Wallace at Bay (17 page)

‘Well, Tommy will put you wise to the facts,' observed Miles, ‘and I'll keep watch while he's doing it. Then, when you've got all the dope, Jerry, you'll have to go straight to the British Legation and hand the goods to Sir Richard Lindsay. He'll get in touch with the USA ambassador, and the two of them will go to the authorities. But for the Lord's sake urge on them the necessity of acting immediately.'

‘Trust me for that. Come on, Tommy, let me have what Oscar calls the dope.'

While Carter gave him the information that it would be necessary for the two ambassadors to have to place before the
Austrian authorities, Miles went up the steps into the upper cellar and, standing behind the first door, listened for sounds that would indicate the approach of anyone. He had armed himself with one of the rifles taken from the prisoners. Nearly a quarter of an hour went by before Cousins joined him; Carter had been careful to tell his colleague everything, including the names he had heard of the members of the Council of Ten.

‘If it's possible to get away, I'll do it,' said Cousins confidently, ‘but don't be too cocksure, in case of accidents – the grounds are alive with men. All being well I ought to be back about eleven – it's eight now.'

‘Gee! Is it as late as that? I guess Sir Leonard's been gone about three and a half to four hours. It don't look too good, does it? Good luck, Jerry!'

The two men gripped hands.

‘Thanks, Oscar,' murmured Cousins adding fervently, ‘I pray to God you find him – alive. But don't throw your own life away! Remember little Joan!'

‘I guess I'm remembering her quite a lot,' returned Miles, a little huskily.

‘I've left my torch with Carter, also cigarettes.' Cousins opened the door by inches, his revolver held ready in hand. Slowly he put his head through the aperture, remained in that attitude for several seconds, then looked back. ‘OK, I think,' he whispered.

He slipped through, the door closed gently behind him. Miles returned to the lower cellar to find Carter sitting on the steps, a rifle across his knee, the automatic in his right hand, torch in his left. He was smoking a cigarette with evident enjoyment. Cowering before him, full in the rays of the lamp, were the three anarchists.

‘Pity there's no electric light in this place,' commented Miles. ‘Never mind, it can't be helped. Keep that torch and your gun focused on these guys, Tommy; I'm going to see what they have in their pockets.' He searched the men carefully, but found nothing on them of any significance, apart from long keen-edged knives in sheaths, and ammunition for the rifles, which he confiscated. All other articles were replaced in their pockets. He accepted the cigarette Carter lit and handed to him, but, after half a dozen grateful puffs, threw it down and stamped on it. ‘I guess this is where we get busy,' he declared. ‘You and I have got to search for Sir Leonard Wallace right now.'

At once Carter was on his feet.

‘I was about to suggest that,' he observed. ‘What about these fellows?'

‘We'll leave them here.'

‘Of course, but what if we're discovered?'

‘Well, I guess we'll give the devils who attack us a whole lot to keep them occupied. So long as we're all known to be in the house, the precious Council is not likely to beat it.'

‘They will, if these blighters tell them about another man.'

‘I'll take darn good care they don't. You leave it to me.' He turned to the captives; added in German: ‘We are going to leave you here. Nobody will hear you if you shout, so that sort of thing will only be a waste of breath. You had better make up your minds to answer all questions that are asked you later on frankly and without hesitation. Truthfulness is a virtue which you will find may possibly make things easier for you. Go on, Tommy!' he added in English. ‘I'll follow. Keep the light on them.' Carter ascended the stairs backwards. He had reached the top when one of the men, with a snarl of mad rage, threw himself forward at the American.
The latter promptly swung his rifle by the barrel bringing the butt down with a sickening thud on the other's head. The man went to the ground like a log of wood. ‘I guess it gave me a whole heap of pleasure to do that,' commented Miles. ‘It was a sweet blow, and it sure has relieved my feelings some. Darn fool! What did he think he could do with his hands tied behind his back? Any more?' he asked in German of the other two. They crouched back, muttering to themselves. ‘No offers. Well, I guess I'll beat it.'

He retreated up the steps and, with Carter, passed through to the upper cellar. The door was closed, barred and locked. Miles extracted the ponderous key; put it in his pocket. Hastening to the upper door, they opened it and looked carefully out. There was nobody about, the American gave the word and they stepped through. The same process was repeated, the door being bolted and locked, the American pocketing the key.

‘It will puzzle them some to force that massive shebang,' he whispered, ‘if the notion occurs to them, which isn't likely. Now which way do we turn?'

‘Right, I think.'

