“The old man asleep?” he asked.
Katie nodded. Joseph had had to be dragged, pushed and shoved home after Krista had found him drunk in the beer garden. She had come running in a frenzy, begging them to come and help her get him home. Joseph was a heavy man, heavier still when drunk, and it had taken the entire family all their strength to steer him through the village street.
On rousing from his drunken stupor he had become fighting mad. Hank had hit him unmercifully. Pa was always like this after spirits. If he stuck to beer he was just sad. Normally a gentle man, when intoxicated from schnapps he became violent. Hans and Heinz had held his arms whilst the others, Moe included, had literally pushed him step by step, roaring and shouting, to the house.
The village had looked on in shocked silence. Joseph had been known to drink before, but only on permissible occasions, such as the Carnival, skittle contests, wine festivals and birthdays, when everyone was permitted to be as merry as he liked. This was just an ordinary week-day. He was shouting for Rudi and threatening to break his neck, unaware that one of those shoving and supporting him from behind was the lodger himself.
At the garden gate he had completely collapsed and they had carried him in like a corpse by his feet and head. Moe had removed his coat and his boots and he had fallen at once into an uneasy sleep. Rudi had been concerned.
“Poor devil, poor devil,” he kept repeating, looking down at the unconscious Joseph. He was a pallid young man who wanted no trouble, and his lack of courage irritated Moe suddenly.
“Oh, shut up,” she had snapped. “What’s done is done.”
Rudi had gone off to his night shift and said that it would be safer if he didn’t return. Moe remarked calmly that she would arrange other accommodation for him, that everything would blow over. Rudi wasn’t to worry.
She had chased the family to bed and lain down in her usual place beside Joseph. She saw no reason to do otherwise. Anna and Katie had seemed astonished.
“What’s he got to grumble at?” she had said to them fiercely. “He’s never been deprived of his rights. He’s here at night and Rudi’s here in the day, so what?”
The girls had offered no comment. Krista had already been despatched to get the little ones to sleep. They had all been out at the gate in their night-shirts watching for Pa.
All of this had been less than two hours ago. It had been an unexpected nuisance, and Katie listened anxiously at the door of her parents’ room before daring to creep round the house.
“They’re both asleep,” she assured Hank.
“It’s a bit risky, but we can’t change our plans. If we had a telephone, now . . .”
“Don’t be a fool—are we going or not?”
Hank went and opened the door of the sun-parlour. It had been a kind of conservatory, and Moe still used it for her plants. They were on the shelves all round, mixed up with the boys’ belongings. When she watered her geraniums she thought nothing of watering their most treasured possessions; and if they would not get up when the alarm clock went off in the morning, she would use the watering-can remorselessly to fetch them out of bed. Hank hated the place. It was always damp, too light, too cold in the winter and too hot in the summer. Being made entirely of glass, there was no privacy at all—one felt forever on show. He resented more than anything having been pushed out of his small slip room for the lodger.
He listened. “Moe’s restless. I can hear her turning in bed. Blast her and that wretched gigolo.” He swore viciously. “Of course we’re going. We can’t let Leo down. He’ll be in the lane any moment now. Here’s the meat for the dog.”
“Doped?”
“Of course,” he answered impatiently.
“Last time you put too much stuff on it—the brute slept till late afternoon and Moe was suspicious. That brat Robert kept telling her the beast was ill.”
“All right, don’t keep on about it. Alfred must have made the stuff too strong. A good thing if he had never woken again—it’s dangerous getting past him going in and out. Pa will have him tied so close to the house.”
“He always hears Leo’s machine, no matter how far away he stops the engine.”
They listened, holding their breath. The house was dead quiet except for the deep regular snoring of Joseph. The twins, awake, demanded eagerly to be let in on the job. Hank was impatient to be off. “Don’t wake Karl! I’ve told you, not this time,” he snarled. “Leo has to test you out first. This is no child’s play, it’s the real thing.”
