by Colin Forbes
Cardon was aiming to mount the ridge at its northern extremity where he was likely to have a sweeping view over the entire terrain. He just hoped he'd reach that position before Butler rode up the section of the spiral road which passed under the ridge. He gritted his teeth as the machine bucked like a wild bronco, kept his balance, saw he was close to the end of the ridge. Then up, up, up!
Newman sat very erect in his seat, binoculars screwed close to his eyes. Butler was now approaching the point where he'd be most vulnerable – if Jennie had seen someone up on the ridge.
Cardon had vanished from sight. Newman guessed he was driving his machine to the limit over very rough terrain. He wished to Heaven he was with them, helping out.
Tweed had steeled himself to remain calm, passive. Every instinct made him want to snatch the binoculars from Newman. To see for himself! Beside him he felt Paula shift her position and guessed the tension was mounting for everyone inside the Espace. Then he felt Jennie's gloved knuckles pressing into his shoulder. His tone of voice was off-hand when he spoke.
'Not much going on up there, Bob?'
'I'm not sure. I thought I saw something.'
Tell us what you think your something was,' Tweed requested, his manner still deliberately low-key.
'Movement on the ridge,' Newman said tersely.
'Can you be a little more specific?'
'Thought I saw two men, but it was only a quick glimpse.'
'Keep looking. Let us know if there are any fresh developments, please.'
Newman had closed his window earlier and now the heaters were beginning to build up a more bearable atmosphere inside the Espace. The two men and the two women sat like waxwork figures; not moving as they stared up the ascent to the ridge which reminded Tweed of the back of some prehistoric beast. But the growing warmth did nothing to reduce the rising tension inside the vehicle.
'Harry Butler is nearly at the real danger point,' Paula observed quietly.
She was right, Tweed thought grimly. Butler was approaching a location where to his left the road stood at the edge of a sheer abyss. Worse still, to his right the eastern tip of the ridge was a gradual and shallow slope from the summit to the road – exposing him fully to any firepower which might be aimed at him from above.
'Oh, God!' Paula exclaimed. 'No…!'
'Two men, both armed with machine^pistols, point-blank range,' Newman reported in a dull tone.
Butler must have sensed danger. Through his glasses Newman saw him bring his machine to a sudden halt. He was staring up to the summit of the slope as both men took aim with their weapons. Cardon appeared out of nowhere from behind the ridge, stopped his machine so suddenly the back wheel jumped off the ground. He was about thirty feet from the American killers. Distracted for a moment, they turned round as Cardon hoisted his arm like a cricket bowler about to throw the ball. A missile sped through the air, landed almost at the feet of the two potential assassins.
The dynamite exploded with a thumping roar they heard inside the closed Espace. A fountain of rock hurtled skywards, mingled with the blood-stained remnants of his targets. The mangled debris moved in an arc, fell straight down on to the road a few yards in front of where Butler had paused. The upper half of one American, severed at the trunk, littered the road. Butler walked his machine forward, used the wheel to nose the relic over the edge into the abyss.
On the ridge Cardon had ridden his machine the short distance to where he could look down on the road. Butler gazed at him, gave the thumbs-up sign, which Cardon returned. Perched on the summit Cardon couldn't resist the gesture. Staring towards where the Espace waited, he beckoned them on with a grand wave. Advance!
'Let's get moving,' Tweed said in a businesslike manner. 'I want to be at the Chateau Noir as close to eleven as we can. And Pete Nield behind us is champing at the bit in his station wagon. I must talk to Amberg.'
Higher up amid the snows of the Vosges there was another more distant watcher who had observed everything. Seated in a green Renault – the colour merging well with surrounding evergreens – Mencken had positioned himself on a platform which provided an almost uninterrupted view of route N415. He now had the undesirable obligation to report to Norton.
'Don't apologize to the creep,' he told himself.
He dialled Norton on his mobile phone, watching the progress of the convoy towards him far below. They were well organized – he'd give them that, the bloody Brits.
'Norton here,' the familiar voice answered after a lot of atmospherics.
'Mencken. Phase Two of the experiment was a complete bust. I do mean complete,' he continued, piling it on. There are two more players out of the game.'
