Vorpal Blade (45 page)

'There are rooms for all of us,' Tweed said as she walked
in with Nield. Marler was still inspecting scooters.

'Place is empty,' Tweed went on. 'Out of season.'

'Is there ever one here?' Nield whispered.

The corridors were narrow, the furniture wood which
had seen better days. But the proprietor, who looked like
the brother of the man who sold scooters, assured them
dinner was available when they were hungry. Outside
Paula heard the motorcycle start up briefly, then the
engine was cut.

'Took the machine out of the minibus to check it,'
Marler said as he entered. 'I've parked it on the cobbles
behind the transport. Couldn't be bothered to struggle
lifting it inside again. Not much gets stolen here, I'm sure.
No one about.'

'
I
am hungry,' Paula informed the proprietor, 'but if I
could first see my room?'

She carried her case herself, refusing his offer. She felt
she needed exercise. He led her up a narrow twisting
staircase, unlocked a door, waved his hand for her to
enter. She smiled, said it would do fine and he left. She
explored.

Hoisting open the blind, she stared in disbelief. Below,
on the opposite side of the dark street, an alley led down at a steep angle, ending in a narrow track leading up onto the
mountain slope. It was the same track she had seen, from
the train. She sucked in her breath, looking beyond. Higher
up the mountain slope she gazed at the massive twin towers
linked by a wall. The towers which had haunted her ever
since she had first seen them. She shivered. They had the
same air of menace, of a threat of doom.

40

Paula woke as pre-dawn light filtered in. Before going to
bed she had showered in tepid water and had not closed
the shaky blind over her window. Someone had just rattled the handle of her door. She jumped out of bed, still wearing
the clothes she had donned after her shower. It was almost
as cold inside the room as outside.

It had not been possible for anyone to stay in her tiny
room to guard her. Instead she had resorted to her previous
tactic, ramming her wedge under the door, tilting a chair
under the handle.

Another envelope had been inserted under her door. The
envelope was the same type as the Splendide Royal. She tore it open. A blank sheet of the Lugano hotel's writing paper was inside. Nothing on either side. What the devil
was going on?

Then she heard the distant sound of a powerful engine
fading. Running to the window she saw the minibus
climbing the mountain slope towards the twin towers. It
had a long way to go before it arrived. She snatched up
the binoculars she had brought up to the room, focused
them. Four men in the vehicle. She could make out Butler
and Nield in the middle row, Newman and Marler in front,
Newman behind the wheel. What the devil is going on? she
thought again.

* * *

It was Tweed who had taken the decision after she had
gone to bed, had instructed the four men assembled in
his room.

'Paula seems very worried about those two towers half
way up the mountain. In the morning very early, before dawn, I want all of you to go up to them in the minibus.
There may just be something there we should know about.'

'Can't see that it's necessary,' Newman had objected.

'It's necessary to set Paula's mind at ease once and for
all. She's gone through hell on this trip. Do it.'

Puzzled, Paula sat on her bed. For something to do she
took out her .32 Browning, checked the mechanism, then
fully loaded it. She had just completed this operation when
she heard the powerful
put-put
of a scooter's motor starting
up, then speeding off.

Could that be Tweed deciding to join his team? In that case she was left alone in this one-horse town. Well, if it
came to it, she'd cope. She walked back to the window,
stared out, froze for a moment.

The scooter was already two-thirds of the way down
the alley leading to the track up the mountain. The rider
was tall, wore a long black coat tucked around the tops of
black boots, with a wide-brimmed hat pulled well down over the head.

She returned the Browning to the special pocket, slung
her bag over her shoulder, ran to unlock the door. She ran
down the tricky staircase. The proprietor, greeting her with
a smile, stood behind the reception counter. She waved the
envelope in his face.

'Know anything about this?'

'Yes, signorina. Man comes, asks for your room number
so he deliver that. I tell him I deliver, write Room 11 on
outside. Tall man in black coat, strange hat . . .'

She ran out of the hotel to the shop next door. The shop
was open. Already scooters were standing outside on the pavement. She had a large Swiss banknote in her hand, more than enough to cover a week's hire plus the deposit. She shoved it at him.

'Too much—'

She was already settling herself on the saddle of a
scooter, thankful Marler had refreshed her memory as to how to operate it. 'The Italians make the best scooters in
the world,' she remembered he had said.

