I stared from one to the other, trembling but triumphant, waiting to see what shattering effect this piece of information would have. It was minimal. Neither of them appeared in the least perturbed and my bravery ebbed away as rapidly as it had arrived. Harvey led me upstairs and opened the door of a small bedroom, pushing me inside. Then he said in a bored voice, ‘Save your information for Maitland, it doesn’t interest us.’
The door closed behind them and there was the ominous click of a key turning.
The room swam round, and I sat weakly on the edge of the bed, struggling to remain calm. For the first time I was conscious of my shoulder-bag hanging loosely over my arm and I groped inside it, feeling with relief the smooth silver of my cigarette-case. I leaned back against the bed-head, fumbling with my lighter. Dimly I was aware of the freshlymade bed in a room that otherwise bore little signs of occupation. There was a small chest of drawers, a hard-backed chair with a blue and white wash-basin and jug beside it and very little else.
I kicked off my shoes, swinging my feet on to the bed, toying nervously with the strap of my bag. Before I’d had time to collect my thoughts there came the soft pad of feet along the corridor.
I stiffened as they halted, then the door opened abruptly and the Englishman came in. He waved his hand, motioning me to stay where I was, and still without speaking, pulled open the bottom drawer in the tiny chest and withdrew a glass and a bottle of whisky.
He gulped a glassful down then poured another, cupping it in his hands. He said in a completely different manner from that he had used previously: ‘You’ve made a damned mess of things, haven’t you?’
The change of tone—the hint of sympathy—was all I needed. I began to cry oblivious of him, oblivious of everything. He stood silently for a while then sat down on the chair, saying, ‘If you don’t make less noise, we’ll have Ivan for company.’
In front of me the thin curtains at the window wafted gently in the breeze, and the surrounding hills spread into the distance as far as the eye could see, their steep slopes covered with a blanket of fir and pine, an endless vista of rich, verdant green. Above, small wisps of white cloud trailed imperceptibly across the sky. The whole scene was one of peace and tranquillity, disturbed only by the occasional flight of a bird. I wiped my face, abstractedly, wondering at their leaving me alone in a room with an open window, then, remembering the number of stairs we had climbed to reach it, smiled wryly. Unless I wanted to break my neck I was safe enough.
He picked up the bottle again and I turned to look at him. He was sitting, glass in hand, deep in his own thoughts. The air of badtempered impatience had gone, and he seemed troubled and anxious. He placed one leg across his knee, lips pursed, gazing into his glass as if therein lay the answer to his problem. The ginger hair was flecked liberally with grey and his skin was flushed and mottled. Looking at him at close range I realized he was older than I had at first supposed. At least fifty, perhaps more. The handle-bar moustache was still immaculately brushed and curled but his tie was loose at the throat and he didn’t bother to wipe away the splashes of whisky from the front of his jacket and trousers.
A thread of blue smoke rose slowly to the ceiling and I watched it, hope of escape slowly blossoming. Perhaps, if he was sympathetic to me, perhaps …
He twirled his moustache thoughftfully, looking straight at me.
‘You’ve really fouled everything up. Why the hell didn’t you leave when I told you to?’
I stared, not understanding. He closed his eyes momentarily, then said through clenched teeth, ‘ I phoned you, for God’s sake. If you’d done as I asked …’
‘You? It was you who phoned? But I thought …’
‘I told you quite plainly to get out. A child of three couldn’t have misunderstood.’
He poured himself another drink and walked over to the window, staring sombrely into the yard below.
‘But you’ll help me now, won’t you?’ I said eagerly, clutching the strap of my bag. ‘Please, please say you’ll help me.’
‘Help you?’ He turned round and said in exasperation, ‘How the hell can I?’ He lowered himelf wearily back on to the chair and buried his head in his hands. ‘I wish to God I could help you. I didn’t bargain for all this. First the girl in Niedernhall, now you …’
‘That … should have been me, shouldn’t it?’
