The Reluctant Samaritan

by Brian Peters

  Asil completely lost track of time. She had no idea how long it was until she eventually found the waste paper basket that Luke had taken to gather the mushrooms in. She cried out as she saw drops of blood on the ground. Tears welled up in her eyes. She looked around frantically and listened intently for the sound of any movement but could only hear the wind sighing in the trees. She began inspecting the ground for any more signs of blood and picked up a few drops heading at right angles to the way she had been walking. She assumed that he’d walked in a fairly straight line; it wasn’t more than a couple of hundred yards further along when she came across the tyre tracks of the motorcycle and a vehicle of some kind. The vehicle had been turned round, she could see that, and had headed back up the track towards a main road. There was no point in going any further. She felt utterly helpless and stood shaking her head in frustration, her fists clenched so tightly that her nails made her palm bleed; hot tears burnt the back of her eyes. Everything that Kohler had said about them being in danger was being proved true. She ran back towards the hut in the forest and hoped and prayed that Kohler would come back very soon.

  ****

  Lambert walked into Currie’s office and said: “Sorry boss, but the Lomax’s money was inherited.”

  “Inherited? Did he come from a rich family then?” asked Currie.

  Lambert said: “Not him, her. Apparently her father,” Lambert consulted his notebook, “a William Daniels, was in the diplomatic service. Spent most of his service in the Balkans around the time that Causcescu was in power in Romania. There is some speculation on how he came into so much money. The value was in works of art mainly, but nothing was ever substantiated. He was murdered along with his wife by an insane relative, according to the police records. She’s worth several million pounds apparently. Mrs Daniels, not the aunt.”

  Currie looked crestfallen. ” Why would they need to deal in drugs if they’re that rich? There must be something to connect them with the murder.”

  He drummed his fingers on the desk and stared at Lambert. “Another dead-end, Lambert. When are we going to get some luck in this case?”

  He shook his head in frustration. “Get Frumholz on the phone. See if he can throw any more light on this.”

  ****

  The van drove erratically, swerving, braking suddenly and accelerating in turn. Every bump sent excruciating stabs of pain coursing through Luke’s ribs as his body bounced on the hard floor of the van. After about twenty minutes the van stopped. Luke remained still, terrified, waiting for the rear doors to open, wondering just what this man was going to do to him. The pain from his ribs was intense. He felt nauseous. The van reversed, then turned sharply right and began slowly bouncing over an uneven surface for a couple of minutes, then accelerating again, still bouncing about on an uneven road before it stopped once more. The fat man got out and opened the rear doors, untied him from the stanchion, helped him to stand up and led him surprisingly gently out into what looked to Luke like a farmyard by the side of a farm track. He was ushered towards a large barn. The man withdrew a key from his pocket and opened a small door that was set into the large double barn doors. As the door was pushed open Luke could see that the barn was empty, in spite of it being only dimly lit from a single skylight. Apart from a few sacks at the far end and a few bales of hay by the wall, that is. It smelt of cow dung. The fat man was slightly unsteady on his feet, his eyes having a job to focus. He spoke for the first time, pointing to the bales of hay. “Bitte, sitzen,” he said in a surprisingly low and mellifluous voice. Luke understood and was pleased to sit down.

  “Sprechen Sie Deutsch?” the man said smiling.

  “No, er, Nein,” said Luke. At least he knew a few words from the war films he’d watched. He was relieved to sense that the man didn’t seem to want to harm him. “You vait. A liddle time maybe. A man vill come. Then you tell him…” He struggled to find the words he wanted in English and stopped. He just stared at Luke for a few seconds, then said: “A liddle time,” he repeated. “Mein Nammer ist Horst,” he said, smiling and pointing to himself as if apologising for his actions. Then he left, nearly falling as he stepped over the high threshold of the barn door. He locked the door behind him.

