“It won’t be problem,” said Hal without conviction.
And so saying he took a look at Frank’s forehead, which was lathered with purplish froth.
9
“You’ll run out of juice,” said Frank.
“Think so?”
“You’d better believe it!… Can’t you hear it misfiring?… Change course now, because if we don’t we’ll find ourselves adrift on this cockleshell boat.”
Hal peered at the coast, which was now close. It was almost dark and the sea was turning choppy. Not far away was a line of steep, high cliffs.
“The coast,” he said. “We’re almost there, but I’m wondering where we can land.”
Suddenly he went quiet.
Anxiously, Frank asked:
“What’s the matter?”
“I can see lights.”
“Are they moving?”
“No… It’s a house… The windows are lit.”
“Fine. Try to land near there.”
Hal obeyed. He saw a kind of small harbour where a sailing boat and a motor launch were lying at anchor.
It was a private harbour belonging to a very large property.
He described the lie of the land to his companion. Oddly enough, after Frank had got hit, he seemed to Hal to have become more experienced and capable than he had been before. It was now to this blind man that he instinctively looked to lead them wherever their crazy caper might take them.
“Take her in gently,” said Frank. “We’ll hole up in the grounds of this mansion… Perhaps we’ll find some clothes and maybe something to eat.”
“Do you believe in miracles?” said Hal sarcastically.
“There are times when you have to…”
Suddenly the engine cut out.
“Did you turn off the petrol supply?”
“No,” said Hal, “she died a natural death. No more juice.”
“Are we far from land?”
“We’re there!”
“OK. Help me to get out.”
With great difficulty they eventually got back on dry land.
“Now, give the boat a good shove!…” said Frank. “It don’t matter where she goes… The tide’s going out and it’ll take her God only knows where and that suits us fine.”
Without warning he gave a hiccup and collapsed onto the sand.
“What’s up with you?” said Hal.
But Frank was gasping for breath and could not answer.
Hal took off the coat of his prison fatigues and used it as a canvas bucket to fetch seawater, which he splashed gently on his comrade’s face. The salt made Frank’s wound sting and he groaned:
“Stop, you’re hurting me… Everything’s gone all blurry; it’s a God-awful feeling… Maybe I’m going to snuff it, what do you think, Hal?”
Hal wrapped his wet coat over Frank’s forehead.
“Don’t be a dope. The damage to your nose is something or nothing. Give it three days and it will have all healed up.”
“Where will we be in three days?”
“Stop making a fuss. Where would the charm of life be if you kept worrying about the future?”
He stood up and looked around him. They were on the edge of a spinney of stunted trees. Through the spinney wound a sandy path that led to the house.
It was an imposing building, in the English style.
Hal hesitated.
He had to do something. With a wounded man in tow and every police force in France snapping at their heels the situation looked dire.
He made up his mind: “Listen, I’m going to leave you in a safe spot and go and see what I can find…”
“What exactly?” asked Frank.
“Anything. We’ve got nothing, so whatever I can get hold of we may be able to use.”
“I know what you’re going to do,” said Frank.
“Then you know more than I do.”
“You’re going to leave me here, you bastard! Because I’m no use to you! You’re going to beat it all by yourself—this is your big chance…”
Hal took his hand. His thumb felt his comrade’s pulse: it was racing.
“Get a grip,” he said. “Look, if I wanted to run out on you, I’d tell you. Wait for me and don’t make a noise…”
He grabbed him round the waist and chivvied rather than helped him to move under the low branches of a tree.
“I’ll be back, OK?”
He walked off in the direction of the house. The nearer he got the more clearly he could make out snatches of music, loud voices and laughter… There was clearly a reception being held that evening in the house by the sea.
“This,” thought Hal, “must be my lucky day. When people are having fun, they don’t pay as much attention to what’s going on around them!”
He prowled around the building. Open windows allowed him to see into a huge drawing room full of people, all in evening dress.
He went all round the house, locating the usual offices and outbuildings. He found the servants’ hall. The door was open and there was no one inside. A table groaned with trays, each laden with a heap of good things: canapés, sandwiches and an assortment of other appetizers. Bottles of champagne and whisky were cooling in tubs filled with ice.
He hesitated, then flattened himself against the wall, just outside the door. His whole body was tense. Just as he was about to step inside, a door opened and a servant in a white jacket walked in, carrying dirty glasses. He deposited them in a sink for washing up, picked up a full tray and went out again.
Hal rushed in almost immediately on the heels of the man. He seized a bottle of whisky, grabbed two sandwiches and ran back out into the night. He was pleased with himself and happy with his haul. Without waiting, he bit into one of the sandwiches.
Treading quietly, he started walking back to the spot in the grounds where he had left Frank. He got a fright when he saw a white-clad figure standing in front of his comrade.
Frank was half-kneeling and holding out one hand to the woman while he stammered in a helpless voice:
“Is that you, Hal?”
Hal saw that the figure was a young woman in evening dress. It seemed most likely that she had come out for a breath of fresh air.
