The sun came up from behind the hills, first lighting the tops of the trees and then the turrets of the Schloss.
Hans von Goltz had been shaven by his valet, and was now putting on a leather hunting jacket as he paced the vast floor of his bedroom. The shutters had been thrown open. The May air was sharp but pleasant. The first rays of the sun came into the room, lighting the tapestries on the walls and the splendid Persian carpet on the floor.
His breakfast, on a wheel trolley, stood in a ribbon of sun. Silver covers kept the two dishes warm. Von Goltz considered breakfast the most important meal of the day. As soon as he had shrugged himself into his coat, he went to the trolley and lifted first one and then the other silver cover: scrambled eggs, done lightly with plenty of butter, surrounded a fillet of smoked haddock. Lambs’ kidneys with creamed potatoes in the second dish also pleased his eyes.
He helped himself liberally and began his breakfast. While he was enjoying his kidneys,the fish demolished -there came a tap on the door. Frowning, he called to come in.
Sandeuer bowed his way through the doorway.
‘Your Excellency… excuse me, please, but you should know there is a rope hanging from the fifth floor balcony.’
Von Goltz shovelled another kidney, covered with potato into his mouth as he glared at Sandeuer. When he could finally speak, he said, ‘A rope? What do you mean?’
‘A curtain rope… if your Excellency would look… you will see for yourself Von Goltz got to his feet, snatching up a square of buttered toast and moved on to the balcony. He bit into the toast as he regarded the knotted curtain cord. Then he returned to the room.
‘Have you told Mr Silk?’
‘No, your Excellency.’
‘Then tell him. Ask him to come here immediately.’
Sandeuer bowed and withdrew.
Realising his breakfast was about to be interrupted, von Goltz proceeded to bolt down the remaining kidneys. Then buttering more toast, he spread the toast heavily with cherry jam and began to eat so rapidly he nearly choked himself.
He was still munching when his door swung open and Lu Silk came in.
Silk was wearing a black shirt, black cotton trousers and black shoes. Von Goltz thought he looked like the impersonation of death. Silk paused in the doorway and stared at von Goltz with his cold, single eye.
‘You have seen the rope?’ von Goltz asked, gulping down the last of his toast.
‘Oh, sure.’ Silk moved into the room. ‘I saw it half an hour ago.’
‘So you were right! They were here last night, and now they have escaped into the forest.’
‘Could be.’ Silk sat down and lit a cigarette. ‘It’s light enough now. You had better get the search organised.’
Von Goltz moved around the room. His hurried breakfast had given him indigestion. He wished he hadn’t eaten so quickly.
‘As they are in the forest, there is no point wasting time searching here.’
‘Go ahead,’ Silk said, letting smoke drift down his nostrils.
Von Goltz stalked to the door, opened it and found Sandeuer waiting in the corridor.
‘Begin the search,’ he snapped. ‘They are somewhere in the forest. Bring them back here. I don’t have to tell you what to do. Find them!’
‘Yes, Excellency,’ Sandeuer said, but as he was about to leave Silk appeared behind von Goltz.
‘Wait.’ Silk put his hand on von Goltz’s arm and drew him back into the room. He shut the door. ‘I have an idea. I want you to go with your men. I want everyone out of here and into the forest.’
Von Goltz stared at him.
‘What do you mean?’
Silk stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the breakfast trolley.
‘I think they are still here,’ he said. ‘The quickest way to find them is for them to think everyone here is searching the forest.’
‘Still here?’
‘Why not?’ There was an impatient note in Silk’s voice. ‘Have you looked at the rope? A man could get down it, but no woman could. As we have already sealed off each landing, they will be up on the fifth floor. I take it there is no other way down from the fifth floor except by the main staircase.’
‘That’s right.’
‘So they are still up there.’
Von Goltz rubbed the back of his neck while he thought. ‘Then I will send my men to the fifth floor and we will get them,’ he said finally. ‘Why waste time searching the forest?’ Silk smiled: it was an evil smile that made von Goltz flinch. ‘We won’t be wasting time… we will be taking precautions.’ Tin afraid I don’t understand. If you are so sure they are on the fifth floor, then with enough men, we will have them.’
‘And then what?’
The two men looked at each other.
‘I still don’t understand,’ von Goltz said after a long pause. ‘You have a staff of forty men… perhaps more?’
‘The staff is thirty-eight men and five women. What does that have to do with it?’
“I want all your men out in the forest,’ Silk said, lighting another cigarette. ‘The women must also leave. I want this place completely evacuated.’ His thin, cruel face was expressionless. ‘What the eye doesn’t see, a Judge doesn’t know about.’
‘What do you intend to do?’
‘Get rid of Girland. We will keep the girl until the films arrive. It is possible Rosnold was lying. When we have the films, then I will get rid of her.’
‘You mean you intend to stay here completely on your own?’ von Goltz asked uneasily. ‘Is that wise? We have been warned about Girland.’
Silk sneered.
‘He is unarmed, I can handle him. All I have to do, once the place is evacuated, is to wait, out of sight. He needs two things: food and the possible use of a telephone. For both these, he has to come down the stairs. I’ll be waiting for him.’
