Silhouette in Scarlet (14 page)

Over the rim of John’s cup a pair of cornflower-blue eyes gazed soulfully at me. Before I could protest, Max murmured, ‘I wondered if that might not be the case.’

‘There is no reason for us to be at odds,’ John said. ‘I don’t know what Albert told you – ’

‘Everything,’ said Max, closing his lips with a snap on the last syllable.

John went a shade paler. ‘I see.’

‘You mean you – ’ I began.

‘Please, Dr Bliss. Let us not dwell on distasteful subjects.’

‘Poor old Al,’ John muttered. ‘I knew him well . . . Yes, but look here, Max. Al couldn’t have given you a precise location, because he didn’t have it. I’ve
worked out a few theories that might help. That’s a largish stretch of pasture; what do you say we collaborate?’

Max did not respond to this naive proposal. We were sitting in silence when the brothers Hasseltine returned.

I had seen ‘before’ and ‘after’ pictures, but the transformation in the younger man made me stare. He was still haggard and worn, but now his step was firm and his eyes
were aware. The therapy that had cured Georg (only too temporarily) had had the reverse effect on Leif. When he saw John, he made a grating noise deep in his throat and started for him, hands
flexing.

Max got between them. ‘Sit down, Mr Hasseltine. I understand your feelings, but you must wait your turn. There is a chance he may yet be helpful to us.’

‘He does not deserve to live,’ Leif muttered. ‘He should die slowly, with the same agony he brought to others.’

‘No doubt he will.’ Max flicked an invisible speck of dust from his coat sleeve. ‘But not until he has served his purpose.’

His icy calm had the desired effect. Leif’s distorted face relaxed. ‘I don’t know what you want here,’ he said slowly. ‘It is not my business. An enemy of Smythe is
no enemy of mine – so long as you mean no harm to this lady and her friend.’

‘Excellent,’ Max said. ‘Let me make it quite clear, so there will be no unfortunate misunderstandings. None of you is to leave the island or attempt to communicate with the
mainland. I hold Mr Jonsson as security for your good behaviour, Dr Bliss; I feel sure you will not risk his safety by acting foolishly. You – ’ He looked at John. ‘You may try to
escape. Please feel free to try.’

John wasn’t the only one to shiver at that speech. ‘I presume,’ he said, ‘that you will exterminate the others if one of us gets away. You count on the fact that I
wouldn’t abandon Dr Bliss.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t count on that,’ I said earnestly to Max. ‘I really wouldn’t.’

‘You underestimate yourself, my dear.’ His smile was paternal. ‘Do not fear; where Sir John is concerned, I count on nothing. I have other methods of controlling him. As for
you two . . .’

‘I have told you where I stand,’ Leif said. ‘This lady is hostage for me.’

Georg had seated himself at the table and was wolfing down food. He looked up. ‘I haven’t been exactly with it lately,’ he said coolly. ‘Just what are you after, Mr
– Max, is it?’

Max leaned back in his chair, fingertips together, and studied the speaker. Georg returned his gaze composedly I wondered what he was hooked on. It was amazing stuff, whatever it was.

‘Our project should interest you, Dr Hasseltine,’ he said. ‘We have reason to believe that there is a fifth-century hoard of gold and silver buried in the pasture behind this
house.’

‘Migration Period?’ Georg looked interested. Then he shrugged. ‘Not my field. I’m a classical archaeologist.’

‘But you have had excavation experience.’

‘Oh, certainly. I’m a first-rate excavator.’

‘I believe you.’

‘I suppose you want my help,’ Georg went on airily. ‘You’re no archaeologist. I knew that as soon as I saw the fellows with the guns.’ He laughed heartily at his
own wit.

‘We could certainly use the assistance of a scholar with your reputation,’ Max said. Leif winced, but Georg appeared not to notice the double entendre. He was flying high. With
another cheery laugh he leaned over and clapped Max on the shoulder.

‘Perhaps we can come to an agreement.’

‘Georg,’ Leif exclaimed. ‘Please – ’

‘Shut up!’ Georg turned on him. ‘Always you interfere with me, always you play the big brother. Leave me alone. I know what I’m doing.’

‘Quite right,’ Max said. ‘Why don’t you come with me, Dr Hasseltine, and I will show you the site.’

‘Great’. Georg tossed down a half-eaten roll and rose. Hans and Pierre followed the pair out.

