Whiff of Money Read online

  Rosnold made the introductions while Gilly continued to stare at von Goltz.

  ‘You mean you are a real count?’ she asked breathlessly. ‘I’ve never met a real count before!’

  Von Goltz laughed.

  ‘I am delighted to be the first.’ His eyes shifted to Girland. ‘And you? Are you also American?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Girland said. ‘I’m here just for a short vacation.’

  Von Goltz nodded.

  "This is ideal country for a vacation.’ Sitting down, he began to talk about Garmisch and the surrounding district. Soon the conversation became general. When von Goltz had finished his glass of champagne, Rosnold asked him to have another, but von Goltz shook his head.

  ‘Thank you, but I am afraid I must leave you. Please excuse me. I have a dinner date.’ He regarded Gilly. ‘If you have nothing better to do, perhaps you and your friends would care to visit my modest Schloss* not far from here? It could interest you. I can offer you all kinds of amusements. There is a heated swimming-pool, a lovely forest, twelve hundred acres of bridle paths and shooting — although

  Gilly clapped her hands, her eyes opening wide.

  ‘That’s marvellous! We would love to come!’

  ‘My place is large and often lonely,’ von Goltz said and lifted his shoulders. T live alone. I would welcome you all if you would care to stay for five or six days. I assure you you won’t be bored. Would you all give me the honour of being your host?’

  Gilly turned to Rosnold.

  ‘Oh, do let’s! It sounds absolutely dreamy!’

  ‘It is very kind of you,’Rosnold said. ‘If you are sure we won’t be a burden, then we would happily accept your invitation.’

  Von Goltz looked smilingly at Girland.

  ‘And you, sir?’

  This really must be my lucky day, Girland was thinking. Now I will have the chance to talk to this girl alone.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘As I told you, I am here on vacation. I would like nothing better. It is very kind of you.’

  Von Goltz shrugged.

  ‘It will be my pleasure.’ He got to his feet. T will send one of my servants here at midday tomorrow. He will direct you to the Schloss. It is only an hour’s.fast drive from Garmisch. You will arrive in time for lunch.’ He took Gilly’s hand and brushed it lightly with his lips, then shook hands with Rosnold and Girland. ‘Until tomorrow… good night,’ and with a pleased smile, he left the bar.

  ‘What do you know!’ Gilly said as soon as the count was out of hearing. ‘A real, live count! And he has a castle! Gosh!’

  Rosnold looked at Girland, a puzzled expression in his eyes.

  ‘I didn’t know Germans were quite so hospitable… did you?’

  Girland laughed.

  ‘I very much doubt if you and I were on our own, we would have been invited. I think mademoiselle in her scarlet outfit caught the count’s eye.’

  ‘Then you both should be very grateful to me,’ Gilly said, laughing. ‘Anyway, let’s check out, Pierre. If we are going to stay at the castle for a week, there’s no point in keeping our rooms on.’

  ‘Yes.’ Rosnold got to his feet. ‘And when we’ve checked out, we’ll eat. I’mhungry.’

  The three went to the reception desk.

  ‘We have been invited to stay with Count von Goltz,’ Rosnold explained to the clerk. ‘We will be checking out tomorrow morning. Will you have my bill ready?’

  ‘Certainly, sir. You should have a very happy stay with the count,’ the clerk said, obviously impressed.

  ‘That goes for me too,’ Girland said.

  They went out into the courtyard where the cars were parked.

  ‘Comeinmy car,’ Girlandsaid. ‘There’smoreroom.’

  Gilly slid into the front passenger’s seat and Rosnold got in at the back.

  ‘Where to?’ Girland asked.

  ‘Turn right as you leave the hotel. The restaurant is about eight kilometres from here. I’ll direct you,’ Rosnold said.

  Watched by Malik and Labrey who were sitting at the opposite cafe, Girland drove away from the hotel.

  * * *

  They made an odd-looking trio as they stood outside Garmisch’s railway station. Vi with her long, blonde hair, her pale-blue hipsters and red wool sweater looked absurdly small beside Malik who was wearing a short black leather coat and baggy black corduroy trousers, his silver coloured hair like a burnished steel helmet. Max Lintz in a coarsely-woven brown sweater and brown slacks with a brown woollen cap on his head stood on Vi’s other side, his small, quick eyes examining the passers-by suspiciously and intently.

