The Forbidden Territory (13 page)

Simon inclined his head gravely, more than happy to have secured so much assistance. “When can we go?” he asked.

“I must speak to the chief Rabbi. If he consents we may leave here at once.”

When he had gone Simon translated the conversation to De Richleau, who had woken stiff, but much refreshed.

“I fear we have undertaken a difficult task,” De Richleau shook his head, despondently. “How are we to plot an escape for a prisoner, which may take days of careful organisation, when we are suspects ourselves? However, we can only trust our luck will hold, we’ve been very fortunate so far.”

After a little while the Rabbi returned. “It is well,” he said. “The Rabbi consents. Let us go.”

Simon pulled on his furs, and followed the Rabbi through the great wooden door into the narrow street.

They walked quickly and silently—the cold was piercing. Their way lay through the twisting streets of the old town, and at last they came to a high wall surrounding a number of bleak, two-storeyed stone buildings. The great gates in the wall stood wide open. One heavily
bearded man, wrapped in a great top coat, sat in a little watch-house, warming his feet at an open brazier. He nodded to the Rabbi, and they walked through into the courtyard. A very different business, Simon thought, to the regulations which he had encountered when he had had occasion to enter Brixton Prison on account of Richard Eaton.

Several men were playing a game of volley-ball in the courtyard, but Simon saw that Rex was not among them. They entered a long, low room in one of the buildings. Most of the occupants seemed to be asleep.

The place was furnished only with trestle tables, hard benches, and the usual big porcelain stove. The floor looked as though it had not been swept for weeks.

Simon’s sharp eyes travelled backwards and forwards, while the Rabbi spoke to one or two of the prisoners, evidently men of the Jewish race, but there was no sign of the big American.

They left the building, and entered a hall in the second block; it was furnished in the same way, and was identical in size with the first. No warders were in evidence, and it seemed that the prisoners were allowed to move freely in and out just as they liked. Here also the majority of the occupants were sleeping or talking quietly together—still no sign of Rex.

In the common-room of the third block, a similar scene met Simon’s eyes; filth, discomfort, lassitude, but no attempt at any ordered control. It was in the third building that he noticed a curious thing—none of the men wore boots! Instead, they had list slippers. He was just pondering over this when his attention was attracted by a small group squatting on the floor in the corner. Two little Yakuts, with merry faces and long Mongolian eyes, sat with their backs to the wall; before them, facing away from Simon, was a fat, bald-headed man, and a broad, strapping fellow, of unusual height, with powerful shoulders.

The bald man shook a small box that rattled, and it was evident that the four were engaged in a primitive form of dice.

Simon looked again at the colossal back of the young giant. “Could it be? If it was—gone were the dark, wavy curls—this man’s head was close cropped. Suddenly, in a loud voice, he spoke: “Come on, digger—spill the beans!”

Then Simon knew that the first part of their mission was accomplished. In this sordid Siberian prison, he had run to earth that most popular figure among the younger generation of society from Long Island to Juan les Pins—Mr. Rex Mackintosh Van Ryn.

Simon was in quandary—he could not see any guards, but did not know if it was better to go up and speak to Rex, or wait till the latter saw him; either way there seemed to be the risk that Rex might give the show away in his surprise. The problem was solved by the American turning round, and Simon saw that he had been recognised. Rex kept his head—he did not stand up at once, he played two more rounds of dice, and then, getting lazily to his feet, strolled out of the room.

Simon followed him slowly—he found Van Ryn eagerly waiting for him round the corner of the building, none of the other prisoners was in sight.

“Say, boy!” Rex exclaimed, seizing his shoulders in an almost painful grip. “If this isn’t just marvellous. I’ll tell the world, I never thought to see you in this Godforsaken quarter of the globe.”

Simon grinned, delighted. “See too much of me if you’re not careful—I’ll be in there playing dice with you.”

“How in heck d’you make this place?”

“Two trains and a stolen sleigh,” Simon chuckled.

“Good for you! The Duke’ll have got my chit, I guess.”

“Yes, he’s here, too—in the local synagogue!”

“Holy smoke!” Rex shook with silent laughter. “What perfect hide-out. No one will go looking for the big thief there!”