‘Now we escape,’ Leif said. ‘While they leave us unguarded.’

John gave him a peculiar look. ‘He doesn’t need to guard us, you idiot. He has us by the short hairs.’

‘He means what he says – that he will kill the old man?’

‘He means it.’

‘Then we must free the old man.’

‘Splendid idea. Brilliant plan. How do you propose we go about it?’

‘First,’ said Leif, ‘we must find where they are keeping him.’

John sighed. ‘I’m going back to bed.’

He sauntered out, his leisurely stride a calculated insult. Leif glowered at his retreating back. ‘Someday I smash his face.’

‘Max is planning to take care of that little matter for you,’ I said.

‘And you object.’

‘I object to murder. It’s just a silly girlish prejudice.’

Sarcasm was wasted on Leif. He gave me a blank stare. ‘Besides,’ I went on, ‘we can’t depend on Max’s guarantees. How do we know he won’t kill all of us when
he’s finished here?’

‘Why should he?’

‘Because he’s a crimnal,’ I said patiently. ‘His organization specializes in grand theft, blackmail, torture, and murder. For God’s sake, Leif, you can’t be
that naive.’

‘Then what do you want to do?’ Leif asked, frowning.

‘Well, I sure as hell don’t want to sit around waiting for Max to make up his mind whether or not to kill me.’

‘You wish to escape from him?’

‘You’ve got it.’

‘All of us?’

‘All of us.’

‘Smythe too?’

‘Smythe too.’

‘You wish me to help?’

‘That would be very nice.’

Leif thought about it, stroking his moustache thoughtfully. Then he nodded. ‘Very well. First we find the old man. Then we escape – all of us, even Smythe. Then I smash Mr
Smythe’s face.’

Whereupon he left the room, having arranged his programme to his satisfaction.

Aside from a few imponderables – such as locating Gus, overpowering his guards, and knocking all the other villains unconscious – there was one basic flaw in Leif’s scheme. In
a few brilliantly conceived sentences, Max had made Georg a confederate. Perhaps Georg had once been a promising archaeologist – his name was vaguely familiar – but Max had two firm
holds on him now: the drug he used, which Max could hand out or withhold at his own, discretion, and Georg’s hatred of John. If he had been chasing his bête noire all over Europe, he
was not about to shake hands and forget the whole thing. He’d be more than happy to cooperate in Max’s project of extermination, and although I didn’t know the precise details of
the part John had played in his disintegration, I wasn’t altogether sure I blamed him.

The coffee was cold. I swallowed the repulsive dregs and decided I might as well get dressed. I hadn’t had much sleep, but there was no chance of wooing Morpheus, not in my present
mood.

My room was a shambles. Someone had done a thorough job of searching it. Straightening up the mess gave me a chance to work off some pent-up anger; it was also a form of protest against the
chaos these thugs had brought into Gus’s harmless, decent life.

I put on jeans and a long-sleeved shirt and tossed a sweater over my shoulder. On my way out I passed John’s door and paused to listen. Not a sound. I eased the door open. He lay curled up
like a sleeping baby, an angelic smile on his lips. His lashes, several shades darker than his hair, fringed the closed lids with gold. I slammed the door as hard as I could and went on.

The echoes of the slam followed me as I trotted along the corridor, fighting a panicky impulse to run. The stillness of the empty house was unnerving. My brain couldn’t seem to get in
gear. A succession of shocks had stunned it into stupidity.

Unless Max struck it lucky, I had a couple of days. He wouldn’t dispose of us until he had no further use for us as hostages or sources of information. In fact, he might have been telling
the truth when he said he meant to let us go unharmed. It wasn’t as if we were the only people in the Western Hemisphere who could identify him as a master criminal. After due reflection I
decided I had a seventy-thirty chance of survival. But I didn’t like the odds. Where my life is concerned I prefer a sure thing.

There were two possible methods of procedure. The first was to rescue Gus and then go on from there. The second was to immobilize Max and all his gang. I am sure I need not explain why, after
very brief consideration of the second idea, I returned to method number one.

Method number one depended on my assumption that Gus was somewhere on the island. If he had been transported to the mainland, the whole deal was off. But it would have been risky to move him in
broad daylight, after he had announced to his staff that he was entertaining guests. Also, a smart crook like Max would want his hostage accessible, in case I demanded to see him or speak with
him.

