07 Gimlet Bores In

by Captain W E Johns

  "The Turk shall be free. He shall go with you."

  Again Cub was amazed. "You mean, I can go, and take him with me?" He had fully expected to be held as a hostage.

  "Yes."

  "But I may not come back. If you cannot trust the Turk why do you trust me?"

  "Because you are different. Even here we say 'word of an English man,'

  which we know is something he cannot break without dishonour. Of course,"

  added Karzoff, with engaging frankness, "that is not our way here, where honour is a millstone round the neck of a man."

  Cub was just beginning to realise it. "Very well," he said.

  "Five thousand roubles for me, and a thousand each for my three friends as the price of their silence. You see, if they take money they cannot speak, for that makes them in the bargain with us. One other thing.

  Greggo must give us safety to the frontier of Persia."

  "I think he will do that if I ask him," answered Cub, shortly, for he was beginning to hate the whole sickening business; but putting the success of the mission first he had no alternative. A thought struck him. "You intend to leave the country then?"

  "I must."

  "Why?"

  "It is necessary."

  "Why is it necessary?"

  "Don't you understand that I must go?"

  Karzoff shrugged his shoulders as if such a lack of comprehension was pathetic. "A day or two ago Greggo was a prisoner here. You know that?"

  "Yes."

  "So. That was good. I have been clever. I shall get promotion."

  Cub nodded.

  "But Greggo escapes. That is not good. For my misfortune, when it is known, I shall go to prison in Siberia. That is the way of the government for which I work."

  Four words lingered in Cub's memory. "When it is known." That could only mean that Karzoff had not yet reported the escape of his prisoner. The whole thing was now as plain as daylight. Any mystery surrounding Karzoff's behaviour was swept aside. In allowing Greggo to slip through his fingers he had made a blunder fatal to his career.

  Disgrace and punishment awaited him when it became known to his government. To escape this he himself would have to flee. Being a crook by nature he would probably have accepted a bribe, anyway; but now he had nothing to lose and everything to gain by filling his pockets with money before he departed. Yakoff's confession must have come as a godsend to him. The possibilities must have occurred to him instantly. That was why he had gone to the wall himself, taking no one but his three confederates. That was why he had brought Cub to his private office instead of throwing him into a dungeon. That was why he was willing for him, and Ismit Pasha, to go together, instead of holding one of them as a hostage until the money was forthcoming. The time factor ruled that out.

  It was all plain enough now. So thought Cub, and the rest of the conversation confirmed his reasoning.

  Having at last got a grip of the entire situation he played up to it.

  "How is this to be managed?" he inquired, for he could see difficulties.

  "Tomorrow the cars will come to take Ismit Pasha away—if they are not already here."

  "Oh, so you know that?"

  "Greggo knows everything. I don't see how I could get the gold to you before the officer with the cars comes asking for his prisoner. How will you explain to him that Ismit Pasha is no longer here?"

  "I shall not tell him that."

  "But I don't understand. You'll have to tell him."

  "He can go with you, tonight."

  "But what will you tell the officer with the cars?"

  Karzoff looked at Cub as if he might have been looking at a freak. "What a strange country yours must be," he said wonderingly. "Here there is no difficulty about such things. Must I explain again? Ismit Pasha shall go with you. When the cars come they will take away a man who I shall say is Ismit Pasha."

  Cub blinked, thunderstruck. Here was the Orient again with a vengeance.

  He found it difficult to adjust his Western ideas to such intrigues. "But will this man be willing to take the Pasha's place?"

  "Yes."

  "Why?"

  "Because he is a criminal who tomorrow would be hanged. This he knows. If he goes in the cars he will live a little longer. While he has life he has hope. So, he will go."

  "But he will be asked questions. He will talk. It will soon be realised that he is not the Turk." "He will not talk."

  "How can you be so sure of that?"

