Whiff Of Money (22 page)

He got to his feet and joined Girland.

'Nothing happened?'

Malik shook his head.

'That rope might not bluff them. They could search the whole place.'

'We'll wait until they do.'

Having made his toilet, Girland returned to the bedroom and led Gilly to the bathroom.

'The guards have gone,' he told her. 'Go ahead, but be quick.'

It was while she was in the bathroom, they heard sounds of activity going on downstairs. Girland went cautiously down the corridor and peered over the banister rail. He could see the fourth and third stair heads. No one was guarding them.

He could hear the murmur of voices from the ground floor, but couldn't hear what was being said. He returned to Malik.

Gilly came from the bathroom. In the dim light coming through the shutters, she looked pale and scared.

'They will find the rope pretty soon,' Girlandsaid. 'Now the staircase isn't guarded, we'll go up to the next floor. They are certain to come up here.'

Malik nodded.

The three moved down the corridor, paused at the foot of the staircase leading to the sixth floor, listened, then Girland drawing his gun, went up silently. Edging around the bend in the staircase, he assured himself no one was up there and he signalled for Gilly and Malik to come up.

'We'll wait here and see what happens,' he said and sat down on the carpet, his back against the wall, just out of sight of the stair head. The other two joined him. T could do with a pint of coffee with eggs and lashings of bacon,' he went on.

Malik eyed him, but said nothing. He disapproved of such weakness. Gilly grimaced. The thought of food, in her present state of panic, revolted her.

It wasn't until well after 08.00 hrs. that they heard a loud voice, speaking in German, come drifting up the well of the stairs. The man was saying: 'I want every one of you out into the forest. Take guns! These two must be found! Everyone is to go!'

Girland and Malik exchanged glances, then Girland got to his feet.

'Watch the stairs,' he said and moving along the corridor, he opened a door on his right and entered a small unfurnished room with a short spiral staircase, leading to one of the turrets. He climbed the stairs and moved into the turret. The slotted windows gave him a direct view down on the lawn and on to the distant forest.

He waited. Some five minutes later, he saw the first of von Goltz's men coming across the lawn, heading for the forest.

He began to count them... fifteen... twenty-three... thirty... They broke up and formed a long even line, each man ten metres apart from the other. They entered the forest. Girland continued to wait. Another five men came across the lawn, slowly followed by an enormously fat man who Girland guessed would be the chef. He plodded forward slowly, followed by another man who kept waving his arms as he talked to the fat man.

Ten minutes later, Girland saw an estate car full of women drive down to the gates. He watched the gates open and the car move off along the main road to Garmisch. Still he waited. Then he saw von Goltz, carrying a shotgun, with his major-domo at his heels also cross the lawn and enter the forest.

After waiting another ten minutes, Girland decided there was no one else to come and he returned to the corridor where Gilly looked expectantly at him. Malik was leaning over the banister, listening and watching. He straightened when Girland came from the room.

'Well?'

'Thirty-eight men and a number of women have left,' Girland said. 'The count with his major-domo has also gone into the forest. Did you hear anything?'

'They sent three men up to the room below. They took away the curtain cord and then went down again.'

The two men looked at each other.

'This could be a trap,' Girland said. 'A bluff... like the rope. The gunman could have been left behind to wait for us to show.'

Malik nodded.

'Yes. Shall we go down and find him?'

Gilly listened, her eyes growing round.

'He might not be down there. We'll play it safe just in case he is. We have plenty of time. We'll give him an hour or so.

He doesn't know for certain we are up here. Let's stretch his nerves a little.'

Again Malik nodded.

'I'll stay here . . . you watch from the turret. We want to be sure they don't give up the search in the forest and come back.'

'Yes.' Girland turned to Gilly. 'Come with me.' He led her into the turret-room. 'I'm going up into the turret. You sit on the floor. You may have a long wait, but try to amuse yourself. Think of all the nice things you've done in your life if you can remember them .. . that should keep you occupied.'

Gilly flushed.