  Luke raised himself painfully and looked around for a way out. There didn’t appear to be one apart from the locked door. The barn was high and there were no windows apart from one skylight too high to reach. He heard the van start up, and with much revving and slipping of the clutch, leave. Luke tried to hop to the rear of the barn, but every hop was too painful. Instead he shuffled as best he could, moving his feet a few inches at a time, the maximum his bonds would allow him. It took him ages to reach the rear of the barn. He was looking for something, anything to cut his bonds with. There was nothing but the pile of sacks in the whole barn. They were covering something bulky. Curious, he stooped and turned his back to the sacks and managed to move one of them with his bound hands. As he did so, his hand brushed against something extremely sharp, enough to cut his fingers. The sacks had been covering rolls of razor wire. The fat man must be simple or drunk, to leave me to walk around; or maybe he’s on drugs, thought Luke.

  He was soon free, cutting his bonds by rubbing them against the razor wire. He wiped the blood from his cut fingers with his handkerchief and then cut his feet free. He dragged two straw bales, one by one, up beside the door, very slowly, resting between each one. The effort caused him to feel faint with pain but he knew that this might be his only chance of affecting some sort of escape, although he had no idea what it would lead to. He managed to pile one bale on top of the other, leaving them slightly overlapping so that they formed a step. He winced as he lifted the bale. He looked around for something heavy that he could use as a weapon, but there was nothing he could carry to the top of the straw bales, except the roll of razor wire. He went back to the rear of the barn and passed one of the sacks through the middle of the roll so that he could drag it without cutting himself again. He dragged it to the bales, lifted it up and placed it on top of the second bale, then stepped up and stood on top of the bales of straw, positioning his body above the door, where he waited apprehensively for whomsoever it was that was coming to question or torture him. Or kill him. He hoped and prayed that there would be only one.

  He shuddered as he visualised the damage that the razor wire would do to someone as he dropped it. But he was determined to do it to save himself.

  ****

  Asil stopped when she was about fifty yards from the hut. What about if they come back for me, she thought. Perhaps they’re already in the hut! Asil looked around frantically, seeking somewhere to hide. She moved slowly forwards on the path for a dozen yards, and crept into the undergrowth. She crouched down and watched for any movement behind the one window that she could see. She listened intently for any sounds that might come from the hut but all was quiet. I’m not going to risk going in, she thought. She hoped that Kohler wouldn’t be too long before he returned.

  How long Asil waited she couldn’t be sure. She had cramp in her right calf and rubbed it vigorously, grimacing with the pain. Her thoughts were with Luke. He could be badly injured, bleeding to death or perhaps even already dead. She heard a car approaching, slowly bumping its way along the forest path. Asil crouched even lower, peering through the undergrowth to see whom the driver might be. To her great relief she saw that it was Kohler. She stood up and waved but he didn’t see her. He got out of the car and walked towards the door of the hut. Asil shouted a warning. He looked round and saw her just as he was about to open it. “No!” Asil shouted. Puzzled, he opened the door still looking at her as she ran towards him. Kohler disappeared inside. Asil stopped dead, half expecting to hear a gunshot or signs of a fight. Kohler came back out and called: “Asil, whatever’s the matter?” She ran towards him and threw her arms around his neck, sobbing inconsolably. He held her tightly, stroking her hair. She released him and he led her gently inside and sat her down. She stood up immediately
and shouted, almost hysterically:

  “Luke’s gone, Klaus. He’s been abducted and he’s injured and there’s blood and…”

  “Asil, calm down. Deep breathes now! Let me get you a brandy, you look terrible. Then tell me exactly what has happened.”

  He made her sit down on the settee and poured her a small glass of cognac She sipped it and grimaced as she swallowed, her hand shaking. She related how Luke had gone out to gather mushrooms and had been gone for over an hour before she went out to look for him. Kohler said: “So he’s been gone for what, a couple of hours do you think?”

  “Yes. No, more than that. I don’t know. I’ve lost track of time. It could be three or four hours.” Kohler thought for several seconds. “How do you know that he’s injured?”