  They had arrived only a few minutes ago. The time was just after 19.00 hrs. When Malik had reached Munich airport, he had gone to the Hertz Rental service and had hired a Volkswagen 1500. While he was waiting for the car to arrive, he had noticed a tall, white-haired man with a glass eye whom he had seen on the aircraft, standing near him. Malik merely glanced at him, and Lu Silk, not knowing who this giant was, gave him a steady stare from his one cold, hard eye and then looked away.

  A big, black Mercedes pulled up and the driver waved to Silk who crossed the road and got into the car. As he was driven away, the Volkswagen arrived.

  Malik told Lintz to get in at the back. Vi got in beside Malik, shrinking as far away from him as she could.

  Malik had stuck terror into Vi the moment she had seen him at Orly airport. He had come up to her, stared at her with his evil green eyes and had asked abruptly:

  ‘Mademoiselle Martin?’

  She had nodded dumbly.

  He had held out a huge, cruel-looking hand.

  ‘Your passport.’

  With shaking hands, she had found her passport in her bag and had given it to him.

  ‘Follow me,’ and he stalked into the airport.

  They went together through the police barrier. For a brief moment Vi had been tempted to scream to the police officer that she was being kidnapped, but remembering Paul’s warning, terror kept her silent.

  In the reception lounge, Max Lintz had joined them. He had glanced at Vi without interest and then had drawn Malik aside. The two men had talked together in German, ignoring Vi who stood uneasily, shaking a little, while she waited.

  On the aircraft, Malik had let her sit by herself while he and Lintz occupied the two seats behind her. All during the flight, they had talked softly in German while Vi had sat miserably wondering what was going to happen to her.

  While waiting outside the railway station, she had screwed up her courage and asked Malik for her passport.

  He turned and looked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time and didn’t like what he was seeing.

  ‘I keep it,’ he snapped and looked away.

  ‘But it’s mine!’ Vi cried with a sudden desperate flash of courage. ‘You can’t keep it! Give it to me!’

  Lintz turned to stare at her as Malik said in his flat, dead voice, ‘I keep it.’

  Vi bit her lip and moved away. She felt trapped, and again terror went through her, leaving her cold and shaking.

  ‘Here he is,’ Lintz said suddenly.

  Labrey came hurrying up the street to join them.

  ‘I lost my way,’ he said breathlessly, ignoring Vi. Tm sorry I’m late.’

  Malik drew him aside.

  ‘What has been happening?’

  ‘Girland is at the Alpenhoff Hotel,’ Labrey said. ‘He has hired a Mercedes. Right now he is in the hotel.’

  ‘Is there a hotel near his?’

  ‘Right opposite. I’ve booked us all in.’

  ‘Then we will go there now.’ Malik regarded Labrey. ‘You have done well.’

  Vi and Labrey got in the back of the Volkswagen and Malik and Lintz in the front. Vi put her hand on Labrey’s and looked beseechingly at him, but he snatched his hand away. He knew Malik could see them in the driving mirror and he was scared of Malik.

  It took only a few minutes to reach the Alpenhoff Hotel. The hotel opposite w
as more modest. Malik sent Lintz and Vi into the hotel and he and Labrey took a table on the sidewalk and ordered beer. From there they sat they could look directly into the Alpenhoff Hotel’s courtyard.

  They saw Count von Goltz leave in a silver-grey Rolls Royce. He meant nothing to them. Then ten minutes later they saw Girland, Gilly and Rosnold come out and get into Girland’s hired Mercedes and drive away.

  ‘Who is the woman?’Malik asked.

  ‘I haven’t seen her before.’

  Malik brooded, then he said, T want your girl’s wristwatch.’

  Labrey gaped at him.

  ‘Vi’s watch?’

  ‘Get it!’ the snap in Malik’s voice brought Labrey to his feet. He hurried into the hotel, up the stairs to Vi’s bedroom where he found her sitting on the bed, her head in her hands. She looked up as he came in and jumped to her feet.