'Plenty more from where they came from,' Norton responded with his usual considerate regard for human life. 'I am now sure our competitors, who are coming up via Route Two, will return via Route One. There the possibilities for the neutralization of the opposition are more promising. You will now assemble the team for the chateau.'
'Understood,' confirmed Mencken.
'And I hope you also understand that our competitors must never reach Colmar again. That would disturb me. More to the point, you would find it disturbing…'
Mencken swore as he realized Norton was no longer in touch on the phone. His language was an attempt to ignore the fear he felt from Norton's last words. They had implied a lethal threat to Mencken in the event of failure.
Seated behind the wheel of his Renault, Norton drove on up into the mountains after giving his orders to Mencken. He was beginning to have his first doubts as to whether Marvin Mencken was the man for the job. He'd decide about that later.
Norton's next priority was the coming assault on the Chateau Noir. It was just possible that Amberg had the film and the tape with him in his castle. That would solve the whole problem.
But Norton was not banking on this. He had his six in the evening rendezvous with Growly Voice at Lac Noir. Here he had a problem. He'd been instructed to come alone – and to continue to conceal his appearance he would have to go to this isolated spot by himself. It was not a prospect he relished – meeting someone whose identity was as secret as his own. He hoped it was a rendezvous he'd never have to keep.
Finally, Norton thought, ticking off priorities, Tweed and his team would be eliminated before nightfall. Phoning Mencken in Colmar, he had coded the way into the Vosges via Kaysersberg as Route Two – N415. The more southerly way into the mountains – D417 – had been coded as Route One. Which was where Tweed would perish.
41
Paula gazed in wonderment at the Ice Age world they had entered at this high altitude. Massive snow-covered bluffs loomed far above them as Newman guided the Espace higher and higher up a diabolical spiral. Suspended from overhanging crags were immense spears of ice like stalactites. They were now near enough to the summit to have lost the sun, driving in cold menacing shadow on the side road Newman had turned along.
She shivered inwardly as she peered up at the immensity of snow and ice hovering above them. She had the feeling it might all topple on them at any moment, burying them under a sea of snow and ice for ever.
'Don't think the sun ever reaches here,' Tweed commented.
'I think it's getting creepy,' Jennie replied.
'You ain't seen nothing yet,' Newman joked. 'Look what is coming up. Ladies and gentlemen, our guided tour of the Vosges has just reached Lac Noir. The infamous Black Lake.'
Time we stretched our legs, limbered up,' Tweed suggested. 'We're close to the chateau and want to arrive fresh.'
'Oh, my God! What a horror,' Paula burst out as she stepped out after Tweed.
Newman had switched off the engine and a terrible silence descended on them. The Espace had been stopped close to a low stone wall. Beyond it the waters of Lac Noir stretched away – waters black as pitch and still as a pit of tar, which Paula thought it resembled. Worse still, the small lake ended at the base of a black granite cliff facing them – a cliff which rose vertical and sheer in the
bleak shadows. Paula looked slowly up the wall of the cliff and felt dizzy when she saw the iron-hard line of the summit, the hideous medieval-like castle which stood perched way above them on the high brink. It was the intense stillness as much as the Siberian cold which paralysed her mind as she gazed at the monstrous edifice, the fantasy brought into existence by some crazy American millionaire Heaven knew how long ago. There were lights in the chateau windows – there would have to be on this grim shadowed side.
'A bit bleak round here,' Tweed commented.
'Bloody terrifying,' replied Jennie who had climbed out after the others.
'That's a bit of an exaggeration,' Tweed said, aware the atmosphere was affecting morale. 'Bob, I want to get up to the chateau at the earliest possible moment – to see Amberg
The drive up the narrow precipitous road overhanging the southern end of the lake was a nightmare. Newman had his headlights on as he drove up and round hairpin bends with fearsome drops into the black water now far below.
'Some Grand Tour of the Vosges,' Paula said bitingly.
'At least it's a unique experience,' Jennie responded as she peered out of the window down the endless drop.
'One way of looking at it,' Paula snapped.
'One positive way of looking at it,' Jennie corrected her.