‘OK. Lead on, Tommy – wait a moment though; take one of these toothpicks. It may come in useful.'

He handed his companion one of the knives. The two of them then crept quietly out into a passage. There was not a soul in sight, not a sound. They might have been in a deserted building except that the lights indicated otherwise. With Carter still leading the way, they arrived presently in the great entrance hall. There they stood hidden behind a curtain for several minutes. In crossing the hall and ascending the stairs, they would be compelled to take a tremendous risk for, if anyone appeared, they would be seen at once, no cover being available and the whole being brilliantly
illuminated. However, fortune seemed to be with them. When, having assured themselves that there was nobody about, they essayed the hazardous task, they succeeded in crossing the hall and ascending the stairs without incident. At the top they became, if possible, even more cautious. Miles stood looking up and down the corridor, while Carter moved stealthily along until he stood outside the door in which the Council of Ten had interviewed him and his companions. Bending down he listened with his ear to the keyhole, but heard nothing. After some minutes he returned to the American, and they stood discussing the situation in whispers. Carter then went back to the door and grasping the handle, gently turned it. A few seconds later he had insinuated his head into the room. It was lighted but was empty. A dark stain on the carpet at one end indicated where the man he had wounded had lain – he wondered if he had since died; hoped that he had not. Carter was averse to killing people, no matter how villainous they might be.

Having discovered that the only room they knew anything about was unoccupied, the two men went from door to door along the corridor listening at the keyholes for sounds that would indicate the presence of a person or persons within. They opened one or two with extreme caution, found the rooms comfortably, even elegantly, furnished, but all lacking traces of present occupation. They returned at length to the foot of the staircase leading to the upper storey of the house.

‘I've a kinder notion,' whispered Miles, ‘that we're more likely to find Sir Leonard up topsides than down here. Let's explore!'

The second staircase, a good deal narrower and less ornate than the first, took a sudden turn halfway up, which perhaps was a fortunate circumstance for them. Miles, who was ahead, was turning the corner, when he suddenly stopped, his hand sweeping
out to stay Carter. At the top, standing in a listening attitude, he had seen a man – one of the members of the Council. They stood where they were, hardly daring to breathe until they heard footsteps receding in the distance. Then Miles cautiously looked round the corner, stood still a few moments, and beckoned Carter on. They reached the top, and found themselves on another corridor almost identical with the one below, but here several doors stood open. The murmur of voices could be heard, a faint crackling sound came from a room at the extreme end.

‘What in heck's that?' muttered Miles.

‘Wireless,' returned Carter pithily.

‘Gee! So it is. Come on, Tommy, we'll go and find out whom they radio to. I've got an idea that, if we have to hold out anywhere, the radio room will be a darn sight better than most places. Maybe we'll be able to persuade the guy inside to tell us what's happened to Sir Leonard. Step softly now!'

Expecting every moment to hear a cry of alarm, Carter followed in the wake of the American. Fortunately in the direction they were taking only one door stood open. They passed it successfully, though a man stood inside the room, bending over a table on which was spread something that looked like a map. However, his back was partially turned to them, and they escaped notice. They had almost reached the wireless room, when there came the shout they had been more or less anticipating. Swinging round, they beheld Dimitrinhov. He was pulling frantically at his pocket, in an effort to draw forth a revolver which appeared to have caught momentarily in the lining. Without hesitation Miles raised his rifle and fired, as several other men appeared in the corridor. The door of the room from which the crackling sound had come was flung open. A thin, saturnine-looking Russian
called Ilyich looked out. Before he could quite gather what was wrong, Carter had sprung on him, and with a perfectly delivered blow to the chin with the butt of his rifle, had sent him crashing back into the room. The Englishman followed him in, Miles being but a fraction of a second behind his companion. As the latter slammed the door and turned the key in the lock, several of the men in the corridor fired, their bullets being heard to strike the exterior. Miles chuckled, as he pushed two powerful-looking bolts into place.

‘Steel-lined and padded,' he pronounced; drawing Carter's attention to the walls. ‘We're as snug here as bugs in a rug and a darn sight safer. There aren't even any windows. Tommy, I guess this place was constructed for us.'

‘I'm not so sure,' returned the Englishman. ‘Cast your eyes aloft!'

The room was almost circular, the wall practically all the way round being padded, air being admitted through two ventilators high up. The floor was of polished stone. The only furniture consisted of a large table against and shaped to the wall, covered with the most up-to-date wireless apparatus, two chairs and a small square of carpet. In the ceiling overhead was a closed trapdoor, and flush with it, a ladder, which could be raised and lowered by means of a rope on a pulley. Miles looked up.