  "Because," answered Karzoff imperturbably, "he has no tongue. He lost it years ago for talking too much. That is one reason why I choose him."

  Cub felt like giving up. He could not keep pace with this sort of thing.

  "Does this man look anything like the Pasha?" he queried.

  "No, but he will."

  "And how will you arrange that?"

  Karzoff smiled knowingly, as if he was enjoying the whole business.

  "Ismit Pasha is dressed like a sailor," he said smoothly. "This will be expected. He will change clothes with this criminal. The officer of the cars will suspect nothing—why should he? It is so easy."

  "I see," said Cub, feeling that he was getting farther and farther out of his depth. The story of Ali Baba and his forty thieves took on a new realism. He remembered how easily even Macgreggo had worked this substitution trick on Karzoff, replacing Abuk with Sienco. Apparently it was an everyday affair.

  "There is still one difficulty," went on Cub. "How shall I get the gold to you?"

  "That, too, is simple," answered Karzoff.

  Here comes more juggling, thought Cub. And he was right.

  "Soon you shall go, taking this Turk with you," said Karzoff. "He is nothing to me. Take him. Go to Greggo and tell him of your promise to me.

  He will lend you the money for he has more than he needs. Tomorrow, with my friends here, on horseback we shall make a sortie from the fort, saying that we will catch this thief Greggo. Instead, Greggo will capture us, and then let it be known that we were killed in the battle. Thus will it be thought by my government that we are dead. No one will care. No one will talk. No one will look for us. All shall soon be forgotten. Then, when all is quiet, we go swiftly to the frontier."

  "You've got it all worked out," congratulated Cub cynically.

  "Here one must have brains for such things if one would live," asserted Karzoff casually.

  To Cub, who had expected nothing short of death at dawn, it sounded a very good plan indeed, if more than a trifle fantastic. After all, he thought, with lives at stake what did money matter? Actually, although he was beginning to adjust himself to local methods, the whole thing still seemed unreal, and he would have preferred something more straightforward had it been possible. Here was a man, he pondered with wonder, hated by everybody, now suggesting that for safety he should put himself into the hands of Greggo the Scourge, the very man who, a couple of days ago, he would have hanged without a scruple. Cub gave it up. If this was the Eastern idea of stratagem it needed an Eastern mind to appreciate it.

  "What about Yakoff?" he queried. "He knows a lot."

  "Too much," averred Karzoff. "I will have him put to death."

  "Oh no you won't," said Cub emphatically. "I'm not having that."

  Karzoff looked surprised. "Why not? He is better out of the way."

  "Nothing of the sort," argued Cub. "He's our man. He earned his reward.

  If he didn't do what he said he would do it was not his fault. He will be paid what he was promised."

  Karzoff looked puzzled. "But if I kill him it will save you a thousand roubles," he pointed out.

  "That may be how you see it," returned Cub coldly, amazed at the utter callousness of the man. "We do these things in a different way. Yakoff leaves the fort tomorrow to be captured and collect his money, the same as you."

  Karzoff made a gesture as if the matter was of slight importance. "It shall be as you say,"

  he sighed. "After all, it is your money. Afterwards, Yakoff shall ride
with us to the frontier."

  "If he takes my advice he'll go the other way," said Cub grimly. "If he goes with you he's likely to lose his money and his life as well."

  Karzoff laughed, not in the least put out by Cub's sneer. "How quick you begin to understand us," said he. Then his manner became brisk. "Is all agreed?"

  "All is agreed," confirmed Cub.

  "Then let us go," said Karzoff, rising.

  "I'll see the Turk here, first, if you don't mind," said Cub.

  "Why this?"

  "Because," said Cub slowly, "outside it is dark, and I might find that I had taken away the wrong man."

  Karzoff laughed again. "So soon you see our little tricks, eh? I did think of that," he admitted shamelessly, "but it is better the Turk should go with you. He shall be brought here." Karzoff turned and spoke swiftly to his bodyguard, two of whom went off, leaving the other standing by the door.

