Silhouette in Scarlet (23 page)

I didn’t trust myself to speak. I got the mustard out of the refrigerator and handed it to him.

It was not one of my more elegant table settings. I hadn’t bothered to put plates down, just a few glasses and a dozen bottles of beer. Hans reached for the pitcher of milk. John got it
first, and pulled it towards him. Rudi asked for a bottle opener. Turning to get it, I heard a crash, a splash, and a cry of outrage from Max. John had dropped the pitcher. The milk was soaking
into Max’s hand-stitched suede shoes.

‘Weak wrist,’ John whined, nursing it.

So everybody drank beer. I made sandwiches like an assembly line. I had to do something; every time one of them took a bite I expected a complaint or a puzzled look.

They had almost finished eating when Leif entered. ‘Have a sandwich,’ I said compulsively.

‘No, thank you. My brother is ill. We must have a doctor.’

Several of the men exchanged cynical grins, but Max looked up sharply. ‘Ill? What do you mean?’

‘I insist you look at him,’ Leif said. ‘At once.’

His peremptory tone made Max frown, and he added, in a more conciliatory voice, ‘It may be food poisoning; I cannot tell. Would it not be advisable for you to investigate?’

They went out of the room. The men went right on eating. The suggestion of food poisoning didn’t bother them; they had diagnosed Georg’s illness sight unseen, and – I thought
– correctly. John sat slumped in his chair. He had not touched the sandwiches. I nudged him and offered another plateful.

‘Perhaps,’ I said, ‘you prefer plain ham.’

He took one. Our eyes met for an instant, then he looked away.

Max and Leif came back. I looked up interestedly, but no explanations were forthcoming. Max only said, ‘Back to work.’

There was some subdued grumbling, especially from Hans; five sandwiches and four bottles of beer had not filled his huge stomach. John had to be dragged to his feet. He kept complaining that he
was sick, but as he stumbled out, roughly assisted by Hans, Leif said with a contemptuous smile, ‘His nerve has failed. It was to be expected. He has not even the courage of a cornered rat;
he can only cringe and whimper.’

I made a protesting sound. Leif’s gloating smile faded. ‘I am sorry, Vicky. But if you could see Georg as he is now, you would understand why I cannot pity the man who corrupted
him.’

‘It’s not food poisoning, then?’

‘No, I only said that to force Max to look at him. It is – what you think. He has run out of the drug. During the night he neglected to close the box, and it was spilled.’

‘A little cold turkey,’ I said meditatively. ‘Who knows, it may be the making of him.’

‘Now you sound like that swine, Smythe. I hate to hear you so cynical, Vicky.’

Max reappeared at the door. ‘Are you coming?’

‘I will stay with my brother,’ Leif said, in a voice that dared Max to object. ‘Let her stay too. She is distressed – ’

‘No, I’ll go. I’d rather.’ I edged away from him.

‘You cannot guard him forever,’ Max said.

The knife was on the counter, an inch from my hand. My fingers itched, but I was afraid to take the chance. I said, ‘I’m coming, Max. Let’s go.’

The next hour was the worst of the entire affair. My stomach was churning. I didn’t know how long it would take for the powder to work, or what the effects would be – if any. Maybe I
had spread it too thin. John sat on the ground, his head bent and his hands limp. I paced, biting my nails. The clouds darkened. The wind rose. The only effect lacking was a werewolf howling in the
trees.

I expected Hans to show the first symptoms, since he had eaten and drunk more than the others, but perhaps his mammoth body could absorb more. I saw nothing out of the way until Rudi let out a
howl of pain. He had jabbed himself in the foot with his spade. Dropping the tool, he lifted the injured member with one hand and promptly toppled over.

Max was on the spot instantly. ‘What is it?’

Rudi rolled over, grimacing with pain. ‘I couldn’t help it, Max. I am no labourer. I am exhausted.’

Max swept the rest of the crew with a suspicious eye. However, the next to go was not one of his men, it was John. With a startled cry he half rose and then pitched over onto his side.

‘Faking,’ said Max, nudging him with his toe.