  “I found the basket he took with him to collect the mushrooms, that waste paper bin, about a couple of hundred or so yards from here. There were spots of blood on the ground. There were tyre tracks a few hundred yards away in the direction away from the hut. There seems to have been a motorbike and a car or van according to the tyre marks in the mud. The vehicle had been turned round and driven off before I got there.”

  “Well done Asil. Right, we have to get out of here and quickly. Get your things together, I’ll help.”

  It took them no more than five minutes and they were ready to leave. She couldn’t get out of the hut and the forest quickly enough.

  ****

  Luke didn’t have long to wait before he heard a vehicle draw up outside, a car by the sound of it, from the opposite direction to that which the van had taken when it left. His heart started to beat faster. He heard the car door slam. He heard the man’s footsteps walking towards the door. He tried the handle then knocked on the door and called out: “Horst! Horst!” He tried the door handle again and rattled it impatiently. He heard the man curse. Luke raised the coil of razor wire painfully chest high ready to hurl it down onto whoever happened to come through the door. There was another pause before the man banged on the door and called again, even louder this time. “HORST!” He heard the man walk back to the car, so Luke lowered the razor wire again, relaxing and hoping that the man would drive off. Luke heard the car door open and then shut again. Footsteps approached the door once again and a key turned in the lock. Luke braced himself, searing pain making him wince as he lifted the bale of razor wire once more. The door opened slowly and the man stepped over the raised threshold and stopped directly below Luke. He surveyed the empty barn, the open door hiding the straw bales on which Luke was standing. Before Luke could release the coil of razor wire, the man stepped back outside, slammed the door shut, turned and ran to the car. Luke heard the car start, turn round with wheels spinning and accelerate back down the road in the direction that it had come. Luke heaved a sigh of relief and let the coil of wire fall to the floor of the barn, his arms now aching with the effort of holding it up for so long. The pain was now excruciating. All the tension drained from his body. He stumbled down from the straw bales and sat on his haunches with his head in his hands. Fatigue overtook him, and he was having trouble breathing without the effort eliciting a searing pain in his ribs where the motorcyclist had kicked him. He experienced another bout of nausea. Blood was now caked in his hair and down the side of his face but the wound had stopped bleeding. He had had nothing to eat or drink since the previous night, which added to his feeling of weakness. He stood up, knowing that he had to get as far away from the barn as possible, and quickly before either of the two men returned. He hoped that the man had not locked the door again. He hadn’t. He staggered outside and looked both ways along the path, not knowing which way to go. He felt very dizzy and had to support himself by leaning on the barn door. He started off slowly down the road in the direction that the van had taken, opposite to that of the car, but keeping close to the undergrowth in case a vehicle appeared. He had no idea as to where he was or where to head for. His thoughts were with Asil now. Had they been to the hut? Was she safe? He knew that she must be distraught when he’d failed to return. He couldn’t remember which way the motorcyclists had gone after they loaded him into the van.

  He stumbled on, holding his ribs; every jarring step was painful. His head was pounding with the pain from the wound. He began to feel faint again and sank to his knees, his vision blurred. The lack of food now began to take its toll with a vengeance. Even though his vision was blurred he could just make out the rear of the van some two hundred yards ahead, nosed half off the track into the forest. Gathering what little strength he had left, he raised himself and lurched into the undergrowth, not wishing to be seen by his captors from where the van was parked. He lay down in the bushes, closed his eyes and sank into blissful oblivion.

  CHAPTER 8

  Kohler drove very fast into Lüdenscheid, stopping in the car park of a block of apartments in Breitenfeld on the outskirts of the town. A distraught Asil followed him to the door. Kohler pressed the bell of number 17, marked ‘Szabo’. A woman’s voice answered through the intercom and asked who it was. Kohler said: “It’s me, Klaus.” The door to the foyer buzzed, clicked and swung open. They entered the hall and took the lift to the second floor. Sabine Szabo was waiting for them in the hall when they exited the lift. She directed a surprised smile at Asil, looked quizzically at Kohler then hugged and kissed him on both cheeks and led them into her apartment.

