by Vic Robbie
It moved. Perhaps only an inch and Freddie cheered.
‘Come on, you buggers, pull,’ he shouted at the horses, who didn’t seem to grasp the importance of their task. And he gave them a reminder and they lurched forward, and again there was a grinding noise and the car moved a fraction more.
It may have been for only a split second, but he relaxed his grip on the horses and they stopped and with a sigh the car settled back to where it had come from.
Sebastian threw up his arms in exasperation. ‘When you feel it move you must keep going, don’t stop or we’ll never get it out,’ he shouted. ‘Right, let’s go again.’
He now realised there was a rhythm to it. Once he had the horses moving and they had some momentum, it was easier. The horses kept going and they pulled hard and he pulled them and he didn’t allow them to stop and when they looked as if they might, he gave them another reminder.
It was gradual at first and the car began moving until one of the rear wheels had traction and Sebastian jumped on the back of the car to force it down on the track. Now his colleague also put his shoulder to it and the car lifted clear. Like some prehistoric monster getting to its feet after a long sleep, it lurched forward and with a final loud bang all four wheels landed back on the track.
Sebastian whooped and the big man slumped to the ground, his breathing laboured and his torso covered in a sheen of sweat.
Alena and Freddie ran towards them shouting. Much to Sebastian’s surprise, she kissed him and the big man before she found Ben with a long lingering kiss on the lips that promised more.
Sebastian halted the celebrations. ‘We must go now. There is little time. If we delay, we will run into patrols.’
They thanked the innkeeper who had a heated conversation with Sebastian before turning to head back down the mountain.
‘Stop,’ Alena shouted and she ran to the trunk of the car and found two loaves of bread they’d taken from the inn. And she and went up to the two ponies and fed each of them their reward.
44
THE brooding mountain looked down on them as if mocking their attempts to scale it and for now they went around the mountain instead of over it. The pock-marked and rutted track made the ride rough and jolting. His teeth were rattling and he worried the platinum would be shaken free. Alena and Freddie now rode with him in the car, and they followed Sebastian’s unbroken stride mile after mile. The sharp morning sunlight glanced off the brown granite of the mountains making them sparkle like precious stones. And in the unspoilt air he could almost believe their troubles were behind them, although it was a passing thought before the trepidation of what awaited them in Spain took over.
As they turned a bluff, the track sloped downhill and disappeared. Drawing closer, they saw a wide ravine with sheer walls. The only way across was over a narrow wooden bridge looking as if it might support a couple on foot but not a Bentley laden with bullion. Even without anyone on it, the bridge moved in the breeze and attempting to walk across it would take nerve.
Up here, they were wrapped in an eerie stillness, not even birds moved in the air as if nothing living should be allowed in this area. And the silence was like an expectant audience anticipating an act of either great daring or stupendous foolishness. He brought the Bentley to a gradual stop and let out a frustrated sigh.
Ahead, Sebastian walked up to the bridge for a closer look, and he returned shaking his head. ‘Not good, not good.’ Sebastian didn’t want to catch his eye. ‘It’s unstable. Some of the supports underneath the bridge are rotting away. I doubt it’ll take even our weight.’
Sebastian glanced at him and knew the answer without asking and his shoulders dropped in resignation. ‘I’m going across to see if we can make it.’ He turned away shaking his head all the more and cursing himself for being so stupid to even attempt it.
They watched him pick his way across the bridge and at one stage it swayed and Sebastian grasped the side to steady himself. Every couple of yards, he stopped as if unsure whether to go on and eventually he made it to the other side and waved.
‘Come on,’ said Alena gathering up Freddie. ‘Let’s go.’
He put a restraining hand on her arm. ‘Let’s wait until he comes back and hear what he has to say.’
Sebastian returned taking as much care as before and his face was grim. ‘It’s dangerous, very dangerous,’ he warned. ‘If you still want to go, I’ll have to lead the woman and child over. Some of the wooden planks are splintered and could fall at any time.’
