We came down quickly from the mountain, aiming to pack our few things and get moving. There was an urgency upon us now to clear up this whole business as soon as possible and put the past behind us.
It was wonderful to feel lighthearted again. All at once life seemed to be simple and uncomplicated. While walking, we ate some of the black bread and sausage we hadn’t wanted at lunchtime, and talked about the future. Our lifetime together.
Steve said, “I’ll ask the firm for a transfer away from Vienna. I might have to fall back a rung or two, but it wouldn’t be for long.”
“What’s wrong with staying on in Vienna?” I knew how much Steve’s career meant to him and told myself it didn’t really matter to me where we were, just so long as we were together.
I could see he was pleased, and knew I’d been right. “You’re sure it wouldn’t remind you too much?”
I shook my head. “I love you, Steve.”
Without realizing it, we had stopped walking. Steve turned to face me.
“I can remember so clearly the way you looked that first day we met, when Max had just brought you out to Austria. You seemed so young and vulnerable, and I hoped to hell you weren’t going to get hurt too badly. I think I’ve been in love with you from that moment on. Did you ever guess?”
I put my finger to his lips, silencing him. “I was always glad you were around. I knew somehow that I could depend on you.”
His kiss was made awkward by the long metal cylinder containing the scrolls. Impatiently, he slid it under the flap of the haversack so as to leave his hands free. When we continued walking, his arm was around me.
From here the Gasthaus itself was lost among the pine trees, but in places we could see the white ribbon of track that wound its way up through the valley.
Suddenly Steve stopped again, with a jerk. I felt his arm go tense before dropping from my shoulder.
“What is it, darling?”
“On the road. . . . See, there—where it-crosses the stream. Watch!”
I had to wait before I saw it. A streak of bright scarlet heading up the valley road, then disappearing again among the trees.
I looked around at Steve. “Is it... ?”
“Yes, it’s the Maserati, all right.”
“Are you sure?”
“Dead sure!”
We saw the car again, and then again, rapid glimpses as it traveled the visible sections of the track until it was finally lost from view.
“We’ll stay right where we are,” said Steve, “and wait for them to go back.”
A full half-hour we waited, sitting side by side on a big flat stone, watching. Then Steve gripped my arm. “They’re coming up here!”
He pointed, and I too saw them. Two figures still far off, but not so far I couldn’t make out that one was fat and the other thin.
“What do we do now?”
Steve was considering. “If we keep our heads down they won’t be able to see us. We’d better start back to the lake, and then take the long route around to the Gasthaus. With any luck at all we’ll be packed and gone before they return there themselves.”
It seemed our best plan. Crouched down, our progress was slow until we’d moved around the curve of the hillside enough to be out of their sight. After that, we covered the ground as fast as we could. But at the lake we had to slow down again. The path from there on, the one we’d used in the morning, was a lot steeper and rougher. Steve, leading the way, turned to give me a hand at the worst parts.
And then he stopped so abruptly that I walked right into him.
“Sorry!”
He took no notice. “Look, up there....”
Way up, coming toward us down the path, were two more figures. They must have been three or four hundred yards away, and when they realized we’d spotted them, they waved their arms at us.
“Who are they?” I asked, dismayed.
“Those pals of Hellweg’s who called at the inn the other day, I imagine. Come on, we’re getting out of this. I don’t fancy taking on four of them!”
Before I had any idea what he was up to, Steve had plunged off the path and was heading straight down the hillside, dragging me after him. It was a scary sensation, like taking off into space. My legs kept on running because I couldn’t have stopped if I’d tried.
At last the slope eased off until it was almost level. The trees were thicker here, and the carpet of pine needles made the going easier. Steve said breathlessly, “The stream’s not much farther on. We can follow it down the valley and get back to the Gasthaus that way. It’s a fair bet Hellweg won’t guess what we’re doing.”
“But, Steve, surely that’s not safe? He might easily have some other men waiting at the inn.”
“We’ll have to chance that. The only alternative would be to head into the mountains. It’s a mighty long way to anywhere, and we’d probably have to spend the night in the open.”
“I shan’t mind, if we’ve got to.”
“Bless you, darling. You’re quite a girl!”
We carried on till we reached the stream, and then, instead of turning down toward the inn, we began to follow its course upward. A solid wall of mountain blocked the end of the valley, but it was not too high and looked reasonably climbable. The slope facing us was entirely covered with pine trees, which would give us concealment the whole time.
We plowed on for a good half-hour, at one point taking to the stream as the easiest way, jumping from boulder to boulder. Finally the stream petered out to nothing more than a seepage from cracks in the rock. Before leaving the water behind, we each took a long drink.
