Whiff of Money Read online

  Girland said softly, ‘Hear that? The guard has gone to sleep.’

  ‘Oh… I thought you were alseep.’

  ‘ So I was, but I sleep lightly.’ She let him slide off the bed. He went to the door, eased it open and peered along the corridor. He saw the guard, sitting on the top stair, his head resting against the banister rail. From him was coming the gentle snoring sound.

  Girland closed the door and switched on his torch. He crossed to the high windows.

  ‘Come on, Gilly, we have work to do.’

  She scrambled off the bed and joined him.

  ‘Catch hold of these curtains and hold them together.’

  When she had a firm grip on the heavy, velvet curtains, he took hold of the thick green and gold rope that opened and shut the curtains and threw his weight on it. For a moment it held, then came away from its fastening and dropped to the floor. He did the same with the other side of the curtain. Then he moved to the second window. Within a few minutes he had eight metre lengths of heavy curtain cord on the floor: these he began to knot together.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Gilly asked as she held the flashlight so he could see.

  ‘Confusing the situation,’ Girland said. ‘When you’re in a spot, confusion is your best friend.’

  He opened one of the windows, unlatched the heavy wooden shutter and eased it back. Then he stepped out on to the balcony and looked down. There were no lights showing from any of the windows below. The light of the moon lit the vast expanse of lawn, and the distant forest was only visited by the outline of the tree tops.

  He began to lower the knotted rope down the side of the outer wall, keeping the rope well clear of any window or balcony. The end of the rope finally dangled above the balcony on the second floor.

  ‘We want two more curtain ropes,’ he said. ‘Wait here. I’ll get them.’

  ‘Let me come with you.’

  ‘Do what I tell you!’ Girland said curtly and moved to the door. He opened it, watched the sleeping guard for several moments, then slid out into the corridor. He entered the room next door. A few minutes later, he returned as silently as he had gone with two more lengths of cord. These he knotted to the end of the cord dangling from the window and then continued to lower the cord which now just reached the ground. He tied his end to the balcony rail and moved back into the room.

  ‘It might fool them,’ he said. ‘Even if it doesn’t, it will gain us time.’

  ‘Can’t we use those ropes? We could get out of here!’

  Girland shook his head.

  ‘I could, but you couldn’t, so we don’t go that way.’

  She caught hold of his hand.

  ‘Once we get free, I promise I’ll leave my father alone. I won’t ever bother him again… I promise.’

  ‘All right, but first we have to get out of here. Now, let’s get moving. Take your shoes off. I want to look at the other rooms. This one is too small’

  They both took off their shoes, then Girland opened the door and watched the sleeping guard, then led Gilly out into the corridor. Silently, they moved away from the head of the stairs, down the long dark corridor to the far end. At the end of the corridor, double, ornate doors faced them. Girland briefly used his flashlight.

  ‘Wait,’ he said softly.

  He went forward, listened against the door, turned a handle and eased the door open. He listened again, then put on the flashlight.

  The beam scarcely penetrated the vastness of the room which appeared to be a banqueting hall. For a brief moment, Girland was startled to see shadowy figures lining the walls. A further probe of his light showed him this was a vast hall full of armour, fitted to stands and the walls covered with medieval weapons. He wasn’t to know that in this room was one of the finest collections of Italian, German and English armour that Herman Radnitz had collected from all parts of Europe.

  He returned to where Gilly was waiting.

  ‘We have lots of company,’ he said. ‘Come on in. This looks as good a hiding-place as we can hope for.’

  As he entered, Girland gently closed the door.

  The guard at the head of the staircase continued to sleep.

  From his tree-top perch, Malik watched Girland come out on to the fifth floor balcony and lower the knotted curtain cord until it reached the second storey. He watched him lean over the balcony rail, look down and then move back out of sight. Malik guessed he was getting more cord.

