Beginner's Luck

by Paul Somers

  Chapter Sixteen

  I spent most of that day frantically trying to devise some new plan. Judging by the way Smith had moved about the roof on waking, it couldn’t be long now before he was ready to leave. Not to-night, I thought, but almost certainly the next night. That gave us only thirty-six hours before the final crisis. The feeling of desperate urgency didn’t help constructive thinking, and I made little progress. Smith would obviously be keeping the closest watch on the walls from now on, so there wasn’t a hope that I could get away with a second attempt at scaling them. Surprise up the spiral staircase remained impossible. That seemed to rule out any chance of successful night activity.

  I wondered if the courtyard in daylight might offer any prospects. There was quite a lot of cover there, and nothing to prevent me staying on there, instead of leaving, after I’d delivered the next lot of supplies. Then, when Smith and Mollie came down at daybreak, I might be able to catch Smith unawares. But when I thought about it in detail, I realised how little likelihood there was of that. He would certainly have the possibility well in mind. Unless I was very much mistaken he would come out of the bottom door of the tower using Mollie as a shield. And once out, he would do what anyone in his position would do—he would go straight over to the main gate and make sure it was locked. If it was, he would know I had left. If it wasn’t, he would know I hadn’t, and he’d stalk me with his gun. In daylight I wouldn’t have a chance.

  I tried to think of some way of getting him down into the courtyard at night, some trick that wouldn’t look like a trick, but I couldn’t. I could scarcely think at all any more. I found myself going over and over the same ground, in a state of mind that at times wasn’t far short of panic. I reached only one decision. If, by the next day, the situation still looked quite hopeless, I would go to the police and tell them everything. There was just an outside chance that they might be able to suggest something—and by then, we’d have nothing more to lose. If we were going to be killed in any case, at least I might as well make sure that Smith didn’t get away with it. It wouldn’t be much consolation, but it would be something.

  I went into Brighton again before lunch and did some more shopping. I got the battery, and a batch of newspapers and magazines for Mollie, and the cigarettes and a bottle of wine to sweeten Smith, and another water can and a little food. After that I returned to Lodden and parked the Riley behind the tea-house and settled down at the pub for another ghastly wait.

  When I finally reached the castle just after midnight, the routine was exactly the same as on the first occasion. I knocked at the top door and was cautiously admitted with my hands up, and very efficiently searched. Smith asked me if I’d brought the battery and I said I had and he told me to put it in the lamp, which by now was giving out such a feeble glow that I could scarcely see Mollie at all. He stood over me while I made the transfer, digging the gun into me. He was putting much more pressure on his ankle to-night, no doubt because it was firmly bandaged. I knew I’d been right—the final show-down couldn’t be far away.

  Directly I’d got the lamp fixed I went over to Mollie. She was sitting on one of the blankets with her back to the parapet. She was still wired to the slats.

  I said to Smith, “Do you have to keep her fastened up like this even when you’re not asleep?”

  “Only when you’re here,” Smith said. “She’s been free since dusk.… As a matter of fact, Miss Bourne and I are getting along very well. I think we understand each other. If I may say so, she has a much more realistic approach to the situation than you have.”

  I bent over her. “How do you feel, Mollie?”

  “All right,” she said. Her voice was very subdued; she sounded pretty beaten. I scarcely recognised in her the spirited girl I’d known before Smith had come on the scene.

  I said, “I’m sorry I didn’t manage to pull off that climb this morning.”

  She raised her head, and for the first time that night I saw her face clearly. Astoundingly, it wore an expression of furious anger. “It was idiotic to try,” she burst out. “You must be crazy.”

  I was completely taken aback. I said, “Well, I had to do something.”

  “Why? If you’re trying to impress me with your bravery, I can tell you you’re not succeeding. Don’t you realise how dangerous it was?”

  I shrugged. “I got down all right, so why worry?”

  “As it happens, I wasn’t thinking of you—if you want to break your neck that’s your affair. But you might have got us both killed. Why don’t you stop fooling about and just wait?”

