Rendezvous With Danger (10 page)

While I settled myself before the fire in the otherwise deserted lounge, he telephoned for a cab, and when the waiter had brought me a tray with a silver pot of coffee on it, he reluctantly left me.

It was very comfortable sitting, coffee in hand, gazing into the fiery depths of the log fire, but it gave me too much opportunity for thought. I rose restlessly, pacing the room, coming to a halt before the window. The tail lights of Gunther's cab had already disappeared down the narrow, winding road to Nordlingen, there was nothing to be seen, only the inky blackness of the fields and woods.

I was just about to turn and pour myself another cup of coffee, when far down the hillside a light bobbed unevenly, then disappeared. I strained my eyes into the darkness, not sure if I was imagining things. A few minutes later it appeared again, this time nearer. Apprehensively I stiffened, watching intently. The speed and movement indicated that it wasn't a vehicle, in fact it was too far to the left to be on the road at all. Someone was climbing by the light of a torch, up the hillside towards the hotel.

I stepped back quickly, the now familiar feeling of panic mounting. I would go to the manager, ask him to call the police. I hurried across the room, then hesitated, hand on the door-knob. What if it
wasn't
Stephen Maitland? I didn't relish the thought of the fuss and the explanations, and surely … surely it couldn't be him?

I re-crossed the room, carefully avoiding the windows, edging along the wall until I was hidden by the heavy folds of velvet curtaining. Steeling myself, I lifted the near edge of the material away from the wall and peeped through the chink. The torchlight had vanished. Several seconds passed, then, just as I was beginning to hope it had all been a figment of my imagination, the light topped the brow of the hill, making straight for the hotel. I held my breath as the blurred outline came nearer and nearer. Even at that distance there was no mistaking him.

I let the curtain fall and ran out into the hallway and to the reception desk. The young man behind it stared uncomprehendingly from behind rimless glasses as I said breathlessly, ‘The police, quickly.
Schnell.
'

From behind me came the calm authoritative voice of the manager. He raised a hand to silence the receptionist and smiled benignly at me.

‘
Was haben Sie gesagt?
'

‘The police,
rufen Sie die Polizei, bitte.
'

Again he smiled, patting my arm soothingly.

With an effort I controlled the shaking in my voice and said, ‘
Rufen Sie die Polizei, bitte. Bitte.
'

Between the manager and the receptionist passed a look of resigned understanding, but instead of doing as I'd asked, the receptionist rang the desk bell and two maids hurried down the stairs to where we were standing.

The manager spoke to them in German, still patting my arm irritatingly.

Before I knew what was happening I was being politely but firmly, very firmly, escorted towards my room. The generously-built young lady who had taken a firm grip of my left arm was making suitably sympathetic noises and all in all I was being treated as if I was in a mental home, not a hotel.

The more insistent I became, the more force was exercised. The receptionist hurried up with a large brandy and a shaky smile. Angrily I pushed the glass away, the golden drops scattering over the brand new carpet.

By this time we were on the second floor outside the open door of my room. As the five of us jostled in an undignified manner on the landing I saw a bunch of keys in the manager's hand and realized with horror he intended locking the door of my room once I'd gone in.

Too many unbelievable things had happened in the past few days and I was beyond the point of wondering why the staff should be acting in such a preposterous manner. Nothing seemed too bizarre. But one thing I was sure of: I was
not
going to be locked in a hotel bedroom by the manager and his entourage.

I stopped protesting and smiled sweetly. Four astonished faces smiled nervously back. I accepted the drink with thanks, apologized for any inconvenience, and sat passively on the bed. When it seemed apparent that my brainstorm had passed, the two maids were dismissed. Again I smiled, apologized. The manager made understanding noises and he and the receptionist finally made to leave. I went with them to the door, and as the manager attempted to close it, restrained him gently, wiping my forehead and indicating that I would like it open for the air. He eyed me doubtfully. Feeling as if my face would split with the effort, I smiled yet again. With a shrug of the shoulders he assented, and I went back and sat on the bed, sipping the drink as if I hadn't a care in the world, until the two men were out of hearing.