He was aware that his two brothers were rapidly becoming a menace to him. Had it not been for Moe and her blasted lodger they would never have found out about the gang. When Hank had slept in the small slip room it had been simple enough to creep in and out of the window. She had made him turn out for her lover. Well, now that was over, or at least it looked like it. Tomorrow he would move back to the small room.
He had been counting the notes which he had to hide under a loose board in the summer-house floor when the twins, who had trailed him there at dawn one day, had come upon him. He had beaten them up mercilessly to make them swear secrecy. Now he made use of them. They had to keep guard for him and Katie. They had to whistle the “all clear” for them to return. Later he intended to make more use of their physical strength.
They watched him now pulling on his black jersey with its hood that almost covered his face, his black tight trousers, rubber-soled shoes and black woollen gloves. All the gang wore these dark garments when on a “prowl” as they called it. They watched him pick up his bicycle chain wrapped tightly in a woollen stocking and twist it round his waist and place his jack-knife in his pocket. The twins watched him in admiration. They feared his brute strength and his cruel mind, but they admired and envied his courage and daring.
Leaping lightly down from the window he hissed, “Close it, you b—s, and mind you don’t keep me waiting when I come back. Only one of you is to sleep—the other must watch.”
When their brother and sister had gone, the twins looked at each other. They listened for the sound of the motor cycle and presently it came, faint but unmistakable.
“Hans,” said Heinz, when they had drawn lots as to who should sleep first, “he’s bloody strong, but do you realize that we two together are stronger?”
Hans nodded. The same thought had just occurred to him. Hank was either too stupid or had forgotten that the link between these identical twins was so powerful that their reactions were simultaneous. Had they but united against him that night in the summer-house they would have defeated him.
Katie was at the gate waiting for her brother. A dark cloak with a hood was wrapped round the flashy dress Leo had given her as her share of the last job. Her legs were now in nylons and her hair tied back with a ribbon. The lids of her eyes were smeared with green stuff, her lashes stiff with mascara in an overpowdered face. Her mouth was a scarlet gash. She looked at least twenty-five.
“Fixed the dog?” muttered Hank.
She nodded. “He’s all right. Getting used to the stuff. He didn’t stir, just ate it without getting up.”
“If he makes any noise when we return he’s getting the bicycle chain,” swore Hank. “Where’s Leo?”
“Hist! Step back in the shadow,” whispered Katie as a large car swept round the corner and came to a halt at the next door gate. A light was burning in the porch of the Englishwoman’s house as she and the Englishman let themselves in with a latchkey. The car, driven by a chauffeur, turned, its headlights sweeping on to the boy and girl crouching in the hedge. The driver stopped and shouted, “Hi, you love birds, choose a safer place. I almost ran you down.” He backed the car and returned up the road. The lights in the upper stories of the house came on, but the one in the porch was not extinguished.
Hank cursed the house and its occupants. Houses of the Occupation kept the porch lights on all night. He and his friends made quite a bit removing the bulbs and selling them.
The sound of an approaching motor cycle was apparent
; then the engine was switched off and the machine coasted down the slight slope and came to a standstill at the end of the tree-shadowed lane.
A slight cry, like that of a nightjar, came from the motor-cyclist and was answered by a similar one from Hank. They waited in silence for a minute, then crept up the lane, and both mounted the pillion of the motor cycle. Katie was wedged between the two lads, her cloak tucked round her legs, and the hood, like those of her brother and Leo, pulled down almost over her face.
The motor cycle stopped before a bomb-shattered derelict shelter marked “dangerous” on the river bank, and was pulled up on to the tow-path in the shadow of the trees. The rest of the gang were already waiting for their leader inside.
The lad Leo, as powerful as Hank, but slimly built with the coiled strength of a panther, saluted the waiting members of his gang with a curious gesture made before the face with the right hand. They responded, one by one, with a similar gesture; then at his signal, all sat down on the floor on old car cushions piled against the one sound wall of the place. The entrance facing the river had been completely shattered, and was closed up with boards of wood. Each member of the gang raised these boards and squeezing past, replaced them after entry. There was no light; the moon streaming in from the shattered roof lit up the young faces grouped round their leader.