Worry lined Alena’s face as she convinced herself they had no choice but to carry on. ‘What about Ben?’ she asked.
‘I’ll get you across first,’ replied Sebastian, ‘and then we’ll have to see what if anything is left of the bridge.’
Alena and Freddie embraced Ben as though saying farewell for the last time and Sebastian led the way with Alena clutching Freddie’s hand and he heard her warning him not to look down. Like crossing a river using stepping-stones, Sebastian tested a section of the bridge before calling them on.
The bridge was moving with their weight and a creaking noise made him fear the joints and supports were about to give way under the stress.
It was agonising to watch Alena walking hunched, fearing every step could be her last, and he saw the tension in her shoulders. Beside her, Freddie chattered away and looked like he was treating it as a game, every now and again trying to pull his hand away for which he received stern rebukes.
He held his breath in case even a puff of air would be enough to send them and the bridge crashing down to the river running like a black ribbon hundreds of feet below. The further they progressed, the more the bridge yawed from side to side and the groaning increased.
Freddie stumbled. As he attempted to regain his balance, a plank dislodged and tipped up and slipped through a hole in the bridge. Sebastian and Alena froze unable to move in case they would start a chain of events they couldn’t stop. Freddie wobbled. And he was gone, following the plank down through the hole.
Still hanging onto his little hand, Alena dropped to her knees, and he was screaming ‘Maman, save me. Maman, save me.’
45
THE redhead lay spread-eagled and blindfolded and naked on the black silk sheets, and silk scarves secured her wrists and ankles to the corners of the large four-poster bed.
She could see nothing although she heard the door opening and the man pad into the room. He walked around the bed and into the adjoining bathroom. She heard him take the top off a bottle and a slapping sound as he patted himself with scent. He returned and she felt the mattress depress as he climbed onto the bottom of the bed. He didn’t speak and nor she to him.
She felt a hand on each ankle caressing them where the ties were although they were not intended to cause pain and the hands moved up the inside of her legs, stroking them. She heard the man’s heavy breathing and felt him moving as he gathered himself on his knees.
All was still.
He’d removed his hands.
And she waited.
What next?
She’d been told not to speak to him and she noted her breathing becoming faster and more irregular the deeper the silence and the longer the wait.
It seemed like minutes and then she felt him move between her legs, his head burrowing into her and his tongue seeking the softness of her womanhood. She moaned and writhed as she’d done so many times before. Almost immediately his body was on hers and she felt the oiliness of his skin, the sweet smell of scent and the girth of his belly pressing down.
She gasped as he took her and felt his teeth nibbling at first her breasts and then her ears. After just a few violent thrusts, he grunted and collapsed. Kissing her on the mouth, he forced his tongue between her teeth and climbed off and she heard him pad away into the bathroom. The toilet flushed and it sounded as if he were putting on an item of clothing. He walked out and around the bed and she heard the door open and close behind him.
She was alone. She could spea
k.
‘Hey, what about me?’ she shouted.
No one came.
46
‘BEN, ben, i can’t hold him,’ alena shouted as she scrambled for purchase to stop herself following her son through the hole opening up in front of them.
He stepped on the edge of the bridge and Sebastian screamed at him. ‘Don’t move an inch.’ He took another step forward.
‘For Christ’s sake,’ Sebastian shouted. ‘Your weight will dislodge the whole thing.’
He hesitated.
‘Stay there, I’ll get them.’ Sebastian dropped to his hands and knees and started to crawl towards Alena like an exotic crab.
‘Help us,’ she cried. ‘Help.’
Freddie struggled violently, trying to get back up and she felt his hand slipping through her fingers, which were wet with sweat.
‘I can’t hold him much longer,’ she sobbed and stretched out flat on the bridge thrusting her other hand through the gap and grasping his shirt, which came away in her hand.
‘Hold on.’ Sebastian inched his way forward, sweat pouring down his face and dripping from the end of his nose.
