Heathersleigh Homecoming (45 page)

 92 
Frantic New Message

By now Lieutenant Langham had reached the bottom of the lighthouse, entered the small door to the tower, and had begun running up the steep, winding stairway to the top. He was followed by three uniformed soldiers.

Whoever was up there sending those signals, thought Langham, they could not escape now. There was only one way down, and he had it blocked.

Out at sea, a frantic new message was just coming in as the
Admiral Uelzen
, having deposited its three passengers, was now speeding toward the last coordinates it had been given. But even as it ploughed through the waters off the English coastline, periscope officer Ubel continued to watch for any final signals from the lighthouse as it receded behind them.

“Captain!” he suddenly shouted. “Captain Dietz . . . a new message is coming through.”

“What do you mean, Corporal—
new
?” said the captain, turning toward him. “I thought we were through here.”

“I'm . . . just taking it down now,” replied Ubel.

A brief pause followed. The captain waited.

“It says they are being raided, sir,” said the corporal. “We're . . . being asked to stand by to take aboard—”

He paused.

“Go on, Corporal.”

“It's broken off for now, sir.”

 93 
Hostage

Amanda turned her gaze away from Hartwell Barclay and back toward Ramsay.

“At last I am awake, Ramsay Halifax,” she said. “It may have taken me longer than it should have, but I have finally come to my senses. I see what I should have seen in the beginning, what you and your mother and all of you truly are.”

As she spoke, Ramsay's eyes glowed with a wrath as red as Hartwell Barclay's neck.

Amanda turned to address the First Lord of the Admiralty, who had remained standing silently along with the rest of the men, not knowing what to do other than listen to the drama being played out before them.

“I am sorry, sir,” she said. “Technically what he says is correct. Mr. Halifax and I were married in Vienna last September in a hastily arranged civil ceremony. All I can say is that I was not myself. To say that I was brainwashed is the closest thing I can think to call it. But that really has nothing to do with everything else I have told you—about them and the Fountain of Light—which is entirely true. I don't know how to respond to all he said about me. Yes, I was confused—but not in the way he represents. It was my confusion that made me trust them, when now I see that they are the most untrustworthy people I have ever known. These people are spies against England.”

Still temporarily baffled by the sudden turn of events, and not quite knowing where to place the fact that Sir Charles' daughter was the wife of one of the apparent ringleaders of this network, Churchill continued silent a moment longer trying to sort through his options.

Sensing his opportunity, Ramsay suddenly lunged for Amanda, grabbed her about the shoulders, and pulled her quickly to him. The same instant his Luger was in his hand. She was tightly in his grip
before anyone could react, gun pressed into her temple. She started to cry out, but a jab from Ramsay's gun silenced her.

“You fool!” seethed Barclay to Ramsay. “What are you—”

“Shut up, Barclay,” spat Ramsay, then turned toward the others.

“It does not appear,” he said, “that you intend to believe me over this lying vixen. That being the case, I will just make my exit here . . . and I will take my
wife
with me.”

“You absolute imbecile!” said Barclay. “Couldn't you see that—”

But by now Ramsay was backing away and toward the door. Scarlino, Wolfrik, and the other two were on their feet the same instant, those who had them with guns drawn, and easing toward the door. Realizing Ramsay's foolhardy ploy had undone any chance of talking their way out of this, Barclay said nothing more. He now slowly moved to join the others.

A dozen rifles and pistols slowly followed their movements.

“Hold your fire!” shouted Churchill, still not sure what to make of it, but certainly not willing to risk Amanda's life. “No one gets killed here. Otherwise we will never get to the bottom of this.”

The moment they were clear of the door, the five sprinted for the bluff up which the three recent arrivals had come less than thirty minutes earlier. With difficulty, for she was resisting his every step, Ramsay dragged Amanda after them.

In the house, Colonel Forsythe suddenly came to his senses.

“After them!” he cried.

“That fellow Barclay was with the Secret Service, I can vouch for that,” said Whyte as he and Churchill dashed for the door. “As for the rest, I don't know what to make of it.”

“No gunfire until we sort this thing out,” Churchill ordered when they were outside and saw the getaway taking place in front of them. “Sir Charles' daughter must not be harmed.”

The figures neared the bluff. A puffing Doyle McCrogher was just climbing to the top of the plateau after securing his dinghy when Barclay reached him.

“Back, McCrogher!” cried Barclay.