  Cub collected his belongings from the table.

  "Now we see eye to eye I might as well have these," he said calmly. "I may need my pistol."

  Karzoff did not demur.

  CHAPTER x

  HEAVY GOING

  CUB was glad enough to rest, for what with the tension of the last few hours, and having had no sleep, he was beginning to feel the strain.

  Dawn, he knew, could not be far off.

  "Is there any reason why we shouldn't go out through the gate?" he asked Karzoff, while they were waiting.

  The governor was definite. "That would not do. There are sentries, and you could not pass without my permission, which I dare not give. By night the gate is locked. If I say it must be opened the guards will talk about it afterwards. You must go out as you came in.

  "

  As this sounded reasonable Cub did not press the point.

  There was an interval of about twenty minutes. Then the two men who had gone out came back, bringing Ismit Pasha with them. At least, they brought a man, but so filthy and disreputable was his appearance that Cub's doubts returned with a rush. Was Karzoff at his tricks again? He was good enough—or bad enough—for anything, even at that stage, thought Cub. He determined to take no chances.

  Said Karzoff, briefly: "This is the Turk, the man you seek."

  Looking at the man, Cub addressed him. Speaking slowly, in English, he said: "I am an Englishman. I came here looking for a friend of my country. What is your name?"

  "My name is Muraz Ismit," was the reply, in good English.

  "Can you give me proof of that?" asked Cub, for never having seen even a photograph of the Turk he had no means of identification.

  "No," was the disconcerting reply.

  "If you are Ismit Pasha you have been in London, and also Paris," went on Cub. "You would know both cities well?"

  "Yes."

  "How long were you in London?"

  "For three years."

  "Right. In that case you would know the Ritz Hotel?"

  "Yes."

  "In what street is it?"

  "In Piccadilly."

  "And the Savoy?"

  "In the Strand."

  "In what street are the most famous tailors?" "In Saville Row."

  "The Doctors?"

  "Harley Street."

  "How long were you in Paris?"

  "Two years."

  "Where is Maxim's?"

  "Rue Royale."

  Cub smiled, satisfied. At any rate this man had a tongue, and the fact that he could speak English so well belied his appearance. "I have come to take you away," he said. "Are you willing to come with me?"

  "I shall be glad to go."

  "There may be risks in getting you to a safe place."

  "Any risk would be better than staying here," asserted the man, emphatically.

  "Good. All right." Cub looked at Karzoff. "We are ready. Let us go." He spoke with a confidence that he certainly did not feel. So little did he trust the crafty governor that he would not have been in the least surprised had he suddenly called the whole thing off and then boasted that it was all a trick to get Cub to convict himself beyond redemption as a spy. This did not happen, but Cub held his breath, as the saying is, all the way to that part of the wall where he had made his dramatic entry into the fort. With nerves tingling he watched the rope, carried by one of Karzoff's men, lowered into the void.

  "You go first," he told the Pasha. "Wait for me at the bottom. Don't move, because you will be standing on the edge of a precipice."

  The Pasha wound the rope round his body, climbed over the edge, and was lowered until the slackness of the rope showed that he had reached the bottom. The rope was drawn up and Cub followed, feeling somewhat reassured in the belief that Karzoff would not have gone as far as this unless he was serious. Three more minutes, three anxious minutes, and he was standing on the ledge beside the Pasha, watching the rope disappear as it was drawn up.

  Wondering if all this was really happening he looked about him. It was still dark. Above, the sky was mostly black with cloud, but with here and there a break through which dim moonlight filtered mistily. Below was a well of inky shadow. He tried to probe it with his eyes, but could see nothing clearly. He had managed to get up, he mused. The question was, could he find his way down?

