by John Creasey
There was hardly a sound as she put her thumb and forefinger into the handle-holes, then moved her right hand upwards. Oundle twisted round. Chloe reached upwards, the blades of the scissors gaped, faltered, then jabbed into his forearm.
‘Sorry—Ned...’
The scissors moved again, and slipped. Again, and one blade jabbed against the cord.
‘Now,’ Oundle muttered, ‘as hard as you like...’
She worked very slowly. There was cold sweat on her forehead; her eyes were closed, and her breathing became more laboured. But she kept the scissors moving. First one strand snapped, then a second, then a third...
And then Chloe’s finger and thumb slid from the scissors and she slumped to the floor and lay motionless.
• • • • •
Loftus, helpless in the chair, looked away from the gaily lit yacht as Cunningham said:
‘I shall send your friends on board first, Loftus. Before you go, I want you to see a rather interesting sight.’ He lifted a finger to the two guards, one of whom went to Loftus and jerked him to his feet. The other untied the cords at Diana’s ankles, and dragged her up also.
Cunningham then led the way to the first floor, stopping on a wide landing, where he opened a door leading into a small square room. Kicking away a rug at one end of the floor, he beckoned to the others to follow.
‘Come here,’ he said.
Loftus and Diana went forward, and found themselves looking through a large square of glass into the room beneath. They could see the whole of the room, and all five men sitting in it—two smoking, one reading, two others in conversation—Hyman, Tult, Arbor, Mainwaring and Rioldi.
‘They don’t know, they will never know,’ said Cunningham blandly. ‘They think they’re going home. I’ve told them the yacht will soon be ready, but I forgot to mention the cargo.’ He laughed, softly this time, and touched Diana’s shoulder. ‘My dear, I have some news for you.’
‘Keep your hands off her!’ rasped Loftus.
‘I have no designs even on such beauty,’ said Cunningham. ‘The news will interest you, Loftus. I am going to send her away. To England, by air. I want this touching scene to be reported to the countries who have worked so hard against the Ring.’
‘You’re lying,’ Loftus said.
‘No, Loftus. The Ring has ordered it. Foolish, I think, and yet perhaps wise. It will teach the Powers the strength of the Ring. No one will believe the statements of a woman, will they? Or no one who matters, by which I mean the common people. She will return, and tell whoever she wishes what she has seen and heard—but not until after the little accident with the yacht. I am sending orders at once for the gentlemen downstairs to be allowed to go on board, and you will follow. Miss Woodward will watch you and, if she cares, can have an excellent view of the explosion. An explosion that will have repercussions throughout the world, I can safely say.’
Loftus said slowly: ‘If he’s talking sense, Diana, go to Wishart. Give him my name and he’ll see you. As for the other things—well, we needn’t talk about those.’
‘Ah,’ interposed Cunningham, ‘a peculiar plighting of the troth, I gather! I don’t trust you enough to leave you two together, Loftus, so let us go. You, Miss Woodward, will stay here.’
Diana took a half step forward, but was stopped by one of the guards. Loftus nodded, there was even a smile on his lips as the second guard pulled him towards the door. Cunningham followed, leaving the first guard with Diana.
The next thing that happened seemed unreal.
For the man preceding Loftus crumpled up and fell to the floor, dragging Loftus on top of him. Stumbling over his inert body, Loftus saw Best, grasping the leg of a chair, and standing by the wall.
Best, free...!
Cunningham’s hand dropped to his pocket, and Best jumped forward, but he was too late—and Cunningham kicked him in the stomach. As he gasped and staggered backwards, Cunningham slammed the door and pushed the bolt home. Diana tried to stop him, but Cunningham thrust her aside, savage with rage.
‘They’re free! They’re free,’ he muttered, running to a second door, which Diana had not noticed, and swinging it open. Inside, Diana saw a small lift. Cunningham jumped in, pressed a button, and the lift began to descend as the thudding on the other door began.
Diana, her head whirling, cried out:
‘Downstairs—downstairs!’