‘Please, oh God, please, he’s going.’
Both Sebastian and Ben shouted as one. ‘Hold on.’
‘I’m losing him,’ she shrieked in desperation.
Over the last few feet, Sebastian seemed to speed up and leapt at the hole thrusting his right arm down and clutching the boy’s arm in a vice-like grip. Together, they pulled him screaming and wriggling like a landed fish up onto the bridge that was shaking as if about to collapse.
‘Okay, okay, I have them.’ Sebastian raised an arm in triumph. ‘Wait there until I get them to the other side.’
Relief shining out of her eyes, Alena hugged her little boy, who screamed in fright and couldn’t be consoled. She smothered him with kisses and held onto him as if she’d never let go of him again.
Sebastian tapped her on the shoulder to bring her out of her trance. ‘Come on,’ he whispered. ‘We’re almost there; let’s get off this bridge.’
She rose to her feet clutching Freddie and, watching every footstep, they made it to the other side and she waved, but still she wouldn’t put down Freddie.
Sebastian made the return journey in quicker time and he knew the bridge wouldn’t last much longer. ‘You can see how it is,’ he said and sweat still poured down his face. ‘We can just about get across ourselves.’
Ben stared at the bridge wondering what damage time and weather had done to it. To drive onto it would be the biggest gamble of his life. With just two adults and a child on the bridge, there had been considerable movement. He doubted it could withstand the weight of the Bentley plus the bullion. The only other option would be to leave the car behind and go on foot because he didn’t want to let Alena out of his sight.
He didn’t realise he said it – it was like a disembodied voice. ‘I must get the car across.’
Sebastian’s shoulders slumped and he shook his head.
‘You must be crazy, man. That’s suicide.’
Now Alena and Freddie were safe on the other side and more or less in Spain, he would give it one last go. He couldn’t fail Bernay now. He had to attempt it.
‘I must,’ he insisted.
‘Okay, okay, it’s your life.’ Sebastian put both hands in the air in an act of surrender. ‘Let me get halfway across and I’ll guide you. Take it slow, if you go more than a snail’s pace, you’ll bring the whole thing down.’
Holding his breath and feeling every turn of the Bentley’s engine, he edged the car onto the wooden structure and felt the bridge pitch with the weight of the car. He’d watched Alena crossing and saw what he thought were the danger points and, although the bridge was narrow, he believed it possible to manoeuvre past some of them.
Ahead, Sebastian waved and shouted instructions, but behind Ben some of the planking in the centre of the bridge slipped through a hole growing larger by the second. The natural inclination was to speed up although he knew it would be disastrous. He just had to grit his teeth and take it inch by inch, and hope.
He approached where Freddie had fallen through and some of the planking was missing and he pulled over to the left and hoped there was enough wood beneath him to get past the gap. It meant driving hard up against the wooden railing which gouged a deep groove in the side of the Bentley, ripping off its door handles, and the friction caused the bridge to shudder.
Sebastian reached land on the other side and gesticulated at him to keep moving. The bridge gave a terminal groan and with a loud bang pulled clear of its mountings behind him and first swung right and then left and began falling backwards. With a domino effect, wood fell down into the ravine and the bridge tipped upwards so the nose of the Bentley rose up and pointed towards the sky.
47
DRESSED in a long chinese silk dressing-gown, the self-styled Count of Pamplona, Conde Juan Callas Garza, padded across the marble floors of his sumptuous residence. He walked down the steps to a terrace where a table was set for breakfast by the side of his swimming pool. On sighting him, his manservant poured a cup of black coffee and prepared juice from oranges picked from Garza’s own orchard earlier and had been squeezed just minutes before.
He could still smell the woman on him so he loosened his dressing-gown and let it fall to the ground and dived into the cool waters of the pool. He swam in a lazy freestyle to the far end of the pool taking a refreshing detour under the fountain imported from Italy and back to his starting point. His servant, bathrobe in hand, slipped it over his master’s shoulders and, as the count pulled the ties tight, produced a long black cheroot and lit it for him.