As soon as the last of their footsteps had died away, I leaped up, grabbed my coat, stuffed the few things I had unpacked back into my overnight bag, and peered out of the window. There was no light to be seen now and no welcoming car lights that would have heralded Gunther.

I listened intently for any sounds from the direction of the reception desk but all was quiet. It appeared that Stephen Maitland was, as yet, still outside. But for how long?

He couldn't have walked all the way from Nordlingen: he must have driven to the bottom of the hill and parked his car away from the roadside so that it wouldn't be seen by anyone passing up and down the road.

I remembered the occasion at the farm when he had left the keys in the car. Would he have been so careless again? It was worth taking a risk. I couldn't stay where I was like a rabbit in a trap. Any action was better than none. If I took his car I could meet Gunther and Stephen Maitland would be stranded.

I stepped out on to the landing. There was no one about and the only sounds were muffled ones from the ground floor. That I wouldn't be able to walk unmolested out of the hotel via the reception desk seemed obvious. So I tiptoed in the opposite direction to the main staircase, following the corridor as it turned left. Two or three doors led off it and at the far end a blank wall rose uncompromisingly. I tried two of the doors on the left hand side, but both were bedrooms with no other means of exit. The third led into a small store-room, and, in the far corner, nearly obliterated by workmen's tools and ladders, was a glass door opening on to a narrow back staircase.

I clambered over the cardboard boxes and packages and hurried down the staircase as fast as I dared, past the first and the ground floor until I was in the basement. In the moonlight that shone weakly through a window on the far side, I could see bags of cement and tins of paint, and, next to the window, a door. Grasping the knob in both hands, and hoping that security at the hotel left a lot to be desired, I turned and pushed.

Within four minutes of leaving my bedroom I was outside on the open hillside.

The evening breeze blew refreshingly on my face. I slipped my arms into my coat sleeves, shut the door quietly behind me and took a firm hold of my overnight bag. The hill on which I was standing swept round in a wide arc, shelving away steeply beneath my feet. The path was only a few feet wide, and I picked my way carefully over the litter and débris that lay on it. Keeping well in, I edged stealthily towards the corner of the building.

I pressed myself back against the wall as I reached it, listening intently for the sound of other footsteps in the darkness, but the only sound was the rustling of the wind as it blew through the apple trees and the long grass.

Heart thumping, I peered round the corner. The narrow path continued down the eastern side of the hotel, blocked only by several shiny dustbins. None of the windows that opened out on to it was lit. Walking softly I skirted the bins and approached the front of the hotel. Here, light from the windows streamed out over the forecourt and the road leading up to it, illuminating the surrounding countryside in pale light for thirty or forty yards.

I hugged the wall, straining my eyes as I peered in the direction the torch had been heading. Nothing moved now. It was completely still.

From inside the hotel came the distant hum of voices, then, as I waited in an agony of indecision, a bedroom light was switched on and stayed on. It appeared that Mr Maitland had booked in.

It was only a matter of minutes across the forecourt to the road, but it was bathed in light and anyone looking out of the hotel windows would be able to see. The safest way would be to stay in the darkness. I didn't relish the idea of clambering down into the black void that surrounded me, but the alternative was too risky. If Stephen Maitland saw me leave, he would be able to catch up with me in minutes.

I stepped off the path and on to the open hillside, plunging steeply downhill. It was dark and the ground was rough. I stumbled and slipped, clutching desperately at stray bushes, the night pressing in on me like a physical force. My foot caught in the twisted roots of a tree and I fell forward with a cry, arms outstretched, clasping the pitted bark. I leaned heavily against it, gasping, rubbing my ankle and listening for the sound of Gunther's returning Mercedes, but all I heard was my own laboured breathing.

The road, now in complete darkness, was a little way to my right and I slithered painfully over to it, sliding amid a flurry of loose stones down the shallow bank and on to the firm gravel.