Assuming Gus was on the island, assuming I could find him and set him free – what next?

We could make a run for it, or we could call for help and hold the gang at bay until said help arrived. Holding the gang at bay meant hiding; I wasn’t about to consider anything more
adventurous. Gus must know some good hiding places. The burning question was: Could I contact the mainland?

Just for the hell of it, I tried the telephone. As I had expected, it was dead. Gus probably had an emergency means of communication laid on – a shortwave or CB radio or something of that
sort – and if I ever found Gus I would ask him. I decided not to waste time searching, though. Unless it was well concealed, Max had probably dealt with it already.

Smoke signals, setting the barn on fire, flashing SOS’s with my pocket mirror . . . Too chancy. So much for the idea of communicating with the mainland. The alternative, running for our
lives, presented one minor difficulty. We couldn’t run. We were surrounded by water.

So far my reasoning hadn’t been distinguished for brilliance or originality. If I couldn’t do better than that, I might as well forget the whole thing.

The silence of the house was getting to me. I headed for the door. It was a relief to be in the sunlight and fresh air. The rain had left everything looking fresh and clean. The wind stung my
face. I assumed the thugs were all in the pasture, digging for treasure, but I kept a wary eye peeled as I descended the stairs to the dock. When the boathouse door opened, I got ready to duck. But
it was only Leif.

‘I have looked,’ he said. ‘Nothing we can use.’

I was prepared for that discouraging statement; the fact that Max hadn’t bothered to set a guard on the boats was proof positive that they had been put out of commission. Hope dies hard,
though. When I advanced, Leif grinned and stood aside to let me see for myself.

The more I looked, the madder I got. Max hadn’t just destroyed the boats, he had smashed the dreams and memories they symbolized. In his younger days Gus must have been a first-class
mariner. Now the canoe and the kayak and the neat little sailboat lay deep underwater, held only by their mooring ropes. The rowboat was a utility craft, big enough to hold several people and a
tidy amount of cargo. At least it could have held them if someone hadn’t chopped a hole in the bottom. The cruiser appeared to be undamaged, except for the shortwave, which had been
demolished.

I sat in the cockpit and swore.

Leif peered in at me. ‘The key is missing.’

‘I know.’

‘Perhaps there is another key.’

‘If we ever find Gus, we can ask him.’ I took Leif’s proffered hand and climbed out. ‘Isn’t there some way of starting her up without a key? I’ve done it with
cars, but I’m not familiar with this type of engine.’

Leif shrugged, looking almost as bland and stupid as Hans, and I snapped, ‘I thought you were an engineer.’

‘I am not a mechanic,’ Leif said in an offended voice. ‘But I do know there are many things one can do to an engine to make sure it will not start.’

‘They can’t have done anything drastic,’ I argued. ‘This must be the craft they plan to use when they leave.’

‘Unless they have arranged for a boat or helicopter to pick them up,’ Leif said.

I hadn’t thought of that. It didn’t make me feel very good.

‘In any case, it would take hours to check the cruiser,’ Leif said. ‘The ignition system, the fuel lines, and so on. Do you suppose Max will stand back and allow us to do
that?’

‘How did you get here?’ I asked. Leif blinked. ‘I swam.’ Through the open doors I could see the distant shore and the waves that rose and fell in brisk cadence. The water
was a deep, rich blue; it looked as cold as a freezer. No wonder Leif’s calf muscles looked like the hawsers of the
Q.E. II.

‘What about your brother?’

‘You don’t give up, do you?’ Leif said admiringly.

‘I can’t imagine him swimming.’

‘No.’ Leif’s face lengthened. ‘I did not ask how he came. Possibly he hired someone to bring him across. What is the use of this, Vicky? There is no boat we can
use.’

‘I have to agree with that.’ Hands in my pockets, I went out onto the dock. Leif followed.

‘I believe your fears are needless,’ he said. ‘The man, Max, means you no harm. Let him have his gold. What value does it have?’

‘I don’t give a damn about the treasure,’ I said, not quite truthfully. ‘But I’m not stupid enough to trust Max’s word. Besides, I can’t turn my back on
deliberate, cold-blooded murder.’

‘Smythe deserves it,’ Leif said.

I turned away. He grabbed my wrist and spun me around to face him. His eyes glittered like topaz.

‘You think I am cruel, like those criminals? No, no. When you hear you will understand why I do not risk my life, or yours, to save such vermin.’