The woman had been a good start to the day. He thought he might keep her and when he tired of her, he could always sell her to his customers in Africa. They liked white women and the redhead was almost alabaster.
From his poolside seat at the table, he looked in the direction of the distant Pyrenees and peered closer as if seeing movement. He was convinced the Germans weren’t coming yet although nothing was certain. The Pyrenees had always been good to him and with so many French escaping over the border it was a lucrative business. Juan Callas Garza controlled everything from Pamplona to the top of the mountains and east and west of where he sat – cross-border smuggling, drugs, illicit liquor, women, the slave trade. Whatever would turn a buck. Even Franco’s people realised they needed the support of powerful men in the regions. Garza didn’t support Franco. He’d met the general and he didn’t like him and distrusted what Franco might agree with Hitler. It was rumoured the two were to meet at Hendaye later in the month and he wondered who would prevail in this clash of egos. Would Franco join with Hitler or would he upset the Führer who might decide Spain was next on his list of conquests? He could handle Franco, but the Germans on his patch would be bad for business.
Moving escaping French refugees was a profitable business. Desperate to evade the Nazis, they paid good money to get across the mountains. Some he let go, others he handed over to the authorities, who returned them to France. Only the men, of course. The attractive women and children were separated from their men folk and transported to Cadiz and shipped over to Africa. There they paid top dollar for white skins. He loved the expression. In fact, he loved everything American.
48
AS the bridge fell back on itself, he felt the bentley beginning to slide on the wooden planks being torn up as if split apart by an earthquake. He no longer had time to make choices. A second’s delay would mean the car toppling into the ravine and him with it. He hung on to the wheel and with all his strength stamped down on the accelerator pedal.
The car coughed, and coughed again. ‘Oh, God, not now,’ Ben shouted.
The Bentley seemed to hesitate and he kept his foot down hard, almost standing on it until a throaty rumbling rippled along its length. Wheels spinning, it fought for grip sending up a cloud of black smoke and with it an overpowering smell of burning rubber. Finding some sort o
f traction, it jolted and picked up and threw itself forward launching into the air so it shot up the remains of the bridge and almost flew to the safety of land.
It missed Sebastian by inches. And if he hadn’t braked hard, the car would have careered on and over another rise and into even greater trouble. It shuddered to a halt in a cloud of dust while the last of the bridge collapsed into the ravine behind him, the noise of falling debris crashing onto the slopes below continuing for several minutes. He staggered out of the car giving it an affectionate slap. And, as his knees were about to buckle, Alena and Freddie leapt on him and the three of them hugged in a mixture of shock and elation.
‘We’re over the worst,’ said Sebastian with a broad smile of congratulation and Alena hugged him, too. ‘Voila!’ The guide opened his arms as if presenting them with Spain’s Pamplona Basin stretching out beautiful and free in the morning sunlight.
From here, the track ran downhill and no longer did Sebastian have to walk so he sat on the bonnet, holding onto the roof. They bounced down the slopes towards Spain, although Ben had to brake hard to stop the Bentley from running away at times.
Near the bottom, as they approached a copse, Sebastian knocked on the windscreen and indicated they should pull in under the trees. ‘This is as far as I go,’ he said climbing off the bonnet. ‘Some people will be with you soon and they’ll make sure you have safe passage.’ He nodded and shook Sebastian’s hand. Whatever they’d paid him he believed it was worth it.
‘Bonne chance,’ said Sebastian, touching his head. He waved and was gone without a backward glance, and they watched him climb until he disappeared out of sight. They didn’t have long to wait for a putt-putt of motorbikes within minutes heralded the arrival of two unsmiling men, with heavy beards and carbines across their backs. They rode under the trees and brought their machines to an extravagant stop, showering them with sand. One of the men dismounted and appeared to inspect them, walking around the Bentley and coming up to the car to peer at its passengers.