There are moments when I could kill you!' she said fiercely. 'You treat me like a child!'

'No, Gilly... not a child.'

Girland regarded her for a long moment, then went up the turret stairs.

Gilly choked back a sob. That cool, indifferent look he had given her told her as no words could his opinion of her.

What really hurt her was that she knew his opinion of her was the same as her own.

* * *

Lu Silk sat motionless in his chair, his gun resting in his lap. The silence in this vast Schloss was depressing, but Silk was used to silence. He was also used to waiting. He was sure, sooner or later Girland would come down the stairs, and then he would have him.

While he sat there Silk recalled another long wait he once had -when was it? Three years back? He nodded to himself.

Yes, three years back.

There was an agitator, Jack Adams, who was stirring up trouble among the men working on one of Radnitz's big building projects. The work was slowing down and Radnitz could see he could get caught on the compensation clause: big money, so he had given Silk the signal to get rid of Adams.

Adams had lived in a two room walk-up in Brooklyn. He knew he was in danger, but he had a lot of confidence in himself which was a mistake when dealing with a man like Silk.

Silk had rented a room across the road, facing Adams' apartment block. He arrived there early one morning and took up a position on the hard kitchen chair, the curtains of the window half drawn. He had brought with him his favourite killing weapon: a .22 target rifle with a telescopic sight. He waited for Adams to show. He wasn't to know that Adams was in bed with flu. There was an important mass meeting being held at 21.00 hrs. that evening and Radnitz had ordered Silk to stop Adams from attending. Silk imagined Adams was certain to go out during the day, so he waited. He waited for thirteen hours. He hadn't brought food with him, and around 17.00 hrs. he was hungry, thirsty and viciously angry. He didn't dare leave the window for a second. He knew that when Adams moved, he always moved fast, and his shabby car was parked only a few yards from the entrance to the apartment block.

Sitting in his chair, now waiting for Girland, Silk told himself the Adams' affair had been the longest endurance test he had ever had, but it had taught him that if you wait long enough, were patient enough, you fixed what you were hired to fix.

Adams had finally shown at 20.30 hrs. The light was bad and he moved fast, running down the steps and heading for his car.

Because Silk hadn't relaxed for a moment during those long thirteen hours, he was ready for him. As Adams paused briefly to unlock the car door, Silk got his head in the centre of the cross hairs of the telescopic sight and squeezed the trigger. That had been the end of Adams' trouble making.

Because of this experience, Silk was prepared to wait all day for Girland. The count would keep his men out in the forest until dusk. Sooner or later, Girland would make his break. The success or failure of this trap depended on whether Girland believed the Schloss had been evacuated. If he suspected a trap, then he might remain out of sight in spite of hunger and thirst. Although he was unarmed, there were plenty of weapons to hand . .. swords, knives, battle-axes that adorned most of the walls, but these kind of weapons didn't bother Silk. He knew no man bom could compete with him with a hand weapon against his gun.

Silk would have liked to smoke, but that would be a give away. He crossed one leg over the other and relaxed, his ears pricked and his one eye on the half open door.

In the big hall was a splendid grandfather clock. During the steady swing of its pendulum, the lead weight slightly touched the case of the clock, making a distinct and regular noise. After half an hour of listening to this noise, Silk found it was getting on his nerves. He wanted to go out into the hall and stop the dock, but this would be too dangerous. If Girland was somewhere upstairs, he too could hear the scrape... scrape... scrape from the clock, and he would be immediately alerted if the clock was stopped. The clock suddenly struck nine: its soft mellow chimes startling Silk. Later, it startled him again when it struck ten.

Although he imagined he had nerves of steel, he found the two hour wait had made him too tense. Twice during this time, he imagined he had heard another slight sound above the scraping of the pendulum and he had half-risen to his feet. Then satisfied that Girland wasn't creeping down the stairs, he sat back, his hand closing over his pack of cigaretttes, then remembering, had silently cursed. He was now longing for a cigarette. At least during those thirteen hours when he had waited for Adams, he had smoked incessantly.

