Pink Snow

by Edna Dawes

  “If you stay much longer, you’ll be able to ski,” said Robert with a grin. “I am told winter descends with a vengeance once it starts. If you don’t already ski, you’ll get free lessons, no doubt,” he added caustically.

  Kathryn gave a faint smile and asked him where he planned to go from Mosskirch.

  “Innsbruck for a while, I expect, but holidays don’t last forever and I must think about working for a living again.”

  Their circular tour took them almost to the Bavarian frontier and passed through an area unknown to Kathryn. She was so engrossed in looking from her window and trying to see the scenery instead of Anton’s face, they were a quarter of the way up the road leading to Karlstein’s summit before she recognized it.

  “Why are we going up here?” she asked. “It’s a dead end.”

  He grinned. “I know, but since the chair-lift didn’t run yesterday I was unable to see the view from up here and today is my last chance. We can have tea in the restaurant at the top. All right by you?”

  “Yes,” she smiled. “The proprietor is my friend.”

  “Really? You do make friends quickly, don’t you.” The trace of malice was not lost on her, but she let it go.

  Next minute, from round the bend came an ear-splitting blast on the horn, and the yellow post-bus hurtled into view. Robert stamped on the brake and swung almost off the edge of the road as, with a squeal of ties and a rattle of metal, the bus skidded to a crawl and edged past them.

  “Pass doch auf, du dummer Esel!” yelled Robert. “Willst du uns umbringen!”

  Kathryn was terribly shaken. Coming so soon on top of her own crash, the narrow squeak revived enough fright to keep her silent for the remainder of the climb to the top. Robert seemed equally upset. After his outburst, he maneuvered the car back on to the road and continued to the restaurant without a word.

  Once their tires crunched across the snowy clearing by the restaurant, he felt relaxed enough to turn to Kathryn and say, “Did it give you a fright?”

  “I’ll say! My dislike for mountain roads is increasing daily.” She let him help her from the car. “I must say fear improves your German accent. You surpassed yourself with that tirade. What quick thinking it must have taken. Most people swear in their own language when they get worked up. Even Anton . . .” Her words tailed off and Robert didn’t take her up on what she had been about to say.

  The proprietor was glad to see her again, and teased her about returning to see the chamois. “But you do not need to meet a tall fair lover when you already have such a young man.” He beamed at Robert little realizing how he was putting his foot into things.

  Despite the dull weather, Robert thought he could get some good wintry shots of the summit, so after their tea they walked along the path Kathryn had taken two days ago while he found the best angles in the fading light.

  “Pity the sun decided to pack it in for today,” he muttered as he shifted around. “I could have taken some beautiful pictures with just a little more light.” He glanced up. “Let’s move along a bit to that gap in the trees. There’s bound to be a better view through there.”

  “All right, but hurry up. I’m getting cold,” Kathryn complained. “These shoes aren’t meant for walking in snow.”

  He linked his arm through hers and smiled with persuasive charm. “Come on, let’s run.” He trotted her along the path until she was breathless and laughing.

  “Have mercy,” she cried. “I take back all I said, but it still looks just as dismal from here and I don’t think the pictures will be any better.”

  “Leave it to the expert,” he grinned. “We may have to go even further along yet. To be a good photographer one has to be prepared to suffer. Hey look! There’s a bit of luck,” he cried excitedly. “A chamois!”

  “Where?” asked Kathryn caught up in the excitement.

  “Down there, below the snow line just to the left of that circle of trees.” He pointed.

  “I still can’t see it,” she wailed.

  “By those trees,” he repeated insistently. “Look . . . THERE!” He turned her head with his hands and pushed it downward in the direction of the chamois.

  In that instant her blood ran cold. This had happened before! Those strong hands on her head and neck pushing her forward and down were the same hands. All along she had maintained they belonged to a young man at the height of his strength. Instinctively she struggled free and swung round to face him, her wild look betraying her knowledge. His usually warm brown eyes were as hard as stone and his charm had vanished.

  “That was extremely careless of me,” he said smoothly. “It’s the second slip I have made this afternoon. Luckily you didn’t jump on the first, or things might have become complicated.”

  Chapter Nine

  Shock had numbed her brain for the first few minutes, but now the instinct for self-preservation set her dashing for the trees. He was expecting it, stuck out his foot, and she went headlong into the snow and lay there breathless, unable to prevent him from slipping a loose cord over her wrists and fastening them tightly behind her back.

  “You would never get away from me by running, but this way saves an awful lot of unnecessary exertion. You’ll realize the futility of making a dash for it. In that position it is very difficult, I assure you. Right, up you get!” he said cheerfully, pulling her to her feet. “We’ll get going before it grows too dark.” He put his hand through her arm and propelled her along the path away from the restaurant. “Pity I didn’t get a shot of that chamois,” he said regretfully.

  Kathryn couldn’t take in the evidence before her. Robert, of all people! She had suspected practically every Austrian in Mosskirch, but never her own countryman. Then, the recollection of his fluent outburst of German at the post-bus driver made her wonder.

  “You mentioned, another slip this afternoon. Was that when you broke into your native language?”

