River of Death

by Alistair MacLean

  ‘And the rucksacks,’ Von Manteuffel said.

  Again the search failed to turn up any weapon.

  Von Manteuffel said: ‘I would have a word with my old friend Heinrich, who would appear to have come a very long way for nothing. Ah, and this man.’ He indicated Hiller. ‘I gather he’s an accomplice of my dear ex-comrade in arms. The rest—take them and their pestilential luggage across to the old grain store. Perhaps I shall be subjecting them to some intensive and, I fear, very painful questioning. On the other hand, perhaps not. I shall decide after I’ve had my chat with Heinrich.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  The old grain store was built entirely of beautifully cut and fitted stone without any mortar whatsoever. It was about twenty feet by twelve, and had three storage bins on either side. The sides and the partitions of the bins were made of heavy adze-cut wood. A single weak and naked electric lamp, suspended from the ceiling, burned in the centre of the store. There were no windows and only one door-opening without a door, which the presence outside of a man with a cocked machine carbine made superfluous anyway. There were no furnishings of any description. Hamilton and his fellow captives had nothing to do but to look at each other or at the sentry, who faced them, his elderly but no doubt still lethal Schmeisser levelled directly at them: he had about him the look of a man who was yearning for an excuse to use it.

  Navarro finally broke the silence. ‘I fear for the health of our Mr Smith. Hiller, too, come to that.’

  ‘Never mind about their damned health,’ Hamilton said. ‘Start fearing for your own. When he’s finished with those two who do you think is next on his list, whether or not he indulges in a little torture beforehand?’ He sighed. ‘Trust old trusty secret agent Hamilton to tell all. Von Manteuffel knows who I am, who Maria is, and who you two so-called Greek intelligence officers are. He can’t let us live and I’m afraid he can’t let Silver or Serrano live either—obviously.’

  ‘In the meantime,’ Serrano said, ‘could I have a word with you?’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘In private, if you please.’

  ‘If that’s what you want.’ The two men moved to a corner of the room where Serrano spoke in a low rapid tone. Hamilton lifted his eyebrows and his face registered surprise, an emotion he had practically never betrayed. Then he shrugged his shoulders, nodded twice, turned thoughtfully away and looked at the sentry.

  ‘Big man,’ Hamilton said. ‘My size. Black from head to toe—beret, jacket, trousers, shoes. I want those clothes. More importantly, I want that gun. Even more importantly still, I want them both fast.’

  ‘Easy,’ Ramon said. ‘Just ask him.’

  Hamilton didn’t reply. Savagely, almost, and to the accompaniment of the indrawn hiss of Maria’s breath, he bit the ball of his left thumb. At once the blood began to flow. He squeezed the torn flesh until the blood flowed even more freely, then smeared it over Ramon’s uncomprehending face.

  ‘All in the interest of art,’ Hamilton told him. ‘Brother, what a fight this is going to be.’

  The ‘fight’ started in the corner of the store, just out of the sentry’s line of sight. The sentry would have been less than human not to locate the source of the sound of the heavy blows, the shouting and swearing. He moved forward into the doorway.

  Hamilton and Ramon were belabouring each other mightily, fighting in apparently vicious fury, kicking and punching and obviously intent on inflicting grievous and mutual bodily harm. The sentry was clearly startled, but not suspicious. He had a heavily brutalised face behind which there lurked no great intelligence.

  ‘Stop that!’ he shouted. ‘You madmen! Stop it or—’

  He broke off as one of the combatants received a seemingly murderous blow and came staggering to fall flat on his back, half in and half out of the doorway, eyes turned up in his head, the face masked with blood. The sentry stepped by him, ready to quell any further signs of trouble. Ramon’s hands closed round his ankles.

  Four men prepared to carry three blanket-covered, stretchered forms from Von Manteuffel’s room. Von Manteuffel said: ‘It can be fatal to allow an enemy to live longer than is necessary.’ He paused, briefly, for thought. ‘Over the side with them. Think of all those poor starving piranha. As for our other friends in the grain store, I don’t think they can supply me with any more useful information. You know what to do.’

  ‘Yes, Herr General,’ one of the men said. ‘We know what to do.’ His face was wolfish in anticipation.

