The Lonely Skier

by Hammond Innes

  In the end Kapitan Stelben agreed to accompany the Korporal forthwith to see his officer. He instructed me to proceed to the top with the first load. I was to leave one of my men with the remaining guard in charge of the trucks. He then departed with the Korporal.

  I posted my man on the truck containing the gold and, with the rest, boarded the sleigh. At the top of the slittovia was a building, like a concrete emplacement, which housed the haulage machinery. Near it was a small refuge hut, and just above this were earth workings where the flak guns were being installed. We had barely completed the unloading when the telephone rang in the machine-room. I went in and answered it. It was the Kapitan. He ordered me to have the boxes moved to the edge of the deepest of the pits dug for the concrete gun platforms. Whilst my men were doing this, I was to send the sleigh back for him. This I did and ordered the men to move the boxes to the gun positions. A path had been worn from the top of the slittovia to these workings. But it was very slippery. The slope was steep and the boxes difficult to manage. My men grumbled a great deal.

  We had not completed this work when the Kapitan arrived. He complained that we were slow. And he kept glancing at his watch. He seemed agitated. The men grumbled even in front of him and he blamed me for not having control.

  When the work was completed and the boxes stacked round the pit, he said, ‘Parade your men in the machine-room, Korporal. I want a word with them.’ I did this, parading them in a single line on the far side of the room where there was a little space. I was nervous and so were the men. Discipline was not good at this stage of the war, but we were still afraid of the Gestapo. The Kapitan gave an order to the driver of the sleigh and he came in with a sheepish look.

  Then the Kapitan entered and shut the door. His face twitched and I noticed that there was blood on his tunic and on his left hand. I thought he had fallen and cut himself. He seemed irrit-able and plucked nervously at the sling of the automatic gun on his shoulder. ‘One of the cases in the truck has been opened and some gold is missing,’ he said. ‘I am going to search each of you in turn. About turn!’ We turned automatically so that we were facing the blank concrete wall.

  For some reason I turned my head. I saw then that he had the gun in his hands. At the same moment that I turned, he began firing. I sprang at the naked electric light bulb which was fixed to a wall socket just above my head. I hit it with my fist. In doing this I tripped over a piece of machinery and fell against the cable drum. The room was completely dark. It was full of smoke and the noise of the gun was very loud in that confined space. I felt half stunned, for I had hit my head.

  A torch was switched on. I lay still. I could see the Kapitan through a gap in a large wheel against which I was lying. He climbed over to the wall and began examining the bodies, one by one. He had his torch in one hand and his revolver in the other. The door was quite near me. I slid quietly along the floor behind the cable drum and reached it. He turned and fired as I opened it. The bullet hit me in the arm. I staggered out and then felt myself falling. I rolled over and over down a steep slope and finished up in soft snow. I had fallen down the sleigh track.

  I climbed into the shelter of the woods. Shortly afterwards the sleigh came down. Kapitan Stelben was driving it, and two bodies lay across one of the seats. A few minutes later firing broke out at the bottom of the slittovia. When everything was quiet, I went out on to the sleigh track. But someone was coming up, pulling himself up by the cable. He passed quite close to me and I saw that it was the Kapitan again.

  I then made my way down through the woods. At the bottom I found the Korporal, who had gone with the Kapitan to see his officer, lying on his face. The snow was red under his head. He had a bayonet wound in the throat. A little farther on there were more bodies. One had been garrotted. The other two had been killed by bullets. One was the Kapitan’s personal servant and the other the man who had driven the sleigh.

  I was very frightened at the sight of these dead bodies and at the memory of what had happened at the top of the slittovia. I was afraid my story would not be believed. I bound up my wound, which I discovered to be only slight, and had the good fortune to obtain a lift in a truck going down into Italy. This took me to Trieste and from there I managed to obtain passage in a caique bound for Corfu. Later, in civilian clothes, I took passage in a schooner for Salonika, where I had been stationed in 1941 and knew people who might help me.

  I hereby swear that the above is a true record of what occurred. This is the first statement I have ever made concerning the events described and at no time have I ever mentioned the matter to any one in whole or in part.

  Signed: HANS HOLTZ.

  At Salonika,

  9 - 10 - 45.