  “You see what I mean?” Smith said. “Miss Bourne has sense.”

  I ignored him. “Wait for what?” I said grimly.

  “Mr. Smith says he’s almost ready to leave, and as far as I’m concerned, he can. I know what he’s done, and I know it means he’s going to get away with murder, but it’s not our job to stop him—we’re not the police. I’m certainly not prepared to sacrifice myself to do it. I want to live, do you understand? Live!” Her face shone white and scared in the lamplight, her voice was touched with hysteria. “So for God’s sake stop behaving like an overgrown boy scout.”

  I could scarcely believe my ears. It seemed incredible that Mollie could be so naïve as to think Smith would leave us behind alive. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her he’d be bound to kill us before he went, but I didn’t want to put my certainty into words for him to hear. And anyway, I’d scarcely the heart. She must have had a fearful time, shut up here alone with a sadist and a murderer for days and nights on end, never quite knowing what he might do next. Her ordeal had been immeasurably worse than mine, and if the strain had got her down I couldn’t justly blame her. I certainly didn’t want to say anything to make things worse for her—she’d learn the brutal truth soon enough.

  All the same, I couldn’t help feeling let down. Her boasted toughness hadn’t even been skin-deep. As a hard-boiled reporter she was a fake. She was just a fair-weather girl. I remembered again how she’d folded up at the sight of Hoad’s body; how she’d cringed in terror when Smith had approached her corner to strike her; and now this! She’d been ready enough to get into this scrape—to get me into it, too, for that matter!—but now that things had gone wrong she couldn’t take it. Still, there it was. I’d have to count her out in anything else I attempted—and in the long run it probably wouldn’t make any difference. The long run? Twenty-four hours!

  I said, in a bitter tone, “Well, you needn’t worry—I’m hardly in a position to try anything else.” I turned to Smith. “Just give me your instructions. What do you want me to do?”

  He gave a sardonic grin. “Nothing that will tax you at all, Mr. Curtis. Your work’s nearly over.… Tell me, where’s your car?”

  “Down by the gate.”

  “Does it run well?”

  “Very well.”

  “How much petrol is there in the tank?”

  I remembered that I’d meant to fill up that afternoon, and hadn’t. “About a gallon, I should think.”

  “How many miles is that good for?”

  “Something between twenty and twenty-five.”

  “H’m!—that’s not going to be much help. All right—now here’s what you must do. Some time during the day, get the tank filled right up. Check the oil and water at the same time. As soon as darkness falls, bring the car back and park it where it is now. See that the ignition key is left in, and that the doors are unlocked. Then come up here. That’s all.”

  “I gather you’re going to take my car,” I said.

  “I’m going to borrow it—just for a few hours. I shall leave it quite intact—and no doubt the police will return it to you eventually.”

  “I see.… And what are your plans for us?”

  “Well, now, as far as you’re concerned, Mr. Curtis, I shall leave you locked up here in the castle. You’ll have a little food and water, so you’ll be quite all right. As for Miss Bourne, I’m afraid I shall have to ask her to go along with me as
a hostage for a little while longer. She will be my guarantee against any monkey business at the car. It would be so easy, otherwise, for you to organise a police ambush down there by the gate, wouldn’t it? I’m sure you’d already thought of it! This way, you won’t dare to organise anything—because, in the last resort, you will know that I should kill her. I still have nothing to lose.”

  I said, “When will you let her go?”

  “As soon as I’m safely away from here. I may have to leave her tied up somewhere for an hour or two, to make sure I have plenty of time to get out of the country before the police pick up my trail—but then she’s used to that, by now! You needn’t worry, I shall treat her well. In the end, of course, she’ll be found, and she’ll raise the alarm, and then you’ll be liberated, too. I think you’ll agree that all my arrangements are extremely considerate.”

  “Is that all?”I said.

  “That’s all. You can go, now.”