  “Yes. You complimented me on my fluency, but I can’t take a bow. I am German . . . East German, that is. My father was a British soldier. I spent a lot of time in England searching for him, which is why I can be mistaken for a real Englishman. You believed my masquerade completely.”

  “How could I help it?” she asked bitterly as she trudged along beside him. “Your affection seemed so sincere.”

  “Oh, it was . . . once I knew you had no idea it was me you saw on Kapellerpass. Before that I simply saw you as a danger which had to be removed. You have to admit I did all I could to send you home before I found it necessary to do this. When I knew I was safe from recognition, I became very fond of you, Kathryn. You are most appealing with your old-fashioned romantic notions and whimsical fancy for legends. We were getting on very well until the ski-boy came on the scene and used that age-old technique at the Forellenabend. You fell for it like every starry-eyed tourist and played the game his way from then on. I resent being pushed aside for an athlete who still lives on his past reputation. One of your race made a fool of my mother . . . I was not going to be the second fool.”

  Kathryn didn’t feel cold any longer. She was burning with anger! This sudden stranger was talking about love and death without emotion. At one stage he had had every intention of holding her head beneath the cold rushing water in that trout trough, then he would have her believe he came to love her enough to feel violent jealousy when she showed preference for another man. Now, he was marching her along the uneven snow-covered path with her hands tied behind her, heaping the Sins of his father on her head. He was a madman – there was no other explanation.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked.

  “To the place where the legendary lovers used to meet. I thought it the most fitting spot.”

  “I would hardly call us ‘lovers’,” she said nastily.

  “Neither would I, but I thought your penchant for folk tales would help you to appreciate the re-enactment of an age-old story.”

  “I don’t understand you.”

  He smiled down at her. “You ga
ve me the perfect set-up when you told me about the legend. At first, I planned to get rid of Herr Petz and young Peter separately, as I did with Dr. Hallstein, but then I realized I could do it in one operation . . . with the bonus of Anton Reiter to satisfy my sense of the bizarre. What better place for you to witness the death of your lover?” Kathryn stopped, but he dragged her on ruthlessly. “I left word with Frau Petz that I was taking you for another look at the glade, so when we don’t return tonight, the rescue team will come up after us. If Frau Petz doesn’t become anxious, your friend at the restaurant will. The car is evidence that we haven’t returned, and he’ll get on the phone to the village. As I said, the perfect solution! The three members of the rescue team who are readily available will walk obligingly into the trap and go down in history as brave men who fell to their deaths while attempting to rescue a young English tourist. Her surviving boyfriend . . . me . . . will be heartbroken. Neat, don’t you think?” he asked conversationally.

  They reached the signpost and turned up the slope towards Tierenspitze. It was almost dark by now; only the white ribbon of snow showed them where the path led. Soon, they were walking across the glade, the sound of their shoes crunching on the surface breaking the intense silence. Robert led her to the far end where rocks piled up giving some shelter from the cold, and pushed her down on to a slab of stone.

  “Make yourself comfortable. We may have quite a wait,” he said clearing the snow from a place beside her and sitting down.

  “It might be longer than you think,” she said tonelessly. “This morning Anton gave me the brushoff; said I had been imagining it all. He preferred to stand by his village friends than a girl he had known for just a week.”

  “Umm,” said Robert, “perhaps he is in it, after all.”

  “In what?”

  “The planned escape of Boris Gnutov.”

  It began to dawn on her then that Robert was no psychopath. He was engaged in the same strange activity as those men down in Mosskirch – and it was deadly serious.

  “Who is Boris Gnutov?”

  He gave a short mirthless laugh. “You really have no idea what you gatecrashed into that day on Kapellerpass, have you. Poor Kathryn! You are entitled to know. Boris Gnutov is a Russian philosopher who, because of his radical views, became an acute embarrassment to his country. Many people thought he should be sent to a place where he could cause no more trouble, but before anything could be done, he vanished taking his latest treatise with him. We covered all the roads, railways and airports, but he must have been hidden somewhere until we relaxed our vigilance. After three months, he was spotted near the Austrian border but vanished again before our man could reach him. We had an idea he may have been heading for Paris, to the home of a fellow-philosopher and good friend. If that were so, he would have to cross into Bavaria or Switzerland first.”

  “Why didn’t he fly straight to Paris?” she asked. “Surely he would have been safe enough on a normal passenger service.”

  “You don’t know much about us, do you. Maybe you should get your head out of your storybooks once in a while and see what is going on around you.” He shifted his position to a more comfortable one. “I was lucky. By pure chance, I was in St. Johann when they drove through, so I jumped into my car and followed them all the way to Möllnitz. They stopped at an inn just outside and I sat in my car watching the door. After an hour I became suspicious and realized they must have spotted me and left by another door, on foot. The proprietor confirmed this and told me it was possible to cross Kapeller range by a series of paths which eventually led to Mosskirch. I left my car and set off after them.”

  “So you haven’t been ill and forbidden to climb.”