  When we had finished reading the statement, Engles carefully folded the sheet of paper and handed it back to Keramikos. ‘It’s strange to see it all written down,’ he said. ‘I was convinced that that was roughly what had happened. But I couldn’t prove it. Stelben’s statement was that, shortly after passing the Tre Croci Hotel, they were forced to a stop because a lorry was drawn up across the road. His men mutinied and joined the men from the lorry. He and his servant, joined by the guard from the slittovia, attempted to prevent them getting at the gold. There was a fight. The slittovia guard and his servant were killed. He was bound and taken up to the top of the slittovia. He managed to free himself eventually and at seven-thirty in the morning he staggered into the Tre Croci Hotel. That was the statement he made to the Commandant of the anti-aircraft unit at Tre Croci. Later he went on with the remaining nineteen cases of gold to Innsbruck, where he made a similar statement to the Gestapo.’

  ‘Yes, I heard about the statement,’ Keramikos said. ‘One of my people had seen it. Did the Gestapo arrest him?’

  ‘No. Things were a bit chaotic at the time and he was urgently required in Italy to deal with the threatened Communist risings in the big towns. I interrogated him, you know, when he was first arrested. I could never shake him from that statement. Its weakness was, of course, that they would never have troubled to take him up to the top of the slittovia.’ Engles looked at Keramikos with a puzzled frown. ‘Just why did you show me Holtz’s statement?’ he asked.

  ‘Ah—you are thinking that it tells you where the gold is hidden, eh?’

  ‘By the time he had killed those men up here and taken the bodies down to the bottom and then climbed all the way back, it could not have been earlier than, say, four o’clock. He reported to the Commandant at the Tre Croci Hotel at seven-thirty. That gives him barely three hours in which to bury the five remaining bodies and twenty-one cases of gold. He wouldn’t have had time to move those boxes to another hiding place.’

  Keramikos shrugged his shoulders. ‘Perhaps you are right,’ he said.

  ‘Then why did you show me the statement?’

  ‘Because, my friend, it only tells you where the gold was. It does not tell you where it is now. Don’t forget that Stelben owned this place for a short time. And he had two Germans working for him up here. They were here for over two weeks before they were arrested.’

  ‘Were they alone here?’

  ‘Yes. Aldo and his wife and Anna were given a month’s holiday.’

  ‘Strange that the two Germans should have been killed in that riot at the Regina Coeli.’

  Keramikos smiled. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Very convenient, eh—for someone. But who?’

  At that moment Carla interrupted us. ‘You have secrets that you talk together so quietly—yes?’

  ‘No secrets from you, Carla,’ Engles replied. ‘We were just wondering what your little Heinrich did with the bodies of the five German soldiers he buried up here.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Don’t pretend that you know nothing about it. Where did he put them—and the gold?’

  ‘How should I know?’ She was tense and her fingers were tearing at a button on her scarlet suit.

  ‘Weren’t you here when he had those two Germans working for him?’ Engles
asked.

  ‘No. I was in Venice.’

  ‘He did not trust you, eh?’ Keramikos said with a sly smile.

  She made no answer.

  Engles turned to Valdini, who had moved quietly over to join us. ‘And where were you?’ he asked.

  ‘I also was in Venice,’ Valdini replied. He was watching Carla and there was an ugly little grin on his face.

  ‘You were in Cortina.’ Carla’s voice sounded startled.

  ‘No,’ he said, still with that evil grin. ‘I was in Venice.’

  ‘But I told you to go to Cortina. You said you were at Cortina.’ She was very agitated.

  ‘I was in Venice,’ he repeated, and his eyes watched her coldly, like a snake.

  ‘Ah,’ said Keramikos. ‘You were told to keep an eye on Stelben and his two friends. Yet you remained in Venice. I wonder why.’

  ‘There was no need to go to Cortina. The two Germans were friends of Mayne’s. They were looking after her interests—and Mayne’s.’

  I heard Mayne miss a note, and I glanced towards the piano. He was watching us and, as I looked at him, he stopped playing and got up. The others had not noticed. They were watching Valdini. And the little Sicilian was watching Carla.

  ‘So you stayed in Venice?’ Keramikos said. ‘Why in Venice?’

