Codeword Golden Fleece (39 page)

‘It is regrettable,’ said the Duke sarcastically, ‘that we should have been the cause of interfering with such a distinguished career. Perhaps, though, your absence from the front resulted in quite a few less of those unfortunate Poles being murdered.’

‘My career does not matter,’ von Geisenheim replied quietly. ‘But the success of the German Armies does. It is the only thing which stands today between the world and Bolshevism. As for the Poles, they are a stupid, pigheaded lot, and since they would not co-operate with us, what does it matter if a few thousands more or less of them get killed?’

‘Really!’ exclaimed de Richleau. ‘I do wish we had a professional psychologist with us. It would interest me greatly to hear
his report upon a brain which shows such callous indifference to suffering as yours. How can you be quite so inhuman when you have every reason to fear that we are taking you to your own death?’

The General shrugged. ‘It is just that which makes me speak so frankly. If you don’t kill me the loss of the paper that you mean to take from me will probably result in my having to face a firing squad when I get back to Berlin. As I now regard my days as numbered I am taking the opportunity of trying to make you face the wider issues that lie behind the present conflict. You have influence with your people. If you succeed in getting home, for God’s sake tell them to ignore this mountebanke Hitler for another year or two, and line up with us Germans to save all that we value in this world from being trodden underfoot by the Bolshevik scum.’

The car had been speeding along at a good pace, first through streets of houses, then through a less built-up area. It was now on the edge of the open country, and, slowing down, Rex turned it into a narrow lane between two orchards. Having run along the lane for a hundred yards, he brought the car to a stop.

‘
Herr General,
’ said de Richleau seriously, as the car halted, ‘I am afraid that tonight you have failed in both your missions. May I have the key to that brief-case which is still attached to your wrist?’

‘So be it.’ Von Geisenheim thrust his free hand into his breast pocket. ‘It is quite pointless for me to make a fight; and, after all, the
Stabscorps
still has some power where the protection of its own Generals is concerned. This may mean no more than retirement for a few months. If so, I may yet be able to play a hand against you pig-headed British in the war.’

‘You seem to have gained a sudden confidence in the belief that we do not mean to kill you. Perhaps it would be better if we did.’

‘No. You would shoot me if I put up a fight, but you would not murder me unarmed as I am. I congratulate you, Duke, on your triumph. Here is the key to—
Sieg Heil!
’

At the end of the sentence the German raised his voice to a sudden shout. On his cry of ‘
Sieg Heil!
’ he whipped from his pocket, not the key of the brief-case, but a small flat, snub-nosed automatic. In one swift movement he had it levelled straight at the Duke’s heart.

During the first few minutes of their drive de Richleau had
kept his pistol pointed at von Geisenheim’s head, but in a moving car it is not easy to keep an upraised arm steady, so for the latter part of the journey he had let the pistol rest on his knees. He was still holding it there. Only a flick of his wrist was needed to jerk the barrel round and send a bullet into the General, but before he even had time to flick his wrist the General might now send a bullet into him.

For once the Duke had made the fatal error of underrating his opponent, and it looked as if his carelessness was going to cost him his life. During the split second that he stared down the small deadly muzzle of von Geisenheim’s little pistol he was bitterly conscious of how easily he had let himself be tricked.

They never knew if it had been the German’s intention to kill the Duke first and take his chance with the other two afterwards or if he meant to attempt to barter de Richleau’s life for his own freedom.

The pistol flashed, making, small as it was, an ear-splitting crash in the confined space of the car. But whether he deliberately squeezed the trigger, or the gun went off because his hand was jolted, remained uncertain.

Throughout the German’s conversation with the Duke, Simon had sat quietly in his corner, a cynical and watchful listener. All his native suspicion had been instantly roused on seeing von Geisenheim’s hand go to his pocket. The General and the Duke were so engrossed with each other that neither of them saw him lift his own pistol; but as the German’s hand left his coat Simon’s weapon swung in a swift, vicious back-hander, crashing sideways against their enemy’s face.

As the spurt of flame issued from the pistol-barrel de Richleau flung himself sideways. The bullet streaked over his shoulder and crashed through the glass screen of the car just where Rex’s head had been a moment earlier.