He nodded. ‘And it wouldn’t have been you if you’d kept your nose out of other people’s business.’ He raised his glass to his lips once more. ‘If you hadn’t seen me that night …’
I said slowly, ‘You shouldn’t have been out that night, should you? But you had to have a drink …’
His face reddened with anger. ‘That’s none of your business. If you hadn’t fancied yourself as a modern-day Mata Hari we’d all be high and dry by now, not chasing all over the countryside for you and your equally stupid friend.’
I gripped my shoulder-bag tightly. Getting angry with him now would do no good at all. With an effort I said calmly, ‘Can’t we come to some agreement? If you let me go now, right away, you can make it seem it was nothing to do with you. Then you won’t have my death on your hands. I promise I won’t say anything, anything at all. All I want to do is to go home …’ My voice broke and he groaned, the worried frown lines on his brow deepening as he swirled the liquid round in his glass. He said, ‘You must understand my position. If anyone found out I’d helped you, my life would be no safer than yours, and when you see the police …’
‘But I won’t! I swear I won’t.’
He laughed scornfully. ‘Be your age, Miss Carter. Once safely away from here you’ll be in the first police station you come to, talking till you’re hoarse. Quite honestly, the risk isn’t worth it.’
He stood, his decision made. I clenched my fists, my heart beating painfully, afraid to break the silence as he put the bottle and glass back into the drawer. He turned and I closed my eyes. This is it, I thought, as he walked towards me.
He said, ‘I’m sorry, lass. Very sorry. But I just can’t take the risk of your talking once you get away.’
I looked at him through a blur of tears and fear and said, ‘But … but surely you only came because you wanted to help me. Surely …’
‘I came,’ he said, looking down at me pityingly, ‘because this is the only God-damned place where I’ve any whisky hidden.’
Through the open window came the sound of footsteps crossing the yard below. He stiffened, then moved swiftly to the edge of the window and peered out from behind the curtain. On seeing whoever it was, he relaxed, letting out a faint sigh of relief.
I licked my lips nervously. ‘Is … that him?’
He shook his head, staring at me thoughtfully, opened his mouth as if to speak, then, thinking better of it, twirled his moustache and began to pace the room. Four paces one way, four paces another. For several minutes he walked up and down the room in silence, occupied with his own thoughts, then he said abruptly, ‘The man you were meeting in Augsburg … were you lovers?’
I gazed at him in astonishment. ‘ What on earth has that to do with it?’
‘Were you?’
‘No, we were not,’ I replied indignantly. ‘Though what it has to do with you …’
‘All right, all right.’ He waved a hand deprecatingly and began pacing the room once more. ‘ I don’t mind telling you, young lady, you’ve made my position intolerable. That girl in Niedernhall …’ He shuddered. ‘That’s not my line, not my line at all.’
‘You killed the minister,’ I said shortly.
He halted in front of the window, the strong light accentuating the pinched look around his nose and mouth. ‘That was different.’
I said bitterly, ‘Perhaps you would explain how. If I’m about to die, it’s only fair I should know what it’s all about.’
‘The less you know the better.’
He frowned, obviously deeply troubled, and incredulously I felt sorry for him.
‘Keeping me here until St
ephen Maitland arrives is only going to make things worse,’ I ventured. ‘ I promise I won’t give you away. And if you are caught—and you will be, you know, whether you kill me or not—then if you have helped me, surely that will be in your favour.’
‘If I …’ He stopped, listening intently.
In the distance came the faint sound of a car engine. I saw him tense then, as the car drew nearer, he made for the door. I jumped up, grabbing his arm, but he pushed me away roughly, saying: ‘Don’t do anything foolish, understand?’ Then the door closed behind him and the key turned, imprisoning me once more.
I ran to the window but the car had drawn to a halt round the side of the house and I could see nothing. Ivan’s voice floated across the yard and there was an answering reply but I couldn’t make out anything that was said. Like Harvey before me, I began to pace the room, my thoughts in turmoil. The minutes ticked by and I waited expectantly for the sound of approaching footsteps but none came. There was the sound of movement from below my window and I crossed over to it again. Ivan, carrying two large suitcases, was striding towards the corner of the house. He disappeared and then there came the sound of a car boot opening and the cases being heaved in.