From here the climb began in earnest. As the ground rose ever more steeply, we used the tree trunks to haul ourselves up. Fortunately Steve had a rough idea of direction from the map we carried.
“Once we’re over the crest, I think it’ll get easier. By my calculation there’s about six miles to go to the nearest sign of habitation.”
“Six miles . . . that’s not too bad!”
Actually I was appalled by the thought of such a distance over this sort of country, but I didn’t want Steve to know that. My leg muscles were aching almost beyond bearing. Each time we stopped for a moment’s rest I wondered if I’d ever be able to get going again.
It took us far longer to reach the top than I’d ever expected. Pausing there, we realized how rapidly the daylight was fading. The sky above us was a translucent shell of ivory-green, delicate as a magnolia petal. But even as we stood watching, the dusky evening blue began taking over.
Starting on the downward slope, we knew we’d not get far before darkness fell. Soon it would be impossible to see our way, for there would be no moon tonight. And it was going to be cold. Already I could feel the chill biting through my clothes. Steve and I weren’t equipped for a night on the open mountainside.
In the last dying gleam of daylight Steve pointed down through the trees. “Am I imagining things, or is that some sort of building?”
After a quick scramble down an almost sheer rock face to a shelf of level ground, it turned out to be a derelict hut, presumably used at one time by foresters. There was no door, just an opening in one side. Through gaps in the roof we could see the first stars glimmering.
“It’s better than nothing,” said Steve. “It’s either here or out in the open.”
He didn’t have to talk me into staying put. I sank down on the bare earth floor. This miserable hut, smelling of mold and rotting wood, seemed like luxury to me right then.
Steve went outside again and gathered some small branches to make us a rough mattress to lie on —spruce, I think, from the scent. The needles were rather prickly, but it would be warmer than just the damp hard ground.
When we had eaten the few scraps of food remaining, we lay down together. Steve cradled me tenderly and after a while, comforted by his nearness and warmth, I fell asleep. I believe he stayed awake and on guard all night long.
He woke me with a little shake, and kissed me as I opened my eyes.
“Darling, it’s time to get moving. Come on!”
He gave me a hand, and I stood stretching my arms and legs to drive away the stiffness. My whole body seemed to ache. The first light was creeping in through the gaping doorway. It looked cold and steel gray, far from encouraging.
Trying to sound eager, I said, “It shouldn’t be too bad now. Just a couple of hours’ walking and we’ll be with people again.”
Steve was hurriedly stuffing our few things into the knapsack, securing the precious cylinder under the flap. His tone was grim. “I’m afraid it won’t be so easy, darling. I heard a voice in the distance just now. We’ll have to hustle.”
“Oh, Steve!”
I was fully awake in an instant, but even as we were leaving the hut, Steve going first, a shout came from up above, from the top of the miniature cliff face we’d slithered down last night.
“Guten Morgen, Herr Elliott... Frau Varley!”
“What do you want, Hellweg?” Steve called back. He slipped the haversack off his shoulder and pushed it into my hands, whispering: “Quickly, hide that tube!”
Leopold’s voice hailed us again. “The Kutani Scrolls—that’s what I want. Hand them over, and you’ll come to no harm.”
“We haven’t got them,” Steve shouted. To me he said quietly, urgently, “For God’s sake, do as I say— hide the thing somewhere! Once they get their hands on the scrolls, they’ll very likely kill us.”
“Kill us!”
“Makes sense, doesn’t it? To Hellweg we’d be much better dead, and he’s got a heaven-sent chance now.”
While Steve and Leopold continued their back-and-forth argument, I looked around frantically for a hiding place in the bare hut. The best I could do was to push the cylinder up into the angle where the sloping roof met the walls.
I heard Steve saying, with an irritable note to his voice: “I tell you we haven’t got the damn scrolls. If you don’t believe me, you’d better come and see for yourselves.”
There seemed to be a mumbled discussion going on above. After a few moments Leopold called down, “Just in case you are armed, Elliott, I will come alone. Herr Kolbinger will remain here to cover me. I warn you that we both have guns.”
Steve whispered to me, “At least now we know there’s only the two of them, I wonder what happened to that other pair?”
Panic-stricken, I asked, “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to jump him!”
“Oh, Steve, do be careful! Anyway, what’s the good? There’ll still be Otto Kolbinger.”
Steve twisted his head and gave me a quick grin. “Take your problems one by one, love, that’s my motto. Divide and conquer!”
He was standing squarely in the doorway, almost blocking it. I peered past him, trying to make out what was happening. It was still only just getting light, but dimly I could see, twenty feet above us, a man’s figure move out silently from behind a tree.