She reeled towards the door. Her guard had rushed to the lift and was pressing the button to try to bring it up. Cunningham’s desertion had unnerved him. Diana could hardly realise their sudden change of fortune. Tugging frantically at the bolt, her hands still tied, she managed to drag it back, and Loftus and Best lurched into the room.
‘Downstairs...’
Loftus nodded, pushed past her, and reached the glass window set in the floor. As he looked down he saw the five men below staring at the door. He saw Cunningham enter, and even from that distorted viewpoint he could see the insane glare in Cunningham’s eyes. There was a gun in his right hand, and the five men moved in obedience to words Loftus could not hear, towards the door. Loftus kicked savagely at the glass panel with his heel; Best helped, but the thick glass did not crack.
‘All right, let’s move,’ Loftus snapped. ‘Help Diana...’ He stopped, as though seeing the guard for the first time. The man had dropped his gun and was standing with his hands by his ears, shaking with fright. ‘Wait a moment. Has Cunningham got a secret way out?’
The man stuttered: ‘T-there’s a t-tunnel—to the pier...’
‘Lead the way,’ rapped Loftus.
Diana was swaying on her feet, and Best steadied her, then slashed the cords binding her wrists, and together they ran after Loftus and the guard, who was being prodded by his own gun, now in Loftus’s hand. They reached the stairs and raced down. On the next landing they met Kerr and Trale, Belling supported between them—closely followed by Oundle, who was carrying the unconscious body of Chloe.
A few seconds afterwards Thornton joined them—since their escape from the cellar the Department men had been searching the Castle for Loftus and Cunningham. They had found it virtually deserted.
The chase seemed unending, but soon they reached a narrow, windowless passage and Loftus believed they were being led in the right direction. There was rubber beneath their feet; they could hear nothing ahead of them but as they turned a sharp corner they saw two men.
Cunningham’s men, standing with machine guns.
‘Down!’ roared Loftus, and fell on his face, firing as he went. A spatter of bullets came from the guns, only to break off sharply as the two men fell, both wounded. Loftus got to his feet, leapt over the men and, as he turned a second corner, prepared for another dive. Then he saw Cunningham, and the unmistakable back of Herr Johann Tult. Vague figures were beyond them.
It was only a momentary glimpse.
Suddenly there was a sharp sliding noise, and a heavy steel door slid swiftly across the passage in front of Loftus and his companions, bringing them to an abrupt halt and cutting them off from Cunningham and the five men he was taking to the yacht.
20
Last Effort
‘If that yacht blows up,’ Kerr grunted, ‘we’ll never be able to stop an outbreak of war. We must reach it.’
‘We’re trying,’ Loftus growled.
‘Damn it, those nations will have to believe us!’ exclaimed Spats Thornton. ‘They must!’
‘After this they’d believe no one,’ Kerr said.
And the others knew it was true.
They were waiting, wasting no energy, while Trale and Best had rushed from the front gates of the deserted Castle to find a car. A private road led to the pier, the guard told them, as well as the tunnel. It was easily the quickest way; better than going through the town.
‘I can’t understand the set-up,’ Oundle muttered. ‘Where’s Nikolai? Where’s the Princess?’
‘Cunningham’s got them away for some reason,’ said Loftus. ‘I’m not sure he
’s told us all the truth; quite a lot of what he said sounded phoney. Ah...!’
A long, low station wagon swung round a corner and came towards them, pulling up with a screech of brakes. Chloe and Belling were propped up in the back seat, and the others bundled in after them.
Moments later they roared towards the private road, swung on to it and, rounding a bend, glimpsed the sea and Lakka Pier less than two miles ahead. Dawn was breaking across the skies, and they could see the yacht riding at anchor and, not half a mile away, a launch cutting a wide wake as it nosed its way through the sea.
‘We’ll never do it,’ Kerr muttered.
‘We’ve got to,’ growled Loftus.
They stopped talking. Each one of them was aware of the awful burden of responsibility on his shoulders. Disaster which would affect the whole world was imminent, and only they could avert it.