A genteel trickle of blood oozed out of John’s left nostril. I peeled back one of his eyelids. Now that the time had come, my hands were quite steady.

‘He’s not faking. Look – dilated pupils, bleeding from the nose – He’s got a concussion. He’ll die if he doesn’t get help.’

‘I will, of course, send one of my men for a doctor immediately,’ Max said, with awful sarcasm. ‘Do be sensible, my dear. It is a far easier death than the one he
faced.’

‘At least let me do what I can,’ I begged. ‘Lying on the cold ground like that . . .’ I peeled off my sweater and tucked it around John. ‘Give me your coat,’
I said.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Dr Bliss.’

‘Please – ’ I rose and approached the diggers. A couple of them looked a little dazed. ‘Please,’ I repeated. ‘He needs to be kept warm.’

It was Hans, the big, good-natured oaf, who responded. ‘I am too warm,’ he mumbled. ‘You can have my sweater.’ He did look warm. Perspiration beaded his forehead.

In the last split second I made a final check of the dispositions I had noted earlier. A man can’t dig and hold a gun at the same time. Three of them wore shoulder holsters, including Max.
Rudi’s weapon – a cute little sawed-off shotgun – was on the wheelbarrow, atop the other tools. I waited until Hans had the sweater up over his head before I acted. My shrill,
banshee scream stunned them for another essential second. It also told John that I was making my move.

The only one whose hand made it to the butt of his gun was the swarthy Italian. I aimed at him. In case he suffered from delusions about the incompetence of the female, I said warningly,
‘I was brought up on a farm, boys. Don’t chance it.’

There were no heroes in that crowd. Any such aspirations died when they realized mine wasn’t the only weapon pointing at them. Max was on the ground, out cold, and John had his gun.

He wasted no time complimenting me. After he had relieved the men of their surplus armaments, he gestured at Max. ‘Pick him up.’

The order was directed at Hans, but that unfortunate innocent was still hopelessly entangled in the folds of his sweater. His pale blue eyes peered over it with vague wonder.

Rudi and Willy carried Max. They were all looking groggy. The combination of beer and dope hadn’t knocked them out, but it had slowed their reflexes just enough to make the crazy plan
feasible. Urged by guns and exhortations, the procession made its way to the hut in the trees. It took John only a few seconds to open the padlock, with the heavy needles in my pocket sewing kit.
He bundled the prisoners inside and snapped the lock. Then, for the first time, he addressed me.

‘Where is Gus?’

‘The barn. I thought you were supposed to look for him.’

‘I had too many other things to do last night. Besides, I knew you wouldn’t take my word for it.’

He had a point. I said, ‘Hadn’t we better collect the rest of the artillery?’

‘Yes, right. We can’t carry that lot around; it’s too bulky. Over the cliff?’

‘Sounds good to me – ’ I broke off with a gulp. The figure looming up in front of me looked like an ambulatory tree trunk, featureless against the lighter grey of the open
pasture beyond.

‘Vicky! Thank heaven, you are all right I heard you scream; I thought . . .’ Leif held out his arms. I stayed where I was.

‘Put your hands up, Hasseltine,’ John said, edging away.

‘Don’t be afraid.’ Leif’s voice was contemptuous. ‘I would not risk myself for you, but I am happy you have succeeded. Now I can take my brother to a doctor. Come,
let us return to the house.’

Not unnaturally, he kept an eye on John’s gun, turning as the latter continued to move sideways. The muzzle of the weapon stayed fixed on Leif’s chest, and he said impatiently,
‘Don’t be a fool, Smythe. Vicky, convince him that I – ’

I hit him across the side of the head with the barrel of the shotgun. He had a skull like a granite boulder. The blow dropped him to his knees, but he didn’t flatten out until John had
pounded him a few more times, with the methodical precision of a carpenter driving in spikes.

‘That’s enough,’ I said, wincing.

John handed me the gun.

‘Keep him covered,’ he said.

Kneeling, he yanked off his belt and strapped Leif’s ankles. I contributed my belt, which he used on Leif’s wrists. He wasn’t satisfied. ‘What we need is a drum of
wire,’ he grumbled. ‘Go get that heavy twine Georg was using, and be quick about it.’