Leopold was very agile for someone of his age. He jumped and scrambled his way down to the level shelf on which the hut stood. As he came toward us I could see that he was very tired, but he spoke with all his usual suavity.
“It was so foolish, Frau Varley, to imagine you could escape us. So much trouble, and all for nothing!”
Steve said evenly, “I keep telling you, Hellweg, we haven’t got the scrolls.”
“We shall see!” Leopold motioned with his gun. “You had better step outside, both of you, where Herr Kolbinger can watch you. I shall search the hut.”
“You won’t find anything,” said Steve. He muttered quickly to me: “Keep out of sight, darling.” Then, with a careless shrug of his shoulders, he stepped toward Leopold.
It was all so swift, I hardly saw what happened. In a single movement, it seemed, Steve had twisted Leopold Hellweg around, locking his right arm behind his back. He applied still more pressure, until Leopold cried out in pain and the gun dropped to the ground.
Immediately my fear switched to what Otto Kolbinger would do. I was terrified that he might be marksman enough to shoot at Steve without risk of hitting Leopold. The gunshot, when it came, sent me rushing blindly out to Steve.
But he and Leopold were both still on their feet, motionless, staring up into the trees. And in the sudden silence I heard a curiously intimate sound. A long breathy sigh, no more than that.
A voice called down to us, a cheerful voice with a laugh in it. “Hello there! This seems an appropriate moment to enter the scene.”
I knew at once who it was, even before he showed himself, a tall slim figure with a gun in his hand.
“Who the devil... ?” cursed Steve.
“It’s Richard Wilson.”
There was another short silence, and I hung suspended in uncertainty. What did it mean, Richard being here? Could he possibly be a friend, after all? Had he come to help us? But the gun, covering us all, seemed to be my answer!
He said, in a harsher voice, “Herr Hellweg, your colleague is dead. And I intend to kill you also.” In English he added, “I suggest, Mr. Elliott, that you let him go.”
Steve didn’t move. “Who are you?”
“My name is Wilson. Jessica knows me.”
“So I gather. But what’s your game? Who are you working for?”
“I am an anti-Nazi, Mr. Elliott. I hope that goes for you, too.”
“I suppose that means you’re a Communist?”
In reply, a bullet smacked into the wood of the hut, very near me. Instantly Steve spun around to see if I was hurt, relaxing the armlock on Leopold, who took his chance and bent to snatch up his gun. There was yet another shot, and with a scream Leopold fell to the ground. His body jerked convulsively, but as Steve crouched over him, he lay still.
Getting to his feet again, Steve moved back so as to put himself between Richard’s gun and me. His hand reached out behind him to find mine.
“What is it you want, Wilson?”
From above us Richard’s voice resumed its chatty tone. “Sorry about that little diversionary trick, but I had to dispose of Hellweg first. And now I’ll be glad if you’ll hand over those Kutani Scrolls.”
“We haven’t got them,” said Steve promptly. “That’s what I was trying to explain to Hellweg.”
“Oh, Steve, let him have the wretched things,” I whispered, terrified. “What does it matter?”
“It would be suicide—the man’s utterly ruthless! But like I said about Hellweg, as long as he hasn’t got the scrolls and thinks we know where they are, we stay alive.”
Richard’s voice called down, “Come on, now, you’ve had your little chat, and I hope you’ve decided to be sensible. I’m going to ask my friend to show himself so you can see you haven’t the smallest chance of escaping me.”
Right beside Richard another figure appeared, seeming to rise from the ground. There was something slightly familiar about him, and I wondered if he might be the same man who’d driven me in a taxi to meet Richard at the Cafe Mirabel.
Steve started talking suddenly, and in a way that amazed me. “Okay, Wilson, you win! But the scrolls aren’t here. We left them where we found them, over by the lake. I reckoned it was safer than carrying them around.”
There was a short wait while Richard and his accomplice conferred. Then Richard announced, “You will take us to the spot. Elliott, you’ll go in front with my friend, while Jessica and I follow behind. If you try anything stupid, then Jessica will suffer for it. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” said Steve in a surly voice.
“Very well, then. You two climb up here first, and we’ll all get moving.”
Steve whispered to me, “We’ve got to string them along, darling. It’s our only hope. Just play it cool and try to take your cue from me.”
And so, as captives, Steve and I came away from the derelict hut where we had spent the night. We left there, still hidden in the roof, the metal tube containing the scrolls. We left there, too, the bodies of Leopold Hellweg and Otto Kolbinger.