  Von Manteuffel glanced at his watch. ‘I will expect you back in exactly five minutes. After you’ve given the piranha their second course.’

  A figure, dressed all in black, faced the grain store with a levelled Schmeisser in his hands. He heard the sound of footsteps some way off and glanced quickly over his shoulder. Four men—the four who had disposed of Spaatz and Hiller—were about thirty yards away: their machine carbines were shoulder slung. The dark figure continued to gaze at the door of the grain store, waited until his ears told him that the approaching group were no more than five yards away, then swung round with his Schmeisser blazing.

  Maria said in a subdued tone: ‘You play for keeps, don’t you? You didn’t have to kill them.’

  ‘True. True. But, then, I didn’t want them to kill me. You don’t play footsy with cornered rats. Those are desperate men and you can bet that each one is a trained, efficient and practised killer. I don’t much feel like apologising.’

  ‘And no need,’ said Ramon who, like his brother, had remained unmoved by the proceedings. ‘The only good Nazi is one who has stopped breathing. So. Five guns. What do we do?’

  ‘We stay here because here we’re safe. Von Manteuffel may have thirty, forty men, maybe even more. Out in the open we’d be massacred.’ He glanced down at the stirring figure of the sentry. ‘Ah! Junior is coming to. I think we’ll send him for a little walk so that he can apprise his boss that there’s been a slight change in the status quo. Remove the rest of his uniform—should give Von Manteuffel quite a turn.’

  Von Manteuffel was making some notes at his desk when the knock came on the door. He glanced at his watch and smiled in satisfaction. Exactly five minutes had elapsed since his four men had departed, just over two minutes since he had heard the burst of machine-gun fire which could only have signalled the end of the six captives. He called out permission to enter, made a final note, said: ‘You are very punctual,’ and looked up. His self-satisfied expression surprise vanished and his eyes opened almost impossibly widely. The stumbling figure before him was clad only in his underclothes.

  The store was deep in shadow. The single lamp had been switched off and what little light there was came from a newly risen moon.

  ‘Fifteen minutes and nothing,’ Navarro said. ‘Is that good?’

  ‘It’s inevitable, I suppose,’ Hamilton said. ‘We’re in darkness. Von Manteuffel’s men are exposed, or would be if they showed themselves and they don’t dare show themselves. What can they do? Smoke us out if the wind is right? But no wind, so no smoke.’

  Ramon said: ‘Starve us out?’

  ‘We should live that long.’

  The time crawled by. Apart from Navarro, who stood by the doorway, everyone was lying down. They may or may not have been trying to sleep for some had their eyes shut but were unquestionably wide awake. Navarro said: ‘Two hours. That’s two hours gone now. Still nothing.’

  ‘Would you mind, watchman? I’m trying to sleep.’ Hamilton sat up. ‘Don’t think I will sleep. They may be up to something. I’ve no cigarettes. Anybody? No?’ Serrano proffered a packet. ‘I thought you were asleep. Thanks. You know, I wasn’t quite sure whether or not to believe what you told me, but I believe you now, if for no other reason than the fact that it has to be as you say. So I guess I owe you an apology.’ He paused reflectively: ‘Apologising seems to have become a habit with me.’

  Ramon said curiously: ‘May we know what the present apology is about?’

  ‘Of course. Serrano is go
vernment. On the need-to-know principle, I suppose, Colonel Diaz kind of forgot to tell me.’

  ‘Government?’

  ‘Ministry of Culture. Fine Arts.’

  ‘God help us all,’ Ramon said. ‘I would have thought there were enough genuine vultures in those godforsaken parts without adding culture vultures to the list. What on earth are you doing here, Serrano?’

  ‘That’s what I hope to find out.’

  ‘Forthcoming, aren’t we? Senor Hamilton?’

  ‘I told you, I only learnt of this a couple of hours ago.’

  Ramon looked at him reproachfully. ‘Senor Hamilton, you’re at it again.’

  ‘At what?’

  ‘Being enigmatic and evasive.’

  Hamilton shrugged and said nothing. Serrano said: ‘An honest doubt doesn’t require an apology.’