By the time he finished, Leif had begun to stir and mutter.

‘Shall we put him in the shed?’ I asked. ‘Can you think of any reason why we should open that door?’

‘Actually, I can think of several good reasons why we shouldn’t. Let’s go.’

Chapter Ten

I
T DIDN’T TAKE
long to dispose of the extraneous weapons, but John begrudged every second. He was moving with the eellike quickness he
displayed when the bad guys were breathing down his neck. He didn’t have to spell it out for me. We had the upper hand, but only temporarily. The only way of immobilizing a crowd like that
permanently is with a machine gun. Our inane coup had succeeded because we caught them off guard and hustled them into prison before they had time to realize how vulnerable we were. The shack
wouldn’t hold them forever; and the odds were almost four to one against us – higher, considering that they were trained killers, that Max might have a reserve supply of artillery in
his luggage, and that Leif was an army in himself. I could picture him snapping his bonds like a comic-book hero bursting out of his shirt when he turns into Captain Muscle. There was no need for a
consultation on our next move. We had to go, and stay not upon the order of our going. I had no idea how we were going to get off the island, but when push came to shove I’d have preferred to
take my chances in the water rather than huddle in a cul-de-sac with Leif on my trail.

For all his quickness, John was not at his best. When we started back across the pasture towards the house, his breathing was a little too fast.

‘We work so well together,’ he remarked. ‘It almost smacks of clairvoyance – the marriage of true minds.’

‘You needn’t be insulting.’

That shut him up for a while. Then he said, ‘How did you know Leif was one of them?’

‘Anything you can figure out, I can figure out. Or did you know already?’

‘No. I knew Max must be taking orders from someone, and towards the end he was making decisions a little too quickly; there wasn’t time for him to have communicated with a distant
headquarters. He also got careless about guarding Hasseltine.’

‘Right.’

‘Right, you say. I’ll wager it was good old feminine intuition.’

I didn’t answer. His hit came too close to the mark.

My discovery had been based on logical reasoning: Leif’s performance, as Swedish cop and as German engineer, had been discordant with sour notes. His suitcase was the giveaway. He could
have swum the lake, but not with that heavy bag. I hadn’t thought it out so neatly, though; it had all come together in a wave of instinctive revulsion when Leif made love to me, a dreadful
illusion that the hands moving over my body were sticky and slippery with blood – the hands of a killer.

The clouds spit out a windy gust of rain and closed up again. We reached the grove of trees behind the barnyard and John said, ‘Hold on a minute. I want to say something.’

His voice sounded odd. I turned. He clung for support to one of the pale birch trunks, his chest rising and falling rapidly. In the gloom his tumbled hair had a silvery lustre.

‘It’s okay,’ I said gruffly. ‘You don’t have to thank me.’

‘I wasn’t about to.’

‘Well, you damned well should! I didn’t have to stick my neck out for you! In fact, any woman with the brains of a louse would have helped Max beat you up last night.’

‘He had plenty of help.’

After a moment I said, ‘Leif?’

‘He didn’t join in. He just watched. And made a few suggestions.’

‘That was careless of him.’

‘Not really. He’s so rotten with conceit he assumed you wouldn’t believe me even if I had a chance to accuse him. It was,’ John said thoughtfully, ‘becoming more
and more difficult for him to restrain himself. His feelings for Georg are the closest he can come to normal human emotions. Unluckily for me . . . Luckily for me, and you, his passion for revenge
made him careless. He’s up to his neck in this affair; the police may just manage to pin it on him.’

‘Did you know Georg was his brother?’

‘Good God, no. I wouldn’t have touched that deal with the proverbial ten-foot pole if I had realized the hairy degenerate was related to one of the top men in the business. Blood
will tell, though; long before I ran into him, Georg had picked up some of the tricks of the trade, despite Leif’s efforts to keep him legitimate.’

‘Bless your heart,’ I said. ‘I might have known you wouldn’t turn a nice innocent boy on to drugs.’