  I glanced at Mollie. She didn’t look angry any more. She just looked very troubled. She said, “Hugh, I’m sorry if I seemed ungrateful just now. I’m afraid I must have done, horribly. I don’t know what you must be thinking of me …” Her voice broke. “I couldn’t help it, I just couldn’t bear the thought of any more violence. It’s been such a ghastly nightmare, you can’t imagine …” Suddenly, she began to cry.

  “Easy, there!” Smith called out sharply. “We don’t want the neighbourhood roused.”

  She tried to check her weeping, but now that she’d begun she couldn’t stop. “I’m so—tired,” she sobbed. “I’m so uncomfortable. This beastly wire’s cutting my foot.”

  Smith grunted, and got up. “I can soon fix that for you.… Just stand back a minute, Mr. Curtis. Right back!”

  I stood back. There was still no chance of getting the gun. I felt very low, and terribly inadequate. I gazed out over the faintly starlit countryside, thinking how peaceful it all looked, thinking again how utterly incredible this whole thing was …

  Then, suddenly, all hell broke out. Mollie yelled, “Hugh!” at the top of her voice. I swung round in astonishment. She’d got Smith by the hair with both hands. I dived across the roof. As I reached them they rolled over together. For a moment I couldn’t distinguish anything. There was a whirl of flailing arms and legs. The lamp was turned away—I couldn’t see where to hit, what to hold. Then there was a blow, and a cry, and Smith suddenly tore himself away and I felt the hard barrel of the gun against me. “Breathe and you’re dead!” he said.

  It was all over. The whole incident hadn’t taken more than ten seconds. Mollie was lying back against the parapet, holding her face. Smith was sucking his left hand, which was covered with blood.

  “You little hellcat!” he said.

  I kept very still. “Careful, Smith!” I said. “No reprisals!—not if you want me to live, that is. Not if you need my car.”

  He stepped back, still sucking his hand. “You’d better go, Mr. Curtis.”

  “Go on, Hugh,” Mollie said. She had got over the blow—she didn’t appear to be seriously damaged. “He won’t hurt me now.”

  I said, “Sorry, Mollie!”

  “You needn’t be. It was a long shot—like climbing the wall. It might have worked.”

  She smiled, and gave me a gallant little wave, and I walked slowly to the steps.

  Chapter Seventeen

  As I crossed the courtyard, I called myself every name under the sun. I’d been unforgivably dim not to see through that act that Mollie had been putting on. I ought to have known that she couldn’t be that naïve. I ought to have had more faith in her as an ally. If I’d been prepared for some sudden move, if I’d been on my toes, we might just have got away with it. It was I who had let her down.

  Now there was nothing to prevent Smith going right ahead with his escape plans—his real plans. He’d wait for me to bring the car that evening, he’d shoot us both, and he’d disappear. Probably he wouldn’t even trouble to dispose of our bodies. All that stuff about locking me up in the castle and taking Mollie with him was merely intended to keep hope alive in us and scare me off a last-minute appeal to the police. I could just imagine him leaving Mollie tied up behind some haystack while he went off to Dover to get the next boat! Suppose she got free before he was ready?—suppose someone found her? It was derisory. If I’d had any doubts before about his murderous intentions, they certainly wouldn’t have survived that childish apology for a plan.

  I closed the castle door behind me and thrust the key savagely into the lock. When I tried to turn it, it wouldn’t turn. I wriggled it about, but it still wouldn’t budge. I couldn’t understand it, because I’d never had any difficulty with the lock before, not from the outside. The obstruction that had prevented me locking it from the inside must have moved. I strained on the key, hoping to force it past whatever was there, but all I succeeded in doing was jamming it tight. I couldn’t move the key now in any direction. The door was still unlocked, and I couldn’t lock it.

  I stood back and considered the situation, and the more I thought about it the less I liked it. If I left the door as it was, the final crisis might come long before the evening. The day that would soon be dawning was a Saturday—the first Saturday since the news of the murder had got out. It was quite possible that sightseers would come to the castle. Someone might try the door. Someone might go in. And then everything would blow up. I didn’t want that to happen. I didn’t want to do anything to hasten the end. I was still clinging desperately to shreds of hope—hope of a last-minute miracle.

