The Forbidden Territory

by Dennis Wheatley

  “No matter,” De Richleau went on quickly, “we can only go one at a time, and her cottage is the only place that we all know; it is the only place to rendezvous.”

  “Can’t we all beat it together?” Rex suggested.

  “You know we cannot,” said the Duke sharply, “they would follow us. One of us must run while the others cover his retreat from the window. Simon is to go first.”

  “Why me?” said Simon. “You want to get rid of me!”

  “Don’t be a fool—you waste time talking. In any case, you have only two shots left in that pistol. Rex, watch that side window while I speak to Simon.”

  “Listen.” De Richleau’s voice dropped to a lower, more persuasive tone. “It is a big risk you run; there may be men already at the back of the house. There soon will be. Marie Lou has failed to get horses. Well, then, someone must go to her—at once, she is our only hope—and she is a brave child. I take responsibility for this. Ask her to show you somewhere where we can hide. We will give you half an hour’s start; but when we arrive, be ready. Go now, every moment counts.”

  A shattering crash came as Rex fired into the darkness at a moving shape on the roof.

  “All right; that’s different,” said Simon.

  “That’s better. Good-bye, my son.”

  “Missed him,” said Rex from the window, “but I guess he won’t try that cat burglar stuff again for a bit!”

  “Lord be praised that we’ve got that boy out of this,” sighed the Duke, as Simon could be heard making his way down the stairs.

  “Think he’ll make it?” said Rex.

  “Why not? There has been no sign of movement in the garden up to now. Fire again from your window to show that we are still here.” As he spoke De Richleau watched the terrace and lawns below him. He tapped his foot impatiently. “They will be round here in a moment. They must know that this room looks out on the back!”

  Simon came out on the terrace. He looked quickly to right and left, then darted down the stone steps. The Duke watched anxiously as he ran across the first lawn. “Fire again, Rex,” he said nervously, “fire again; don’t let them suppose that we’re not here.”

  Simon took the second terrace at a jump. To De Richleau he was now only a faint blur against the whiteness of the snow. The Duke breathed more freely. There had been no sign of the enemy, and the darkness swallowed Simon up.

  A bullet sang through Rex’s window, and thumped into the wall. Someone was firing from a new angle, but De Richleau did not heed it; he was watching the distance into which Simon had disappeared. Suddenly there was a spurt of flame somewhere in the bushes by the lower lawn, and then a sharp cry.

  “Good God,” the Duke groaned, “they’ve got him.”

  Another flash, some way to the left, speared the darkness for a second. De Richleau leaned out of the window in his excitement and anxiety. “Don’t shoot,” he yelled at the top of his voice, “he can see you by the flash.” But even as he called his warning there came two more spurts of flame from opposite directions, about fifteen feet apart, and another cry. The Duke gripped the window-sill in his agony. He feared that Simon, already wounded, had used his last shot. At the bottom of the garden all was silence once more.

  “Did they get him?” Rex asked in a strained voice.

  “God knows—I fear so; they had a man in the bushes by the gate. Never shall I forgive myself if I have sent that boy to his death. I will go down.”

  “You’ll stay right where you are,” Rex replied promptly, “and for the land’s sake come away from that window—they’ll pot you where you stand.”

  The Duke drew in his head, but he remained staring gloomily into the darkness.

  “You couldn’t help it,” Rex tried to hearten him; “you just thought it would be an easy get-away for him; ’sides, I’ll bet little Simon’s all right. Almighty difficult to hit a running man in the dark; he can take care of himself better than you think. I’d back Simon against any Bolshie that ever lived.”

  “You mean it kindly, but you’re talking nonsense, Rex. Simon would be as helpless as a child against one of these men, and he’s gone to his death through my foolishness.”

  A pistol cracked from the terrace below—De Richleau staggered back, dropping his gun with a clatter on the floor as Rex caught him.

  “Steady,” said Rex in a whisper, “steady—tell me you’re all right?”

  “Don’t worry,” he managed to gasp, “they got me in the shoulder.”