I had known both men personally and could not feel entirely unmoved by their deaths—even though they had been prepared to kill Steve and me. I thought about their wives, wondering how they would take the news. A man being a criminal didn’t stop a woman from loving him. I knew the truth of that! For Ilse Hellweg I had little sympathy to spare—she was hard and selfish and probably quite insensitive. But I felt sure that Gretl had loved Otto very much, in her own way.
It was a long and tiring trek. Steve, walking ten yards ahead with the man whose name turned out to be Voltek, looked back over his shoulder every minute or so. It was my only comfort.
Richard Wilson kept up a cheerful conversation, just as if we were two good friends.
“You did an excellent job for us, Jessica. The main object of the exercise was to put us on the track of Hellweg and his fascist mob. They’d set up quite an organization to recover looted treasure the Nazis hid away during the war. But I daresay by now you’ve discovered for yourself what it’s all been about.”
“I’m just beginning to understand,” I said grimly.
“Those scrolls are quite priceless, you know. Even on the underground market, sold to some crazy plutocrat collector to gloat over in private, they’d probably fetch upwards of a couple of million pounds. However, it wasn’t so much getting hold of the scrolls ourselves that interested us—we wanted to prevent such valuable items getting into the wrong hands and being sold for funds to further other political ambitions. We couldn’t allow that, now, could we?”
“So you ruthlessly decided to make use of me, not minding what danger I might run into....”
“It’s your husband you must blame. He shouldn’t have got mixed up with that mob in the first place.”
I went on bitterly, “You cared nothing at all for my feelings when you brought me that letter. To actually forge my husband’s handwriting.”
Richard chuckled unashamedly. “Fine piece of work, wasn’t it? Of course, we’ve got some very good men for that sort of thing. They can fool even the experts.”
We trudged on for a while without speaking. I felt I’d heard all I could take. But a question kept niggling, and in the end I had to know the answer.
“How was it you ever came to know Max?”
Again Richard chuckled. “I didn’t know him. In fact, I’d never even heard of him. But it was easy enough to dig out a few convincing background details. It was pure chance that I got on to him at all. We’d picked up a man in Hungary for some quite petty offense, and hoping to curry favor, he volunteered information about a scheme for smuggling out wartime loot. Not that he could tell us much, just that there was a man called Varley who came over on business trips and worked for some mysterious organization with headquarters in Vienna. By the time we’d got on Max Varley’s trail, though, he had been killed in a road accident.”
“Accident?” I exclaimed. “You told me it was ...”
“I told you all sorts of things, Jessica, to make sure you’d play along the way we wanted.”
I said nothing. I had nothing to say.
We were all very tired after a night spent on the mountainside, and several times Richard halted us for a rest. But Steve and I were made to sit well apart, so that we could do no more than exchange glances.
I kept wondering what Steve was planning to do when we got to the lake. What could he do against two ruthless men, both armed?
The day had started misty and gray, but in the last half-hour the sun had broken through the clouds. The little lake sparkled in the soft autumn sunlight, looking incredibly beautiful.
When we had all climbed down to the beach, Richard said: “Well, Elliott, what about it?”
“The scrolls are hidden in that cave over there,” said Steve. He pointed to the first cave we had tried in our search.
“I see! You’d better go and fetch them, then, hadn’t you?”
Steve didn’t budge. “Not without Jessica. I’m not leaving her alone with you two.”
Richard laughed curtly. “Do you imagine we’re a couple of rapists?”
“I said, I’m not leaving her! You can do what you damn well like about it.”
“Oh, very well. What does it matter?”
Steve said, “And I’ll need a light. It’s dark in there.”
Our own flashlight was still in the haversack back at the hut, but fortunately Richard had one. He handed it over.
“Right,” said Steve. “Come on, Jessica.”
He took my hand and gave it a squeeze that was meant to be cheerfully reassuring. But though it was wonderful to feel his touch again, I couldn’t find anything to be cheerful about. Richard and Voltek were following close behind, their guns covering us, and when we reached the cave, they positioned themselves on either side of the entrance. To me, the outlook couldn’t have been blacker. There seemed to be no hope for us at all.
Using the flashlight, Steve led me into the cave as far as we could go, perhaps forty or fifty feet. Then suddenly he switched off the light. Owing to the way the cave curved slightly, we were now out of sight of the entrance, and it was utterly dark.
“Why did you do that?” I said, clinging to his arm.
Steve held me to him and whispered into my ear, “They don’t know anything about the layout of this cave. If we stay put for long enough, they’ll imagine we must have found another exit. They’ll come in after us, and then . . .”
“But how will you ... ?”
“Leave that to me!”