“Oh, he’s all right for the moment—but how are we going to get you out, now that we are here?”

Van Ryn laughed, showing his white, even teeth. “That’s easy,” he said casually. “I’ll walk!”

“Aren’t there guards and warders?”

“Not so’s you’d notice them. They’ve got peculiar ideas about prisons in this city. It’s got Sing-Sing beat to a frazzle! No one tries escaping, ’cause they can’t get anywhere—no money, and no boots, that’s the bars they use in this burg; that, and one spy in each block to let them have the low-down about any little plans to frame a get-away.”

“But lots of the prisoners must have friends in the town—surely they could get out first and get help later?”

“That’s where you’re all wrong. Not a man in this prison was raised in Tobolsk. The local crooks get put on rail for a lock-up a thousand miles away—so what could a fella do, anyway, with no friends, no boots, no money, and a couple of hundred miles of snow between him and the next town?”

“You can get out, then, if we can get you away afterwards?”

“I certainly can! About five o’clock’ll be the best time.”

“How—er—will you manage?” Simon asked, a little doubtfully.

“Get a pal to have a yarn with the man on the gate—it’ll be near dusk—I’ll be able to slip through all right—the rest of the guard sleep most of the day. They start in rounding us up for the night about six, locking us in our own blocks and doing a sort of inspection round.”

“They will miss you at once then? That’s a pity.”

“We’ll be unlucky if they do. The inspection they have in this place would give the Governor of Dartmoor fits. I’ll leave a bundle of stuff in my bunk. Ten to one they’ll never realise it isn’t me!”

“Where will you go when you get outside?”

“Down to the north-west corner of the prison wall. That’s to the right going out of the gate, get me? And for the Lord’s sake don’t forget to bring me boots—if
you do my toes’ll drop off under the hour in this cold. Say, Simon, you haven’t by chance got any food on you, have you? I’m that hungry I’d pinch peanuts off a blind man’s monkey.”

Simon searched his pockets and found a decrepit bar of chocolate. He proffered it dubiously.

“Thanks!” Rex seized and bit into it ravenously. “My, that’s good and no mistake. I guess I’d eat ten dollars’ worth if you’d got it. Now tell me about the Duke.”

“He drove the sleigh for seventeen hours yesterday. He was about all in last night.”

“Did he though? At his age! I’ll say he’s the greatest man in Europe, is our Duke, and you’re a close second, Simon!”

“Don’t be silly—I’ve done nothing.”

“Honest, I mean it.” Rex patted Simon’s arm affectionately. “I don’t know two other guys who’d risk getting into this place to get another fella out. I was never so glad of anything in my life as when I saw your ugly mug just now,” Rex grimaced. “Another month or so of this and I’d have had to wring the neck of one of these fool guards, just to make life more interesting.”

Simon chuckled. “Wouldn’t have been much good our coming if you had!”

“No. I reckon it would have been a free
ad.
in the wrong end of the hatched, matched, and dispatched column of the
New York Times
for this child. Still, praises be you’ve come. I guess we’d better separate now.”

“Yes. I’ll get back. We’ll be waiting for you at five.”

“Sure—” Van Ryn moved away with a last grin. “See-yer-later, Simon—round about cocktail time!”

Simon rejoined the Rabbi. They visited three more of the barracks and then left the prison. Simon’s heart was high with the good news that he was bringing to the Duke. True, Rex was lean and cadaverous now, but well and cheerful.

The Duke, meanwhile, had been exercising his stiff limbs. The long drive from Turinsk had been a great strain on him. He thought, ruefully, of his marble bathroom at Curzon Street, and the gentle ministrations of the excellent Max, but not for long. If it had been his habit in recent years to spend much of his time idling in the pleasant places of the earth, he had, during his earlier life, been soldier, hunter, and explorer, and the experiences of those strenuous days stood him in good stead now. At one period he had had a Japanese manservant, from whom he had learnt many things about the human body. Among them was the secret of certain exercises, which relaxed the muscles and relieved their strain. He ceased therefore to think of Lubin’s bath essence, and applied himself to these continual and gentle evolutions, much to the astonishment of the morning gathering of students in the school of the synagogue.

