By Royal Command (24 page)

25

Fallen Among Friends

James was rattling along the Inn valley on the same train that he had arrived in Kitzbühel aboard all those weeks ago. Only this time he had Roan with him and he was on the run. They had been travelling for days, south-east to Amiens from Calais, then on through Picardi to Rheims, then down to Nancy. They had crossed into Switzerland near Basel and from there it was a straight run to Kitzbühel. They had travelled by train and bus and foot. Sometimes they had hitched rides with farmers, riding in battered old lorries or on the back of horse-drawn carts. They had even bought bicycles and cycled part of the way. Some nights they had slept in fields under the stars, other nights they had spent in farm houses, occasionally they had stayed in cheap hotels, and one special night, in Rheims, on Roan’s nineteenth birthday, they had stayed in a smart hotel and had an expensive meal. They had bought knapsacks and French clothes and felt at home on the road. It had been like the most glorious holiday James had ever spent, because there was no end to it.

Except that every day there was a little less money in the brown envelope, and they knew that sooner or later the real world would catch up with them.

The scenery was very different compared to James’s last sight of it. There was still snow on the very highest peaks but down in the valleys the grass was bright green, there were flowers everywhere and the trees were in full leaf. The countryside was bursting with fresh life, taking advantage of the warm sunny conditions before the cold returned. Longhaired cows stood in the meadows, birds sang from the rooftops and everywhere men and women in Tyrolean dress went cheerfully about their business.

James’s skin was tanned a deep nut-brown from being in the sun all day. He was lean and fit and felt comfortable in his worn and dusty clothing. All the belongings he had in the world were fitted into his knapsack, but that was fine. What more did he need?

He was no longer a schoolboy; he had grown into a young man. He sat next to Roan who was gazing out of the window at the passing scenery. Whenever they travelled on a train or bus they were especially careful and rarely spoke to each other, in case anyone heard their foreign voices and wondered who exactly this young couple were.

As they got closer to their destination, James became more and more nervous. He had been at his most carefree in the country lanes of France, striding along in the sunshine, chatting to Roan. Now there was a full stop approaching. They had always had their sights set on Kitzbühel, but had never really discussed what would happen once they got there.

There was something else worrying him, too. A niggling doubt that he had pushed to the back of his mind. Now that he was getting closer to where it had all begun, though, he couldn’t help but brood over it.

He kept coming back to that strange night in the clinic when he had been woken by Graf von Schlick’s shouts from his private room.

‘
They are going to kill cousin Jürgen…
’

It was one of the things that had alerted James to Dandy’s plan.

But the more he thought about it, the less sense it made.

Von Schlick had been at the Langton-Herrings’ party in Windsor. He had spoken to the Prince of Wales. Yet when James had asked him about that night in the clinic he had denied all knowledge of it. That was perhaps understandable – the man had been delirious and he might have forgotten all about it. But why, then, had he claimed that he didn’t have a cousin George? It was entirely possible, of course, that he didn’t want a nosy schoolboy talking about it. But if he
had
known about a plot to kill King George, then why had he not said anything to the Prince?

Why had the King not been warned?

One possibility was that, although they knew about a plot, they didn’t know the details.

But surely the SIS would have been informed, wouldn’t they?

James knew all too well that on the morning of the Fourth of June he seemed to be the only person who was aware of what was going on. Merriot, Nevin and the others had had no idea about the plot, even though it was being carried out right under their noses.

Another possibility was that the Graf had been simply rambling under the influence of morphine that night. He really knew nothing about any plot and James had made a false link.

No. He had definitely shouted out ‘
Schneeblind’
, Snow-Blind, the name of Roan and Dandy’s plot.

James had quizzed Roan about this, but she had been vague. She knew nothing about the Graf. Her contacts had all been in Lisbon. She had no idea how this minor member of the Austrian aristocracy could have heard about the plot. But then Roan had been vague about a lot of things. Despite his gentle probing she had not really told him anything more of import about the plot and the characters involved, beyond giving a name to Amethyst – Vladimir Wrangel.

In the end James had given up asking. In truth he didn’t really want to know any more. He wanted to put all that behind him. He had saved the King and that was enough. Snow-Blind, Amethyst, the Graf, they were all part of his old life.

He was just telling himself to stop worrying when they pulled out of Jensbach station and a man entered their compartment hefting a bulky rucksack with a climbing rope wrapped around it. He looked to be in his twenties, with the firm build of a soldier. He was dressed for hiking in the mountains, with long socks, stout boots, a hunting jacket and a soft felt hat. There was something unmistakably English about him and James watched him out of the corner of his eye.

James had bought an English newspaper in Switzerland and had found nothing about either him or Roan in it, but that did not mean that his disappearance hadn’t been noted. He glanced at Roan, a practised look that told her to be wary.

As the man reached up to put his backpack in the luggage rack his jacket flapped open and James caught sight of something that caused the breath to catch in his lungs.

‘
Kommen Sie mit, lassen Sie uns ein wenig frische Luft schnappen
,’ he said to Roan. She couldn’t understand any German, but as he stood up and smiled at her she quickly got the message and obediently followed him out of the compartment into the corridor.

‘What did you say?’ she said once they were out of earshot.

‘I said let’s take some air.’

‘You could pass for a real German, you know.’

‘That was the point,’ said James. ‘I don’t know who that man is that just got on, but he has an Enfield number 2 mark 1 British service revolver in a shoulder-holster.’

Roan blanched. ‘Are you joking?’

‘I wish I was.’