They reached the pier and pulled up, brakes squealing. The light was better now, and they could see the yacht more clearly. The launch had nearly reached it. The tide was in, and a dozen small motor-boats swayed, moored to their buoys. Two outboards, powerful looking crafts, were within easy distance.
‘They’re for us,’ said Loftus. Five minutes after they had reached the pier, the two outboards were moving swiftly in the wake of the launch, Best and Trale at the engines. Best, with Kerr, Loftus, Diana and Chloe aboard, made the quicker start. As the boat raced over the water, Loftus, his eyes fixed on the scene ahead of him, saw two dark figures climbing up the rope ladder of the yacht. A third figure followed. As far as he could see, the launch was now empty.
Now they were touching twenty knots. Twenty-one... twenty-two... soon they had reached twenty-five.
The yacht was moving. Sluggishly at first, and then more quickly.
‘If only I had some glasses!’ muttered Loftus.
‘Cunningham’s there,’ Kerr said.
‘Sure?’
‘Yes. I can see him.’
Loftus drew a deep breath.
‘Then I think we’ve got them. While Cunningham’s aboard they’ll never blow the ship up. And he wouldn’t have gone on board to get off again. We’ve got him on the run, thank heavens. He wasn’t so intelligent as I thought.’ Against the light grey of the sky Loftus looked massive and gaunt. ‘Nor you, Bob,’ he added. ‘Haven’t you seen the truth, yet?’
Kerr frowned. ‘Seen what truth?’
‘The solution to the problem.’ Gripping the sides of the speeding motor-boat, Loftus chuckled. ‘The Ring! Every man-jack of its members. Cunningham, Mainwaring, Arbor, Tult, Rioldi and Hyman. All parcelled up and trying to escape, but they won’t! They can’t!’
‘My God!’ exclaimed Kerr.
‘Bill, it’s impossible!’ Diana gasped.
‘It’s obvious now,’ said Loftus. ‘A beautiful set-up that nearly beat us all, but when Cunningham said he was sending you back, I guessed the answer. He wanted you to tell the whole story, to say that you’d seen the five poor kidnapped VIPs go aboard to be blown up. You wouldn’t have seen them slip off again, before the explosion. Lots to be fitted in yet of course,’ he added, ‘and a spot of work before we get them. I...’ he frowned, staring towards the horizon. ‘Do I see smoke, Bob?’
Kerr stared.
‘Three ships approaching, yes. But...’
‘All “buts” later. Three ships, coming to collect the VIPs, whose crews, had things worked to plan, would have seen the explosion. Look, the yacht’s changed course! They’ve seen the ships, better than we have, with their glasses.’
The yacht had turned, and was heading north-west; but within five minutes there came the sound for which Loftus had been waiting. The powerful roar of aeroplane engines. He laughed.
‘That’ll be our boys. They’ll follow that yacht wherever it goes. No need to worry any more. Yes, I managed to radio the Estonian Services and told them to have that yacht followed at all costs. And so...’ he leaned forward, tapping Best on the shoulder, one arm about Diana. ‘The job’s over, Martin. We’ll turn back.’
Best, who had heard nothing where he was crouching, looked stupefied.
‘But they...’
‘They’ll know what a cell looks like, if not the gallows,’ said Loftus. ‘Make for the shore, old man. It’s twelve hours since I had a bite to eat.’
Kerr said slowly:
‘Keep going, Martin. Bill, wait a minute. You’re probably right, but they’ll have prepared against an emergency.’
‘The yacht’s surrounded,’ said Loftus abruptly. ‘Three aeroplanes already in sight. They can’t make it.’
‘Four aeroplanes,’ Kerr said, staring towards the yacht.
Loftus followed the direction of his gaze, and saw a dark, bird-like shape rising swiftly from its deck. ‘Good God,’ he muttered, ‘a sea-plane!’
As they watched, knowing in their hearts that Cunningham and the five members of the Ring—none of them doubted that Loftus was right—were in the aeroplane which had just taken off from the yacht, the clouds of smoke on the distant horizon increased. Kerr looked towards them, and saw the lean shapes of three destroyers, on their way to pick up the five VIPs whom the world believed to have been kidnapped.