It was becoming increasingly colder and I hugged my coat round me, running … Imaginary shapes and shadows rose up around me, my ankle was hurting, my whole being craved for the sound of Gunther's car. The road dipped suddenly and I slowed down, looking apprehensively towards the hotel. All the lights on the ground floor were still on, only the bedroom light had disappeared.

The moon sailed from behind a bank of cloud and, silhouetted in its silver light, was the dark figure of a man, running and leaping down the hillside behind me.

With a sob I whirled round, running harder than ever, frantically searching for his parked car. The road curved once more, levelling and widening into the straight stretch that led into Nordlingen.

I paused, panting and straining my eyes into the blackness. Blindly I headed off the road to the right, half fainting with fatigue and shock, slipping and sliding over the damp grass. Perhaps he would go straight past me, following the road. Perhaps here, in the dark, I would be safe. Heedlessly I scrambled further into the undergrowth, then, in front of me rose the welcoming outline of the Sprite.

I had been right. If only I was right also about the keys! Please,
please
let me be right about the keys, I prayed, as half hysterically I grasped the door handle and turned, nearly falling into the driver's seat. By the time I'd felt the keys in the ignition and turned them, I was sobbing uncontrollably.

The car lurched and swayed over the uneven ground back to the road; as it rocked down the bank of earth I could see the running figure of Stephen Maitland now not more than fifty yards away. I swung the car hard left, pressed my foot down as far as it would go and sent the car bucketing over the ruts and down the wrong side of the road towards Nordlingen and Gunther.

The car felt strange beneath my hands and by the time I'd swerved back to the right side of the road and got it under control all signs of the hotel and the car's rightful owner were far behind me. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and settled down to a steady sixty to sixty-five, keeping a sharp look-out for any oncoming headlights.

The moon hung like an orb in the still sky above me, splashing the fields and occasional cottages with pale golden light as I speeded past them towards the distant outline of the town. Gradually pinpricks of light appeared and then there was the faint glow of street lights. Within minutes I was inside the city walls but still no sign of Gunther. Puzzled, I drove through the cobbled streets to the main thoroughfare where he had left his car. The street was deserted, the car gone.

I halted, staring at the vacant place, a new fear slowly creeping over me. The German police had not succeeded in arresting Stephen. Had he been lying in wait for Gunther's return? Had he come to the hotel
after
seeing Gunther? The gnawing fear became a certainty. I closed my eyes. If Stephen Maitland had been able to force Gunther to tell him my whereabouts, what chance did I have? And where was Gunther now?

Hardly aware of what I was doing I fumbled with the gears and reversed back up the street, taking the left hand turn towards the garage. As I motored down the quiet lane that led to it, it was as if I had been plucked from the sane world of the Twentieth Century and transported back in time to the murderous world of the Middle Ages. Faint strains of music came from the old coaching inn as I turned the corner, and in front of me lights still burned in the garage.

I parked the car and ran across the forecourt to the small office, knocking loudly on the door. It was opened by Gottfried, still covered in oil and grease. He stared at me indifferently.

‘Is my car ready, please?'

His expression didn't alter. I tried again. ‘My car, is it ready?'

He nodded, wiping his hands on a filthy handkerchief and led the way into the workshop where my Morris stood, bonnet down, ready for the road.

‘Could I have my bill, please?'

From the top pocket of his overalls he silently produced a grubby piece of paper. I paid him, my hands trembling as I counted out the notes.

‘Has Herr Cliburn been here tonight?'

He looked blankly at me.

‘Herr Cliburn, the man who was with me.'

A faint glimmer of understanding crossed his face, then he shook his head negatively, and began to count the money I had given him. Despairingly I collected my car, parking it a few yards beyond the Sprite.

Gottfried disappeared into the warmth of his office and so, unseen by anyone, I left the Sprite parked at the roadside and, safely installed in my own little Morris, motored off without a backward glance.

It would take Stephen Maitland quite some time to reach Nordlingen without transport, and even longer for him to find his car. By the time he did I would be many, many miles away.