“What the—” began the bewildered Irishman.

“Get down there—we're casting off immediately!”

 94 
Lights Out

Above in the lighthouse, Chalmondley Beauchamp frantically flashed one last message out to sea.

He knew it was over. They would hang him, shoot him, or imprison him for life for treason. Below he now heard the clanking echo of footsteps running up the stairs.

Frantically he repeated his final communication to the
Admiral Uelzen
. Maybe some of those below could get away.

Then he would do what he had to do.

“If they are in trouble, we have to turn around,” shouted Captain Dietz to his crew in the German submarine. “They may need to get away. We've got to pick up whoever makes it out of there.”

“What about the English cruiser?” asked his second in command.

“The other vessels can take care of it,” replied Captain Dietz. “Colonel Wolfrik's mission is vital and must not be compromised. We have to rescue him if possible. If we are delayed, the other U-boats have the coordinates.”

“I have a further message coming in now, Captain,” yelled Corporal Ubel—“ . . . stand by . . . prepare to take aboard survivors . . . major raid appears—”

He stopped.

“What is it, Corporal?”

“I'm looking, sir,” he replied, still peering through the lenses of the periscope, “but there's no more—the lighthouse just went black. This time it looks like for good.”

“That must be it, then. They must have got to him,” said Captain Dietz. “Full speed astern!”

 95 
Face-Off

Ramsay and Amanda reached the bluff. Amanda was squirming with all the strength she had. But Ramsay was holding her tight. She was pressed too close to his body for those following to get a clean shot at Ramsay.

“I don't know what you're thinking, Ramsay,” panted Amanda indignantly. “But I will never—ouch! Stop that!—I will never go back with you! You'll have to kill me first.”

“You
are
coming with me, Amanda, you little weasel,” Ramsay snarled angrily in her ear. “You've caused me a great deal of trouble.”

“You may have frightened me before, Ramsay. But my days of running—especially from you—are over.”

“We are married, remember,
my dear
!” He yanked at her arm in a twisting motion. Another cry of pain escaped her lips.

“You tricked me and used me,” Amanda shot back, “not to mention were unfaithful to me within two weeks of our marriage. I don't know what will become of me, but I have no intention of returning to Vienna, or anyplace else with you. Besides, haven't you forgotten what Mr. Barclay said to you in Paris, that you should think of yourself as a widower now?”

The reminder that she had spied on him in the hotel, and gotten the best of him, enraged Ramsay anew. He jammed the gun against her head again to remind her of the threat, then slowed to take the first step down the pathway toward the sea. But with the unsteady footing, Amanda felt the grasp of his arm around her waist momentarily relax. A sudden sharp jab of her elbow into his stomach followed.

“Ow—Amanda, you little—!”

But she had lurched free. She gave him a quick shove, then scrambled up onto the firm footing of the grass. Ramsay stumbled briefly but quickly righted himself and ran back after her.

“Amanda . . . stop!” he cried. “Don't make me shoot!”

She paused. In front of her the soldiers and agents stopped in their tracks. Amanda slowly turned and stood facing Ramsay at a distance of about ten yards. He raised his Luger until its barrel was pointed straight toward her face.

The hint of a smile came to the edges of Amanda's lips. She continued to stand unmoving, looking Ramsay steadily in the eye without so much as the flinch of an eyelash. It was clear from her expression that she was not afraid. Their eyes held. In that moment Ramsay knew he was beaten, and that he would never be able to dominate her again.

“You won't shoot me, Ramsay,” said Amanda calmly. “I'm not sure I know you, or ever did. But I do know that you're not going to pull that trigger.”

Slowly she turned again and calmly walked toward the waiting agents, leaving Ramsay staring at the back of her head along the barrel of his gun.

“Shoot her, Halifax!” cried Barclay from below, but the contest was over, and Amanda had emerged the victor. Only a moment more Ramsay stood. The next instant he was over the bluff and running down the path toward the water's edge.

Scarlino, Wolfrik, and the others had already scrambled into the dinghy, with Barclay close behind, and were pushing off.

“After them!” shouted Churchill the moment Ramsay disappeared from view.

But the sound of his command was suddenly drowned out by a horrific scream that filled the morning air.

The soldiers and agents stopped and turned toward the sound. They were just in time to see the body of former M.P. Chalmondley Beauchamp flailing helplessly through the air from the top of the lighthouse.