‘Do you think he’s on to us?’ Roan looked nervously back towards their compartment.

‘I don’t know,’ said James. ‘It’s a pretty clumsy approach if he is, but I don’t aim to stick around and find out. We’ll have to get off at the next station and make our own way from there.’

‘And we were so close,’ said Roan wearily. ‘I was just beginning to let myself think we might make it in one piece.’

‘We’ll get there,’ said James, and he put a reassuring hand on her arm. ‘Now let’s not draw any attention to ourselves.’

They sat back in their seats until the train stopped in Worgl, then took their bags and got off.

James was relieved to see that the man didn’t follow them.

They were still about twenty miles from Kitzbühel so they decided in the end to take a taxi the rest of the way. It was an extravagance, but they had been careful with their money and they were bone tired from travelling. All they wanted to do now was reach journey’s end.

As they drove, Roan looked out of the window.

‘I thought we were going to see some snow,’ she said. ‘I love the snow when it’s fresh on the ground, so clean and pure and white. What use is a mountain without snow? It’s just a big ugly lump of rock.’

‘There’s no snow here,’ said James. ‘Not in the summer. These mountains aren’t high enough.’

‘Well, the least you could have done was to arrange some for me.’

James asked the driver to drop them off on the outskirts of town, below the Oberhausers’ chalet. He wanted to walk the last part of the way and arrive on foot. He told himself that he didn’t want the driver to know exactly where they were going, but he also needed a little time to think.

He had always assumed that Hannes Oberhauser would welcome them with open arms. But what if he was wrong? What if he had read too much into Oberhauser’s offer? What if Hannes had merely been being polite? Mouthing the words that everyone used to a guest as a matter of course? ‘Oh, yes, come back any time you like, you’ll always be welcome here…’

Well, there was no turning back now.

The light was fading from the sky and an indigo glow had descended on the valley. They could hear the clonk-clonk of cowbells and a stream chattering nearby. There were two tents pitched in the apple orchard, and up behind them the dark wood of the chalet looked almost black. James felt a nervous cramp grip his stomach.

He hesitated and looked back across the valley towards Kitzbühel.

‘Do you want me to wait here?’ said Roan. ‘Just in case you’ve made a mistake. If you don’t call me in ten minutes I’ll make myself scarce.’

‘Will you be all right?’

‘Don’t you go worrying your pretty little head about me, James Bond. I can look after myself.’

‘Thank you,’ said James.

‘Don’t be daft,’ said Roan. ‘It’s me that should be thanking you. Whatever happens, I’m glad I spent this time with you. I can tell you, it’s far better to be free, than stuck in some God-forsaken British prison.’

She hugged him quickly then pushed him away. ‘Go on with you,’ she said. ‘Go and see your man.’

James walked up to the chalet, his throat dry, and pulled the twist of rope hanging by the door.

Inside the bell rattled, and a moment later the door opened.

As soon as James saw Hannes Oberhauser he knew that everything was going to be all right. All his doubts and fears and worries drained away. He felt like a boy again. A boy coming home.

‘James?’ said Hannes, a frown creasing his tanned friendly face. ‘What are you doing here? You look troubled. Is everything all right?’

James bowed his head and fought to keep tears away.

‘It is now,’ he said.

Half an hour later James was helping Hannes put the cows into the barn for the night. The big shaggy animals moved slowly, grunting and belching as they jostled for space.

James had told Hannes a version of the truth. A version that left out some of the major details, but that wasn’t a lie in itself. He had told a story of falling in love and running away from school.

Hannes had been gentle and understanding, not pushing James, letting him explain himself at his own speed, but he was also firm.

‘I know some of what you have been through in the last year,’ he said. ‘I understand how hard it must have been for you. It was much for a boy to carry on his shoulders. I understand how you would want to escape. But you are still young, James. The girl is old enough to do whatever she pleases. You are just a boy.’

‘When the time is right I shall go back,’ James said. ‘But for now I need to hide away from the world.’

Hannes smiled.

‘I like you a great deal, James,’ he said. ‘I will be happy to look after you, but I must tell your aunt.’

‘Not yet,’ said James. ‘In time.’

‘She will be very worried.’

‘I sent her a letter from France,’ said James. ‘I’ll write to her again and let her know I’m safe and well and in good hands.’

James had indeed sent Charmian a letter, but he had put it inside an envelope addressed to Perry for him to post in London or Scotland so that nobody would know where James really was. He would do the same again now that he was in Kitzbühel.

‘I just need a little time to get some things straightened out in my mind,’ he said. ‘I’d rather nobody knew where I was just now.’

‘You have done nothing wrong, James?’

‘No.’

‘And the girl?’

It was then that James told the only real lie. He told Hannes that Roan was on the run, not from the Special Intelligence Service but from the police.

‘She was caught stealing something,’ he said. ‘I don’t want her to get into trouble.’

Hannes chuckled quietly.

‘It is an old story often told,’ he said. ‘About a boy who throws his life to the wind over a girl.’

‘I’m sure I’m being a damned fool,’ said James.

‘It is best to make your mistakes when you are young,’ said Hannes. ‘And you can still learn. We should all be damned fools before we grow too old. That is what youth is for. But you have made your life difficult, James.’

‘I know,’ James said. ‘But now that I am here I’m hoping to make it a good deal less complicated.’

Hannes smiled sadly at him. ‘You can run away from school, James, you can run away from the police, but you cannot run away from yourself. Sooner or later the world will catch up with you.’

‘I know,’ said James, ‘and when it does I want to be ready for it.’