  I had another go at the lock, but I still couldn’t move it. In the darkness, I couldn’t see what I was doing. A light on the inside would have helped—a light, and something to probe with. A piece of wire might shift the obstruction. Smith had some wire. I’d better go back and tell Smith. He wouldn’t want the castle left open, either!

  I set off back through the entrance passage. I wondered what he’d say. He’d be bound to suspect some trick—and yet it wasn’t a trick. I could probably convince him of that. Truth was very persuasive. And with so much at stake, I didn’t see how he could fail to come.

  Then a new thought struck me. It wasn’t a trick—but maybe I could turn it into one? I tried to visualise what would happen when I told him. He’d make me come down with him, of course. He’d stick close by me on the way down. He’d keep the gun against me all the time. He’d be more careful than ever while we worked on the lock. I doubted if he’d give me any opportunity …

  If only, I thought, I could let him know what had happened without going back to the tower—if only I could make him come down and join me in the passage …

  I stopped abruptly. I’d suddenly had an idea. The germ of an idea, anyway. Perhaps I could get him to come and join me. If I could, the passage offered wonderful opportunities. Unique opportunities! I stood there in the darkness, trying to work it out. It was a fantastic plan—but a tremendously exciting one. A long shot, like all the others—but it might come off. And what had I to lose? Smith wasn’t the only desperate man now.

  First, though, I had to find out if it was practicable. I made my way quickly to the inner end of the passage. Where it entered the courtyard it was flanked, I remembered, by slopes of broken masonry. Those slopes must lead, presumably, to a flat surface above the passage. I felt around and found the bottom of one of the slopes and clambered up. There was no difficulty. In a few seconds I was at the top. It was just as I’d expected—a flattish, rather uneven roof. I daren’t strike a match, because I was in full view of the tower, but I groped around with my hands and almost at once I found one of the round holes I was looking for—the murder holes! I continued to feel around. Altogether there were nine of them, and between them they commanded most of the passage. The middle one was larger than the others, but even the smaller ones had a diameter of seven or eight inches. I scraped up a handful of stone fragments and dropped one down each hole in turn, and they all fell clear to the passage below.

  I began to
search for a heavy piece of stone, something I could use as a weapon, but there didn’t seem to be anything loose at all. It was going to be difficult to find a suitable missile in the darkness. I tried to remember where I’d seen bits of stone of a suitable size—and after a moment I did remember. I climbed down over the masonry and left the castle. I crossed the causeway and knelt down on the grass at the side of the moat and felt along the edge. The bank just there had been strengthened with lumps of stone, and some of them were loose. The first bit I dislodged was too big, but the second felt just right. It was a rectangular lump about six inches across at the widest place, and almost a foot long. It must have weighed twenty pounds. I lugged it from its bed and carried it back through the passage and set to work to get it up the slope. It was a slow job, for the tower was well within earshot and I didn’t want Smith to hear anything that I couldn’t explain afterwards. Any vague noises could be attributed to work on the lock. I made my way up mostly on my hands and knees, keeping the stone in front of me and lifting it upwards and forwards as I advanced. In three or four minutes I had reached the top again. I tried the stone in one of the holes, and it fitted nicely.

  I left it there beside the hole and climbed down again and went out through the door. I walked round the moat till I was opposite the square tower. For a second or two I stood listening. Caution had become a habit. But it was two o’ clock in the morning and the place couldn’t have been more deserted. I didn’t think there was a chance that anyone but Smith would hear me. I cupped my hands towards the tower and gave a loud hail.

  For a second or two, nothing happened. I was just beginning to think I’d have to shout again when I saw some movement up on the parapet against the background of the stars. Then Smith’s voice came clearly over the water. “Yes?—what is it?”

  “The lock’s jammed,” I called. “I’ve locked the door, but I can’t get the key out.”

  He reacted to that, all right. He had to. If the door had really been locked, and the door jammed, he’d have been a prisoner. He said anxiously, “Any idea what the trouble is?”