‘It looks as though I spoke a little too soon,' he murmured. ‘Guess I'd better go up and investigate.'

He undid the rope from its staple in the wall, and let down the ladder. A minute later he had climbed up, had unfastened the small bolt that secured the trapdoor and, lifting it, was looking out. In the meantime Carter had turned his attention to the man stretched out on the floor. The violent blow he had received had
temporarily stunned him, but he groaned and opened his eyes as the Englishman looked down at him. Immediately his face became distorted into an expression of utter hatred.

‘Where is Sir Leonard Wallace?' demanded Carter in the fellow's own language.

A malignant smile curved the lips of Ilyich, his eyes shone with evil triumph.

‘The great, the distinguished, the famous Wallace,' he proclaimed, ‘is dead.'

Carter stared at him for a moment, his brain dazed with horror. Then, giving a great cry, he bent down and, gripping Ilyich by the shoulders, hauled him to his feet. Thrusting the Russian against the wall, he grasped him by the throat and, despite the man’s frantic struggles, began to squeeze with all the strength of his fingers, the while he swung his head to and fro. For the time being Carter was crazed by the horror with which Ilyich’s statement had filled him. A firm touch on his shoulder brought him to himself when the Russian was very close to death. With a convulsive shudder he released the fellow, who collapsed unconscious to the floor. Carter turned to find Miles’ deep-set, grey eyes fixed on him.

‘Say, Tommy,’ enquired the American, ‘what’s got you? You’re as white as a sheet, and you look like you had seen a ghost.’

Carter, with a great effort, pulled himself together.

‘If you hadn’t interfered,’ he shot out between his clenched teeth,
‘I’d have killed the swine. He told me Sir Leonard is – is dead.’

‘God!’ ejaculated Miles, and his face became suddenly as white as the other’s. He stood staring down at the prone man, in his eyes unutterable things. ‘Maybe he lied to you,’ he murmured presently.

Carter shook his head wearily.

‘Why should he lie?’ he asked.

‘A guy of his rotten breed would be only too eager to hurt if he saw a chance.’

‘But he was just gloating with evil triumph, I – I’m terribly, horribly, afraid he told me the truth.’

‘If he has,’ ground out the American, ‘I shall regret to my dying day that I interfered when you had almost strangled him. When he recovers we’ll get the truth out of him, if we have to cut it out. At the present moment we must look to the defence of this place. That trapdoor sure is a bit of a snag. It bolts and locks OK, but they could bash it through without much difficulty from above. The roof is flat and there are a couple of mighty tall wireless masts up there. The guy who selected this dump for the headquarters of the gang is sure crooked, but he has his dome screwed on the right way. The house is in a kinder dip surrounded by trees. Nobody outside the estate could possibly see those wireless masts.’ He picked up his rifle. ‘I’m going up to keep watch. I guess they’ll attack that way. There’s a moon, though, and, as we’re right at the extreme end of the house, they can only come from one direction. Things look pretty good to me. If only––’

He did not conclude the sentence, but Carter knew of what he was thinking. Miles stood on the ladder, and arranged the trapdoor in such a manner as to give him just enough space to see along the roof and to move the barrel of his rifle freely.

‘Now, if you’ll switch off the light, Tommy,’ he called down, ‘it’ll be fine.’

Carter promptly did as he was bidden. He then went down on his knees by the side of the unconscious Ilyich, and searched him. There was a revolver, a knife and a crowd of other articles, including what felt like several letters. He did not trouble to examine the latter then, though it would have been possible to have done so, as he had Cousins’ flash lamp with him, but there were other more important matters to be considered at that moment. Ilyich must be trussed up in order that he could not interfere when he recovered consciousness, as he would be likely to do if Miles’ and Carter’s attention was engaged elsewhere. He wore a belt and with this Carter proceeded scientifically and securely to strap his legs. The Englishman then removed the long, flowing necktie he wore and, rolling him over on to his face, tied his wrists tightly together. To make assurance doubly sure he took the laces from his shoes and tied them over the necktie.

‘I guess they’re not in any hurry to attack,’ Miles remarked in regretful tones after some time had passed.

‘Perhaps there’s no other way on to the roof,’ returned Carter.

‘Sure there must be. There’s a room at the other end or what looks like a room. There is bound to be a way up to that anyhow. I’ll start to feel lonesome, if they don’t come soon. My left leg is beginning to—’ He suddenly broke off and fired, the concussion sounding terrific in that confined space. ‘Got him! Right in the bean, too, I think,’ he cried exultantly. ‘Gee! That was a near thing. He was crawling along in the shadows, and I didn’t see him at first.’