She felt comfortable in the saddle as she started the
engine. In her mind she was back in her early teens
when she had owned a scooter. She turned down the
steep alley surfaced with
pave.
She sped down the steep
descent and it was a bit bumpy but she held her balance.
On either side ancient two-storey stone houses hemmed her in. The shop's proprietor must get up early, she was
thinking, probably went to bed very early to save electricity.
They'd watch the pennies here.

At the opposite end of the alley the track began between
two houses. She drove up it and turned right, where it
entered a small gully. Looking up she saw no sign of
it.
Must be miles higher up by now. She stopped briefly to
shout at the distant minibus.

'Wrong way! You're going the wrong way!'

Her cry echoed back across the mountain slope. The
minibus went on climbing, becoming smaller and smaller.
No chance they'd ever hear her. She began riding up the
gully. Up and up.

She had recalled how to adjust her balance, which was
necessary. The track's surface was covered with stone chip-
pings. But it was more than wide enough to manoeuvre a
little. She had grabbed her motoring gloves before she fled
from her room but it was still bitterly cold. She passed the
limestone crag she had seen from the train and rode on to
a plateau before the track entered another stretch of gully.
She paused, looked back and up.

Dawn was now glowing with the two towers silhouetted
against a fantastic variety of colours. Wild pink, rose,
orange and red. Just as she had seen the massive towers
in her dream.

'Keep moving,' she told herself, 'otherwise you'll lose
it:

She roared across the plateau, reduced speed as she
entered the second section of gully, which was much
steeper. Now she really had to watch her pace. Her scooter
bumped and at intervals wiggled. She held her balance.
Despite her gloves her hands were aching with gripping
the handles so tightly. Where the hell are you? she asked
herself. I'm not losing you this time, you fiend.

Back at the hotel Tweed had watched the minibus start out on its long climb. Satisfied, he sat down in his pyjamas and
warm dressing gown, drinking coffee from the flask he'd
obtained from the proprietor before going up to his room
and issuing his instructions.

At that moment he heard a scooter starting up. Rushing
to the window he was just in time to see a figure wearing
a long black coat and wide-brimmed hat disappearing behind a crag high up along the track up the mountain.
Then he saw Paula's scooter, racing down the alley, head
ing for the entrance to the track.

Cursing because he had put on night clothes, he stripped
them off, pulled on clothes without attention to appear
ance. Before donning his overcoat he checked his 7.65mm
Walther, which was already loaded, something he would
have chastised a member of his team for taking risks. Slipping it into his hip holster, he pulled on the coat,
unlocked the door, scrambled down the stairs.

The proprietor said something to him but Tweed dashed
past him outside into the street. To his relief he saw
Marler's motorcycle was still standing on its strut. He
swung onto the saddle, pressed the starter button, then he was racing down the narrow side alley, turning at the far
end onto the track inside the gulch. It was just wide enough
to accommodate his machine. He began speeding up the track - knowing Paula must be a long way off by now.

Will I never reach the top? Paula asked herself. Is there a
top? She had been ascending the gulch for what seemed
for ever. No hint, no view as to where it was leading, but
she knew she was high up. The cold was penetrating her
gloves, which meant she had to grip the handles more
tightly.

When I meet
it
will I have the strength to fight? she
worried. She crouched forward as the road surface became
bumpier. She had to struggle to keep it balanced upright.
Then she blinked. The track was leading up onto a wide
shallow dome-shaped plateau. She slowed down, switched
off her engine as she observed the signs.

Smooth rock, a scooter thrown carelessly down on its
side. No sign of anyone. Then she saw the manhole cover,
what it had uncovered when removed. She parked her scooter on its strut, listened, stretched her aching legs
several times to bring back strength, mobility. She had
the Browning in her hand as she walked to the edge of
the large dome, looked down a sheer drop, saw Airolo far
to the north like a toy town. She swung round quickly,
raising her automatic. She wasn't going to be shoved off
the edge - as she had been in Chiasso.

In the far distance she saw the twin towers bathed in
sunlight, looking much smaller. Then she heard something
she didn't like. The slow moaning boom of a large bell echoing across the mountain slopes. She walked to the
manhole cover, bent down to lift it by the handle. God,
it was a weight.

Taking cautious steps, she walked to the large hole it had
covered. She risked using her small powerful torch to shine down into the blackness. A wide old iron ladder led down. The treads were rusty and there was only one handrail, on the left. Now she remembered what Tweed had said about long ago mining for ore, a rail system to transport the ore. She listened again. Only a horrific silence.

'Get on with it, girl,' she said to herself.