‘Are you sure you shouldn’t have two or three of my men with you?’
Silk studied von Goltz.
‘Can you guarantee none of them would talk later?’
Von Goltz saw the point.
‘I see… there is always that risk. When you have got rid of Girland… what do you do with him?’
‘With the body?’ Silk smiled. ‘I have been studying the interesting plan of the Schloss you lent me. Is there water in the well in the rear courtyard?’
‘Yes… it is never used, but there is quite a lot of water.’
‘Well then, what better place? The girl, once we have the films, can go the same way.’
Von Goltz felt a little sick. He wiped his sweating hands on his handkerchief. The casual, cold-blooded way this man talked shocked him.
‘Well… I—I will leave it to you.’
‘How will you get rid of your women staff?’
Von Goltz hesitated while he thought.
‘There is a fair on at Garmisch. I’ll send them there.’
Silk nodded.
‘Then let’s get started. First, get rid of the women.’ Von Goltz looked at his watch.
‘It’s not eight-thirty yet. This will take time. You know what women are.’
‘Then get your men into the forest. Let’s start something!’ Silk said impatiently.
Von Goltz went into the corridor to give his orders to Sandeuer.
When Sandeuer heard that the women staff were to be taken to the fair at Garmisch, he gaped at von Goltz. ’But your lunch, Excellency… the rooms are yet to be done.’
Von Goltz waved him away.
‘Never mind! I want everyone out of here. Arrange it and arrange it quickly!’
Because he knew better than to argue with his master, Sandeuer hurried away to obey his orders.
There was an uproar and a great deal of heated talk from the chef and his staff when they were told that they were to go out into the forest to look for two missing guests. The chef, an enormously fat Frenchman, declared he was not going.
He was about to prepare a complicated sauce and he had no intention of going out all day into the forest. It was only when Sandeuer threatened to call the count that the chef was finally convinced that for once his culinary expertise had to take second place. Red faced and furious, he tore off his white uniform and put on his green livery. Half an hour later the exodus from the Schloss began. From every quarter, men left and headed across the vast expanse of lawn towards the distant acres of the forest.
Later, five women, chattering and excited, left by car, heading towards Garmisch.
Sandeuer, sweating but triumphant, came up to the first floor to report that his master’s orders had been obeyed.
Von Goltz told him to wait in the corridor. He shut the door and regarded Silk who was lighting yet another cigarette.
‘Then I leave you?’ he said.
‘Yes. I have the place to myself?’
‘All the staff has gone. You are quite sure you don’t want me to stay with you?’ von Goltz asked reluctantly.
Silk smiled mirthlessly.
‘Do you want to?’
‘I want this operation to be a success.’
‘ I didn’t ask you that.’ Silk lowered his voice and stared at von Goltz with his hard, single eye. ‘Do you want to be an accessory to murder?’
Von Goltz lost colour. His mind went back into the past and the terror he had known until Radnitz had saved him. He turned and walked out of the room and joined Sandeuer.
‘Let us see what the men are doing,’ he snapped and strode down the stairs to the terrace.
Silk got silently to his feet. He went swiftly to his room. From his suitcase he took a 7.65 mm Luger automatic. He checked the magazine, then holding it in his hand, he went silently down the corridor, down the stairs and into the main living-room. He opened the double door leading into the hall and to the foot of the staircase.
Silently, he moved a chair so that he could just see the stairs when he sat in the chair without being seen himself. He guessed he would have a long wait, but he was used to waiting.
Sooner or later, Girland would come down the stairs and then he would have him.
Girland had heard the door of the banqueting hall ease open. It had opened so gently, Gilly didn’t hear it. Girland put his hand on her arm and his left hand touched her lips in a signal to keep silent. He felt her stiffen against him.
He could see nothing in the darkness. His hand closed around the butt of his pistol. He heard the door ease shut.
There was a long pause, then a voice whispered out of the darkness:
‘Girland… this is Malik.’
For a brief moment Girland was so startled, he remained motionless. Malik! Here? He had immediately recognised the guttural voice.
He pressed Gilly behind him. Then he thumbed back the safety-catch on his gun. The little snick of the catch made a loud noise in the vast silence of the room.
‘Don’t move,’ Girland said. I have a gun in my hand.’
‘Don’t you recognise my voice, Girland?’ Malik asked. ‘You don’t need the gun.’
Girland snapped on his flashlight. The small, powerful beam hit the double doors, shifted to the right and centred on Malik who was standing against the wail, his hands raised.
Gilly caught her breath at the sight of this giant of a man and she retreated.
Girland lowered the beam of his flashlight so it didn’t dazzle Malik.
‘You’re the last person I expected to see, Comrade,’ he said. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘It seemed to me,’ Malik said, ‘that you needed help.’
Girland laughed.
‘ An understatement.’ He paused and looked thoughtfully at Malik. ‘Since when have you wanted to help me?’
‘I owe you something.’
Girland’s puzzled expression cleared.
‘I get it… last time we parted you promised to buy me a drink. Is this your idea of a drink?’