  ‘I wished to keep an eye on Mayne,’ Valdini replied slowly.

  ‘You were spying on me,’ Carla snarled in Italian. ‘Why were you spying on me?’

  The corners of his eyes crinkled and his neat little figure was swelled out. He was enjoying himself. ‘You think you can make the fool of me,’ he said to her in English. His tone was violent. ‘You think I have no pride. Once you were glad to say, Si, si, Signor Valdini. That was when I owned you and fifty gairls like you. And when I permitted you to call me Stefan—how you were overcome with delight! I did not mind Stelben and all those others. That was business. But this is different. I do not trust you now.’

  ‘You say Mayne was in Venice,’ Engles said. ‘What was he doing there?’

  ‘Making love to Carla,’ Valdini replied, and his lips were drawn back from his discoloured teeth in an expression of disgust.

  Carla hit him then. She hit him with the back of her hand, and the big diamond ring blazed a trail of blood across his cheek.

  But he caught her wrist and, with a quick stoop of his body, threw her over his shoulder. Her head hit the bar rail with a sickening thud. He rushed over to where she lay groaning and began to hack at her ribs with the pointed toe of his shoe. ‘You leave me for a dirty little English deserter who does not care for anything but the gold,’ he screamed at her in Italian. He was beside himself with rage, literally crying with anger. ‘Why didn’t you trust me? I would have found it for you. But now—’

  Before any of us had begun to move, Mayne had crossed the room. He caught Valdini by the collar of his jacket, swung him round and hit him with his fist between the eyes. The Sicilian was flung back against the wall, where he slowly subsided like a sack. Mayne turned and faced us. His eyes were watchful and he had his right hand in the pocket of his jacket.

  ‘Be careful now,’ Engles whispered in my ear. ‘The pot has boiled over and he’s got a gun.’ His voice was excited. He turned to Mayne. ‘Those two Germans,’ he said. ‘Would their names be—Wilhelm Muller and Friedrich Mann?’ He shot the names out like a prosecuting counsel making his final point in a murder trial.

  And the effect on Mayne was noticeable. His face looked pinched and grey in that cold light and he kept nervous watch on the whole room.

  ‘You put Carla in touch with those two,’ Engles continued. His voice was cold and matter-of-fact. ‘She introduced them to Stelben. And Stelben was glad to use them because they were gangsters and there would be no questions when they disappeared. He did not know they were your men. When they had found out what you wanted to know, you had them arrested with Stelben.’

  ‘And I suppose I arranged for them to be shot in that prison riot?’ he sneered.

  ‘You were in Rome at the time,’ Carla suddenly said. She had struggled on to one elbow and was watching him malevolently.

  ‘It could have been arranged,’ Engles said, ‘if you had known the right people. And I think you did know the right people.’

  ‘And why do you think that?’ Mayne was watching only Engles now. He was not sure of himself. I wished Engles would leave it at that. The situation was getting ugly.

  ‘Because,’ Engles said slowly, ‘you are not Gilbert Mayne.’

  ‘And who am I, then?’ Mayne’s left hand was clenched.

  ‘You’re a murderer and a gangster,’ Engles snapped back. ‘We nearly caught you in Naples in 1944. You had deserted during the Salerno landing and were running a gang in the dock area of Naples. You were wanted for murder and robbery. You were also wanted for smuggling German prisoners through the lines. That was why I became interested in your activities. We got you in Rome three months after the city fell. You and your girl were picked up in a trattoria. That’s where you got that bullet scar. I interrogated you. You recognised me when I arrived here, but you thought I might not recognise you because your head was bandaged when I last saw you.’

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ Mayne said. He was struggling to regain his habitual ease of manner. ‘You are mistaking me for someone else. My military career was quite straightforward. I was a captain in the Artillery. I was taken prisoner and after my escape I joined UNRRA. You can check the War Office records.’

  ‘I did that before I left England,’ Engles said quietly. ‘Captain Gilbert Mayne was reported missing in January, 1944. He was believed killed in action near Cassino. Two months later he is recorded as having escaped from a German prison camp. You pretended to be suffering from shock when you reported for duty as Captain Mayne, and were allowed to join UNRRA. You applied to be sent to Greece, where there was little likelihood of your meeting up with any of the officers of Gilbert Mayne’s ack-ack regiment. I suggest that Gilbert Mayne was, in fact, killed in action. Your name is Stuart Ross—and Muller and Mann were members of your Naples gang.’