‘Any room for me up there?’ asked Carter.

‘House full notice is up, Tommy. There’s not even standing room. You can relieve me when I’ve no ammunition left. Has that guy down there come to his senses yet?’

‘No; but I’ve trussed him up.’

‘Bully for you. Whoopee! Here are two of ’em!’ Two shots in rapid succession rang out. ‘One’s bit the dust; the other’s hopping back on one leg. By heck! This is the nearest I’ve come to sniping since the War. They’re congregated up there somewhere. Can you hear them singing their national anthem?’

Faintly to Carter’s ears came cries of rage and exacerbation. After that there was a lull, during which Miles kept up a kind of running commentary concerning the shadowy movements he could perceive at the other end of the roof, punctuated by contemptuous references to the anarchists’ lack of courage. Suddenly the wireless started into life. Carter had not put on the earphones, which he had noticed on the table; nevertheless, he could hear the continuous tap, tap of a station somewhere calling in Morse. He now adjusted the instrument on his head; wondered if the repeated signal was intended for that house. There was a pencil among Ilyich’s belongings, and he picked it up. He did not know, of course, whether there was any private symbol of acceptance but, taking a chance, he sought for and found the keyboard, and he tapped out the usual Morse indication that he was listening in. There was a slight pause; then came a rapid series of letters which he wrote down on a small pad he felt before him. It was awkward writing in the dark, and he was afraid he was mixing the letters up rather hopelessly. However, the message was not a long one. Suddenly it ceased. He indicated that he had received it. As he removed the earphones he heard Miles’ interested voice.

‘Who’s on the air, Tommy? Not your sweetie, is it?’

‘Haven’t one,’ returned Carter shortly.

He took Cousins’ torch from his pocket and, shading the light in order to prevent it shining on Miles, strove to read the jumble
of letters on the pad. At first he could not make head or tail of them. Then suddenly a word in Russian became plain to him. After that he quickly made out the whole message. It was not in code, as he had expected it to be, but was a very innocent-sounding communication in straightforward Russian without any indication of the name of the sender. He translated it to read:

Excellent suggestion.

Send him to Moscow by air.

For a few moments he stared at it; then a flood of light burst on him. He shouted out in delight.

‘Oscar!’ he cried – it was the first time he had accepted the American’s invitation to call him by his Christian name – ‘I believe Sir Leonard is alive after all. Listen to this!’

He repeated the message. His shout of joy was almost immediately echoed by the American.

‘Gosh!’ he exclaimed. ‘I think you’re right, Tommy. They’ve notified the Moscow lot that they have Sir Leonard here, and suggested sending him along to be dealt with there. Say! I sure feel like a million dollars again now. I can just confine myself to sheer enjoyment up here. Gee! That’s the best news I’ve heard in years. He’s alive, and that’s all that darn well matters. He’ll go to Moscow like hell. Guess they’ve another think coming.’

‘Don’t be too sure!’ returned Carter somewhat dubiously. ‘We may be wrong.’

‘I don’t think so. It fits in too pat. Sorry I’ll have to break off the little chat, Tommy. There’s something doing, and it looks like I’ll be getting busy.’

A minute or two went by in silence; then he fired twice in rapid
succession. Almost immediately came the staccato rat-tat-tat of a machine gun. He ducked his head below the opening. It was as well he did so, for Carter heard several dull thuds suggestive of bullets coming through, and hitting the wall high up. A hush followed which seemed somehow very deadly after that clatter. Carter felt that it presaged another perhaps even more murderous outbreak.

‘Gosh!’ exclaimed Miles. ‘They’re mighty well equipped. But that ought to bring the whole of Dornbach buzzing round wanting to be put wise to all this friendly chatter.’

‘They must think they’re fairly safe,’ commented Carter, ‘otherwise they would hardly risk using a machine gun. Dornbach is a good way away, and this estate is large.’

‘Still the sound of a machine gun would carry a considerable distance on a night like this. Perhaps the good people of Dornbach and neighbourhood think it’s a woodpecker on the job.’

Carter laughed at the conceit.

‘I hope Cousins got through safely,’ he observed.

Miles echoed that hope with great fervour.

‘Maybe we helped,’ he added. ‘It is likely all the men have been withdrawn from the grounds to help in getting us. Say, Tommy, I guess I’d like to know where Sir Leonard is.’