“All set?” he asked softly, after he had given them some detailed instructions. “Everything clear?” His voice was unpleasant, with an undertone of menace, and the clear green blue eyes in the clean sun-tanned skin were hard and merciless in spite of the mobile and pleasant mouth. “We’ll just go over it again. You, number one,” indicating Hank, “will go with three and four to the house. Approach it from the back—the side door of the sun-veranda is your point of entry. Cut the shutter slats with these——” He handed them a small sharp saw and a knife. “Then the glass with this,” showing a round stone wrapped in a chamois leather. “The key is inside the door—the old fool of a woman always leaves it there. Put your hand through the hole you’ve made and open the door. Pass the carpets and rugs out to numbers three and four, who will find the car waiting at the tradesmen’s entrance. The silver is upstairs in the front bedroom, the first door on your right when you’ve reached the landing. Wrap the silver in the rugs and bring all the pictures from the downstairs and landings. Some of them are good. We don’t know which. Bring them all. Get all the clothes from the woman’s and man’s wardrobes, and all trinkets. Replace the shutters after you’ve finished, and keep your gloves on all the time. Numbers two and seven will keep guard at the back entrance. I’ll take watch on the front one and the main road. Numbers two and three will load the stuff into the car and then come with me to the landing stage. The others will disperse separately, and assemble here later on. O.K.?”
There was a murmur of assent and Leo got up. “I’ll get the car. Number five, you’d better come with me. It looks less suspicious to see a man with a girl at this hour of the night.”
Katie got up and followed Leo out. On the opposite side of the road was an all-night garage. The hand on duty was one of the gang. He indicated a saloon car standing by the petrol pump. Leo took the proffered keys.
“Don’t be too long,” warned the garage lad. “My shift ends at five, and the car must be back an hour before that so I can clean it.”
Katie climbed in beside Leo and they drove over to the shelter. There was not a soul about and the others piled in the back of the car, some of them on the floor. Katie was shivering with such intense excitement that she could scarcely breathe—not only from the thought of what they were about to do, and not from fear of what they risked if caught. It was the proximity of Leo which caused her shivering.
He turned suddenly and looked at her with dislike. “Pull your hood over your face,” he snapped, “that blasted hair of yours will get us all copped yet.”
She shrank at the tone of his voice and obediently pulled down the hood.
An hour later the car drove down to a small landing stage further up the river. An old barge with the Dutch flag was moored there in the shadow of the thick trees. At three hoots from the car horn two men appeared on the plank they used as a gangway. The rolled carpets full of loot were carried down the path and stowed on board in a cabin. The elder of the two men was a foreigner. He nodded approval when all the stuff was safely on board.
“All right, boys. Well done. We’ll have this sorted out and got rid of—you’ll get your share on our return trip, same as usual. We’ll be back some time next week. Same time, same place? We’ll send word by the usual method. O.K.?”
Leo and Hank assented. They would get the message at the ship-repairing yard. It would be passed in code under name of some repair needed. They didn’t really like having to trust these men to pay out their correct share of the sale, but they had no choice. The loot had to be disposed of safely, and not in this town. The river was the obvious answer. They had met these men while doing their repairs, and so far it had worked very well. Tonight was their fifth transaction. Last time, for instance, they had been especially lucky, and all the gang were to be richer for the proceeds of the sale of jewellery they had unexpectedly found in the house of the new millionaire baron who had made, like hundreds of others, a fortune out of others’ shortages and necessities. Hank and Leo felt no scruples at stealing. Their companions at the yard were constantly telling them that the money was just as much theirs as his. Homeless from a very early age, living for years in the company of similarly placed people of all types, the children had thieved and scrounged whenever they had been hungry—and that had been almost always.