‘Call it that if you like. I’m here to help.’
Girland walked down the vast room, keeping his flashlight’s beam on Malik’s legs until he reached him. He put his gun back in his hip pocket and offered his hand.
‘It’s quite a time… I’ve missed you.’
The two men shook hands.
‘I think I have also missed you,’ Malik said. ‘At least when we were fighting against each other, it was amusing. Since last time we met, life hasn’t been amusing.’
They were speaking so quietly that Gilly who was crouched against the far wall, couldn’t hear what they were saying.
This silver-haired giant scared her. Seeing Girland walk towards him and then shake hands with him did nothing to allay her fears.
‘You’ d better meet Gillian Sherman,’ Girland said.
They joined Gilly at the far end of the room. With Girland holding the flashlight so they could all see each other, he made the introductions.
‘Gilly, I want you to meet an old enemy of mine of the Soviet Intelligence. His name is Malik: a name that is as infamous as it is famous.’
Gilly looked at Malik with horror. He regarded her with his flat evil green eyes with the indifference of a man regarding a hole in a wall.
‘Malik, this is Gillian Sherman, the daughter of the possible future President of the United States,’ Girland went on, enjoying himself. ‘Shake hands nicely and let’s be sociable.’
Gilly backed away while Malik thrust his hands in his pockets.
‘I know all about her,’ Malik said in German. ‘I want to talk to you. * He paused, then went on, ‘Can she understand German?’
‘No… French but no German.’
‘Good.’ Malik took out his flashlight, turned it on and walked halfway down the room. He sat down in one of the high back leather chairs and lit a cigarette.
‘He wants to talk to me,’ Girland said to Gilly. ‘There’s nothing to be scared about. Sit there and wait for me.’ He led her to a chair against the far wall.
‘I’m frightened of that man… he’s evil.’
‘Just relax. I know a lot more about him than you do.’ The conversation was carried on in whispers. ‘Sit down and leave this to me.’
‘You’re so goddamn cocky, aren’t you?’ Gilly exploded in a furious whisper. ‘You’re so sure of yourself? I tell you he’s evil!’
Girland felt for her face, pinched her chin in his forefinger and thumb and kissed her. For a moment she tried to avert her face, then her lips met his and parted.
‘Another time… another place,’ Girland said, drawing back.
He again turned on his flashlight and made his way to a chair next to the one Malik was sitting in. He sat down beside him.
‘Cigarette?’ Malik asked, offering his pack.
Girland took the Russian cigarette and both men lit up.
There was a brief pause, then Malik said, speaking in soft German, ‘I want you to know, Girland, I’m working with you. That’s why I’m here.’
This statement didn’t entirely surprise Girland. He had heard through his various contacts that Malik was out of favour and had been taken out of the active field. He was aware that Malik owed him his life. This man now appeared to be an odd mixture: ruthless, dangerous and clever, but now it seemed there was a sentimental s streak in him.
‘I remember what you said when last we met,’ Malik went on from out of the darkness, ‘that we are professionals and the little stinkers who pull the strings are the amateurs. I’ve often thought about that. We both have to earn a living, do what we are told… I much more than you, but there comes a time when it is possible to hit back at the little stinkers. You walked out on Dorey… I have my chance now to get even with Kovski.’
‘Comrade Kovski… how is he?’ Girland asked lightly.
‘Better than he is going to be,’ Malik said grimly. ‘He has given me the assignment to find out why Sherman came to Paris, why Dorey gave you a movie projector and why you have come to Bavaria.’
‘How are you progressing?’
‘Well enough.’ Malik drew on his cigarette, and for a brief moment the glowing end of the cigarette lit up his square, Slavonic features. ‘This girl has made a pornographic film. With this film, she is blackmailing her father. She is a member of an anti-war organisation, run by Rosnold, a pornographic photographer who is now dead.
Sherman went to Dorey for help. Dorey realised he couldn’t make this official so he appealed to you. You followed these two to Garmisch. Somehow Herman Radnitz heard of this. This is his Schloss. You were invited… you fell for the invitation and now you are trapped here. I followed you here. I saw Rosnold shot. I saw a man leave in Rosnold’s car.
He is being followed. I climbed over the wall and here I am.’
Girland grinned in the darkness.
‘Pretty sound work, Malik,’ he said. ‘You’re right on the beam. The man using Rosnold’s car has gone to get the films…there are three of them. When they have them, they will knock the girl on the head and that will conclude the operation.’
‘Knock you on the head too?’
‘Certain to.’
‘Why wait? We can leave now,’ Malik said. ‘We can get down by the rope. I came up by it. There are three men guarding the lodge at the gates. That is where the switch is operating the current to the walls. You and I could take them easily and we are away. My gun is silenced.’
‘The girl couldn’t get down the rope’
‘Does she matter? Why not leave her?’
‘No… besides, there is a slight complication.’ Girland grinned in the darkness. Tm not leaving until I get those three films. The girl and I remain here until the messenger returns. He won’t be back before 18.00 hrs. tomorrow.’
