by Desmond Cory
“Hilarious,” said Johnny, taking her lightly by the elbow. He felt her quiver at his touch like a startled horse, then suddenly rest calm.
“You mean it?” asked Schneider.
“What?”
“Do you mean … Fedora and you?”
“Yes yes yes. I’m going with Fedora.”
“By God. By God,” said Schneider, and his whole body seemed to tense. “Then – Don’t be a fool, Maddy. I don’t want to kill you. For Heaven’s sake, come in with me – act sensible, will you?”
“I’m going with Fedora,” Madrid repeated, as though she had learnt the phrase by heart.
“All right,” said Schneider. “All right.” His anger was suddenly like a tangible wave sweeping across the room, and Johnny felt his heart sink within him. Schneider might have lacked the nerve to shoot in cold blood, but now he had lost his temper; and the elastic thread of their chance of escaping was instantly stretched out to breaking-point.
The rifle-barrel moved sideways in one swift lunge away from Fedora and aligned itself on the level of Madrid’s breasts. “The first one’s the hardest, is it?” he said, in a voice so low that it hardly passed his lips. “We’ll see about that. It’s not going to be so hard …”
He stood tensed against the window, his body stiffened into the anguish of firing. Johnny’s body crawled in anticipation; he was waiting for that infinitesimal movement of the wrist that signals the irrevocability of the shot, and his heels were jammed tight against the wall behind him in readiness for the dive … But the shot was not forthcoming; Schneider remained riveted stiffly into the firing position, with something unnatural about his stance. Johnny’s eyes left the cocked wrist and focused, almost dreamily, upon the long pointed sliver of wood that stood out a hand’s-breath from Schneider’s chest …
Then Schneider shuddered, shuddered horribly, and seemed to fall into pieces, to collapse in a hideous slow motion. The rifle came away first, curving slowly down to the floor; then his arms fell out and sideways, like a puppet’s, and his knees caved gradually inwards and he stooped forwards like an actor bowing his last farewell to the gallery. As his back curved into view the spear-shaft rose weirdly with it, the four-foot-long pencil-thin shaft that had been driven clean through Schneider’s body. It quivered in the sunlight as the corpse tumbled down to the floor.
Johnny swore once, terrifyingly, and turned to snatch at his rifle. Then he leapt for the open door, slamming home the ejector-sleeve as he went. He stood outside, the butt raised in readiness to his shoulder; the barrel trembled in his hands as he looked down it; finally, it lowered itself to the ground.
The target was an easy one. There it was, not fifty yards away; making for the shelter of the forest, skipping for joy as it went. Its huge arms described gay parabolas in the sun, irresistibly communicating its intense inward excitement; and as it ran, it laughed. It laughed like a human being. It looked back once, as it reached the dimness of the trees; then it was gone, as though it had never existed.
Johnny’s hand shook slightly as he wiped the sweat from his eyes.
“Did you see it?” he said to Madrid; knowing only too well that she had, yet requiring some clear testimony as to his own sanity.
“Yes. Oh yes, I saw it.”
“But what … No, it couldn’t have been. An ape couldn’t laugh like that.”
“It wasn’t an ape. It was a man; a sort of a man.”
“A sort of a man.” Johnny repeated her words stupidly, not knowing quite what he was saying. Then, “My goodness, no. It wasn’t a man, either.”
“But then what do you think …?”
“I think we’re going crazy,” said Johnny, with terrible seriousness. “That thing just wasn’t anything that ever lived. I … Did you see its face?”
“Yes, I did. It was rather dreadful. And yet … it was rather wonderful, too.”
“You felt that?”
“Yes, I did.”
“So did I; that was the thing I couldn’t understand. There was something … Well, I couldn’t shoot it. Him. It.”
“Oh, my God, no.” Madrid sounded almost horrified. “You couldn’t have shot it.”
They went back into the hut. Schneider lay there, face downwards; the shaft of the spear growing straight and tall from his back. Johnny stooped down beside him; drew from his left-hand shirt pocket a small japanned tin box. Inside was a loose-leaf notebook.
Johnny flipped through it, glancing at the closely-written pages and at the neatly-drawn geological cross-sections. It was Huysmans’ notebook, all right. This was what he had come to find. Page after page of scrawling in faded blue ink; the writing was in German …
He was aware of Madrid’s eyes on him, softly speculative.
“Here you are,” he said. “This is your property, too.”
“Is it …?”
“Yes. That’s what I wanted, all right.”
“How badly do you want it, Fedora?”
Johnny looked down at the floor, at the mortal remains of Madrid’s father and of Madrid’s brother. A leaf dropped from the roof and floated to rest on Schneider’s back.
“… Not as badly as all that.”
“Gallant to the last Fedora,” said Madrid; her voice still held shades of unevenness. “… Thank you very much.”
“We’ll put it in the lake.”
“Yes. That’s a good idea.
They looked at each other. Two badly shaken human beings, alone in the centre of Africa. The sun shone hot on their travel-stained feet.
“We’ve got a long walk home, Madrid.”
“Yes. But we can walk home together, Fedora.”
Then the lake, smooth and strong in the wide afternoon. The trees, silent and watchful. The hills, patiently waiting.
A splash. A ripple.
Silence.
Also by Desmond Cory
Have you read yet?
Secret Ministry
1st Fedora’s assignment.
Germany is defeated but a select group of Hitler's henchmen continue to kill and maim. Their hideout: London. Fedora's assignment: Destroy them! Enter the world of the political assassin.
Download from Amazon
This Traitor, Death
2nd Fedora assignment, this time in Paris.
She was known as "Le Rossignol" - The Nightingale - Hitler's most beautiful and ruthless spy. With access to millions in unrecovered German gold, she's the only person who could lead a successful return to Nazi power. Fedora's single order: crush the Nightingale.
Download from Amazon
Dead Man Falling
Fedora 3rd mission takes him to Austria.
A bizarre honeymoon plunges Fedora into the search for a Nazi killer, and a fabulous cache of diamonds.
Download from Amazon
Next in this series :
High Requiem
Johnny Goes North
Johnny Goes East
For more information:
www.johnnyfedora.com
A gift for you
First of all, thank you for taking the time to read and finish this book. On behalf of the Desmond Cory Foundation, we would like to express our gratitude by offering you a gift voucher for any of Desmond Cory’s other books.
Simply contact us at:
http://johnnyfedora.com/index.php/contact/
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