then you don't need information from me. You will be able to talk to him personally.'

‘Perhaps. I hope so.' He patted her arm in a fatherly way. ‘Well, we'll see, eh?' He turned to Cartwright, gave a peremptory jerk of his head, and as the party began to move off through the olive grove, he began explaining the cave to Leonodipoulos. ‘I'm afraid this may not appear to you very impressive, accustomed as you are to tholos tombs and the glories of Ancient Greece. But Greek civilization stemmed from successive waves of primitive people coming down from the Black Sea coasts and the Caucasus. What Alec Cartwright hopes to unearth here, and perhaps elsewhere, is the
original
source of your civilization. This may be the first of a whole series of exciting discoveries—'

His voice faded and I looked round for Sonia. She was walking slowly down to the stream. Her long bare legs, her fair hair, the white tunic of her dress—in that setting she looked like one of the early Greeks. I started to go after her, but Hans stopped me. ‘We go to the dig now,' he said. ‘She wants to be alone.' That surprised me, that he should be so considerate. ‘She is concerned about Van der Voort.'

I nodded. ‘She behaves as though …' I didn't know quite how to put it to him. ‘How did they come to meet in the first place?' I asked. ‘I suppose she was also studying anthropology?'

‘No. Biology.'

‘It was through you then?'

‘Partly.'

I continued to question him as we started up the track to the dig, but he was not very communicative. And yet her concern had been so deeply emotional … ‘Tell me about your own father,' I said finally.