‘I see. Sherman is paying you of course.’
‘Why else do you imagine I’m sticking my neck out?’
Malik dropped the butt of his cigarette on the floor and put his foot on it.
‘You have always been obsessed by money.’
‘Aren’t you?’
‘No… because in my country you don’t have much money… you don’t get the chance to put a value on it. So you will stay here until the films arrive… then what do you propose to do?’
‘ Get them and walk out.’
‘Then what do you propose to do?’ Malik repeated, a note of
impatience in his voice.
‘What I said. I’ll stick a gun in the count’s well-fed back and make him drive us out of here.’
Malik remained silent for a long moment.
‘So I have to stay here with you until 18.00 hrs. tomorrow?’
‘You don’t have to.’
‘I said I would help you. You can’t do this on your own with the girl. You need someone to guard your back. A quick shot through the back of your head and the operation fails. There is an expert gunman here. Did you see how he picked off Rosnold? A perfect shot through the head. You wouldn’t stand a chance.’
Girland rubbed his jaw.
‘I’m going to get those films. They are worth ten thousand dollars to me. I’m going to wait for them to arrive.’
Malik flashed on his flashlight and looked at his cheap Czech watch. The time was 02.00 hrs.
‘Then we have sixteen hours to wait,’ he said.
That’s about right.’
‘Without food?’
I’ll get some from downstairs later.’
‘Don’t under-rate that gunman. He is a first-class shot.’
Girland stood up.
‘So you are sticking with me?’
‘Yes.’
‘I can use you… thanks. Let’s get some sleep. There’s abed in the room next to this one. Sleep lightly.’
‘I don’t need sleep,’ Malik said curtly. ‘You take the bed. I’ll keep watch.’
Girland wasn’t going to argue about this. He liked his sleep.
He went down the room to where Gilly was waiting.
‘Come on… we’re going back to the four-poster. Malik will keep watch,’ he said to her.
She followed him silently past Malik. They paused in tjie doorway, saw the guard was still sleeping at the head of the stairs and slipped silently into the room they had previously occupied. They stretched out on the bed.
‘I don’t understand,’ Gilly said as she lay beside Girland. ‘Is that man really a Russian agent?
‘He’s probably the best of all their agents.’
‘Then what is he doing here?’
‘Russia wouldn’t welcome your father as President. Don’t bother your brains about it. I’m going to sleep.’ Gilly half sat up.
‘But how could the Russians get to know about me?’
‘The Russians always make capital out of reckless and stupid acts,’ Girland said. ‘You’ve handed them something on a plate, but don’t bother your brains about it. I’m going to sleep.’
He was asleep long before Gilly finally drifted off into an uneasy doze. The hours ticked away. At six-thirty, the first light of the dawn came through the slots in the wooden shutters and Girland came awake.
He yawned, stretched and slid off the bed.
Gilly started up.
‘Wait here,’ he said and moved silently to the door. He eased it open and looked down the long corridor. The guard was gone. He looked towards the double doors of the banqueting room. Malik was sitting in the half-open doorway, smoking.
‘The guard left half an hour ago,’ Malik said softly. ‘There’s a bathroom right opposite. I’ve been doing a little exploring.’
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.
The tapping stopped, and again silence closed in around Silk. He edged further forward. Nothing happened. He felt a surge of rage run through him, aware that he was jumpy and his nerves were crawling. Then just when he was deciding to return to his chair, the tapping began again.
He remembered von Goltz had assured him that Girland was unarmed. He decided he had to investigate this sound.
Moving like a black shadow, he stepped out on to the terrace, his gun ready.
Malik saw him and tapped twice fast, then squirmed back out of sight.
Girland heard the two quick taps and went down the stairs, fast and silently to the second floor. Now he could see the half open door leading into the living-room and caught a glimpse of the empty chair, pulled near the doorway. He stepped back into the corridor.
Silk looked up at the rows of balconies above him. He saw nothing suspicious. His nerves were now so taut that he became reckless with rage. He stepped right out on to the terrace where he had a good view of the balconies.
Malik grinned and lifted his pistol. It was a difficult shot as the bars of the balcony obstructed his view.
Silk saw the movement although he didn’t see the pistol. He fired instantly. The bullet slammed against the concrete just below Malik’s head, spraying splinters, one of which hit Malik across the bridge of his nose. He started back, and Silk, now knowing where his opponent was, dashed back into the living-room.
He had had enough of this cat and mouse business. He knew Girland had no gun and he knew he was on the third floor.
He didn’t hesitate. Rushing across the hall, he went up the stairs two at the time, not caring about the noise he was making.
In the corridor on the second floor, Girland heard him coming and quickly stepped into a nearby room.
Silk came pounding up the stairs. As he started up the next flight of stairs, Girland went after him. Half-way up the stairs, Silk heard him. He stopped short and spun around, but Girland was on him, grabbing at his ankles. Girland heaved and Silk went over his head to crash down the stairs, his gun flying out of his hand.
Girland spun around and launched himself at Silk as Silk was struggling to his feet. Silk couldn’t avoid the flying body and went down under Girland with a crash that set the weapons on the walls jangling.
