Whiff Of Money (16 page)

'Very well.'

'Will he be visiting you while we are here?'

'No.' Von Goltz crossed one leg over the other. He sipped his coffee, staring thoughtfully at Girland. 'I don't think we need waste any further time, Mr Girland. You realise now that you have walked into a trap?'

Girland put down his coffee cup and picked up his brandy glass.

'If Radnitz is behind your invitation, anything could happen,' he said lightly.

Gilly was listening to this, her expression bewildered.

'Can we share the joke, please?' she asked. 'I don't understand.'

'Of course,' Girland said, stretching out his long legs. 'The count's uncle is one of the richest and most evil men in the world. Had he not been so rich, he would be safely locked up in jail. His real name is Heinrich Kunzli. He made his fortune by supplying the Nazis and the Japs with soap, fertilisers and gunpowder. That seems harmless enough, doesn't it? But the Nazis and the Japs agreed to supply the raw materials for these products. The raw materials were the bones, fat and teeth of the murdered millions from concentration camps. The

count's nice uncle laid the foundation of his enormous fortune by turning into money the end-products of the dead bodies of Jews and other victims of the last war.' Girland smiled at von Goltz. 'That is correct, isn't it, Count?

Von Goltz showed his teeth in a mirthless grin.

'Yes . . . near enough, but it is old history now.' He regarded Girland, his eyes glittering. 'You are an interfering, useless man, Girland. This time you will cease to interfere.'

Girland sipped his brandy and nodded his approval.

'I've heard all that before... I can't say it ages me.'

Gilly exclaimed, 'For God's sake... just what is this?'

'Let me explane,' von Goltz said quietly. 'You are blackmailing your father. You have three films which you are threatening to send to his opposition party unless he withdraws from the election. I want these films.' He stared at her, his eyes suddenly cold. 'I intend to have them.'

Gilly started to her feet. Blood rushed to her face and then drained away. Her eyes sparkled with anger.

'You're not getting them!' she cried. 'Pierre! Let's get out of here! Come on... don't sit there like a dummy! Let's go!'

Rosnold was studying von Goltz who toyed with his brandy glass, relaxed and smiling. His smile sent a chill up Rosnold's spine. He looked at Gilly.

'Sit down and shut up!' he said sharply. 'Can't you see, you fool, we're caught!'

'Caught? He can't stop us... I'm going if you're not!' Gilly rushed across the room, jerked open the door and dashed into the vast hall. She ran to the high entrance doors which she found locked. She tugged at the bolts while six, heavily-built men in the count's livery watched her with mask-like faces. The bolts were immovable and with a cry of rage, she spun around, rushed back into the lounge, darted past the three men who watched her and dashed out onto the terrace.

Below, on the driveway, was the scarlet T.R.4. With a gasp of relief, she started across the terrace to run down the three long flights of marble steps. Then she stopped short. Two huge black alsatian dogs stood at the bottom of the steps and snarled at her. Their white fangs sent a cold shudder of fear through her. She stared down at the dogs, hypnotised with horror. Crouching low and still snarling, the dogs began to climb slowly up the steps towards her. Gilly's nerve broke.

Whirling around, she ran back into the lounge.

'Those dogs . . .' she began breathlessly then stopped as von Goltz laughed.

'Why don't you sit down?' he asked. 'You can't get away. Yes ... those dogs ... they will tear you to pieces if you are stupid enough to challenge them. Where are the films?'

Gilly faced him, white and scared, but her eyes still flashed with rage.

'You're not getting them!' She turned to Rosnold. 'Do something! Tell him... don't just sit there! Do something!'

'I warned you.' Rosnold was pale and uneasy. 'I'm not going though with this. I've had enough of it.'

Girland listened to all this. For a moment he was forgotten. The action now was between Gilly and Rosnold with von Goltz as an interested spectator.

'He's not having them!' Gilly cried, beating her fists together. 'He can't force us to give them to him! He can't!'

'But you are mistaken,' von Goltz said, his voice sounded bored. 'When I want something, I always get it. Do you want me to give you a demonstration of my persuasive powers?'