  ‘He’s taken my passport!’ she said wildly. ‘You must get it back! Paul! I…’

  ‘Shut up! Give me your watch!’

  She shrank back, staring at him.

  ‘My watch… why?

  ‘Give it to me!’ Labrey’s thin face had that vicious expression that always frightened Vi. With shaking fingers she undid the gold-plated strap and handed him the watch.

  Snatching it from her, Labrey left the room and ran down to the street.

  ‘Here it is,’ he said, handing the watch to Malik.

  Malik examined it and his short, thick nose wrinkled.

  ‘It isn’t much but it will have to do. Wait here.’ He got to his feet and moved to the edge of the crowded sidewalk. He had to wait a few moments before there was a gap in the steady flow of traffic, then he crossed the street and walked into the Alpenhoff Hotel’s lobby.

  The reception clerk looked up from his work as Malik came to rest at the desk. He stood up and inclined his head politely.

  ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘A young lady left here a few minutes ago,’ Malik said in his fluent German.’ She was wearing a red trouser outfit. As she got into her car, she dropped this.’ He held up the watch. ‘I wish to return it to her.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. I will give it to her with pleasure.’

  Malik regarded the clerk with a suggestive smile.

  ‘I would like to give it to her myself. Who is she?’

  ‘Miss Gillian Sherman. I believe she has gone out to dinner, but she will be back some time tonight.’

  ‘Then I will return the watch tomorrow. Would you tell her I have found it?’

  ‘Certainly, but you should be here before ten o’clock tomorrow. Miss Sherman is leaving us.’ The clerk guessed this shabbily dressed giant was after a reward.

  ‘If I miss her, do you know where she is going?’

  ‘She will be staying at the Obermitten Schloss,’ the clerk told him. ‘Count von Goltz’s estate.’

  ‘Then I will be back before ten o’clock.’

  Malik walked across the lobby to the row of telephone kiosks. He put through a call to a Soviet agent in Munich. He learned the Obermitten Schloss was owned by Herman Radnitz. Malik knew all about Radnitz. He talked for some minutes to the agent, instructing him to call Kovski in Paris. The agent promised to call him back at the hotel as soon as he had made contact with Kovski. Malik left word with the hotel’s telephone operator where he could be found and went into the hotel lounge to wait. An hour later, his Munich call came through. He listened to the information he was given, grunted his thanks and hung up.

  Six

  It was after midnight when Girland returned to his hotel bedroom. It had been a good evening. The meal had been a little heavy, but excellent, and the restaurant, gay and amusing. Both Gillian and Rosnold had been good companions.

  If it hadn’t been for Dorey and his dreary assignment, Girland thought as he undressed, he would have thoroughly enjoyed the hours he had spent with these two, but mindful that he had to earn Sherman’s ten thousand dollars, he tried to switch his mind to the best approach to get the three films from Gillian.

  But full of good food and German wine, he couldn’t be bothered, and decided to concentrate on the problem in the morning. Tomorrow, the three of them would be at the count’s castle. There would certainly come an opportunity to talk to Gillian during their five days stay.

  Taking a shower, and then getting into bed, he reached for a cigarette and lit it. Gillian had made an impression on him.

  She was beautiful, gay, amusing and sensual. He found it hard to believe she had taken part in the film he had seen.

  Thinking about her, Girland came to the conclusion that he dug for her.

  Rosnold had also been amusing. Girland always kept an open mind about people. If this man made money by shooting pornographic films, this was no affair of his, Girland told himself. What he did for a living didn’t matter. This was Girland’s philosophy. It was the people themselves that were important, not what they did.

  While he was finishing his cigarette and thinking he would now sleep, the telephone bell at his side buzzed, startling him.

  He picked up the receiver. ‘Yes’

  ‘It’s me.’

  He recognised Gillian’s husky voice and immediately he became alert.

  ‘Hello… what do you want?’

  ‘I’m lonely.’

  ‘Funny thing… I seem to be lonely too.’

  ‘Shall we be lonely together?’

  ‘Then we wouldn’t be lonely, would we? Two people together can’t be lonely, can they?’

  ‘Some can.’

  There was a long pause while Girland stared up at the ceiling, trying to make up his mind if this was a good or a bad move.