  The bright light of the moon lit up the face of the Schloss and Malik found it unnecessary to use his night glasses. He eased his broad back against the trunk of the tree and waited. Girland returned and added two more lengths to the cord and then fastened his end to the balcony rail.

  So they were going to make a break, Malik thought. The climb down would be dangerous: with the girl, doubly dangerous. He continued to watch with interest.

  But nothing further happened. The wooden shutter remained half open; the balcony remained deserted. A half hour crawled by. Malik then decided that this length of rope was a red herring. He nodded his approval. He had come up against Girland several times and each time, his admiration for the way Girland handled a situation increased. So, after all, Girland had decided to remain in this enormous Schloss, but to give those who were hunting for him the hint that he and the girl had escaped into the forest. Malik approved of this plan.

  He remained astride the thick branch of the tree for another half hour. All the lights of the Schloss had long gone out. It would be when the sun came up behind the hills that the hunt would begin.

  He considered what he should do. Girland was in there on his own. The girl would be more a hindrance than a help.

  Malik remembered that moment when Girland could have had him shot, but instead, to Malik’s amazement, Girland had handed him back his gun, saying to the girl who had wanted to shoot him: ‘Don’t get worked up, baby. He and I just happen to be on the wrong side of the Curtain. Both of us are professionals… working in the same dirty racket. There comes a time when we can forget the little stinkers at the top who pull strings…’ (see ‘Have This One On Me’) Malik remembered this incident vividly. This, he knew was something he would never have said to a man he had in a hopeless trap. Girland’s words had made a tremendous impression on him. There comes a time when we can forget the little stinkers at the top who pull the strings…

  Malik thought of Kovski, plotting at his desk, his shabby suit food-stained, his energy and thoughts bent only on mischief… a little stinker… yes… Girland was right. But Girland, with this girl, was now trapped in the Schloss. Malik decided this was the moment to pay off his debt. He remembered a phrase that was drummed into him when he was learning English: One good turn deserves another. How often had he repeated this phrase while the gloomy, red-nosed teacher had corrected his pronunciation. This phrase was a cliche, but cliches often were true.

  He swung himself down from branch to branch until he dropped on to the moss and the dead leaves of the forest. Then he moved off, silently, like a big, dangerous cat, skirting the forest until he reached the edge of the lawn. Here, he paused and studied the face of the Schloss. His next move would be dangerous. Although there were no lights showing, he wasn’t to know if someone was watching. His thick fingers closed over the butt of the Mauser pistol. He drew the gun from its holster, then moving swiftly, he raced across the lawn and into the sheltering shadows of the Schloss. He paused at the foot of the steps leading to the terrace and waited. He heard nothing: no one shouted: no one raised an alarm.

  Satisfied, he climbed the steps and reached the terrace, then made his way quickly past the tables and the folded sun umbrellas to where the curtain cord was hanging. He put his gun back into its holster and took hold of the cord. He pulled at it with his immense strength. It held. He pulled again: again it held.

  Placing his feet against the face of the wall, he began a slow, steady walk up to the first balcony. Here he paused, gripping the balcony rail with his left hand, his feet wedged int
o the back of one of the dragon heads that decorated the wall. He listened and waited, then moved to the second balcony. The climb to him was easy. He was a man of tremendous strength and fitness. He was also nerveless. The thought that the rope might break and he would crash to his death meant nothing to him.

  By stages, he finally reached the fifth floor balcony, swung his legs over the rail and paused before the open shutter and the open window.

  He had come up silently, but he knew Girland had a highly developed sense of hearing. To walk into the black darkness of the room would be asking for trouble. He remained on the balcony, listening, but heard nothing. Girland could be near, out of sight, thinking one of the count’s men had come up by way of the rope.

  ‘Girland… this is Malik,’ Malik said in his guttural English. He pitched his voice softly. ‘Girland… this is Malik.’

  He waited. There was silence. Slowly, he moved forward, turning on his powerful flashlight. The white beam lit up some of the room. He stood in the doorway, sending the beam of the flashlight to the four-poster bed, then around the room. Satisfied the room was empty, he entered.