  ‘There’s a little more to it than that,’ Hamilton said. ‘I thought you were Hiller’s man. Back in Romono, that is, when I first met you. I’m afraid I’m the person who clobbered you. I’ll give you back the money I took from your wallet. There’s not much I can do about your stiff neck. Forgive me.’

  ‘Forgive, forgive,’ Maria said. ‘I don’t suppose anyone is going to forgive me.’

  There was a brief silence, then Hamilton said, mildly enough: ‘I have apologised.’

  ‘Apologies and forgiveness are not the same thing and you’re clearly of the opinion that my association—that’s the nicest way I can put it-was unforgivable. It all depends upon who is doing the judging and casting the first stone. All four of my grandparents died in Auschwitz and the chances are high that it was Von Manteuffel or Spaatz who sent them there. Or both. I suppose the world is tired of hearing about it, but six million Jews did die in the concentration camps. Was I so wrong? I knew if I stayed with Smith long enough he’d lead me to Von Manteuffel and he was the one we really wanted. I knew of only one way of staying with him. So I—we—found Von Manteuffel. Was I so wrong?’

  ‘Tel Aviv?’ Hamilton made no attempt to conceal his distaste. ‘Another of those barbaric Eichmann show trials?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Von Manteuffel will never leave the Lost City.’

  ‘This Dr Huston,’ Serrano said carefully. ‘He meant so much? And his daughter?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You were here at the time they—ah—died?’

  ‘Murdered. No. I was in Vienna. But a friend of mine—Jim Clinton—was here. He buried them. He even gave them a tombstone and inscription-burnt on wood with a red-hot poker. Von Manteuffel killed him also—some time later.’

  ‘Vienna?’ Maria said. ‘Wiesenthal? The Institute?’

  Serrano said: ‘What’s this, young lady?’

  ‘You should watch those slips of the tongue, Mr Serrano, such as calling me a young lady. The Institute is a Jewish central organisation for hunting down war criminals. Based in Austria, not Israel. Mr Hamilton, why can they never let the left hand know what the right is doing?’

  ‘Same old need-to-know principle, I suppose. All that I really know is that I’d a double reason for hunting Von Manteuffel down. I got close to him twice in the Argentine, twice in Chile, once in Bolivia, twice in the Kolonie 555. An elusive character, always on the run, always surrounded by his Nazi thugs. But I’ve caught up with him.’

  ‘Or the other way around,’ Serrano said.

  Hamilton remained silent.

  ‘Your friends are buried here?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m hungry and I’m thirsty,’ Navarro said plaintively. It was half an hour before dawn.

  ‘I am deeply moved by your sufferings,’ Hamilton said. ‘What’s a damned sight more important is that you’re alive. I didn’t want to depress anyone any more than we already were by saying what was in my mind, but I didn’t really think we’d see the night out.’

  Ramon said: ‘And how could that have been?’ ‘Quite simple, really. Lots of ways. With a small cannon, a rocket launcher, any kind of antiaircraft gun or a mortar. They could have directed two or three very nasty rounds of high explosive straight through this open doorway. Maybe the shrapnel would not have got us all, but the concussion in this confined space would have finished us off. Or they could have crawled over the grain store roof from the back and lobbed in a few grenades or a stick or so of blasting powder. The effect would have been the same. Maybe they didn’t have any of those materials to hand, which I don’t for a moment believe—Von Manteuffel lugs around with him enough weaponry and artillery for an armoured battalion. Maybe the idea just didn’t occur to them, which I don’t believe either. I think that Von Manteuffel believes, as he has reason to, that we are dangerous in the dark and is waiting for daylight before moving in for the kill.’

  Serrano said unhappily: ‘It will be daylight quite soon.’

  ‘It will, won’t it?’ In the first faint glimmering of light Maria, Serrano and Silver stared at Hamilton without comprehension as he extracted the camera from his haversack, opened it, released the flap to display the transceiver, extended an aerial and spoke into the microphone.

  ‘Night-watch,’ Hamilton said. ‘Night-watch.’

  The speaker crackled and the reply was immediate.

  ‘We have you, Night-watch.’

  ‘Now.’

  ‘Now it is. How many vultures?’

  ‘Thirty. Forty. A guess.’

  ‘Repeat after me: Stay under cover. Napalm.’

