Horizon (22 page)

“He’s going,” Thomson said to Shaw, and they both looked satisfied.

Mahlknecht too was in good spirits. The plans were well made. They had purpose, careful arrangement, and more than a chance of success. The months of worry were over: action lay ahead. He laid his hand on Lennox’s shoulder. “I didn’t kidnap you this time, did I?” he asked jokingly. And yet he was anxious, too, as if he wanted reassurance that Lennox no longer thought of him as a whip-cracker.

Lennox said, “So it was you who insisted on giving me time to decide?” His voice and his smile showed that resentment was dead.

Mahlknecht laughed. “Last time I had no choice. It was you, or nothing. And it did some good, didn’t it?” He nodded towards Thomson and Shaw. “They wouldn’t be here unless you had come up on to the Schlern.”

“Oh, perhaps they would,” Lennox said, but he was pleased that Mahlknecht had spoken that way.

A bird-call came from the path which Schroffenegger’s second son guarded.

“It’s a friend,” Mahlknecht said, in answer to the three foreigners’ tension. “That’s the signal for a friend.”

“Better keep him out of here even if he is a friend,” Shaw said crisply.

Mahlknecht nodded and stepped outside.

After a few minutes he returned with a bundle. “More food,” he said. “It’s Katharina. She wants to see you, Peter.”

“Was it wise of her to come here?” Shaw asked sharply. Thomson too was looking worried.

“My sister sent her. Katharina says no one followed her. There are only four policemen at the Golden Roof Inn now, and they’ve stayed there all day. Perhaps they are waiting for instructions, or perhaps they feel they need reinforcements. The village is in an ugly mood. My sister thought it was safe, and I think we can trust her. She has sent a specially marked map which her husband made when he was a guide, and some more food, and some brandy.”

“All right,” Shaw said. “But send the girl away quickly.” He offered no further objections.

“She has a message for you, Peter,” Mahlknecht repeated.

Lennox walked to the door, very conscious of the look in both the officers’ eyes.

“Business and pleasure mixed?” Thomson was saying with a laugh. “We could learn a tip or two from him, Roy.” But in the joke there was a neatly conveyed piece of advice.

* * *

Katharina was waiting down near the path into the wood. She held a neat package in her clasped hands. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes smiled as she watched him approach.

“Frau Schichtl sent me with this. She said you needed it.” She held out the small package with the same directness in her movement as in her words.

It contained a small pad of paper, something which he could slip into his jacket pocket easily. And his two favourite pencils. And some of the sheets of paper which had lain his bedroom: the first attempts to sketch with his left hand were there, along with the drawings he had made last week. Frau Schichtl was telling him that if he could make so much progress he could make still more. He had thought she had never paid much attention to his scribbling, but in her quiet undemonstrative way she had known all the time.

Katharina looked at the contents of the package with disappointment. “Is that all?” she asked. And then she noticed Lennox’s face. Something had pleased him. Something had made him happy. So she smiled too.

“Frau Schichtl tells me that you are going into the mountains for the summer, like all the younger men.” She nodded in the direction of the Schlern peaks.

“Yes,” he answered. Obviously the girl knew nothing about
the mission into the North Tyrol. And he was not leaving for just this summer, either. The job he had to do now would last through the autumn, perhaps even into the winter as well. It might be spring before he saw Hinterwald again. With luck...

She gave him her hand and said, “I wish you a safe journey, and a quick return.”

“Thank you.” He was equally grave.

She turned to go back along the path which would take her to the waterfall. And then she halted and said in dismay, “I nearly forgot... Frau Schichtl gave me a message for you. After the war is over the church walls will need a man who can paint.”

When he didn’t reply Katharina said, “That was the message. It sounds silly, I know. But that was what she said.”

“It isn’t at all silly. It makes a lot of sense.” He smiled and added, “I shan’t forget that invitation. Tell Frau Schichtl that.”

He stood watching the girl as she walked away with that long, even stride. She looked back and waved as she reached the curve in the path. She hesitated for a moment, and he knew how she would be smiling. Then the gold-braided head was hidden by the green trees.

Lennox moved towards the hut. He walked with a lighter step. In the spring, he thought once more, and then he laughed. For he knew he was indeed cured. He had stopped brooding about the past: the long, bitter, wasted months and years had lost their power to nag him. And now they didn’t even seem so wasted; he might find that they had taught him something if only he were willing to learn. Anyway, he was cured. He could think of the future.

* * *

Back in the hut Thomson and Shaw were showing signs of impatience. Mahlknecht and young Schroffenegger were talking quietly together. “Is this the way you always work?” Shaw said with a slightly raised eyebrow, and an acid smile.

“She’s on the young side, if you ask me,” was Thomson’s milder reproof.

Lennox laughed. “Don’t be bloody fools,” he said, and he didn’t even remember their rank. “Now, what are these final instructions?”

His whole manner was so different, so confident and alert and interested, that the two officers exchanged glances. Their annoyance left them. Shaw, who had been on the point of deciding that Lennox might be too erratic and undecided a man for this North Tyrol job, was thankful he had kept his mouth shut. Plans depended on the men who carried them out. It was better to have a plan incomplete and a man who was sure of himself, than to have an excellent plan and a man who was unsettled.