He began to think of Girland. This man was a trained CIA agent. Silk's thin mouth formed into a wry grimace. His first murder assignment had been against a CIA agent, a man who had collected enough evidence to put Radnitz behind bars and had to be eliminated immediately.(see'Believed Violent')

In those days, Silk had been very sure of himself: too sure. The agent had been almost too quick for him and had shot him in the face. Although he had finally managed to kill the agent, he had to spend six months in hospital and had come out with only one eye.

The experience had left him with a subconscious dread of facing another CIA man. But during his years with Radnitz, his victims had been easy . . . pigeons to be shot down without means, training or guts to protect themselves.

Radnitz had warned him about Girland. As he sat in the chair, he remembered von Goltz's consternation. Are you quite sure you shouldn 't have two or three of my men with you?

Silk touched his forehead with the back of his hand. It infuriated him to find he was sweating.

The grandfather clock in the hall began to strike eleven.

* * *

Girland came down the turret stairs. For three weary, boring hours he had been watching the forest without seeing any of von Goltz's men.

'Gilly . '.. make yourself useful. Go up in the turret and watch the forest. If you see anyone coming back, let me know. I want to talk to Malik.'

He left her and joined Malik in the corridor. 'I think it's time to start something' he said, keeping his voice low. 'You've heard nothing?'

'No'

'We could be wasting time. They may have completely evacuated the place, but I'm not taking chances. The gunman could still be here, waiting. If he's anywhere, he'll be in the main living-room. It's only from the door of that room you have a clear view of the stairs. I want to make sure he is there. I'm going down by the rope.'

Malik shook his head.

'It's too risky. You can't climb down without making some noise. If he hears you, he'll come out onto the terrace and you're a dead duck.' He paused for a moment, then went on, 'How far can you go down the stairs without being seen?'

'To the third floor.'

'Then let's go down. It's time to put pressure on his nerves,' Malik said. I'll go out onto one of the balconies and start tapping on the balcony rail. It's a trick I've used before, and it worked.'

This made sense to Girland. He nodded.

'What do I do?'

'Stay at the head of the stairs. If I spot him come out on the terrace, I'll rap twice quickly. If you move fast you can get down to the second floor before he gets back.'

'Right'

Both men drew their guns and moved down the stairs. Both of them were trained to move like ghosts and they reached the third floor landing without a sound.

While Girland remained by the stair head, Malik moved down the corridor. He spent some moments easing open one of the doors inch by inch until he had enough space to slide into the room. The shutters across the windows presented a problem. Would they creak when he opened them? With infinite patience he.unlatched and opened the shutters. The operation took nearly five minutes but he got them open without a sound. He stepped on to the balcony and saw that the big windows of the main living-room were below and to his right. He lay flat on the balcony where he could peer through the balcony rails, yet squirm back instantly out of sight.

Using the barrel of his gun, he began to tap on the lower rung of the balcony rail. The silence, hanging over the Schloss, accentuated the sound.

He tapped at irregular intervals. Tap-tap-tap. A long pause; then tap-taptap-tap.

Silk heard the sound and stiffened to attention. He looked swiftly behind him as the sound came from that direction.

He came out of his chair like a cat, gun in hand. Standing motionless, listening, he looked what he was: a vicious, professional killer. The tapping sound stopped, and there was silence, except for the scrape-scrape-scrape from the grandfather clock.

A bird? Silk wondered. Water dripping?

He waited, listened, then decided the sound was of no importance. He wiped his sweating face savagely with the back of his hand and again longed for a cigarette.

Minutes dragged by. The pendulum ok the clock continued its soft irritating sound.

Then the tapping began again.

Silk looked out on to the sunlit terrace. A branch of a tree? No. The sound was too metallic for that. The sound was coming from outside. Silk moved to the open french windows.

The tapping continued. Silk was now certain it was coming from the terrace. Someone out there? A trap? He edged closer to the window, paused to look back and through the half open door where he could see the stairs: nothing moved out there.