  “Hell’s luck. I was just beginning to think that we might get out of here. Is it bleeding much?”

  “No, don’t worry—watch the roof.” De Richleau leant against the wall. After a moment he spoke again. “Bone’s scraped, not broken, I think—bullet’s in the ceiling.”

  “Can you use your gun?” Rex asked anxiously.

  “Yes. Mustn’t use right arm; bleed too much. I can fire left-handed.”

  Rex groped for the pistol on the floor. “I’ll reload it for you,” he said quickly, slipping out the magazine.

  “Thanks. A bit quieter, isn’t it? I don’t like it,” said De Richleau suddenly. “They’re up to some mischief.”

  “I should worry,” Rex laughed. “Keep clear of that garden window and we’ll be O.K.; they can’t rush us except from the roof or the stairs—and they’d just hate to try either.”

  “Yes, we’re safe for the time being, I suppose—if only poor Simon were still with us,” the Duke groaned.

  “Maybe he’s only been winged, like you. Anyhow, we’ve knocked the guts out of this racket already, or I’m mistaken. How many do you reckon there were to start with?”

  “Twelve, perhaps.”

  “Right. Well, there was the big boob who tried to stop you coming through the roof—that’s one. The two bums I outed on my first visit makes three; then the chap with a head like an egg-shell who found the butt of my automatic—that’s four.”

  “Simon shot one from the landing window.”

  “Yep, that’s five.”

  “There was the man I shot from the corner of the wall—I saw him drop,” added De Richleau.

  “That’s six, anyhow, and we’ve had quite a few additional hits, according to the shouting,” Rex grinned. “I’ll say there’s not many of the bunch haven’t got sore spots some place.”

  “The advantage of fighting upon interior lines,” De Richleau smiled in spite of his pain. “Or shall we say ‘a demonstration of the superiority of the defensive when using modern weapons’.”

  “That’s the idea. It’s good to hear you talking again like that.” Rex peered from the window. “I’d like to know what these birds are up to, all the same.”

  After the almost continuous firing the silence was uncanny. “Perhaps,” De Richleau suggested, “they have gone for reinforcements; the air-park can’t be more than a mile away. They will return with machine-guns and a searchlight!”

  “It’ll be the end of the party if they do. I guess we’d better get out of this while the going’s good.”

  “Yes, no good waiting to be shot like rats in a trap. Let’s try our luck!”

  They moved towards the door. No sound came from below. De Richleau swore softly. “How these stairs creak.”

  “Which way?” said Rex, when they reached the bottom. “Better go by the garden and see if we can’t pick Simon up.”

  “No,” said the Duke miserably; “it’s useless. If he’s not dead or captured, he’ll have reached the cottage by now. There is more cover in front; we can work our way round by the outhouses.”

  With the greatest precautions they stole along the passage to the big roofless hall, pausing a full minute before they crossed it. Not a sound met their ears; the great entrance door stood wide open.

  “If we have to run for it, do you think you’ll faint?” whispered Rex. “Just put me wise if you think it’s likely. I could carry two like you; but don’t do it on me without warning.”

  “I shall not faint,” the Duke assured him, “I�
��ve lost very little blood. If we’re separated we rendezvous on Marie Lou’s cottage, remember—but in no circumstances until we’ve thrown off the pursuit.”

  “We shan’t be separated,” said Rex briefly. “All set?”

  For answer De Richleau left the porch, and began to creep along in the deep shadow of the outside wall. On their other side they were protected by thick shrubberies; but for the stars above it was black as pitch. The bushes were a splendid screen, but had the disadvantage that they rustled at every movement.

  The Duke suppressed an oath as he stumbled over the body of the man that Simon had shot from the landing window. He was quite dead. They passed the low brew-house where they had been held prisoner, and beneath the higher level of the wall behind which they had sheltered. With the wall the shrubbery ended.

  They peered out from the last bushes, straining their eyes and ears for the least movement. If Leshkin had gone for reinforcements it seemed impossible that he had not left the rest of his men posted about the grounds to keep watch. Yet there was no sign of them.