‘So should I,’ returned the Englishman ruefully. ‘If we could only find him and get him in here, I shouldn’t have a worry in the world. I wonder—’

‘You wonder what?’ queried Miles suspiciously.

‘I was wondering if I could get out of this room, without being spotted, and go on the prowl. There doesn’t seem to be anyone outside the door as far as I can tell. They’re probably all on the roof.’

At that moment came another terrific outburst of machine-gun fire. Miles slid to the bottom of the ladder.

‘I guess I’ll be more comfortable down here while that goes on,’ he remarked. ‘I don’t kinder fancy being hit by a ricochet.’

The fusillade stopped. Miles promptly and quickly returned to his post. Almost at once he was firing regularly and methodically. The anarchists were making a determined attack. At his shout Carter squeezed up beside him. Quite a number of forms were silhouetted in the moonlight, some having approached very close. The Englishman, armed with the automatic, fired rapidly into them. Two or three fell; the rest hesitated; then broke, and dashed back into safety.

‘That was warm while it lasted,’ murmured Miles. ‘They expected that we’d have been driven below by the machine-gun fire and that they would have been able to rush us before we got into position again, but they weren’t quick enough.’

‘You mean you were too quick for them.’

‘Well, I guess it’s all the same thing. Matters are getting serious though, Tommy. I’ve used nearly all my ammunition. How many rounds have you?’

‘Twelve for the rifle – nothing extra for the automatic; there are about four rounds left in it now. Ilyich’s revolver is fully loaded.’

‘H’m! We can’t hold out for ever on that.’

‘All the more reason why I should go on the prowl. I might not only find Sir Leonard, but obtain an additional supply of ammunition as well.’

‘You might also, and probably would, lose your life,’ returned Miles dryly.

‘I suppose there would be no chance of that if you went?’ observed Carter sarcastically.

The American chuckled.

‘OK,’ he agreed. ‘Go to it! But for the love of Mike don’t take
unnecessary risks. I kinder like you, Tommy, and I should hate like hell to be present at your funeral later on. Hand me that other rifle and the doings.’

Carter did as he was directed, giving him also the automatic.

‘I’ll retain the revolver,’ he decided. ‘What are they up to now? Can you see anything?’

‘Nope. They seem to have gone to earth like a lot of bunnies. You’d better wait until they get busy again before you start exploring; they may be back in the corridor.’

A long period laden with anxiety went by, and the anarchists showed no signs of resuming hostilities.

Carter relieved Miles on the ladder after some time.

‘By Jove!’ he exclaimed in tones of admiration. ‘You’ve certainly done some execution, my bloodthirsty comrade. Ten dead – at least I presume they’ve departed this life; they look extremely dead to me and, in addition, I suppose we can calculate that half a dozen have been wounded.’

‘Did you say ten?’ demanded Miles.

‘Yes. I’ve just counted them.’

‘Gosh! Let me have a peep!’ He squeezed himself alongside Carter and glanced along the roof. ‘Tommy,’ he declared after a couple of seconds’ silence, ‘those aren’t all casualties. I only counted six bodies. The other four are playing possum for some reason or other. Watch carefully! They’re probably crawling towards us.’

They stood straining their eyes, but it was some time before they were able to distinguish between the dead bodies and the live men, so gradually did the latter move.

‘It’s a cute idea,’ commented Carter when they had satisfied themselves. ‘There are so many shadows, and it’s so difficult to see with any degree of accuracy that we might have been deceived.’

‘We should have been if you hadn’t counted them. I’d already done my counting and wouldn’t have noticed that the bag had been added to. I reckon it’s time we notified them that we’re wise to their little scheme. You take that one on the right, Tommy; I’ll get the guy near the edge.’

They looked along the sights of their rifles.

‘Ugh!’ shuddered Carter. ‘It’s like deliberate murder, shooting a crawling man who’s presenting his cranium as a target. Even a child couldn’t miss.’

‘It isn’t nice!’ agreed Miles. ‘Still I guess, if we come all over kind-hearted and let them approach they’ll kill us, and I’d sure hate to be dead.’

He fired as he finished speaking, Carter pulling his trigger immediately afterwards. They knew they had not, could not have missed, but there was nothing to indicate that they had done other than shoot two bodies already dead. Carter thought he noticed his man twitch, but could not be certain. The other two had not risen to their feet in terror or dismay at the fate of their companions and made a dash for safety. Probably they were hoping they had not been seen and were lying still.

‘Oh! Lord!’ grunted Carter. ‘Shall we have to shoot them too? I thought that, as soon as their comrades had been spotted and killed, they would have sought safety.’