Frank’s low groans must have attracted her attention as she strolled. Insofar as the light of the moon allowed Hal to make out, she was blonde and young, with a good figure and pretty face.
Frank persisted, though he did not dare raise his voice:
“Hello? Is that you, Hal? Is there anyone there?”
Hal gently placed the barrel of his revolver against the low-cut back of the young woman’s dress.
“Yes, Frank, there’s someone here,” he said softly.
She gave a cry and turned round.
Her eyes went from Hal’s hard-set face down to the gun he was pointing at her at arm’s length.
“Keep your mouth shut,” he murmured. “There are three bullets left in this gun and they could do some damage.”
The woman kept her mouth shut. She seemed more surprised than afraid.
“Who is it?” asked Frank.
“A nurse,” said Hal.
The young woman was breathing with difficulty.
“Are you the two men who escaped? The ones the radio was talking about earlier?” she asked.
“I think you could say that,” said Hal. “Unless there’s been an outbreak of escaping today.”
“What is—”
He cut her short with a gesture made all the more persuasive by the gun he was still holding.
“Be quiet! I ask the questions. When you’ve got one of these in your hand, you’re entitled to do the talking… Who are you?”
“I own this place…”
He looked at her then gave an unpleasant laugh.
“My little chum here has been in the wars. A bullet wound low on his forehead. I think it should be disinfected right away and that he should be given a shot of quinine. Now, I’m betting there’s a well-stocked medicine cab
inet in your bathroom?”
“There is.”
“Let’s go and see!”
“Hal! You’re crazy!” Frank said with a groan. “We’ll get killed if we set foot in there!”
“Don’t worry about it—the lady knows her way around the place. If she wants to save her skin—and her skin is much too pretty for her not to care about it—everything will be just fine.
“Will you do it?” he asked her.
“Follow me,” she said.
Hal hooked one of Frank’s arms over his shoulder to support his faltering steps.
“Wait!” he said. “I found a bottle of whisky—it’s good stuff! Get some of it down you; it’ll put lead in your pencil.”
Frank sucked greedily from the bottle.
“You quaffed that like it was lemonade,” said Hal admiringly.
“It does a power of good,” muttered Frank.
They followed the woman as far as the servants’ hall. When they reached the door through which Hal had entered, they waited while the same waiter came in and left.
“Let’s go!” said Hal.
All three passed through the room and reached some back stairs, which took them up to the floor above. The woman led the way.
She was not afraid. Hal, who could now see her in the light, could not help liking what he saw. He thought she had class.
They entered a luxurious bedroom. Hal closed the door behind them and turned the key in the lock.
“Ah!” he said. “If you only knew how good it feels to be in civilized surroundings again. Sit on the bed, Frank, it’s just in front of you!”
Frank sat down. The woman went into the bathroom and they heard her opening the sliding door of a medicine cabinet.
She returned with several small glass bottles and some gauze.
“Give!” said Hal. “I’ll fix him up.”
“I’ll do it better than you can,” the young blonde woman said firmly.
“Oh? Well, go ahead then.”
She began by disinfecting the wound, then blew a puff of a sulfamide-based powder over it. Finally, she bandaged it very tightly.
“I’ll be damned!” muttered Hal. “You’re good at this! It’s your Red Cross lady side showing, am I right?”
She just gave a shrug, which raised Hal’s sensitive hackles.
“Oh, suit yourself!”
She returned to her medicine cabinet, dropped two pills in a glass of water and came back.
“Drink this!” she told Frank, putting the glass in his hand.
Frank hesitated.
“Is it all right, Hal?” he asked helplessly.
“Don’t be a clown!” joked Hal. “Listen, this lady here isn’t the sort of hostess that slips a wounded soldier a dose of rat poison!”
He stood up, crossed to a wardrobe and opened it. He gave a cry of delight.
“Talk about a land of plenty!” he said. “There’s everything here you need to dress up as Prince Charming. You’d never think there were men who owned so many clothes.”
He took out a blue serge suit.
“About my size. The trousers aren’t quite the ticket, but I only have to let them down as far as they’ll go. And shirts, Frank! Silk too! Makes you feel like you’re the Duke of Windsor when you see a wardrobe like this!”
He chose a suit for his friend and helped him into it.
“Listen, lady, if you’re shy just turn round,” he said.
But the woman did not budge. She watched as the men undressed with muted, if slightly suspect curiosity.
“Like that, is it?” smiled Hal. “If it gives you a kick we’ve got no objection to you getting your money’s worth!”
Once Frank had changed, Hal undressed and pulled on a pair of trousers and a turtleneck sweater. But it was a bit tight. To get his arm into the sleeve he had to put the revolver down. It was then that he understood why the blonde had not turned round and looked the other way. Quick as a flash, she lunged and snatched the gun. Then with a steady hand she pointed it at Hal.
“Aha!” he said, as his face dropped. “Seems like things are getting complicated.”