  He stood in the middle of the room. So Girland had arranged his red herring and had left the room. Malik nodded his approval. But where was he?

  Malik went silently to the door, eased it open and immediately stiffened when he saw a faint, flickering light in the corridor. He looked out, watched the sleeping guard for several moments, then moved silently into the corridor.

  Doors faced him. Somewhere on this floor, Malik reasoned, Girland, with the girl, was hiding. He hesitated. He had to be careful not to wake the sleeping guard. He couldn’t go from room to room, calling Girland. It would be unwise to enter any room, without first alerting Girland who he was. Finally, he decided to get as far away as he could from the sleeping guard and find himself a hiding-place.

  He moved silently down the corridor until he reached the double doors at the far end. He looked back, assured himself the guard was still sleeping, then eased open the door. Here he paused, listened, heard nothing, then he stepped, into the darkness of a vast banqueting hall.

  Eight

  The sun came up from behind the hills, first lighting the tops of the trees and then the turrets of the Schloss.

  Hans von Goltz had been shaven by his valet, and was now putting on a leather hunting jacket as he paced the vast floor of his bedroom. The shutters had been thrown open. The May air was sharp but pleasant. The first rays of the sun came into the room, lighting the tapestries on the walls and the splendid Persian carpet on the floor.

  His breakfast, on a wheel trolley, stood in a ribbon of sun. Silver covers kept the two dishes warm. Von Goltz considered breakfast the most important meal of the day. As soon as he had shrugged himself into his coat, he went to the trolley and lifted first one and then the other silver cover: scrambled eggs, done lightly with plenty of butter, surrounded a fillet of smoked haddock. Lambs’ kidneys with creamed potatoes in the second dish also pleased his eyes.

  He helped himself liberally and began his breakfast. While he was enjoying his kidneys,the fish demolished -there came a tap on the door. Frowning, he called to come in.

  Sandeuer bowed his way through the doorway.

  ‘Your Excellency… excuse me, please, but you should know there is a rope hanging from the fifth floor balcony.’

  Von Goltz shovelled another kidney, covered with potato into his mouth as he glared at Sandeuer. When he could finally speak, he said, ‘A rope? What do you mean?’

  ‘A curtain rope… if your Excellency would look… you will see for yourself Von Goltz got to his feet, snatching up a square of buttered toast and moved on to the balcony. He bit into the toast as he regarded the knotted curtain cord. Then he returned to the room.

  ‘Have you told Mr Silk?’

  ‘No, your Excellency.’

  ‘Then tell him. Ask him to come here immediately.’

  Sandeuer bowed and withdrew.

  Realising his breakfast was about to be interrupted, von Goltz proceeded to bolt down the remaining kidneys. Then buttering more toast, he spread the toast heavily with cherry jam and began to eat so rapidly he nearly choked himself.

  He was still munching when his door swung open and Lu Silk came in.

  Silk was wearing a black shirt, black cotton trousers and black shoes. Von Goltz thought he looked like the impersonation of death. Silk paused in the doorway and stared at von Goltz with his cold, single eye.

  ‘You have seen the rope?’ von Goltz asked, gulping down the last of his toast.

  ‘Oh, sure.’ Silk moved into the room. ‘I saw it half an hour ago.’

  ‘So you were right! They were here last night, and now they have escaped into the forest.’

  ‘Could be.’ Silk sat down and lit a cigarette. ‘It’s light enough now. You had better get the search organised.’

  Von Goltz moved around the room. His hurried breakfast had given him indigestion. He wished he hadn’t eaten so quickly.

  ‘As they are in the forest, there is no point wasting time searching here.’

  ‘Go ahead,’ Silk said, letting smoke drift down his nostrils.

  Von Goltz stalked to the door, opened it and found Sandeuer waiting in the corridor.

  ‘Begin the search,’ he snapped. ‘They are somewhere in the forest. Bring them back here. I don’t have to tell you what to do. Find them!’

