Return to Vienna (22 page)

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?”