I turned despairingly and sat on the bed again, all hope of freedom evaporating. Mechanically I opened my bag, taking out lipstick and powder; if this was to be the finale I was going to look my best. I had just finished running a comb through my hair when there came the unmistakable sound of someone approaching. Hardly able to breathe for the constriction in my chest I rose, facing the door. After an interminable length of time the key turned and the door was flung open by Ivan.
I allowed myself to be led out into the dimness of the corridor, turning without guidance to the left and the head of the stairs. I was aware of dark pictures in gilt frames ranging the breadth of the walls and a large wooden cross hanging on the landing. There was a small round window above it, and shafts of sunlight from the setting sun arrowed down on to the figure of agony nailed below. Instinctively my lips moved in silent prayer, and then we had turned and my hand was sliding down the banister rail as we descended the stairs.
Below us was the entrance hall with its black and white tiled floor. It was empty now and the open door creaked softly on its hinges, swinging gently to and fro. The fragrance from the nearby pine woods hung delicately in the air and a bee buzzed monotonously close by. It was very quiet and still; so still that I could almost believe the house empty save for Ivan and myself. I eyed the distance to the beckoning yard but Ivan’s hand closed tightly on my arm, propelling me firmly towards the first of the ground-floor rooms. He gave a sharp knock and then threw the door open, standing behind me as I stood on the threshold.
Chapter Twelve
It was a large room with a high ceiling, crisscrossed by stout beams. Here and there a nail had been hammered in and tankards and brasses hung haphazardly on them. There was a minimum of furniture and, like the room upstairs, it gave the impression of just having had the dust sheets thrown off. Harvey stood before the fireless grate, hands clasped behind his back, eyes carefully averted.
Some yards away from him, framed by the window, stood the man I had been brought to meet. There was a briefcase by his feet and a coat was slung over the chair at his side. He looked as if he wouldn’t be detained long by the business in hand. There was a smile on his lips as he gazed at me, rigid and immobile, with Ivan at my back. No one moved. It was as if time hung suspended, and in all the world there were only the four of us. Watching each other. Waiting.
‘Surprised, Susan?’
I said slowly, ‘I should have known.’
‘Yes, you have been rather slow,’ he agreed smoothly.
I walked forward a couple of steps to the nearest chair and sat down, feeling like a sleeper who has woken from a long, deep sleep.
‘You must have thought it a splendid joke,’ I said.
He laughed. ‘Yes, if it hadn’t been for the inconvenience of it all, it would have been most enjoyable. However, under the circumstances it has become rather trying. In fact, you could say this last day or so has been rather a bore.’
‘Stephen …’
He interrupted me. ‘There’s no time for recapitulations. Thanks to you, we haven’t much time.’
‘What do you intend to do with me?’ I asked. ‘Whatever it is, you won’t get away with it.’
He looked across at me mockingly. ‘Because of … your friend?’
‘Because …’ My voice broke and I said stupidly, ‘Because men like you never get away with the vile things you do.’
He clapped his hands, applauding. ‘You really are too good to be true, Susan. But so wrong.’ He lit a cigarette carefully. ‘Men like myself do get away with whatever they want despite minor … problems. Unfortunately you are one such problem and consequently have to be dealt with.’
‘And Stephen—have you dealt with him too?’
Gunther stiffened, then moved towards me slowly and threateningly. The mocking smile had disappeared and his eyes were hard and cold. He halted a foot or so away and stared down at me, his mouth a thin line.
‘Your knight in shining armour is no longer able to help you. He’s rather a headstrong young man who should have minded his own business.’ He tapped the ash on his cigarette to the floor. ‘He’s been more of a nuisance than you, which was quite something. But no longer, I’m glad to say.’
