Читать книгу Tales of Mystery & Espionage: 21 Spy Thrillers in One Edition - E. Phillips Oppenheim - Страница 83

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The intruders displayed none of Fritz’s hesitation. They pushed the door noisily open and stood staring about them. They were both hefty fellows, one in a well-worn German S.S. uniform, the other in a newer outfit of the same type with the Swastika prominently displayed. They had only one rather poor torch between them carried by the Austrian.

“What are you men doing in this place?” the latter asked suspiciously.

Charles was on the point of answering him when Blute gripped his arm.

“Let me deal with this,” he begged, speaking in English. “I know how to handle these fellows better than you would. Besides, I want you to keep out of it as much as you can.”

“It’s too late to think of that,” Charles replied. “Still, go ahead, my friend. If you have an idea how to deal with this situation you’re welcome. Anything short of murder—don’t forget that.”

“Turn on the lights!” the bigger man shouted. “I want to see what sort of place we’re in.”

“There are no lights, Herr Gestapo,” Blute answered. “You’ll have to do as well as you can with your torch. What do you want here, anyway? This is private property.”

The German took the torch away from his companion and inspected the place as far as he could. His language became blasphemous.

“What in hell is a place like this for—stone walls—stone roof—stone floor and not a light?”

“It’s a prison/’ Blute explained.

“A prison for whom?” the Austrian asked contemptuously.

“You, if you don’t behave yourself,” was the quick response. “Now, put your hands up—both of you—quick!”

Blute drew a clumsy, old-fashioned revolver from his pocket and held it out. The weapon which Charles had been hiding behind his back also appeared. It was a highly modern, beautifully polished affair.

“Put your revolver away,” Blute told him. “I could hit their eyeballs if I wanted to from here. They aren’t armed, you see. They’ve got nothing but those steel whips with knobs at the end—wicked weapons but no good except at close quarters.”

“Do you know we are Gestapo?” the German shouted. “You’ll go to prison for this!”

“And you’ll go to hell, if you don’t keep your mouth shut,” Blute retorted. “Want some plain talk or a bullet, you two?”

“Proceed with the plain talk,” the Austrian demanded. “Put your revolver down. We are not armed.”

“So I see, but I will keep my revolver in my hand. I earned my living once as a trick shot on the stage. I could put a bullet in either of you any place I chose within a couple of millimetres. And, while I’m about it, get this into your brains if you’ve got any—we’ve been working here for some time and we’re not going to be disturbed. There are two things you can do. You’d better stand still and listen to them. If you make the slightest attempt to escape you are dead men and I can promise we can hide your bodies in this building in such a way that they will never be found until the rats have eaten the flesh off your bones.”

“They’ll be taking a dislike to you presently,” Charles muttered sotto voce.

“You leave me alone,” Blute whispered. “I know the breed. Now then, you fellows,” he went on, “you may put your hands down. I’m not afraid of your rushing in. You want to know what we are. We’re thieves. This place has been empty for years, there isn’t a soul living anywhere near and we’ve used it for a hiding place. We’ve still got some loot here to carry away. It will take us two or three days. Until we’ve taken it right away you’ll stay where you are.

“What, in this place?” the German called out.

“In this place,” Blute repeated. “And you can be thankful you’re not down in one of the cellars with a bullet through your forehead.”

The Austrian coughed. His small eyes were glazed with fear.

“I think we’d better come to an arrangement,” he suggested. “I’m an S.S. man all right—so is my friend—but we all have to live. If we were free we would arrest you. As we are not, we will not be so silly as to try. Make it worth our while and we’ll clear out.”

“There’s another Austrian alive,” Blute observed with a grin, “whose word I wouldn’t trust for five minutes. I fancy you two are about the same kidney. There may be something coming to you afterwards if you behave yourselves, but I wouldn’t trust either of you further than I could see you. Come on—I’m not much of a talker—no more is my friend. We like things to happen. Take your choice. Are you going to obey us or are you going to share the contents of this revolver of mine?”

“You’ve got us,” the German said sulkily. “We’ll do as you say, provided there’s no killing.”

“There’ll be no killing unless you ask for it. You came here of your own choice—you’ll leave when we choose.”

“When will that be?” the Austrian asked uneasily.

“Possibly in either four or five days.”

The stream of blasphemy from the German left him for a moment incapable of coherent speech. The Austrian kept his head and temper.

“What do we live on for those four days?” he demanded.

“Sausages, beef, rolls, butter, coffee, beer and brandy,” was the prompt response.

“Where do they come from?” the German growled.

“You will be provided with food—just as much as you can eat,” Blute promised, “and drink—just as much as you can put away—provided you make no attempt to communicate with anyone outside.”

There was a cunning gleam in the big man’s eye. It was easy to guess at the thought behind it. Blute flashed his torch upon him.

“By whatever means these things are brought to you,” he said, “it will be in such a fashion that you will be dead in ten seconds if you try any tricks.”

The German scowled. This wizard of a man seemed to have read his thoughts. His companion raised his voice in excitement.

“Mein Herr,” he promised, “I will look after Adolf here. I am not going to have my life risked by his folly. I don’t care if you are a thief, I don’t care how much you get away with, I don’t mind anything as long as we aren’t hurt and we get our liberty in four or five days and something in our pockets for keeping quiet.”

“Same here,” the German echoed gruffly, but without quite as much sincerity ringing in his voice.