  “No, Kathryn. Nearly everything I told you was a lie. I made the ascent quite easily, although I lost my way a couple of times. I had just started down when I spotted a hut in a clearing and could scarcely believe my good fortune when Gnutov emerged and started running. I suppose he saw me coming and panicked. I chased after him, and that’s when I popped out in front of your car. You gave me one hell of a fright.” He spoke as though the fear had been one-sided.

  “You saw me hit those trees and didn’t stop to see if I was hurt?”

  “I had more important things on my mind. I caught Gnutov several minutes later, and once I had stunned him with the limb of a tree, had the brilliant idea of dragging his body over to your car to make it appear he had been killed in the accident. It wasn’t until I had killed him that I turned him over to search his pockets and discovered he was not Gnutov. He must have changed clothes with the Russian back at the inn to provide a decoy. Poor fellow didn’t realize what he was taking on, I bet. I realized then that Gnutov was still in Möllnitz waiting to be taken elsewhere at a moment’s notice. At that moment, I heard someone approaching up the path and just had time to drag the body into the undergrowth and hide there.”

  “I suppose it was Herr Petz you saw,” said Kathryn through chattering teeth. It was getting unbearably cold and her shoulders ached with the strain of having her hands tied behind her.

  “Yes, it was Herr Petz. He ran to your car and pulled you out on to the ground. I knew the accident idea was hopeless then, so I returned to the inn. Gnutov had gone, naturally, but I had an idea they would still take him through Mosskirch. It seemed pretty logical that the man I had seen was on his way to the hut to meet Gnutov, and therefore might lead me to him. I drove to Mosskirch and spent a couple of hours in a Stube letting the village gossip tell me all I wanted to know. Imagine my delight when I discovered the man I wanted and the girl who might recognize me were under the same roof. I spent that night watching the Gasthaus then, in the morning I drove to Sternsee, left the car there, caught the train to a village several stations beyond Mosskirch, then came back on the next one from Innsbruck. To all intents and purposes I had arrived from there. All I had to do was book into the Gasthaus where I was on the spot to watch everything that was going on.”

  “How did you get away with your impersonation when you booked your room? Surely Frau Petz asked for your passport.”

  “What a little innocent you are,” he sneered. “I have four. As you were English, I decided it would help my cause to be English, too.”

  There was a short silence after that until Kathryn tried to appeal to his better nature by asking him to untie her wrists.

  “It’s beginning to become very painful in this position, Robert. Please, let me free.”

  “And let you run off at this stage?” he said. “Don’t take me for a fool, Kathryn. I haven’t got as far as this by being soft-hearted. I gave you several opportunities to escape from Mosskirch, so you’ll have to take what comes now. You shouldn’t have to wait much longer. They must have received a call and started up Karlstein already.”

  “I still don’t know why you are doing this,” she said dully. “It won’t help you to find out where this Russian is.”

  “I know where he is . . . safely in Paris with enough evidence to cause very awkward political questions to be asked,” he said bitterly. “We failed, but I want to make sure these people can’t make a repeat performance. It worked once, and they’ll try it again, if possible.”

  “Who are they . . . some secret organization?”

  “Not as far as we know. In fact, until you put your finger on the other members for me I was only aware of Herr Petz’s involvement. Your insistence on investigating that light in Peter’s yard told me just what I wanted to know. I already had a faint suspicion of Peter through your information about the rapid car repair, but Dr. Hallstein was a complete surprise to me.”

  “You made the telephone call saying Anton had had an accident?”

  “A nice touch, I thought. It ensured the doctor would turn out that late at night, and threw a little suspicion on to the golden-boy himself. All I had to do was collect my car at Sternsee, block the road until he came along, then stun him with a spanner when he came across to help me. The rest was easy.”

  “Wasn
’t it risky? Suppose another car had come along just then?”

  “You make the most stupid remarks. I am not a beginner at this game. For instance, on the day you visited the trout farm, I went to Sternsee on the train, collected my car and drove back to Mosskirch where I could keep an eye on you. When I saw you walk along that meadow path I seized my chance. You were lucky, Kathryn, damned lucky, to get away from me then. I cut my losses and drove back to Sternsee in time to catch the train back here. The men at both stations could testify that I had spent the whole day at Sternsee.”

  “All that trouble, and I was still alive at the end of it,” she taunted. “I would say you were a beginner. You failed to drown me at the trout farm, Dr. Hallstein is still not dead, and your Russian seems to have escaped very successfully. Not much of a record, is it!”

  “The English are always at their best when their backs are to the wall, so I’m told,” he retorted sharply. “You may be as brave as you like, Kathryn, but you won’t be saved by a wet patch on the floor this time.”

  He was right! As the minutes ticked away she could see no way out of it for any of them. Apart from the extreme cold and the ache in her back, she was trying to hold down total panic. It was a very dark night and, susceptible to atmosphere as usual, she felt a sinister aura around the place. Robert could not have arranged a worse ordeal for her. Her artistic sensitivity and vivid imagination conjured up the poignant events of long ago, highlighting the tragic death of Captain Karl before the eyes of his beloved. Would she soon witness the death of another tall fair Austrian in this glade? To a girl like Kathryn, it was all too easy to slide from fact to fantasy, and she prayed Anton wouldn’t come.