Before von Geisenheim could fire again Simon had flung himself upon him and brought his gun smashing down, once, twice, thrice, on the German’s head.

A muffled cry came from outside, but it was drowned in the thudding of the blows, and none of those inside the car heard it.

‘Phew!’ whistled the Duke, as he picked himself up from off the unconscious Attaché. ‘That was a near one. Thanks, Simon, you can let him be now. What a lesson not to talk politics with old friends.’

‘Let me finish him off,’ Simon panted, lifting his arm again.

‘No!’ De Richleau caught the raised arm swiftly. ‘You have had your cut at him now. So has Rex. If he recovers from those head wounds, and Hitler spares him, we may come across him again. And he is my meat next time.’

Von Geisenheim was now slumped in his corner. He had dropped his little automatic; blood was streaming from his nose and trickling through the grey hair in two places on his scalp. It looked as if it would be a long time before he was capable of making further trouble for anyone.

As Simon picked up the brief-case again and the Duke leaned forward to search von Geisenheim for its key the car door was pulled open, and Rex said angrily:

‘What in thunder’s been going on in here? Couldn’t the two of you take care of one old hoodlum? That bullet landed up in my arm.’

‘My fault,’ said the Duke contritely, as he stopped his searching and got out. ‘I’m sorry, Rex. I slipped up badly and I’m lucky not to have been killed myself.’

Rex peered at the neat bullet-hole through the glass screen. ‘So am I, from the look of that. I was wriggling out from behind the wheel and it got me through the flesh just above the elbow.’

Blood was running from a jagged tear in his caftan. They got it off, slit his shirt-sleeve and examined the wound by the light of the car lamps. Fortunately the bone was not broken and the small slug had gone clean through the flesh, but on straightening his arm Rex gave a quick yelp of pain. There was no clean water readily available to bathe the wound, so they cut off the shirtsleeve at the shoulder and bandaged it up with that; then they used a silk muffler that the Attache had been wearing, to make a sling.

Having attended to Rex, the other two resumed their search for the key of the brief-case and soon found it in von Geisenheim’s waistcoat pocket. On undoing the case the Golden Fleece proved to be the only paper in it. A quick examination showed that the four sheets of stiff typescript were just as they had last seen them, except that Armand Calinesco’s signature had been added below Teleuesco’s. The place for the name of the party to whom the option was assigned still remained to be filled in.

Folding the sheets into a small square wad, de Richleau thrust them into his breast pocket and said:

‘The delay caused by that couple and the policeman has blown
our original plan sky-high. What is the best thing for us to do now?’

Simon knew that he must still be pretty shaken from his recent narrow escape even to ask, so he stepped into the breach.

‘Got to get the “Fleece” to the Legation before half Bucharest is after us. Better dump the two Boches here and drive straight back in the car.’

‘This car’s too hot,’ Rex disagreed. ‘That cop may have seen you all kicking around inside it as I drove off. If so, the night squads will be out looking for it already.’

‘Let’s drive back part of the way then, and try to pick up the Chrysler. We’ll need that to get over the frontier in.’

‘Sure, if it’s still there. It’ll be okay if the cop didn’t see anything, but if he did he’ll have looked inside it and found the Germans’ chauffeur.’

‘It’s not far from Teleuescu’s to the Legation. Well worth going there just to see if it’s still possible to get hold of the Chrysler.’

‘Let’s get going then. Haul out those two stiffs.’

Between them Simon and the Duke dragged the two unconscious Germans out of the car and propped them up with their backs against a nearby fence. It was certain that von Geisenheim would be out for a long time, but they were not so sure about the fat Attaché. He was jerking slightly and breathing stertorously, so it looked as if he might come round fairly soon. It was still possible that no alarm had yet been raised, and they did not want him to start a hue-and-cry earlier than could be avoided, so they tied his hands and feet with some wire that they found in the boot of the car and stuffed his handkerchief in his mouth.

Simon took the wheel of the car and, when the other two had got inside, backed it out of the lane. Turning it there, he drove at a moderate pace back towards the part of the Chaussée Kisseleff in which its biggest private houses were situated; but when he was within half a mile of the Boulevard he turned the car into a dark
cul de sac
, and they all got out.