  Rex crept forward into the open, his automatic held ready for instant action. De Richleau followed, peering into the shadows on the right. The snow silenced their footfalls. They rounded the corner of the first outhouse.

  Almost simultaneously Rex and the black shadow fired at point-blank range. The Russian pitched forward with a sharp cry. Rex crashed backwards, carrying De Richleau with him as he fell.

  The Duke’s pistol went off with the impact, the bullet hissing through the trees. He rolled from under Rex, and covered the Russian from his position on the ground. It was unnecessary. The man lay, face downward, a pool of blood running from his head, staining the snow.

  Rex lay where he had fallen. His groans were terrible. He writhed in agony on the ground. De Richleau asked no questions He staggered to his feet, changed his pistol to his right hand, and, seizing Rex by the collar, dragged him back into the shelter of the bushes.

  It took all his strength and, with the effort, his wounded shoulder began to lose blood again. It was some thirty feet, and he accomplished it with only a few seconds to spare.

  Shouts and running footsteps came from three directions. Leshkin’s voice could be heard yelling commands; a group of men gathered round the dead soldier. One switched on a torch. For a second De Richleau was tempted to fire into their midst. He lowered his weapon—it would have been madness—there were four of them beside the Kommissar. An angry order, and the torch went out; but there was time for the Duke to see that they were looking at the roof.

  A sudden volley of shots in that direction confirmed his idea that they believed their comrade to have been shot from Rex’s old position at the window. There was a whispered consultation, and then Leshkin and his men withdrew.

  What a golden opportunity to escape now, thought the Duke, if only it were not for Rex. He sighed. Rex had ceased groaning, and lay quite still. The Duke feared that he was dead. “Rex,” he whispered softly.

  “Yes,” to his surprise came the reply.

  “Thank God,” breathed De Richleau. “I thought they had finished you. Are you badly hurt?”

  “It was a darned near thing,” Rex said, as he sat up slowly. “Another inch either way, and it would have been me for the golden shore.”

  “Are you all right? Aren’t you wounded?”

  “No, not a scratch. The bullet hit the steel buckle of my belt. Gosh, it was agony—like the kick of a mule, and every ounce of breath knocked out of my body. I’ll bet my tummy’s black and blue.”

  “Can you walk—or run if need be? They believe us to be still upstairs.”

  Rex got painfully to his feet. “O.K. Let’s quit this party. I guess we’ve had enough for one night.”

  “We will break right away from the house, then, this time,” whispered the Duke. “If we make a big circle to the left we should strike the road.”

  As he spoke they left the cover of the bushes once more, creeping forward among the trees that bordered the drive.

  They heard footfalls to their left, and stood stock-still; Leshkin had evidently posted a man there to watch the window. The steps moved away, and they proceeded stealthily. Another five minutes and they were able to break into a quick walk.

  Guided by the stars, they made in the direction in which they believed the road to run, and a quarter of an hour later they came to it. Turning left again they walked quickly on, keeping a sharp look-out for the track that led to Marie Lou’s cottage.

  They passed three other cottages on the way, but these were dark and silent. At last they found the path and struck off to the right along it.

  “If only Simon’s there,” said Rex, breaking the long silence.

  “If he’s not, it’s a thousand to one against our ever seeing him again.” The Duke seemed suddenly to have grown very old and tired.

  The windows of Marie Lou’s cottage were shuttered, and only a crack of light showed through. With a sigh of thankfulness at finding their one refuge again, De Richleau thrust open the door.

  Mademoiselle Marie Lou stood upon the threshold, clasping her little mother-of-pearl revolver, her big eyes wide with fear; but of Simon Aron there was no sign.

  Chapter XVIII

  Simple Simon met a Gunman

  “God be praised that you are safe returned, Messieurs,” she said, with a little gesture of relief, lowering the toy weapon to her side.

  “Our friend?” asked the Duke anxiously. “Have you seen him?”

  “What, the little one? Is he not with you?”