I couldn’t help it. It was all suddenly too much. I couldn’t keep up the pretence of being unafraid any longer. I began to cry, the tears streaming through my fingers as I covered my face in my hands.
‘It may interest you to know that his efforts on your behalf were quite remarkable, especially as I know how … unencouraging you are in personal affairs.’
Behind me Ivan sniggered, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything but Stephen and my lack of belief in him when all the time it was Gunther who was the villain. Everything was my fault and now it was too late to make amends. Oh, Stephen. Stephen.
‘And now,’ said Gunther, ‘we come to you.’
Harvey shuffled his feet and looked nervously at his watch. Ivan too seemed uncomfortable and on edge, but Gunther was as relaxed, as composed, as ever.
‘Your car being near the scene of the crash was extremely fortunate … for them. But your actually seeing the men involved … that, my dear Susan, was regrettable. For you.’
‘But other people must have seen …’
‘No. The car wasn’t missed in Bonn for three hours. By the time the police had put two and two together and realized that Ivan Levos and Harvey Ellis had left the city in it, it was to be safely deposited in the outbuildings at the back. As soon as Levos told me what had happened I drove to the scene of the crash to tow the damn car away. Your presence delayed things, but not too much. As soon as you had gone I brought it here. We are very isolated. I passed no one the whole time.’
‘And my car …’
‘We didn’t want that on our hands as well, and we most certainly didn’t want you reporting its theft to the police, so we returned it. A little dirtier perhaps, but otherwise quite intact.’
‘Who shot at me?’ I asked bluntly.
He laughed. ‘ That was Ivan being overzealous. At that point there was really no necessity to kill either of you. The police hadn’t connected the car with the killing, and it looked as if we would all be safely out of the country before they did. However, Ivan is never happier than when out hunting and so …’ He shrugged. ‘It kept him quiet for a while. Then the next day, with photos of the car all across the front pages of the press, it became a necessity, not only to kill you, but Mr Maitland also.’
‘But why Stephen? He hadn’t seen them. He couldn’t have identified them. He didn’t know anything.’
‘Not quite true, Susan. He knew enough to come prowling round here asking questions. Harvey caught him when he returned from his unutterably stupid visit to the village, after already ruining things for the sake o
f a drink. He then thought he had stalled him and let him go.’ His voice was heavy with malice and Harvey Ellis flushed angrily, scowling at the carpet, clasping and unclasping his hands behind his back.
‘By the time I had returned from my evening out with you and was told what had happened, it was too late.’
‘Too late?’ I echoed.
‘Stephen Maitland was nowhere to be found. I went straight after him, but he didn’t return to his hotel all night. When I saw the papers in the morning I knew I had to kill you both. Unfortunately I made an error of judgement.’
‘And killed Christina instead?’
He raised his eyebrows slightly. ‘Yes. A regrettable mistake, but you were a good girl. You rang me to tell me where you were. But there was still no sign of Mr Maitland. When you suggested I travel south with you it seemed a good idea—you couldn’t do any harm while I had my eye on you, and it was an excellent way of getting Maitland as well. You were bait, Susan. Nothing but bait. I rang Levos and Ellis from the bar at Schwabisch Hall, telling them what I was doing and to stay put until they heard from me. It worked too. By the time we had reached Nordlingen, there was the little lapdog, frantically searching for his mistress. I left you at the hotel not only to collect my car, but to kill him as well.’
‘But he was too clever for you, wasn’t he?’ I said jubilantly. Viciously.
He struck me across the face. ‘Not clever enough, Susan, my dear. Not clever enough. When you rang from Augsburg we had no more time to waste playing games. I decided to lay a false trail, leading Maitland to the Furstenhaus. I sent these men to pick you up, and came back here myself to clear the place of all signs of our stay. Now we split up. After killing you, all I have to do is motor leisurely to the Furstenhaus Hotel in Oberammergau, where without a shadow of doubt the anxious Mr Maitland will be waiting, dispose of him, drive to the airport, and goodbye …’
Rendezvous With Danger Page 10