Ten minutes’ swift walking brought them to the wide tree-lined thoroughfare and another five to a long blank wall, above which branches rustled lightly in the wind, opposite Teleuescu’s mansion. The Chrysler was no longer outside it.

‘Keep walking,’ whispered the Duke. ‘It’s a hundred to one that there are police in the shadows over there waiting to see if we come back.’

When they had covered another hundred yards he said: ‘Leaving their chauffeur behind was fatal. He will have described us to the police and to his own people half an hour ago. By this time the Germans will have got the Iron Guard to warn their picket on the British Legation and increase its strength. They will probably have reinforced the picket on the American Legation too, in order to prevent Rex getting the “Fleece” to Sir Reginald by way of his own Minister; and by now I expect our description is being circulated. We had better separate. Rex is the most conspicuous of us. His height and breadth are such a give-away. Besides, that wound must be washed as soon as possible. I think you had better get back to the Peppercorn, Rex, while Simon and I see if there is any chance at all of getting into the British Legation.’

‘That’s sound,’ Rex agreed without argument. ‘I wouldn’t be much good to you now in a mix-up, anyway, with one arm in a sling.’

For a moment they paused to wish one another luck, and it was agreed that the Duke and Simon should join Rex at the hotel as soon as possible. He then crossed the road and left the others to proceed on their reconnaissance.

Soon afterwards a night-hawk
droshky
came clopping by, so de Richleau hailed the driver and, as they got in, told him to drive through the Strada Jules Michelet.

Five minutes later they were drawing level with the Legation. A sickle moon had now risen above the trees, so they could see the sidewalks more clearly, even where the big trees cast patches of deep shadow. Two men were walking slowly along on the inner side of the pavement, a little group of four more stood silent and watchful almost in the gateway of the Legation.

‘It’s no good,’ muttered the Duke. ‘Of course they
may
not be waiting there specially for us, but in view of that chauffeur having been picked up it’s a hundred to one that they are. Still, we’ll have a look at the back on the chance that it may not be so well guarded.’

He let the
droshky
drive on until it was out of sight of the watchers, then pulled him up and paid him off.

When the cab had clattered away they walked down a side turning, turned again and after a few moments reached the back wall of the Legation garden. Two more men were standing on its corner and another two were patrolling up the street.

‘Whole place is surrounded,’ muttered Simon, stepping back
into an open gateway. ‘If Rex were fit and we had him with us he’s tall enough to push me over that wall while you held those chaps off. But we wouldn’t stand a dog’s chance alone.’

‘No,’ the Duke agreed, as they began to retrace their steps. ‘We would only get ourselves killed if we attempted to force our way in now. We must think up some ruse by which one of us can get inside tomorrow.’

‘We’ll need to alter our appearance to pull that off.’

‘That is just what I was thinking. You are slight of build, Simon, and could easily pass for a woman. Directly the shops open you must buy some kit. In the meantime, I will get hold of a taxi somehow, and a driver’s cap and tunic; and I will drive you straight up to the front door in the morning.’

Simon wriggled his shoulders nervously. ‘Don’t like it. If a man tries to disguise himself as a woman his feet are always such a give-away.’

‘You must hide them then. A nun’s robe would do the trick, and there are plenty of nuns to be seen in Bucharest.’

‘Don’t they always hunt in couples?’

‘Not always. The ones here belong to the Orthodox Greek Church, and some of its Orders have considerable freedom. A nun’s get-up would do away with the necessity for a wig too. I’m sure it’s the best thing we could hit on.’

‘All right,’ Simon agreed, a shade reluctantly. ‘How are you going to get hold of a taxi?’

‘Heaven alone knows!’ De Richleau paused under a street lamp to look at his watch. ‘It is twenty-five past twelve now, so I still have the best part of the night to get one somehow and to do another little job that I’ve had in mind. The shops won’t be open till about nine, so you had better go back to the Peppercorn and get some sleep. Say it takes you two hours to get the nun’s outfit in the morning and to change into it; you should be able to meet me by eleven-thirty. I’ll pick you up outside the west door of the Cathedral.’