With strength that startled Girland, Silk threw him off and the two men rolled apart. Girland was first into action. He was half up and slamming himself down on Silk before Silk could raise himself. Girland chopped with the side of his hand, smashing down on the side of Silk’s neck. Silk went out like a snuffed candle.
Malik came leaping down the stairs as Girland bent over Silk. Seeing the blood on Malik’s face, Girland asked, ‘You hurt?’
‘It’s nothing.’ Malik wiped his face with his handkerchief. He stared down at Silk.’Who is he?’
‘I wouldn’t know… sweet looking specimen isn’t he? You watch him. I’ll get a curtain cord.’
Girland went into one of the rooms and broke off a length of cord. He returned and bound Silk’s hands behind his back and his ankles together.
‘Let’s dump him out of the way.’
They carried Silk’s unconscious body into the room and put him on a bed.
‘He’ll be out for an hour or so.’ Girland tore off a piece of the dust sheet covering the bed and gagged Silk. ‘Let’s hunt up some food… I’ m starving. Hang on a moment, I’ll get Gilly.’
Ten minutes later, the three of them were sitting in the vast kitchen, hungrily eating cold chicken and thick slices of ham.
‘I have an idea,’ Malik said as he began to demolish another slice of ham. ‘We don’t have to stay here until the messenger arrives. We can meet him at the Munich airport. Between the two of us we can persuade him to part with the films. We could be back in Paris by midnight.’
‘Too risky. We might not spot the messenger.’
‘I had a good look at him… I’ll spot him.’
‘How about the electric fence?’
Malik wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
‘We’ll take a car… there are four of them in the garage, go down to the lodge, take it, turn off the current and we’re on our way.’
Girland considered this idea. He checked his watch. The next plane from Paris wouldn’t arrive for another five hours.
They had plenty of time.
‘Okay… we’ll do it.’ He turned to Gilly. ‘Can you drive, baby?’
‘Of course… and don’t call me baby!’
Girland laughed.
‘Come on up and pack.’ He turned to Malik. Will you get the car?’
Ten minutes later, Girland, carrying Gilly’s bag and his own, followed by Gilly, ran down the steps to the waiting white Mercedes 200.
‘You drive,’ Girland said to Gilly as he dumped the bags in the boot of the car.
He and Malik got in the back. Gilly set the car in motion and drove down the long, twisting drive until Girland told her to stop,
‘We’ll go the rest of the way on foot. When I whistle, come on down to the gates.’
‘Please be careful!’ Gilly said. She was getting scared again.
‘Oh, sure… just relax and listen for my whistle.’
He joined Malik, and together they went swiftly on down the drive. When in sight of the lodge, they paused.
‘I’ll go around the back,’ Malik said,’drawing his-gun.’’Give me a couple of minutes.’
But they need not have taken precautions for the three guards in the lodge were having lunch. They were absorbed in a vast meal of white sausages with a mustard sauce and sauerkraut.
Girland kicked open the door and the three guards stared with stupefied eyes at his threatening gun. Malik joined him.
Turn the current off!’ Malik snarled and the threat of his green eyes so scared the head guard that he scrambled to his feet and pulled down a lever on the wall.
It took them a few minutes to tie each man securely to his chair, then Malik and Girland left the lodge.
While Malik ran to open the big gates, Girland went up the drive and whistled piercingly.
Later, as Girland drove the Mercedes into the crowded car park at the Munich airport, Gilly said, There’s the T.R.4.’ She pointed to where the scarlet T.R.4 was parked among other cars.
Malik, sitting in the back of the Mercedes, leaned forward.
I’ll handle this,’ he said. The messenger may have seen you. He hasn’t seen me. Here’s what we do…’
As the aircraft from Paris stopped at the arrival bay, Fritz Kirst reluctantly undid his safety belt. He wasn’t pleased to be back, but it had certainly been marvellous luck to have been sent to Paris on such an easy mission. When he had arrived, the bank had been closed so he had the whole evening and half the night to explore this city which he had never had the good fortune to visit before.
Kirst had only been working for von Goltz for two years. He had a badly paid job as an assistant to the estate manager who constantly bullied him. Kirst was far from satisfied with his job and was planning to make a change as soon as something better came along. However, the Paris trip had made up for a lot of his past grievances, and although he had spent more money than he could afford, he told himself, as he walked through the Customs, that it had been worth it.
A silver-haired giant of a man approached him.
‘Your name?’
The snap in the voice and the cold green eyes brought Kirst to attention. He was so used to being snapped at by his superiors he reacted automatically.
‘Fritz Kirst, sir,’ he said.
Malik nodded.
‘Good… your master told me to pick you up. Follow me,’ and without looking at Kirst, Malik, knowing the German weakness for obeying orders, turned on his heel and walked briskly to where the Mercedes was parked.
Kirst, a little bewilderd, had to break into a trot to keep up with him. Who was this man? he was asking himself. Why had the count sent him? But when he saw the count’s car, his uneasiness disappeared. Malik was already at the wheel, and Kirst had to scramble in as Malik eased the car out of the parking bay.
