Free The Angry Hills by Leon Uris

the British were already withdrawing.
    Soutar arrived at Petraki, 17, only a few minutes after Mike had run out in a drunken stupor. Howe-Wilken lived long enough to relay the fact that Morrison still had the list and hoped he would go to the Tatoi airdome.
    The rest was known to Mike. Soutar lost contact at the airdrome during the raid—traced Mike to the train—lost him and continued his search in the retreating B.E.F.
    “Of course I was at disadvantage,” Soutar said, “never having seen you or knowing exactly what you looked like. But then your good friend Mosley solved the problem for me.”
    “Exactly who is Mosley?”
    “Well, he had a half dozen aliases. Actually, he was an Oxford-trained German agent. He worked hand in glove with Heilser.”
    “This Heilser—I take it he is top dog...”
    “Ah, Konrad. I’ve met him twice before. Norway first—then France. Crack man. Brutal—persistent. He’ll hunt us down if he has to look behind every tree and rock in Greece. It’s going to be no picnic, Morrison.”
    “Go on...”
    “Not much more to it,” Soutar said. “When I saw Mosley on the train I knew he was searchin’ you out. Instead of lookin’ for you I watched Mosley in hopes he’d lead me to you. He did.”
    Mike grinned. “Can’t help but laugh a little at the way I’ve been trying to get away from you....”
    “Very good for a newcomer, Morrison, very good. But you’ve got a lot of learnin’ to do. The list—you have it...?”
    “I learn fast. I memorized it and tore it up.” Mike paused. “The Stergiou list—what does it mean?”
    “Well, you might as well know. Fotis Stergiou, may God rest his soul, was one of the best-known barristers in Greece. When the Italians invaded Greece last winter, Stergiou contacted many officials in the Greek Government and posed a proposition to them. They were to turn collaborators if occupation became imminent. Seventeen men agreed to this. They are now working for the Germans as far as the world at large is concerned. All of them are in important positions—there are two or three cabinet ministers among them. Actually, of course, they are working for us. Waiting for us to contact them.”
    Soutar ground out his cigarette and looked off to the horizon.
    “No man on the Stergiou list knows who the next one is. Each man works separately.”
    “Why?”
    “In case the Germans find one out, they won’t be able to bag the entire lot. We will still have the rest of them working.”
    “And you say the Germans got wind through a Greek traitor?”
    “Yes—Zervos is his name. And from what I understand, he’s as slimy as Heilser.”
    Mike remained quiet for several moments. He had seen the onslaught—the power of German arms. It seemed such a futile gesture. “These men—these seventeen men—what can they hope to do against what we have just seen?”
    “Do?” Soutar said. “You are naïve, Morrison. Many a war has been won or lost in our business. Among them, they’ll have access to secret documents—they’ll know every move the Germans plan in this theatre—they’ll know every submarine operating from a Greek port—they’ll know every troop and gun they have. Do? I’ll tell you what they’ll do. This war will take a turn, one day—mark my words. And when it does the Undergrounds in Greece and the occupied countries will handcuff twenty-five German divisions and keep them from fighting at the fronts.”
    Mike whistled. “I guess it is more important than a secret formula.”
    “What?”
    “Nothing—just thinking out loud.”
    “When the day of reckoning comes these seventeen men must be vindicated. They must not die as traitors. You are the only living soul who knows who they are.”
    Then Soutar grabbed Mike’s hand. “Quiet,” he ordered.
    A lone German soldier edged cautiously down the road onto the beach and stood before thousands of his enemy. The British stared curiously at the foe they saw face to face for the first