  So anxious had he been to get outside the prison walls that it was not until this moment that he realised fully the difficulties and dangers that still had to be faced. Without giving the matter any serious thought, he had hoped, vaguely and without much confidence, that the others might have remained within earshot. If that were so, they would come to his assistance. He whistled—their own private signal—several times, as loudly as he dare; but when there was no reply he knew that they had gone. This did not surprise him, for they would naturally suppose that there was no purpose in remaining. Moreover, should daylight find them there they would be exposed to the risk of discovery. That was how they would think, reasoned Cub. Not by the widest stretch of imagination could they have foreseen that he would leave the building at the spot, and by the same method, that he had entered it. With Yakoff a traitor to their cause, as -they would assume, Cub could have no chance whatever of getting out of the fort—anyway, without outside assistance.

  That Gimlet would try to devise some plan to get him out of the fort he did not doubt.

  That, probably, was what he was doing now. Yet here he was, with the Pasha, already outside. No, he decided. It was no use thinking about Gimlet for the moment. He had shouted to him to go, and he had gone. With what consternation Gimlet and the others had heard his yell of warning he could well imagine. He explained the position to his companion.

  After that he tried to find the path down the cliff; and he did, by trial and error, get some distance. The trouble was, there was no actual path, and having more than once come to a dead end, with a sheer drop in front, he perceived that it was only a question of time before one of them took a false step with results that could only be fatal. Even if that did not happen, in trying to go on he might well do more harm than good by getting the pair of them stranded on a ledge from which it was impossible to move in any direction.

  Having made the ascent in the dark it had been impossible to note any mark that might serve as a guide—not that there had been any need for this with Yousouf to show them the way up, and, as they had hoped, down.

  He discussed the situation with the Pasha, who, although he did not complain, being an old man and weak from confinement, was obviously finding the going even more difficult than Cub. It was soon agreed that the only sensible thing to do was to wait for daylight, when they would be better able to see what they were doing. The risk of being spotted from the fort would involve them in dangers no greater than those they were taking in trying to get down the cliff in the dark.

  So there they sat, huddled together, getting colder as the chill breath of the dawn wind came funnelling through the gorge. Cub occupied the time by telling the whole story of the expedition, from their arrival in the country up to the situation as it stood at that mome
nt.

  When the first cold grey light of early morning came creeping over the mountains they stretched cramped limbs and resumed the descent. As the light grew stronger Cub could see occasional marks made by the others who had been over the ground twice, first up and then down, and this enabled him to make fair progress. Once or twice they strayed from the track, but always managed to find it again. There was, of course, no actual track. A fault in the rock had caused the stratum to split, making a wide scar up which an agile man with a clear head would be able to climb. Several times he paused to look up, aware that daylight was likely to prove a curse as well as a blessing, for there were many places where a sentry who was wide awake, happening to look down, could not fail to see them.

  What would happen in such an event was open to question. Considering the matter, it seemed to Cub that Karzoff would not be able to withdraw the customary sentries without causing comment in the garrison. It was equally certain that if they were spotted by a sentry he would raise an alarm that would be followed by a pursuit which might well end in shooting; for this also was something Karzoff would be unable to prevent without bringing suspicion of complicity upon himself.

  Cub was not really surprised, therefore, when a rifle cracked and a bullet flattened itself on the rocks not far from where he stood. The Pasha realised at once what had happened, and following Cub's example, drew back against the face of the rock, where, if they could be seen at all, they offered a smaller target than if they had been in the open. Two or three more shots were fired, but without effect.

  Cub spoke tersely. "Look, sir. We can't stay here. Troops will be sent out to cut us off.

  Karzoff won't dare to stop them because if he did his men would probably guess why. In any case, he won't know definitely that it is us who are being shot at. He'll suppose that we're miles away by this time. We've got to get to the top of that far slope before the troops get there or we shall have had it. I'm afraid it means making a bolt for it and taking the risk of being hit."

  "You are quite right," said the Pasha calmly. "I would die rather than be taken back into that horrible fort. Shall I go first, or will you?"