  ‘Yes, Excellency,’ Sandeuer said, but as he was about to leave Silk appeared behind von Goltz.

  ‘Wait.’ Silk put his hand on von Goltz’s arm and drew him back into the room. He shut the door. ‘I have an idea. I want you to go with your men. I want everyone out of here and into the forest.’

  Von Goltz stared at him.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Silk stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the breakfast trolley.

  ‘I think they are still here,’ he said. ‘The quickest way to find them is for them to think everyone here is searching the forest.’

  ‘Still here?’

  ‘Why not?’ There was an impatient note in Silk’s voice. ‘Have you looked at the rope? A man could get down it, but no woman could. As we have already sealed off each landing, they will be up on the fifth floor. I take it there is no other way down from the fifth floor except by the main staircase.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘So they are still up there.’

  Von Goltz rubbed the back of his neck while he thought. ‘Then I will send my men to the fifth floor and we will get them,’ he said finally. ‘Why waste time searching the forest?’ Silk smiled: it was an evil smile that made von Goltz flinch. ‘We won’t be wasting time… we will be taking precautions.’ Tin afraid I don’t understand. If you are so sure they are on the fifth floor, then with enough men, we will have them.’

  ‘And then what?’

  The two men looked at each other.

  ‘I still don’t understand,’ von Goltz said after a long pause. ‘You have a staff of forty men… perhaps more?’

  ‘The staff is thirty-eight men and five women. What does that have to do with it?’

  “I want all your men out in the forest,’ Silk said, lighting another cigarette. ‘The women must also leave. I want this place completely evacuated.’ His thin, cruel face was expressionless. ‘What the eye doesn’t see, a Judge doesn’t know about.’

  ‘What do you intend to do?’

  ‘Get rid of Girland. We will keep the girl until the films arrive. It is possible Rosnold was lying. When we have the films, then I will get rid of her.’

  ‘You mean you intend to stay here completely on your own?’ von Goltz asked uneasily. ‘Is that wise? We have been warned about Girland.’

  Silk sneered.

  ‘He is unarmed, I can handle him. All I have to do, once the place is evacuated, is to wait, out of sight. He needs two things: food and the possible use of a telephone. For both these, he has to come down the stairs. I’ll be waiting for him.’
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br />   ‘Are you sure you shouldn’t have two or three of my men with you?’

  Silk studied von Goltz.

  ‘Can you guarantee none of them would talk later?’

  Von Goltz saw the point.

  ‘I see… there is always that risk. When you have got rid of Girland… what do you do with him?’

  ‘With the body?’ Silk smiled. ‘I have been studying the interesting plan of the Schloss you lent me. Is there water in the well in the rear courtyard?’

  ‘Yes… it is never used, but there is quite a lot of water.’

  ‘Well then, what better place? The girl, once we have the films, can go the same way.’

  Von Goltz felt a little sick. He wiped his sweating hands on his handkerchief. The casual, cold-blooded way this man talked shocked him.

  ‘Well… I—I will leave it to you.’

  ‘How will you get rid of your women staff?’

  Von Goltz hesitated while he thought.

  ‘There is a fair on at Garmisch. I’ll send them there.’

  Silk nodded.

  ‘Then let’s get started. First, get rid of the women.’ Von Goltz looked at his watch.

  ‘It’s not eight-thirty yet. This will take time. You know what women are.’

  ‘Then get your men into the forest. Let’s start something!’ Silk said impatiently.

  Von Goltz went into the corridor to give his orders to Sandeuer.

  When Sandeuer heard that the women staff were to be taken to the fair at Garmisch, he gaped at von Goltz. ’But your lunch, Excellency… the rooms are yet to be done.’

  Von Goltz waved him away.

  ‘Never mind! I want everyone out of here. Arrange it and arrange it quickly!’

  Because he knew better than to argue with his master, Sandeuer hurried away to obey his orders.