'Are you trying to pick a verbal fight with me?' Paula demanded, twisting round in her seat to glare at the other woman.
'Why should I want to do that?' Jennie flashed back, her eyes blazing. 'And I do have my uses – in case it has slipped what passes for your mind, I spotted those men on the ridge. Butler could be dead by now if I had not warned Tweed.'
'All right. You were a help, a big help. You saw something I missed and should have seen.'
Paula was startled. Jennie could be a hellcat, had looked at Paula as though she could have strangled her. Tweed wasn't prepared to be distracted by a female dispute as the moment approached when he would confront Amberg.
'If both of you would keep quiet maybe I could think. So not another word. Bob, we must be close now.'
'We'll reach the summit within five minutes,' reported Paula, who despite her altercation with Jennie had kept a close eye on the map. 'From there it appears to be no distance at all to the chateau.'
Tweed looked ahead at a moment when the snake of a road was inclined at an angle of forty-five degrees. Butler, who was still preceding them on his motorcycle, paused briefly, waved Newman on, continued the ascent on his machine.
Glancing back over his shoulder the view made Tweed feel dizzy. Inclined at this precipitous angle he was staring down direct on to the deathly stillness of Black Lake – so far below now he almost suffered an attack of vertigo.
'Don't look back,' he warned Paula and Jennie. 'That's an order.'
Behind the Espace Nield was driving the station wagon up the ascent with Cardon bringing up the rear on his motorcycle. The system of the two outriders racing back and forth past the vehicles which had been employed earlier was now impossible. Any attempt by Cardon to overtake the station wagon and then the Espace would undoubtedly have ended with his machine falling over the brink and plunging hundreds of feet into the still waters of Black Lake.
'I think we've reached the top,' Paula called out, unable to suppress the relief she felt.
Butler had again paused, twisting round in his saddle to give the 'V for victory sign. The road levelled out, Paula risked a quick glimpse back, saw only a projecting rock bluff which masked any view of the lake or the panorama beyond. She swung her head to face front.
'We're home and dry! There's the Chateau Noir. A grim-looking brute, but it's heaven to be back on the level. Home and dry,' she repeated.
'Not my idea of home,' Tweed commented. 'Just look at the place.'
Paula gazed at the high granite wall surrounding the great castle, at the huge square stone keep rising up even higher than any other part of the grim structure. Newman had stopped the Espace close under the lee of the wall, close to but out of sight of the tall wrought-iron gates which barred the en trance.
Nield parked his station wagon behind the Espace, got out to speak to Tweed, and was joined by Butler and Cardon. Tweed had jumped out of the Espace and stood stretching the stiffness out of his arms and legs. It had been a somewhat tense journey, he reflected.
'How do we handle it?' asked Newman as Paula and Jennie followed him out into the bitter air.
'Tactfully – until we get inside,' Tweed replied.
Paula gazed round, relieved also to be able to exercise her limbs which had become tense with fear and anxiety. At least on this side of the chateau they were in the full blaze of the sun shining down out of a clear blue sky. But still there was the brooding silence of the high Vosges and she stamped her boots in the iron-hard snow to stop herself shivering. Cardon pointed to a wire elevated above the top of the wall which ran out of sight.
'Electrified,' he commented. 'I hope Amberg doesn't rely on that for security -I could neutralize it inside five minutes.'
Tweed addressed Nield, Butler and Cardon after checking his watch.
'I'm going to insist that Amberg allows you inside with your transport. As soon as you're parked check the layout of the whole set-up from the outside. Look for weak points where an attack might be launched. Plan a defence of the whole castle
'You're expecting an assault?' Newman queried.
'Norton's objective right from the beginning has been to get hold of the mysterious film and tape. He'll think -as I do – that Amberg has them in his safekeeping. So yes, an assault is possible – even probable. Now let's hope Amberg is at home…'
Tweed left the others hidden behind the wall. Marching up to the closed gates, he operated the speakphone he'd seen embedded in the left-hand gate pillar, pressing the button below the metal grille. He had to press it again before a disembodied voice he recognized spoke.
'Who are you?' the voice demanded in German.