On Simon’s return the two retired to a quiet corner, and began to make their plans.

The sleigh seemed to be their only means of escape, and very glad they were that they had not abandoned it the previous night.

The man who owned it would have notified the police at Turinsk of the theft, but, fortunately, the story which the Duke had told of his dying wife in Sverdlovsk, had also been told to the innkeeper at Turinsk, therefore it was to be hoped that the main hunt would take that direction. In any case, even if the police in Tobolsk were on the look-out, it seemed hardly likely that the people at the farm would have been questioned, for the farm was three miles from the centre of the town. With any luck they might secure possession of it again without difficulty.

The next question was—should they attempt to get hold of it before or after Rex had made his escape? If there was going to be trouble with the farm people, it would be a help to have him with them—on the other hand it meant delay. It was an hour’s trudge from the prison to the farm, and if Rex’s disappearance was
discovered at the six o’clock inspection, the alarm would be raised before they could get a decent start, and mounted patrols scouring the country in all directions.

If the farm people were questioned afterwards, and Rex had been with them, the police would immediately connect the escaped prisoner with the stolen sleigh. It was far better that these events should remain unconnected in their minds. Simon and the Duke decided to attempt to retrieve the sleigh early that afternoon.

Then the problem arose—which road should they take? They would have liked to have gone to the west, back into Russia, but to do that was to run right into the centre of the hue and cry for the stolen sleigh at Turinsk. The route to the east led farther into unknown Siberia. They would be placing an even greater distance between themselves and the Embassies, which were their only hope of protection. The choice, then, lay between the north and the south. The former, with its vast impenetrable forests, was uninviting in the extreme; whereas to the south, some hundred and fifty miles away, was the Trans-Siberian Railway—their only link with civilisation. But, they agreed, that was the direction in which the escaped American would be most keenly sought. The authorities would reason that he would try and reach the line and jump a goods train. Finally they agreed that they would make due north. In that direction, at least, there was good cover. If they could get a start it should not be difficult to evade their pursuers in the depths of those trackless woods. Later, if they were successful in throwing off the pursuit, they would veer west, and try to recross the Urals into Russia.

Having come to these important decisions, they discussed the question of boots with the friendly Rabbi. To procure these seemed a difficulty—boots had been scarce in Tobolsk for years—new ones were an impossibility. These could only be obtained from the State Co-operative, if in stock, but, in any case, a permit
was necessary. Possibly a second-hand pair could be bought in the market—that seemed to be the only chance. The Rabbi agreed to go out for them, and see what he could do. Simon explained to him that the boots must be of the largest size if they were to be of any use at all.

After half an hour he returned. No boots were to be had, but he brought a pair of peasant’s sandals—great weighty things, with wooden soles an inch and a half thick, and strong leather thongs.

He explained that if plenty of bandages were wrapped round the feet and legs of the wearer, they would prove serviceable and not too uncomfortable, so with these they had to be content.

At a little after three they left the synagogue with many expressions of gratitude to the kind Rabbi who had proved such a friend in need. There could be no question of payment for food and shelter, but Simon pressed a liberal donation on him for his poor.

Following the Rabbi’s instructions, they avoided the centre of the town, and were soon in the suburbs. Fortunately their road lay within a quarter of a mile of the prison, and they could see its high walls in the distance, so they would have no difficulty in finding it on their return. The cold was intense, and a bitter wind blew across the open spaces. It seemed more like six miles than three, but they trudged on in silence, their heads well down.

At last they reached the farmhouse—it looked dreary and deserted under its mantle of snow—no other buildings or trees were near it, so they had no reason to fear an ambush of red guards or police, unless they were concealed in the house or barns.

At the door the fat woman met them once more. She was wreathed in smiles—evidently the lavish payment for the stabling of the horses had won her heart. She was ignorant and avaricious, close to the soil—a peasant yet a landowner;
bourgeois
in sympathy, yet hating the people of the towns except for what could be got out of them. The youth was summoned and
De Richleau asked for the horses and
troika
as soon as they could be harnessed. The lad ran willingly to obey. His quick eyes travelled over Simon and the Duke, as he brought the horses from the stable.