'Go to hell!' Gilly shouted at him, her eyes flashing. 'You're not having those films! If you don't let us leave I'll - I'll call the police.'

Von Goltz regarded her as he would regard a difficult child.

'You are still very young and still very stupid. How do you call the police?'

Gilly turned desperately to Girland.

'Aren't you going to do something?' she demanded, going to him and standing over him. 'Do you call yourself a man . . .just sitting there? Get me out of here!'

'The Count holds the four aces,' Girland said quietly. 'I don't bet against such odds. Give him the films.'

She turned away from him in disgust.

'You're not having them!' she said, spinning around to confront von Goltz. 'Understand? You're not having them!'

Von Goltz waved her away. He looked now at Rosnold and his eyes were glittering with suppressed fury.

'You realise, of course, I have ways to persuade you both?' he said. 'Why let us have any unpleasantness? Where are the films?'

Rosnold licked his dry lips.

'If you tell him, I'll kill you!' Gilly screamed furiously. 'He can't force us ...'

Von Goltz came out of his chair very quickly. He hit Gilly across her face with the back of his hand with cruel violence.

She catapulted across the room, smashed into a small occasional table and sprawled on the floor, flat on her back.

Girland looked down at his hands. This wasn't the time to go into action. He knew for certain that if he made a move the big room would be filled with von Goltz's servants.

Rosnold half started to his feet, staring at Gilly as she lay, sobbing, her hands holding her aching face.

'I apologise,' von Goltz said quietly. 'I didn't want any unpleasantness, but this stupid girl doesn't seem to realise the situation.' He paused then looked at Rosnold. 'Where are the films?'

'In my bank at Paris,' Rosnold said.

'You stinkingf coward!' Gilly cried, scrambling to her feet. 'How could you tell him!' She started across the room towards Rosnold, but Girland was out of his chair and intercepted her. He ducked her flying fist and pulled her against him.

'Play it cool,' he said softly. 'Don't get so excited. You can't win all the time.'

She stared for a long moment at him, then she threw off his hands and walked unsteadily to a chair away from him and sat down.

Girland returned to his chair and sat on the arm. He took out his pack of cigarettes, shook out a cigarette and lit it.

Von Goltz said, 'You will write a letter to your bank, Mr Rosnold, telling them to give the films to the bearer of the letter.' He pointed to a desk standing in a corner of the room. 'You will find paper and envelopes there. When my messenger returns from Paris with the films, you three will be free to leave here.'

Rosnold hesitated, then got up and went to the desk. He wrote rapidly, addressed the envelope and then gave the letter to von Goltz to read.

'Excellent. Thank you for your co-operation.' Von Goltz got to his feet. 'In two days you will be free to go. In the meantime, please amuse yourselves. I would not advise you to leave the terrace. The dogs are extremely dangerous.

However, there is a swimming-pool at the back terrace you may use. There is a billiards room. Make yourselves at home. I will see you all again for dinner. If there is anything you want, please ask Fritz.'

He left them, carrying the letter, his smile showing his satisfaction.

Girland got to his feet.

'After that lunch, I think I need a cap,' he said. He looked at Gilly. 'Maybe we'll meet in a couple of hours at the swimming-pool.'

He walked into the hall where the servants stood watching him. He stared at them and they stared woodenly back,.then whistling softly under his breath, he climbed the stairs to his room.

* * *

At 16.00 hrs. Girland came from his room wearing a pair of swimming trunks and carrying a towel over his shoulder.

Fritz was waiting in the corridor. He bowed to Girland and led the way down to the swimming-pool.

The heated pool was at the rear of the Schioss and so positioned that it caught the afternoon sun. It was some twenty metres long with a high dive board and around it were set out tables, lounging chairs, li-los and sun umbrellas.

Girland dived in and swam the length, then turning on his back, he floated in the warm, blue water, staring up at the sunlit sky. He hadn't been in the water for more than a few minutes when Gilly appeared, wearing a white bikini. She took a racing dive into the water and swam past him with a showy, fast crawl.

Girland watched her as she spun around, kicked off against the side of the bath and made for the other end. She swam well: almost professionally. When she reached the far end, she hoisted herself out of the pool and sat on the edge, her feet in the water.