As Malik drove out on to the main road, Kirst said timidly, ‘Excuse me, sir,but…’
‘I don’t like people talking to me when I’m driving!’ Malik snapped. Kirst placed his brief-case on his knees and sat back, snubbed and silent.
This big man certainly could handle a car, he thought as Malik whipped the Mercedes through the traffic with expert ease. They quickly left Munich behind. As they reached the highway to Garmisch, Kirst happened to look in the off-side wing mirror. He stared… stared again, then stiffened.
Right behind the Mercedes was a small scarlet car. Kirst immediately recognised the driver and the girl beside him.
They were the two the count was keeping prisoners at the Schloss, and that car! It was the car he had been ordered to leave at the airport!
Sweat broke out on his face. He looked wildly at Malik who glared at him so evilly Kirst shuddered.
‘Sit still and keep quiet!’ Malik snarled.
Some way down the busy highway, there was a left turn: a narrow country road leading to a distant farmhouse. Malik slowed, swung the car down the road, drove until he reached a bend that would put the car out of sight from the highway and pulled up.
‘You have a packet from a Paris bank I want,’ Malik said. ‘Give it to me!’
The T.R.4 pulled up behind the Mercedes and Girland slid out. He came to the off-side door of the Mercedes and looked through the open window at Kirst.
‘Has he given it to you?’
‘Not yet… but he will.’
Kirst hesitated for only a second, then with shaking hands, he opened the brief-case and took from it a square-shaped, sealed packet. Malik took it from him and examined it.
Girland quietly slid his gun from his hip pocket. He didn’t trust Malik. He kept the gun down by his side, but the movement hadn’t escaped Malik who looked up, stared at him and grinned.
‘You take after me… you trust nobody,’ he said and reaching across Kirst, he thrust the packet at Girland who took it with his left hand.
‘I apologise… force of habit,’ Girland said and put the gun back into his hip pocket. He went over to Gilly who was waiting in the T.R.4. ‘Is this it?’ he asked showing her the packet.
‘Yes’ Gilly said and made a quick snatch at it, but Girland was too quick for her. She looked pleadingly at him. ‘Please give it to me… it’s mine!’
Girland shook his head.
‘Don’t let’s go all over this again, Gilly. You gave me your word. This goes to your father.’
She went white.
‘No! Please! I couldn’t live knowing he had seen those films! If you give them to him, F11 kill myself! I swear I will!’
Girland studied her.
‘But, Gilly, shouldn’t you have thought of this before you made them? After all, you were going to send them to his enemies, weren’t you?’
‘Of course not! Please believe me! I was bluffing. Of course I wasn’t going to send them to them. I Can’t bear to think of anyone seeing them!’
‘Oh come on, Gilly. You’ve already sent one spool to your father.’
‘I didn’t! It was Pierre! He sent it and then told me afterwards ! I could have killed him! Besides, these…’ She caught her breath in a sob. ‘They — they are much worse. I can’t bear anyone seeing them. Don’t you understand? I didn’t know what I was doing as you or anyone else wouldn’t have if you had had as much L.S.D. as I had.’ Tears began to run down her face. ‘You can’t do this to me!’
Girland regarded the packet in his hand, then looked at her.
‘This little lot is worth ten thousand dollars to me. Why should I care what it does to you?’
She hid her face in her hands and began to sob violently, rocking herself to and fro: a picture of misery. Girland became aware that Malik had got out of the Mercedes and was watching him curiously.
Still holding the packet in his hand, Girland said, ‘What are we going to do with our friend?’
‘Tie him up and dump him here,’ Malik said. ‘Someone will find him. It’ll give us time to get back to the airport and catch the Paris plane if we hurry.’
Girland looked at Gilly who was rocking herself backwards and forwards and he shook his head.
‘Gilly… cut the act. It’s good, but it doesn’t convince me. You are like a lot of people… when they are on top, they’re fine. When the cards fall wrong, they snivel I don’t believe Rosnold was behind this. I think you were and now, without him, you’ve lost your guts. Here… take them.’ He placed the packet on the hood of the T.R.4. Turning, he went to the Mercedes and took from the boot, Gilly’s suitcase. This he dropped behind the driving seat of the T.R.4.
Gilly continued to sob, her face hidden in her hands.
Girland regarded her, grimaced, then shrugged. He walked back to the Mercedes.
‘Let’s drive further up the road to the next bend,’ he said, getting into the car.
‘You’re forgetting the packet,’ Malik said as he slid under the driving wheel.
‘Don’t be so obvious, Comrade,’ Girland said. ‘Let’s move.’
Malik drove to the next bend and then pulled up. He told Kirst to get out. While he was tying Kirst’s trembling hands behind his back, Girland lit a cigarette. He heard the T.R.4 start up.
Malik looked at him.
‘She’s going.’
‘Yes.’
‘She’s taken the packet.’
‘Yes.’
Malik tied Kirst’s ankles together, then picking him up, dropped him over the hedge.
‘I thought you were interested in money, Girland,’ he said. ‘Wasn’t Dorey going to pay you for those films?’