  ‘Stay under cover. Napalm.’ Hamilton switched off. ‘Useful, no? Very thoughtful is Colonel Diaz.’

  ‘Napalm!’ Ramon said.

  ‘You heard the man.’

  ‘But napalm!’

  ‘Very tough, those airborne commandos. But, no, they don’t use it directly. They’ve no intention of dropping the stuff on us. They ring the area. Not a new technique but very intimidating.’

  Hamilton made another switch on the camera and a faint bleeping sound could be heard.

  ‘Homing signal,’ Ramon explained to no-one in particular. ‘How else do you think they’d ever locate this place?’

  ‘You’ve got everything organised, haven’t you?’ Maria sounded slightly bitter. ‘Never thought to tell us, did you?’

  ‘Why should I?’ Hamilton said indifferently. ‘Nobody ever tells me anything.’

  ‘How long will they take to get here?’

  ‘Twenty minutes. No more.’

  ‘And dawn is in about the same time?’

  ‘About.’

  ‘It’s starting to get light already. They could still attack before your friends get here.’

  ‘Most unlikely. In the first place, it’ll take Von Manteuffel and his minions some time to get organised and if we can’t hold them off for a few minutes after that then we’ve no right to be here in the first place. Secondly, as soon as they hear the sound of the helicopter engines they’re going to forget all about us.’

  It was becoming quite light now but still the courtyard remained deserted. If Von Manteuffel and his men were preparing to launch an attack they were being extremely discreet about it.

  By and by Ramon said: ‘Engines. I can hear them now. They’re coming in from the south.’

  ‘I don’t hear them myself, but if you say they’re coming in, then they’re coming in. Do you see what I see, Ramon?’

  ‘Yes, indeed. I see a man on the roof of their mess hall with a pair of binoculars to his eyes. He must have good hearing, too. The legs?’

  ‘If you would.’

  In his typical one-sweep movement Ramon lifted his rifle and squeezed the trigger. The man with the binoculars collapsed to the roof then, after some seconds, scuttled crab-wise away on two hands and a knee, dragging a useless leg behind him.

  Hamilton said: ‘Our friend, General Von Manteuffel, must, as they say, be losing his cool or he wouldn’t have taken a stupid liberty like that. I don’t think we’ll be seeing any more sky-watchers.’ He paused. ‘I can hear them now.’

  The sound of the aero engines wa
s now unmistakable and increased rapidly in strength as the craft approached: finally, the rackety clamour of the engines reached an almost intolerable pitch as three large gunships began to descend between the reverberating walls of the cliffsides.

  Hamilton said: ‘Inside, I think.’

  Maria paused in the doorway. ‘Okay to look?’

  Hamilton pushed her roughly inside and behind a wooden partition where he joined her.

  ‘Napalm, you ninny. Some of that stuff could fly loose.’

  ‘Rockets? Bombs?’

  ‘Jesus! This is an historic monument.’

  Moments later, almost having to shout to make herself heard over the clamour, she said: ‘That awful smell.’

  ‘Napalm.’

  ‘Shouldn’t we—shouldn’t we go out and help them?’

  ‘Help them? We’d only be in their way. Believe me, those lads don’t require help of any kind. And has it occurred to you that they’d probably mow us down before we got three paces beyond that doorway? They don’t know who we are and airborne commandos have the odd habit of shooting you first and asking who you are afterwards. A little discretion and patience until peace and calm reign again.’

  The peace and calm came within two minutes. The sound of the helicopter engines died away. A klaxon sounded, presumably to indicate an all-clear. Not one shot had been fired.

  Hamilton said: ‘I think the intrepid Captain Hamilton and his gallant crew may now safely risk a peek outside.’ They filed out through the open doorway.

  Three gunships stood in the courtyard before the ziggurat. The ruins of the ancient city were ringed with smoke from the still burning napalm. At least fifty commandos, looking very tough and very competent and certainly armed to the teeth, had their guns trained on about three dozen of Von Manteuffel’s followers, while four commandos, one of them carrying a carton of handcuffs which had been brought along for the purpose, moved along them securing their wrists behind their backs. In the forefront of the captives was Von Manteuffel himself, already handcuffed.

  As Hamilton and the others reached the centre of the courtyard an army officer advanced to meet them.