  “Sabine, this is Asil Lomax. I need you to look after her for a short time until I sort a difficult situation out. Would you do that for me?” He spoke in English for Asil’s benefit. Asil noted that Sabine was an attractive thirty something, slim and dark haired with dimples and a flashing smile. She held out her hand to Asil, shook it and led her to the settee and sat down beside her, studying her intently.

  “Klaus, of course I will,” she said, not taking her eyes off Asil. “We’re going to get along fine!”

  Kohler walked to the door and turned to smile at them both. Sabine got up from the settee and embraced him, kissing him lightly on the mouth. Asil was annoyed at herself for feeling slightly jealous at this attractive woman’s obvious intimacy with this handsome and cultured man. Without further explanation, Kohler took his leave, assuring Asil that he would find Luke and for her not to worry.

  Sabine returned to the settee and said: “Miss Lomax, you look as if you could use a drink. What can I get you?” Asil smiled weakly. “It’s Asil, and I could do with a cup of tea if you have one.”

  “You really do need a drink, don’t you!” Sabine said laughing. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to, Asil. Klaus is an old friend and I’d trust him with my life. Anything you do tell me will be kept between us.”

  Asil felt tears prickling at the back of her eyes, moved by this strangers kindness but desperately worried about Luke.

  Sabine poured her a small glass of Asbach brandy. “Drink this before I make you a cup of tea, you look as if you need it. Do you want lemon in it?” she said. Asil took a small sip of the brandy, made a face and handed the glass back to Sabine. “No thanks, milk and a spoonful of sugar please.” As Sabine turned to go and make the tea, Asil said: “My husband, Luke, has been abducted, Sabine. I don’t know by whom. I know that he’s injured but I don’t know how badly, there was blood at the point where he….”

  She burst into sobs, her shoulders heaving, resting her elbows on her knees and covering her face with both hands. Sabine sat back down beside her and put her arm around her shoulder.

  “Let it out, Asil. All I can say is that Klaus will find a way to locate him. He’s very resourceful. Now take another sip of the brandy.”

  “No thanks, Klaus gave me some when he picked me up from the shooting lodge.”

  “OK. Are you hungry? I know that you probably don’t feel like eating, but I do and you really do need to get your strength up. I bet you haven’t eaten anything today, have you? So we’ll share something, shall we?”

  Asil wiped the tears from her eyes and nodded, for
cing a smile. She realised that Sabine was quite right; she’d not eaten since yesterday.

  “I would like that cup of tea now, though!”

  Sabine laughed, stood up to attention and saluted Asil, saying: “Yes, Ma’am, right away!” and went into the kitchen and heated the kettle. Asil’s attempt at laughter quickly turned to tears again.

  ****

  Frumholz rang Currie later the next morning. “I have some good news and some bad news Herr Currie. Your Lomax couple stayed here in Lüdenscheid last night at the Stadt Lüdenscheid hotel. They checked out this morning and were driven to a hunting lodge in the forest not far from here. Unfortunately they are no longer there and I haven’t been able to trace them since, but I will. I’ll let you know as soon as we have some more information.”

  “Frumholz, I’m so grateful. Listen, how about if my colleague and I fly over in a couple of days if nothing else turns up? We might be able to be of some help. The trail has gone cold over here.”

  Frumholz paused for a moment, thought about it and said: “OK, I don’t see why not. Ring me and tell me what day you are arriving. When you get to the airport I’ll send a car for you when you arrive. I look forward to hearing from you. You know that Düsseldorf is the nearest?”

  “Yes I do. Speak to you soon, Frumholz.”

  “Tschuss!”

  ****

  It was some minutes later that Kohler’s mobile rang, just as he was getting into his car outside the apartment block in Breitenfeld. “Herr Kohler? Captain Frumholz, Lüdenscheid Polizei.”