So we crouched down at the far end of that dank-smelling cave, keeping utterly quiet. Slowly, as our eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, we could see a glimmer of light reflected from the wet limestone walls.
Three or four minutes crept by before Richard called out, “Elliott! What’s keeping you?”
Silence. Then we heard the voices of the two men talking things over. They must have been standing just inside the cave mouth, and seemed to be getting pretty annoyed. Richard called again, “Don’t play the fool with me, Elliott. Come on out!”
Silence.
The voices started muttering again. It sounded as if Voltek was blaming Richard for letting us both come in together. Then Richard shouted angrily, “If you’re not out of there in thirty seconds, I’m coming in to get you. I’m warning you, Elliott, you’ll regret that!”
In the stillness of the cave, even our breathing sounded loud and rasping. Surely they could hear it out there? I was trembling all over with tension and fear. Steve’s fingers moved up to my cheek and stroked it gently.
Richard made a lot of noise about coming into the cave, shuffling his feet and keeping up a barrage of threats about what he’d do to us when he found us. It was almost as if he needed to screw up his courage. He had no light to help him, so the cave must have seemed as black as pitch.
We couldn’t see him at all until he reached the point where the cave changed direction, and then we saw him quite clearly, outlined against the light. He stood waving the gun uncertainly.
“Are you there, Elliott?”
Very hesitantly, fumbling with his free hand, Richard came on another few steps, until he was barely six feet from us. Then he gave a sudden yelp of pain as his head struck a low point of the cave roof. At that instant Steve launched himself.
I saw it all in shadowy silhouette. Steve went straight for the gun with his left hand while his right arm locked around Richard’s neck, forcing back his chin. The struggle was over very quickly. Steve seemed to wrench the gun away, and I saw him raise it, heard a terrible thud of hard metal on bone. Richard crumpled, collapsing in a limp heap as Steve let his weight slide to the ground.
“That should keep him quiet for a while,” Steve muttered. “But come here and watch him, will you, just to be on the safe side.”
I went over at once, but reluctantly, and crouched beside Richard’s slumped body. A moment later I felt Steve putting something into my hand, and realized it was a heavy chunk of rock.
“If he shows any sign of waking up, hit him with that. And I mean hit him, darling—this is not the moment to go all feminine on me. Now for friend Voltek.”
I felt sick with terror, both for Steve and for myself. I wondered if I’d be capable of striking a man with a lump of rock. I steeled myself. Steve was relying on me. I’d have to do it.
Still crouched down, Steve moved forward to where he could see the cave entrance, peering cautiously. I could hear Voltek making a lot of noise outside, shouting in some language quite unknown to me. He sounded scared, which wasn’t surprising, since he must have heard the noise of the fight and our voices.
Steve was lying prone on the ground, the gun lifted. He was taking aim very carefully, and I guessed he wanted to be sure of finishing Voltek off with one shot, in case he didn’t get a second chance. I hated the thought of Steve having to shoot the man, but I knew there was no other way out for us.
The explosion, within the confined space of the cave, was shattering. The acrid smell of the explosive caught my throat. I heard a single scream from outside, and then Steve jumped to his feet and went running toward the entrance.
“Okay, darling, everything under control,” he called back to me. At the same moment Voltek began what was obviously a string of violent curses.
So he wasn’t dead, or even badly injured! Odd that I should feel such tremendous relief about that.
Steve called again, “Is Wilson still out cold?”
“Yes, he hasn’t moved at all.”
“Right, then come out and give me a hand with this character. He needs bandaging.”
Voltek was sitting on the ground just inside the cave. He looked very white and shaken, and was clutching the upper part of his right arm.
“It’s only a graze, darling. Can you deal with it?” Steve pushed the gun forward at Voltek menacingly and said in German, “Now, don’t you try anything Stupid.”
There were more curses, but he was glad enough to let me help him. I suppose he was thankful that Steve didn’t intend to kill him. I eased off his fleece-lined jacket, and tore away the sleeve of his shirt. Clean lake water was right there for washing the wound, and then I bandaged it as best I could with the other shirt sleeve. By the time I started putting the jacket on him again, a little color was coming back to his face.
I was just finished when Richard came staggering out of the cave, looking very dazed. Steve ordered him to sit down and keep quiet. We allowed them fifteen minutes’ rest, and then began the march back to the Gasthaus. There seemed to be no fight left in either of them, but Steve was giving them no chances. He made them walk ahead of us, well apart, and kept them covered all the time.
We were almost halfway when we met the search party coming toward us out of the trees. A group of about twenty men, civilians and uniformed police.
And with them was a plump figure we recognized. It was Bruno Hutyens.