“What’s going on?” asked Frank, who sensed that something was wrong.
“The lady’s just grabbed the shooter.”
“You dumb bastard!” said Frank.
“Language!” said Hal. “That sort of talk isn’t fit for a lady’s ears!”
“Don’t move!” said the woman.
She seemed to be thinking and watched them in an odd way, as if she were in two minds.
At that moment, there was a knock at the door.
The two men froze. The blonde smiled. She crossed to the door and reached for the knob, but then had second thoughts and asked:
“Who is it?”
A polite voice murmured:
“It’s Julien, Madame. The master has sent me up to ask if you would care to come downstairs. Madame’s guests are getting anxious…”
She hesitated again: it was probably the painful sight of Frank’s face which decided the fate of both men.
Without taking his eyes off her, Hal picked up the second sandwich, which he had put on the marble mantelpiece, and took a bite.
“Tell my husband that I’ll be down very shortly,” she said.
The servant mumbled a hasty “Very good, Madame” and went away.
The woman tossed the gun onto the counterpane.
“Get out. And be quick about it.”
“Is this your week for doing good works?” asked Frank.
“No. My birthday… Make the most of it… Go before I have second thoughts… Women are always changing their minds: everyone knows that.”
Hal hurriedly snatched back the revolver and slipped it into his belt.
“Come on, Frank,” he said, “and say thank you to the kind lady… It’s thanks to the Good Lord himself that she crossed our Goddam path!”
Taking the wounded man’s arm again, he stepped out into the corridor, but not before giving the young woman an eloquent look.
10
When they got outside and felt the night wind, Frank heaved a sigh.
“That was a near one!”
“Dead right!”
“What got into her, do you think, for her to give us a present like that?”
“She told you herself. It’s her birthday.”
“When it’s your birthday, you get presents, you don’t give them.”
“Oh women have a different way of looking at life. Perhaps she felt sorry for us…”
“You mean sorry for me?” said Frank.
“In what way sorry?”
“Do you think I’ve gone blind?”
Hal shrugged his shoulders.
“Of course not!”
“You don’t sound very convinced.”
“Listen,” said Hal, “now’s not the time to start worrying about your problems.”
“What are we going to do, Hal?”
“Well… we get out of here, agreed?”
“Agreed. But how?”
Hal looked carefully all round him.
“There’s a whole lot of cars parked over there. Maybe we could steal one?”
“Oh sure, and run straight into the arms of the cops? Trust me, there’ll be roadblocks everywhere.”
“All right then, brains, have you got any better ideas?”
“Wait a minute…” said Frank. “Yes! We go back to the sea. The tide was in when we landed, right?”
“Yes.”
“So it will have started going out by now?”
“Probably.”
“Good. If it’s going out, we can start walking along the base of the cliffs. It’s perfect. The cops will never think of looking for us along the shore… In their tiny minds there are sheer cliffs and the sea below… It won’t occur to them that you can walk along the foot of the cliffs for eight hours!”
Hal gave his comrade an admiring look.
“You’re full of ideas, and that’s a fact!”
And as he took the arm of his fellow fugitive, he repeated:
“If it’s ideas you want, I’m your man!”
They were almost dead on their feet when a faint dawn began to break far out at sea. Walking on fallen rocks and shingle is exhausting. Several hours of staggering along, of sleepwalking progress across mounds of scree, had sapped the last of their strength.
Frank dropped down onto the accumulation of round black stones which turned the shore into a virtual moonscape.
“I’ve had it!” he said. “I’m all in!”
Hal sat down beside him for a moment, then snorted:
“Pull yourself together, man! Sooner or later we’ll find a place to hide. So far, we’ve been doing just fine… You came up with the great idea of walking along the shore. Brilliant! And we’re not leaving any tracks either. The only thing is that any minute now the tide will start to turn and we’ll have to find somewhere safe…”
“Let it turn! Let the sea come all the way up and then you won’t have to go looking for the perfect hiding place—you’ll have it here, deep beneath the waves! There’s no better bed than the seabed.”
Hal’s answer was to grab Frank under the arms and force him back onto his feet.
“Hey! You’re a grown man! So start walking!”
“Listen, Hal, it’s not just being exhausted… I can’t see. You’ve got no idea what it’s like walking in the pitch black… with all these damn rocks that move when you step on them!”
“I dare say,” murmured Hal.
While they talked they’d set off again along the line of the shore.
The light was strengthening. A zone of deep purple marked the point on the horizon where the sun would soon come up. The air was crisp and cold… Gulls flew over them, gliding with easy grace and uttering their raucous cries which hurt the ears.
Hal looked despairingly over the long stretch of shingle, the sheer cliff fringed at the top with stunted grass, the foaming sea as it slowly encroached on their closed world. He was beginning to lose heart. What was the use of staggering on, of the bursts of energy required of them and the sudden fits of crazy hope?
They had set themselves an impossible task. They were doomed from the start. There was no way out.
The Wicked Go to Hell Page 6