This is Tweed outside,' he said, speaking in English. 'I must talk to you urgently.'
'Someone else called here yesterday, said he was Tweed. He was an imposter, an American. How do I know you are the genuine Tweed?'
Paula, who was watching Tweed closely, saw a very strange expression cross his face. If she hadn't known him so well she'd have sworn it was bewilderment, but Tweed was never bewildered.
'All right,' Tweed continued, 'you want proof of my identity. You had an identical twin brother, Julius. He was murdered in a wholesale massacre at Tresillian Manor in Cornwall. Just before he left Switzerland on that fatal trip he was separated from his wife, Eve, who is English. I visited her at her villa on the heights above the Limmat in Zurich. I met you, Walter, a few days ago before you left Zurich for Basle. Bob Newman was with me. Look, surely that's enough, for God's sake!' he ended with deliberate exasperation.
'I am sorry, Tweed. I do hope you realize I have to take precautions. Actually, you have said more than enough for me to recognize your distinctive voice. When the buzzer sounds the gates will open…'
'One more point,' Tweed interjected. 'I have Newman and Paula Grey with me. I also have three guards -members of my organization. I want them to enter the courtyard I can see through the gates as protection.'
'I agree. Listen for the buzzer.'
Paula had again been watching Tweed closely. He had bent his ear close to the metal grille while Amberg spoke and when he straightened up he was frowning. He looked at Paula and his expression became blank. Raising his hand he gestured for them all to move into the stone-flagged courtyard as the automatically operated gates swung inwards. Paula joined him as they walked swiftly towards the large stone porch which appeared to be the main entrance.
'Has something disturbed you?' she asked.
He pointed towards the right-hand comer of the huge stone facade which reared above them. Parked almost out of sight was a white BMW.
'Looks very much like Gaunt's,' Paula commented.
'I think we'll find it is Gaunt's…
'
Amberg himself, again neatly dressed in a black business suit, opened the heavy door to let Tweed, Paula and Newman inside. Paula blinked at the vastness of the entrance hall, at the poor illumination provided by the sconces on the walls. Amberg stroked a hand across his well-brushed hair after closing and locking the door.
'Will you please excuse me for a few minutes? I can hear the phone going and I'm expecting an important call. Eve has come for a business discussion. Gaunt, who brought her, will take you to her. A little pleasant company in my absence…'
Gaunt, who greeted them as though their arrival was the most natural event, led them through a series of stone passages and up and down flights of ancient stone steps. As he led the way he called back to them as though he owned the place.
'Remarkable place, this chateau. Of course the Yankee who had it built on the basis of old plans was mad as a hatter. But he was Yankee to the core. Show you some of the bathrooms later. Now, ladies and gentlemen, we are about to enter the largest bathroom of all,' he boomed.
His voice echoed back along the labyrinth of passages they had walked through. Paula was dying to tell him to cut down on the decibels. Gaunt had paused before a pair of large double doors shaped like a Norman arch. With a grandiloquent gesture, he opened both of them, gestured for them to enter. Tweed nodded to Paula to go ahead in front of him. She did so and stopped abruptly, suppressing a gasp of astonishment.
She was gazing at a vast swimming pool, entirely constructed of marble. Enclosed under an arched roof, the marble covered all the surrounding surfaces. A figure was swimming in the pool, racing up and down the full length with powerful breast-strokes.
Eve Amberg had tucked her titian hair inside a black cap and was clad in a one-piece black bathing costume. She waved to Paula as she reached one end, paused at the foot of a ladder, called out to her.
'Welcome to Valhalla! Be with you in a minute. I have to complete thirty lengths. Make yourselves comfortable in those chairs…'
Then she was off again. As Tweed and Newman walked over to comfortable chairs round a table, Paula watched Eve. The Englishwoman was an incredibly strong swimmer. Her long limbs glided through the greenish water, her slim arms moved like pistons. Thirty lengths! I couldn't do that, Paula thought, and I'm a few years younger than she is. As she wandered towards the table Eve reached the ladder, paused, shinned up it, stood on the edge of the pool, reached for a large towel. Drying her shoulders, she stripped off her cap and her mane cascaded down her back.