  Mayne laughed. It was a wild laugh. He was white and very tense. ‘First you accuse me of trying to murder Blair and planning to murder Carla. Now you—’

  ‘It is true,’ Carla interrupted him hoarsely. ‘Everything he has said is true. I know it is true.’ She had struggled to her feet. Her face was grey under her make-up and she was very close to tears. ‘You wished to keel me. You said you would find out where the gold was. You said you loved me. You said we would discover the gold and then we would marry and share it. But you lied.’ Her voice trembled on the edge of hysteria. ‘All the time you lie to me. It was you who bought Col da Varda at the auction. I discovered that yesterday. And—it is you who know where the gold is. You—you,’ she screamed. ‘May it do you the good it has done the others.’

  Mayne went across to her. There was no doubt of his intentions. He was livid with anger. He raised his hand to hit her. And as he took it out of his pocket, Valdini, who had recovered consciousness, went for his gun. It was in an armpit holster and because he was still dazed he fumbled the draw. Mayne was quicker. He shot him before he had even got his gun out of its holster. He shot him in the chest. A little black mark appeared suddenly on the brilliant blue of Valdini’s jacket, and he gave a grunt and rolled over.

  Nobody moved for a moment. The smoke curled up blue from Mayne’s gun. The shattering sound of the shot seemed to have immobilised us all. Valdini began to whimper and cough up blood.

  Carla was the first to move. She gave a little cry and knelt down beside Valdini. We watched her lift his head and wipe the blood from his mouth with the yellow silk handkerchief from his breast pocket. He opened his eyes and looked up at her. ‘Carla—cara mia.’ He tried to smile at her and then his head fell back, loose and relaxed.

  ‘Stefan!’ she cried out. ‘Stefan! Don’t leave me.’

  But he was dead.

  She looked up then, still h
olding his body in her arms. And she was crying. I think that was the most shocking part of the whole business—that she should be crying because Stefan Valdini was dead.

  ‘Why did you have to kill him?’ Her voice sounded tired. ‘He loved me. My poor Stefan! He was all I had really. All I’ve ever had. He was mine. He was the only one who really loved me. He was like a puppy. Why did you have to kill him?’

  She seemed to take a grip on herself then. She laid Valdini’s body back on the floor and got to her feet. Then she went slowly towards Mayne. He was watching her and at the same time trying to watch us, the gun still in his hand. When she was close to him, she stopped. Her eyes were big and wild-looking. ‘You fool!’ she said. ‘We might have killed Heinrich quietly and shared all that gold between the two of us. We might have been very happy for all of our lives. Why did you have to have Heinrich arrested? And those two friends of yours? It was all so public.’

  ‘The sight of that gold was too much for my two friends,’ Mayne replied harshly.

  Carla sighed. ‘All my life I have lived with men who cheated and killed. But I thought you were honest. I thought you really loved me. In Venice—I was so happy at the thought that we should be rich and be able to live well and without danger. Then you went away and Heinrich and your two friends were arrested. I became suspicious then. I had Stefan follow you. Then I knew that it was all over, that it was not me you loved—only the gold. You bid against me for this place. You planned to murder Stefan and myself. You are a dirty lying cheat.’ She said these words without emotion. But her voice rose as she went on, ‘Now you have killed Stefan. Why don’t you kill me too? You have a gun. You should not be afraid with a gun in your hand. Go on, kill me, why don’t you?’ She laughed. ‘You fool, Gilbert! You should kill me now—and all these others. Think of all that gold—and then remember that you are the only person left who knows where it is.’ She smiled bitterly. ‘It will do you no good. Arrivederci, Gilbert.’

  She turned and walked slowly out of the room.

  We watched her go. I don’t know about the others, but my nails bit deep into the palms of my hands as I waited, tensed, for Mayne to fire. His face was white and sullen and I could feel the pressure of his finger on the trigger of that pistol as he slowly lifted it. Then suddenly he relaxed and let the gun fall to his side. Carla’s ski boots sounded on the bare boards of the passage outside and then climbed slowly up the stairs.