  I am in Room 462. It’s at the end of your corridor,’ Gilly told him.

  ‘Do you like it at the end of the corridor?’

  Gilly giggled.

  ‘This is an invitation, stupid, not a geography lesson.’

  Girland decided this invitation was unwise. Gilly was Rosnold’s property. He didn’t believe in poaching.

  ‘It’s too far,’ he said firmly. ‘Go to sleep,’ and he replaced the receiver.

  He stubbed out his cigarette and relaxed back in bed. He didn’t have to wait long. The door eased open and Gilly slid into his room, closing the door softly after her.

  She had on a white robe to cover a shortie nightdress. Her slippers were pale-blue. She looked very attractive as she regarded him.

  ‘Hello there,’ Girland said, smiling at her. ‘As lonely as all that?’

  She came to the end of the bed and glared at him.

  ‘You are a pig!’ she exclaimed. ‘When you had my invitation, you should have come to me!’

  ‘I told you to go to sleep,’ Girland reminded her. ‘But since you don’t want to sleep, and since I don’t want to sleep, you’d better get in here before you catch cold.’

  He flicked aside the blanket and sheet and shifted over to m<,ke room for her.

  ‘If you imagine I intend to sleep with you now, you are making a great mistake. I came just to tell you that I think you’re a pig!’

  Girland flicked the blanket and sheet back into place.

  ‘That has now been recorded… I am a pig. Good night,’ and he reached for the bedside lamp and turned it off. The room was plunged into darkness.

  ‘Put that light on!’ Gilly said sharply. ‘How can I find my way out?’

  ‘Fall over the furniture. I want to go to sleep,’ Girland said out of the darkness. ‘Good night… I’ll see you in the morning.’

  She groped her way around the bed as Girland, grinning in the darkness, once more flicked back the blanket and sheet.

  There was a pause, then he heard the rustle of her clothes as they dropped to the floor.

  ‘I hate you,’ Gilly said, ‘but now I’m here, I will stay.’

  ‘I thought you might. It’s a drag to walk all that way down that long corridor.’ Girland reached out, his hands sliding around her naked back, pulling her down on him.

  He lay still with
her resting on him. She began to unbutton his pyjama jacket. His hands moved down her back and clasped her firm buttocks. She gave a long ecstatic sigh and her mouth found his.

  During his chequered career, Girland had known many women. The act of love to him was always a unique experience.

  Sometimes he was disappointed, sometimes he was satisfied, but this experience with Gilly was something he hadn’t experienced before.

  Later, they rested side by side, both breathless. Girland couldn’t remember a more exciting and exhausting episode.

  The moonlight came through the chinks in the shutters, making a pattern on the carpet. The sound of fast-moving cars came and went. Faintly he could hear swing music from the cafe opposite.

  Gilly touched his chest. She sighed.

  ‘I knew you had to be good, but I didn’t imagine you could be that good.’

  ‘ Sleep,’ Girland said. ‘No post mortems.’

  She curled up against him, one long leg across his legs, her face close to his, her warm, scented breath fanning his neck.

  They slept.

  The sunlight coming through the shutters brought Girland awake. He screwed up his eyes and then opened them as he yawned. Gilly lay by his side, beautiful in her abandoned nakedness. She breathed gently, her shell-pink nipples bathed in a streak of sunlight.

  Girland put his hand lightly on the apex of her thighs. She murmured something and turning to him, her eyes still closed, she slid her arms around him.

  This drowsy passion was less violent than before but more gentle and more satisfying. Once she cried out, her body stiffening, but then she became relaxed again, her breath quick and irregular. Again they slept.

  Later still, Girland woke, raised his head and looked at his strap watch. The time was twenty minutes after nine. He prodded Gilly gently.

  ‘Time you went to your room,’ he said. ‘It’s long after nine.’

  ‘Who cares?’ Gilly said drowsily, stretching her lovely body. ‘Kiss me.’

  But Girland was alive to the risk. He had no idea what time Rosnold got up. He didn’t want Rosnold to find Gilly’s bedroom empty. He slid out of bed and went into the bathroom. Before turning on the shower, he called. ‘Oh your way.

  I’ll see you downstairs in an hour.’