‘So he said.’ Girland got into the passenger’s seat of the car. ‘Come on… let’s move.’
With a puzzled expression, Malik started the car, reversed and headed down to the highway.
Although Malik drove fast, Girland saw no sign of the scarlet T.R.4. Gilly was driving even faster.
There were only six other passengers on the last flight to Paris and Girland and Malik sat together, away from the others.
Both men were silent: both occupied with their thoughts.
Girland said suddenly, ‘You won’t tell me unless you want to, Malik, but there’s no harm in asking. Just why did you give up those films? I was anticipating trouble. With them, you could have made a big hit with your people. They wouldn’t have hesitated to use them and Sherman would have been sunk. Have you lost interest in your work?’
Malik stared broodingly down at his big hands. For some moments, Girland thought he wasn’t going to reply, then he said, ‘At last I’m following your example. Ever since I began working for security, I’ve never considered my own interests whereas you have always put yourself first and your job second. Now I’ve decided to do just that. As long as Kovski is in power, I will never be allowed to return to the active field where I belong. Sitting at a desk, handling paper is death to me. This is my chance to destroy Kovski and I am taking it. Once he is destroyed, I will get back to the active field. He turned his head and his flat green eyes searched Girland’s face. Then you and I will be enemies again.’
‘Maybe we won’t meet again,’ Girland said, shrugging. ‘It’s only because Dorey keeps tempting me with money that I fall for his cockeyed assignments. He may get tired of it. How are you fixing Comrade Kovski? -
Again Malik took his time before answering. Finally he said, ‘When I report tomorrow, I will tell him you destroyed the films before I could get them. I will remind him that if he had acted on my suggestion and had cabled the American airport police that Sherman was returning on a false passport, Sherman would have been ruined by now… that the films meant nothing. We could have prevented Sherman becoming President by sending this cable. This Kovski stupidly refused to do. I will then tell him that a tape recording of our conversation is on its way to Moscow.’ Malik looked down at his hands and smiled evilly. ‘That will be the moment… when he realises what I have done… that I shall enjoy.’
Girland nodded.
‘I can imagine. Dorey will be pleased.’
Malik shrugged his heavy shoulders.
‘Many people will be pleased.’ He looked at his watch. ‘We will be landing in a few minutes. We must not be seen together. Drina will be on duty at the airport. Will you go first? I will follow after you when Drina is telephoning that you are back.’
‘That’s okay.’
As the plane began its descent, Malik looked directly at Girland.
‘I’ll say good-bye now. I hope we don’t meet again. In a couple of months I’ll be back in the active field. We are all square now… you understand?’
Girland laughed.
‘I can take a hint. I hope we don’t meet again and thanks for your help. Yes… we’re all square.’
He offered his hand and Malik gripped it, then as the plane touched down and began to taxi towards the arrival bay, both men unfastened their safety belts.
Girland was disappointed when he walked into Dorey’s outer office to find Mavis Paul not at her desk.
He flicked down the switch on the inter-com connecting with Dorey’s office.
‘Yes?’ Dorey’s voice asked.
‘This is your favourite ex-agent reporting,’ Girland said. ‘Did I wake you up?’
‘Oh… you. Come in.’
Girland entered the big room, sauntered across to the visitor’s chair and sank into it. He was wearing a lightweight grey tweed suit, a blood-red tie and dark-brown casuals. Dorey was surprised to see him so well turned out.
‘Nice to see me again?’ Girland asked with a jeering little smile.
Dorey regarded him over the tops of his spectacles.
‘Did you get those films?’
Girland lifted his shoulders. He took his time before saying, ‘Yes and no. I did have them, but the poor little girl sobbed so hard when I told her I was giving them to her old man that I gave them back to her.’
Dorey stiffened.
‘Are you trying to waste my time?’
‘I wouldn’t dream of doing that. If you don’t believe me, call up the Soviet Embassy and ask Malik. Without him, I doubt if I would have got the films. He was an eye-witness to the touching scene when I decided, not without pain to myself, that I would rather let the girl have them than her creep of a father.’
‘In other words you haven’t the films… you have failed,’ Dorey exclaimed, his face flushing with anger.
‘I didn’t fail. I don’t fail. I got them and you can assure your pal that he can go ahead and run for office. The films have been destroyed. Gillian has promised to behave herself in the future. You can’t call that failure, can you?’
‘Do you expect me to believe any of this?’ Dorey said furiously. ‘Your assignment was to bring those films to me! Now stop this fooling! Have you got them or haven’t you?’
‘I know you are getting old, but I didn’t realise you are also getting deaf, Dorey,’ Girland said, looking sad. ‘The girl has destroyed them. She has promised to leave her father strictly alone in the future.’
‘How do I know she has destroyed them? A promise from a slut like that? What is that worth?’ Dorey demanded, banging his fist on the desk.
‘Did you know Sherman gave the green light to Radnitz to have her murdered?’ Girland asked quietly.
Dorey stiffened and looked hard at Girland who had lost his bantering expression. There was a steely gleam in his eyes that told Dorey he was being deadly serious.