“Now, tell me this,” Blute asked, turning slightly towards Charles but keeping a stern watch upon the two intruders. “You said that Fritz is to be trusted. Do you mean that absolutely and entirely?”

“I mean that I trust him as completely,” Charles replied, “as I should you yourself or Miss Grey.”

“The matter, then, is easy,” Blute decided. “Fritz,” he went on, “your master wants to speak to you.”

The two men in uniform started. Fritz appeared from the shadows. There was a somewhat self-conscious smile upon his face. He pointed to the Austrian Nazi as he approached.

“My cousin,” he announced, “Johann Lehrer. He was not so bad until he joined the Gestapo.”

“Fritz!” the other exclaimed.

“Relations, eh?” Blute queried.

“I speak the truth,” Fritz said. “He is the son of my mother’s sister.”

“Family ties, eh?” Blute observed. “Well, that may help. Now listen. Fritz, I take it,” he added, turning to Charles, “is entirely at our disposal for the next four or five days, if necessary?”

“He will do whatever we tell him,” Charles answered. “His trustworthiness is guaranteed.”

“This, then, is what will happen,” Blute announced. “In the first place Fritz will drive us back to the hotel. We shall leave you there,” he went on, touching Mildenhall on the arm. “I hope you will have the night’s sleep you deserve. Fritz and I will drive on to the all-night market. Listen,” he continued, beckoning to the two others, “you can come a little nearer. First, perhaps, it would be better if you took your belts off and got rid of those ugly-looking weapons.”

The two Nazis did as they were bidden. They had lost all fear now and it was obvious that they were intrigued.

“In the all-night market,” Blute went on, “Fritz will purchase for you all the provisions I have mentioned or anything else you prefer. He will then drive back to this place, he will open the door with his revolver in one hand and pass over the provisions to you. He will then lock you up again. He can provide you with journals which he will buy on the way down. Let this be clearly understood. You have your provisions and your drinks and you will be locked up here alone.”

“With the provisions and drinks?” the German repeated in a stentorian voice.

“Precisely.”

“And tobacco?”

“And tobacco,” Blute assented. “Later in the day Fritz will return. This time he may bring you wine and perhaps a can of hot meat. You will be well fed in any case. That is understood. He may be accompanied by men who will do some removal work. That is not for you to notice. Whatever they may appear to be, these men are on our side, and if you appeal to them in any way the chapter will be closed. You will go out of the world probably with a bullet in your body and you will have thrown your lives away to no purpose.”

“We shall not do that,” the German declared. “I am not in love with my job. We will follow the directions. We are listening.”

“For two or three days you may see either this gentleman who is with me or myself at any time. Then the moment will come when we shall leave the city. Fritz here will remain. There will be twenty-four hours’ interval after we have left, during which you will have your usual supply of food and papers, drink and tobacco. At the end of that time Fritz will place in your hands a certain sum of money each.”

“What will that sum be?” the German asked, his blue eyes greedily eager.

“One thousand reichsmarks each.”

The two men were speechless. The Austrian was the first to find words.

“How do we know that we will get it?” he demanded.

“You can surely trust your relative,” Blute replied. “We are giving him his own present separately and we will hand him one thousand reichsmarks for each of you two. You hear that, Fritz?”

“Certainly, sir,” the chauffeur answered. “I can tell you both,” he went on. “One of you I don’t know but the other is my cousin and he knows very well that I have been an honest man all my life and always kept my word. These gentlemen will keep theirs. I know that much about them. They will give me the thousand reichsmarks for each of you and I will hand it over to you. You are very lucky fellows!”

“There is one thing left,” Blute reflected. “In this you will have to concern yourselves a little. How will you account for your absence to your principals?”

Johann, the Austrian, simply grinned.

“With me that is easy,” he confided. “I shall offer a princely gift to my sergeant. I shall offer him five reichsmarks. He will enter me in his book as on duty. My comrade here is in my charge. For another five he will enter him also as having been in my company.”

“You have no wives or anything of that sort?” Blute asked.

An ecstatic smile broke over the German’s face. The Austrian’s grin was seraphic.

“The little Lizette,” he muttered to himself. “I have dreamed of this! No, mein Herr,” he went on, turning to Blute, “we have no wives and we sleep in the barracks, but I think I can promise you that we shall have a wife each in five days’ time.”

“I have no wife or sweetheart in Germany,” the other said, “and these Austrian women—they are lovely.”

“Well,” Charles said, after a momentary pause, “that all seems to be happily arranged. You’d better change your plans now, Blute, and come back with me.”

“I think you’re right,” Blute agreed, “although they’d get the shock of their lives if they set out to rob me! A staff room in the back quarters of the hotel will seem like a palace after this place.”

Charles emptied his cigarette case between the two prisoners. Blute pointed out his water tap and the bed.

“In an hour,” he promised them, “Fritz will be back with the food. The one thing you must not do, either of you, is to try and leave this place.”

They helped themselves greedily to the cigarettes.

“We will sit and wait,” the German promised. “And let it not be too long—I am hungry.”

“For me,” Johann confided, “I shall dream of Lizette. I shall smoke many cigarettes which will give me a glorious thirst. When the beer comes—ach!”

Blute drew a deep sigh of relief as he locked the outer door and bared his head to the gently falling rain.

“Now at last,” he murmured beatifically, “I begin to allow myself hope.”