The papers lately had been full of the great fortunes amassed so quickly by those profiting from the new prosperity. Hank had listened to Leo’s views on the subject. He did not question these men’s methods of acquiring fortunes; he envied them and was determined to imitate them by any means in his power. He wanted money—Hank wanted money—they all wanted it. Money meant power to buy what they liked, do what they liked, go where they liked. “Get rich quick”—that was the motto all around them now. Well, they could do the same; they were doing it. Already they had, every one of them, been able to buy some of the things for which they had been craving.
The proceeds from the sale of the jewellery were to be paid out to the gang tonight. Leo went into the cabin and returned later with his pockets stuffed with notes. The younger of the two men on the barge was looking appreciatively at Katie’s hair and painted mouth.
“Coming on board for a little swig? I’ve got some good Bols.”
“No,” barked Leo, following his look, “we’ve got to get the car back by four.”
“Pity,” said the man, winking at Katie. “I’d have liked it. Good journey back, then . . . and until next time.”
Leo and Katie took the car back to the garage after dropping the others at the hide-out. Then they joined the gang assembled there.
Now that the job was successfully ended, Leo pulled Katie openly to him in the shelter. His hands caressed her in the darkness as they leaned against the rotten wall.
“You did damn well,” he whispered. The admiration of the other man, his open attempt to attract her, had increased Leo’s desire again.
Hank produced some schnapps which they had found in the house they had just robbed, and in glasses also plundered they all solemnly drank, choking over the unpleasant raw spirit and pretending they liked it as much as their leader obviously did. “Only one,” he snarled, as Hank reached a second time for the bottle, “this stuff’ll give you away quicker than anything when you’re not used to it. It’s dangerous.”
He filled his own glass again, then, going outside, hurled the bottle and its contents into the river.
“Fool,” said Hank sulkily, “that’s dangerous too.” He was beginning to like the stuff—it gave him a hell of a kick.
Leo began counting out the money. They received their share more or less equally, with the exception of Hank who, as number two in the gang
, got almost as much as the leader.
“Well, you’ve all got your share,” finished Leo sharply, when the notes had all been distributed, “and now get out—all of you. Remember, keep your mouths shut. Take care where you keep the money—understand?”
All assented. “Then get out,” he snapped, his eyes on Katie. A ray of moonlight streaming through the damaged roof caught her white face. The brilliant hair was dark now in the shadow, her eyes large and mysterious. Gone were the rather spiteful lines of her sharp face. She was almost beautiful.
“We’ll meet as usual next week, you’ll get your signal in the usual way—see?”
They filed out, each making the secret sign of the gang as they left. Hank did not move.
“You heard me? Get out!”
“Where to?” demanded Hank nastily. “Go on—get on with it . . . that’s nothing new to me. I’ll keep guard at the entrance for you.”
“Don’t smoke,” snapped Leo, “you’ll give the place away. Go over to the garage and wait for us there.”
“No fear!” retorted Hank. “And get noticed hanging around the place at this hour of the night? No, I’m waiting here . . . with my back to you, of course.”
“Hist!” warned Leo. “Someone’s coming!”
The stolid steps of a boatman came down the path, followed by a drift of cigar-smoke. The moon was suddenly hidden in a pile of cloud. There was complete silence.
“O.K. He’s gone. Go ahead. You’ve got exactly fifteen minutes.”
He stood with his back to the couple on the dirty floor of the shelter, wishing that he had enough money in his hoard under the summer-house floor to buy a motor cycle of his own. Then he would no longer be dependent on Leo for transport. He had already learned all about Leo’s machine. Engines presented no difficulty to Hank. They responded to his touch as to a magnet. His great hands were deft with machinery. He knew that at the shipyard he was highly prized, in spite of his youth, because of this. He began calculating his money, and working out just how many more weeks must pass before the pile of bank-notes under the summer-house floor would buy him a motor cycle.
A House on the Rhine Page 6