‘I think you should tell me just what has been happening,’ he said.
I’ll tell you… that’s why I’m here. By the way how has your pal Sherman been getting along since I’ve been away?’
‘What do you expect? Because of his daughter, he has had to remain at home. He’s lost ground. You can’t fight an election at home.’
Girland brightened.
‘Well, that’s good news. Perhaps Gilly has struck a mortal blow after all.’
‘I’m not saying that, but he is now behind. Ten days are vital at this period of the election.’
‘So the creep might not become President after all?’
‘Never mind about him. What’s been happening?’
Girland took one of Dorey’s cigarettes, lit it and settled himself comfortably. He then proceeded to give Dorey a lucid report of the past events.
Dorey sat in his chair, his chin resting on his finger tips, his eyes hooded as he listened. When Girland described Rosnold’s murder, Dorey’s lips tightened, but he still didn’t interrupt.
‘And so when the girl started to cry her eyes out,’ Giriand concluded, ‘I thought the gentlemanly thing to do was to give her the films… so I gave them to her. Perhaps you wouldn’t have?’
Dorey brooded for some moments.
‘You have no real proof that Sherman is implicated with this kidnapping and murder?’ he asked finally.
‘I don’t need proof. Sherman and Radnitz are buddy-buddies. Gilly made a nuisance of herself… Q.E.D. What’s it matter anyway? She isn’t charging the creep with attempted murder.’
Dorey winced.
‘I find this difficult to believe,’ he said slowly, but his shocked eyes told Girland he did believe.
‘You don’t have to… it’s over now… who cares?’
‘What has happened to the girl?’.
Girland shrugged.
‘You don’t have to worry about her. She is capable of taking care of herself. She’ll keep her promise… I’m sure of that.’
Dorey began to relax.
‘You realise, Girland, that unless I give those three films to Sherman, he won’t part with any more money?’
‘I knew that when I gave Gilly the films,’ Girland said and smiled wryly. ‘I earned the first ten thousand dollars so I keep them but I intend to spend them as fast as I can. I wouldn’t take any more money from Sherman if he offered it to me…some money smells, but his money stinks.’
Dorey lifted his hands a little helplessly.
‘There are times when I don’t understand you,’ he said. ‘I was under the impression any money smelt good to you.’
‘Well, we all live and learn.’ Girland laughed. ‘I have another choice item of news for you,’ and he went on to tell Dorey that Kovski was heading for disgrace.
Dorey considered this, then shook his head.
‘It isn’t good news, Girland.’ I would rather have a blustering fool like Kovski in charge of Security than a devil like Malik back in the active field. You’re not using your head.’
Girland acknowledged the truth of this by nodding.
‘Yes… I must admit that fact had escaped me. Not that I could have done anything about it. It’s Malik’s private vendetta, Anyway, it doesn’t matter to me. I’m distinctly ex now. I don’t suppose I’ll ever run into Malik again. You had better warn your boys. They have been having it too soft recently.’
Dorey rubbed his jaw as he regarded Girland.
‘I don’t believe you really want to leave us, Girland. Now there is an interesting little job in Tangier that would exactly suit you.’ He reached for a file and drew it lovingly towards him. ‘Plenty of action… two women… pretty ones involved. Yes, it would exactly suit you and I know you could handle it.’ Girland lifted his eyebrows. ‘The old siren at work again. How about the money?’
This is an official job so you would be paid official rates,’ Dorey said, a sudden waspish note in his voice.
Girland levered himself out of the chair.
‘No, thank you. I have ten thousand dollars to squander. I’ve given up working for peanuts.’ He lifted his hand and flapped his fingers at Dorey. ‘So long. If anything crops up in the ten thousand dollar bracket, I might consider it. Think big is my motto: should be yours too.’
He wandered out, closing the door gently behind him. His face lit up with his charming smile as he saw Mavis Paul at her typewriter.
She looked up, flushed and then continued to type.
‘Not a word of welcome?’ Girland said, coming to the desk and smiling down at her. ‘Not one glad little cry of pleasure?’
Mavis hesitated and then stopped typing. She looked up at him.
‘Did anyone tell you you have eyes like stars and lips made for a kiss?’ Girland asked. ‘I got that off a bottle of perfume.’
‘The exit is behind you and to the right,’ Mavis said without sounding very convincing.
‘How about a dinner with me at Lasserre: soft music, beautiful food, velvety wines? I have lots of money I want to get rid of. Shall we say nine o’clock?’
Mavis regarded him. She thought he looked very handsome. An evening out with him couldn’t fail to be exciting. She suddenly realised her life up to now had been all work and no play.
‘Thank you… yes…’
‘My mother once told me that if I didn’t at first succeed… Girland laughed happily. ‘This is going to be the most maddeningly exciting evening of my life… and your life. Then nine o’clock at Lasserre.’
She nodded and began typing again.
Girland wandered to the door. As he was about to leave, she stopped typing. He turned and looked inquiringly at her.
Her eyes were sparkling as she asked, ‘Do you still own that Bukhara rug?’