  “We sent him on ahead nearly an hour ago. It is as I feared. He has been shot.” De Richleau sank heavily into a chair.

  “Monsieur le Duc is wounded,” she exclaimed, as she saw the blood oozing from his shoulder.

  “It is nothing, Mademoiselle; a flesh wound only.”

  “Wait but one minute, and I will wash the wound.” She set water to boil, and took some strips of linen from a cupboard.

  Rex was still standing at the door. “Guess I’ll go back and look for Simon,” he said simply.

  “Let Mademoiselle dress my hurt, and I will come with you.” The Duke grimaced with pain as he struggled out of his greatcoat.

  Rex helped him with his jacket, and the girl cut away his shirt. The place was laid bare—a gash about three inches long. The bullet had ploughed its way up the shoulder-blade and out at the top.

  “You stay put,” said Rex. “I’ll go after Simon.”

  “One moment.” The Duke detained him with his free hand. “First let us hear from Mademoiselle if it is quite impossible to obtain horses.”

  “Absolutely impossible, Monsieur. The peasants had been warned. I tried four farms, and at each it was the same. They dared not sell their horses. There is danger even now that one of them may have spoken to the police about my visit.”

  “I thought, Mademoiselle, that these people were your friends. It is as I feared. We shall bring trouble upon you—ah, gently with my shoulder, please.”

  “The water is a little hot. There is one peasant only who I do not trust—the man Rakov. I would not have tried there but that I know him to be always greedy. I thought he would be tempted to take a risk for the high price which you would pay.”

  “In that case we must leave at once—we must not be found here.”

  “That I will not allow.” Marie Lou’s little pointed chin stuck out firmly. “Where would you go, at night, and in the snow? Monsieur le Duc is of my own people; we are in a strange land together; I will hide you if they come.”

  “You stay here,” said Rex. “I’ll go and see if I can’t find any trace of Simon.”

  De Richleau made an effort to rise; the girl pushed him back. “Monsieur the American is right,” she said. Let him look for your little friend; you will stay here that I may bandage this poor shoulder. Afterwards I will hide you in the loft.”

  “As you will, then; only promise me this, Rex—if Simon has been captured you will return for me befor
e you attempt anything.” The Duke smiled at Marie Lou. “Mademoiselle, you are a woman of great courage. To allow you to take such a risk for us is against every principle of my life, but we are in desperate straits. I accept the shelter that you offer with the deepest gratitude.”

  “There, now you talk sense at last. Rakov may say nothing after all; he will think, perhaps, that it is only another of my madnesses. Because I live differently to them, the people here think that I am strange—if it were not that the children like me, and for the memory of my mother—I think that fifty years ago the peasants would have burnt me for a witch.”

  For the first time in hours Rex laughed, his ugly. attractive face lit with its old merry smile. “I’ll say you’re a witch all right,” he murmured. “I’ve half a mind to go get wounded myself if you’d promise to take a hand healing it!”

  “Monsieur is pleased to be gallant,” she said demurely. “He would be wiser to seek tidings of his friend and return unwounded.”

  “Take care, Rex,” begged the Duke, “and don’t be longer than you can help.”

  “I’ll be right back, and I’ll give three knocks on the door, so you’ll know it’s me. See-yer-later.” With a cheerful smile Rex went out into the night.

  When De Richleau’s wound was cleaned and dressed, Marie Lou barred the cottage door, and showed him a cupboard hidden behind a curtain. It contained a collection of old clothes, but behind these was concealed a series of stout shelves, up which it was easy to climb to the loft. She told him that she had hidden there many times during the evil times, when Reds, Whites and Greens had ravaged the country indiscriminately.

  The rifle was taken up to the loft, also the knapsacks and De Richleau’s furs. All other traces of the travellers were disposed of in anticipation of a surprise visit; then they put out the light, that the occupant of the cottage might be presumed to be sleeping, and sat together in the darkness near the stove.

  “When I heard all the shooting,” she said in a low voice, “I thought that I should never see any of you any more.”

  “Surely you could not hear the fight at this distance?” he asked, surprised.