With a slow, lazy crawl stroke, Girland swam towards her. Reaching her, he trod water, looking up at her.

'Got over your temper?' he asked with a smile.

'Oh, stop it!' she said sharply. 'It isn't funny! What is going to happen to us?'

He caught hold of her ankles and hauled her into the water. She splashed down beside him. His hand supported her, keeping her head above water.

'We're being watched,' he told her. 'There is a man on the second floor right window watching us.'

Gilly swam around the pool and then rejoined Girland.

'Who is it?'

'Your guess is as good as mine. Let's sunbathe. Keep your voice down, and don't get excited. Remember you are being watched.'

They hauled themselves out of the pool and stretched out on li-los.

Fat Fritz appeared with cigarettes and a lighter. He asked what they would like to drink. Gilly shook her head, but they took cigarettes.

Girland waves Fritz away. When he had left the terrace, Girland said, 'I hope you now realise the spot we're in?'

Gilly lit the cigarette and half-turned on her side to look at him.

'You puzzle me... just where do you come in on all this?'

'Your father hired me to get your films.' Girland spoke softly. He was lying on his back, staring up at the blue sky.

'What defeats me is how a girl like you could have made such films.'

Are you telling me you are working for my father?' Gilly half sat up, then controlling herself, she relaxed back on the li-lo.

'That's what I'm telling you. I work for anyone who pays me,' Girland said. 'I don't like your father. I don't like you. This is a job... simple as that.'

'You don't like meV Gilly glared at him. 'You didn't dislike me last night!'

'When a woman walks into my bedroom and throws herself at me - especially when she is as well put together as you are -1 take what she offers,' Girland said. 'But that doesn't mean I like her or think anything of her.'

'Oh! Just why don't you like me?'

'Because you are a blackmailer.' Girland released smoke down his nostrils, eyeing the burning end of his cigarette.

'Blackmailers are never my kind of people.'

Gilly lay still, her hands on her breasts. Her face had lost colour and her mouth was now a thin, hard line.

'All right. . . I'm a blackmailer. How else could I stop my father becoming President? I don't give a damn about myself...

I never have, but I am determined he isn't going to be President. I used the only weapon I had to stop him.'

Girland turned his head to study her.

'Tell me why you want to stop him?'

'I'll tell you... because he is unfit for high office. Because he is weak, vain and stupid. Because he and my mother only think of themselves and seeing themselves with power.'

'That's your point of view . . . I'm not saying you are wrong. You're working with Rosnold, aren't you? This Ban War organisation gives you a kick, doesn't it?'

'And why shouldn't it?'

'It's the old story, Gilly . . . people like to be big fishes in a small pond. If Rosnold and his organisation wasn't so interested in you -and they are interested because you can stop a man from becoming a President - you wouldn't be making this trouble. Isn't it because this organisation is making you an important person, you are blackmailing your father?'

'All right... if you like to think that... I don't care! There are many reasons. Anyway, he made a mess of my life . . . now, I'm going to make a mess of his!'

'Are you sure he made a mess of your life?' Girland asked. 'Are you sure you're blaming him instead of blaming yourself?'

'Don't feed me that stuff!' Gilly said fiercely. 'Neither of my parents wanted me... they did everything they knew how to get rid of me. So now I'm in the position to give them something really to be ashamed of. I don't expect you to believe this ... and I don't care, but I hated making those films. Pierre promised me once they were made, my father couldn't become President... so I made them.'

'Oh, come on!' Girland said impatiently. T don't believe it. Why don't you face facts, Gilly? You are an immoral slut.

You have let this weak-kneed organisation go to your head. You are glorifying in being someone important because you are in the position to stop a man becoming President o&the United States. If it wasn't for Rosnold and this organisation, you wouldn't give a damn if your father became President or not.'

'God! I hate you!' Gilly said. 'Everything you've said is not true!' She sat up and leaning over him, she went on fiercely,

'This count can have the films! Whyshoyldlcare! When I get back to Paris I will make other films! My father is not going to be President!'

'When you get back to Paris?' Girland stubbed out his cigarette. 'What makes you think you are going back to Paris?'