“Good,” he said, most emphatically, and motioned Lennox to sit down at the rough wooden table and look at the outspread map as they talked.

* * *

When Johann woke the hut was in darkness, and the Englishman and the American had already gone. Young Josef Schroffenegger was sitting with Paul Mahlknecht, and they were talking together in the quiet, slurred drawl of men discussing important things. Johann stretched and yawned. “That was good,” he said with satisfaction. “I could travel for days now. Where’s Peter?”

“Outside. He’s waiting for you to wake up. He’s getting
impatient.” There was a pleased note in his uncle’s voice which wakened Johann still more.

“So?” he said, and went out of doors. Some cold water from the spring at the side of the hut would freshen him up. He was fully awake by the time he had dashed the icy water over his face and neck. He couldn’t see Lennox at first, and then he noticed—as his quick eye scanned the trees which encircled the meadow—that the Britisher was sitting on the ground as motionless as the log lying beside him.

Johann crossed over towards him. Lennox was watching the Alpine Glow.

“All set?” Johann asked.

“All set,” Lennox said, but he didn’t take his eyes from the living mountains.

“Pretty, eh?” Johann said, with the inadequacy of well-concealed pride. “Haven’t you got accustomed to these fireworks by this time?”

Lennox laughed, and rose to his feet.

“Where do we go, Johann?” he asked.

Johann pointed towards a wall of gold and ruby and amethyst. “Up over there,” he said. “That’s the way. It’s easier than it looks. We’ll manage it.”

“I’ll make a damned good try, anyway.”

“We’ll manage it.” Johann’s voice was hard. They began walking towards the hut. “We’ll beat them. They asked for it. They’ll get it.” At the door of the hut he said, “I’ve been thinking. I’ve been wondering just how many girls they have murdered in all these years?” Lennox didn’t answer: no one knew the answer to that.

The table was lighted by one small piece of candle. The
windows were shuttered, the door was carefully closed. Mahlknecht and young Schroffenegger were examining the equipment and clothes for the journey. The food and brandy which Katharina had brought were laid out on the table. Everything was arranged: everything had been taken care of. All that the three younger men had to do now was to remember their very complete directions. There were two addresses in the North Tyrol which were reliable—Thomson and Shaw had vouched for that—and they could make these their headquarters. For at these addresses they would find men who had radio contact with London. Shaw’s last instructions had been, “If you want to send news here then send it to London. They will see that Thomson gets it. Our news to you will travel the same way.”

Lennox pulled on an extra pair of heavy woollen socks, with their heels well soaped. He laced his climbing-boots carefully: they must give support without being tight. Johann was packing what they needed for the journey into a rucksack. Each of them carried a sheathed knife, and each had been given a revolver.

“Well,” Mahlknecht said, standing beside Lennox and watching him tie the last lace into a firm double knot, “well, you will be back here by next spring at the latest. Perhaps sooner, but...” He shrugged his shoulders. Nothing was certain in war. Time drags out longer than one expects.

Lennox rose and tested the comfort of his boots and the thick layer of socks by tramping on the earth floor. He picked up the light
loden
cape which would protect him from wind and rain, and slung it over his shoulders. He followed Johann and young Josef who were moving towards the door. Johann gave his uncle the usual forefinger salute, but tonight his lips
were solemn and his eyes were grave.

Lennox looked back at Paul Mahlknecht, standing alone in the empty room.

“I’ll be here next spring,” he replied. “Perhaps a lot of us will be here before then,” he said.

Paul Mahlknecht must have been thinking along these same lines, for there was a sudden smile in the dark, thoughtful eyes.

“Perhaps,” Mahlknecht said. His voice was very quiet as he added, “We shall be waiting.”

* * *

Peter Lennox closed the door. He followed the others into the dark night.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Helen MacInnes, whom the
Sunday Express
called ‘the Queen of spy writers’, was the author of many distinguished suspense novels.

Born in Scotland, she studied at the University of Glasgow and University College, London, then went to Oxford after her marriage to Gilbert Highet, the eminent critic and educator. In 1937 the Highets went to New York, and except during her husband’s war service, Helen MacInnes lived there ever since.

Since her first novel
Above Suspicion
was published in 1941 to immediate success, all her novels have been bestsellers;
The Salzburg Connection
was also a major film.

Helen MacInnes died in September 1985.

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A series of slick espionage thrillers from the
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Pray for a Brave Heart

Above Suspicion

Assignment in Brittany

North From Rome

Decision at Delphi

The Venetian Affair

The Salzburg Connection

Message From Málaga

While We Still Live

The Double Image

Neither Five Nor Three

Snare of the Hunter

Agent in Place

PRAISE FOR HELEN MacINNES

“The queen of spy writers.”
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“Definitely in the top class.”
Daily Mail

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“A sophisticated thriller. The story builds up to an exciting climax.”
Times Literary Supplement

“Absorbing, vivid, often genuinely terrifying.”
Observer

“She can hang her cloak and dagger right up there with Eric Ambler and Graham Greene.”
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(October 2013)

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(December 2013)

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(February 2014)

PRAISE FOR DONALD HAMILTON

“Donald Hamilton has brought to the spy novel the authentic hard realism of Dashiell Hammett; and his stories are as compelling, and probably as close to the sordid truth of espionage, as any now being told.”

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