Suddenly there was a blinding flash of light, searing their eyes, like a lightning-flash. Then a cloud of smoke enveloped the yacht, but not before they had seen the gaping hole in her side. Finally the roar of the explosion came to their ears, while above the smoke they saw a welter of flying debris. Best swung the boat round at right angles, but kept staring.
The first billow of smoke had grown lighter, and they saw tongues of flame shooting from the middle of the yacht, then came more smoke, black and voluminous. For the time being the three destroyers were completely hidden from sight.
In so short a time that it seemed impossible, the yacht began to settle in the water. Flames were shooting from aft and between-decks; the rumble of explosions as the boilers went, came clearly. And approaching them fast, was the first great wave that the explosion had caused.
Best was watching it.
When it was thirty yards away he turned the outboard, and put her nose towards the mountainous wave. Had it hit them broadside they must have gone over, but the bows cleaved through it. One moment they were tossed up high, able to look about them at the surging waters. Then they dipped into a trough.
‘The others?’ rapped Loftus.
Turning, they saw the great wave smash against the second boat, with Belling, Trale, Oundle and Thornton on board, striking it broadside. Trale had not seen the danger in time. The boat was flung over, like a pigmy in a giant hand, the occupants tossed out into the seething water.
Best was already swinging the boat round, towards them, aiming to pick them up, when Loftus spoke in a voice none of them recognised.
‘The Estonian coast.’
‘The—but we’ve got to pick...’
‘No time,’ said Loftus harshly. ‘Daren’t risk it. They’ve an hour’s start on us at least—unless the bombers keep them in sight.’
‘But we don’t know...’
‘I’ve an idea. A slim chance. Can’t help it,’ he added roughly. ‘Damn you, do you think I want to leave those poor devils there? Get going!’
Best turned the outboard round again, uncomprehending, but knowing that if he refused Loftus would take the wheel himself. Behind them the four Department men were swimming slowly to the boat they expected to be on the way to them. They did not know that it was travelling fast towards the Estonian coast, that their only hope was that one of the destroyers would sight them.
• • • • •
‘Twenty-four hours, Wishart said,’ grunted Loftus. ‘A lot less than that now. News is being radioed from those destroyers, and don’t forget it. The yacht and—as far as they know—all five of the prisoners have gone up in smoke. There won’t be any holding the Powers. Even our Government.’
‘But that aeroplane that we saw...’
‘Holds the agents of the Ring. Who will
believe that they and the prisoners are one and the same. Whatever we say won’t do any good, and you know it. The only thing left is to catch them.’
‘If they escaped from the bombers...’ Best began.
‘Probably did, we’ll soon learn.’ Loftus brushed his hair back from his forehead as the motor-boat hummed into a small harbour on the Western Estonian coast. ‘I wonder how long we’ll be locating transport.’
‘It would help,’ Best said grimly, ‘if we knew where that aeroplane was heading.’ In his mind was the thought of the four agents they had left struggling in the swirling seas, with barely one chance in a hundred of survival. Kerr and Diana understood his feelings more than Loftus, who had forgotten everything but the one fact: once the news of the outrage was flashed round the world, every nation would be at the other’s throat.
Loftus frowned. ‘I think we do.’
‘What?’ snapped Kerr.
Best stared. ‘Who the devil told you?’
‘Bob Belling.’
‘He didn’t say a word...’
‘No. He drew a picture,’ said Loftus slowly. ‘A picture of a dancer. A dancer at the Chez Diable.’
‘Phone the P.M.,’ said Kerr, ‘he’ll get something done.’
‘Diana’s going to phone him,’ said Loftus. ‘We’re flying in the Paris direction. With luck we should get there about the time Cunningham and his crowd does. If they aim to go there. We’ve got to be available, in case no one else recognises Cunningham.’
The boat was slowing down alongside the jetty, and a dozen uniformed men, and several in plain clothes, were hurrying towards them. Loftus’s hopes rose when he saw the burly figure of Superintendent Miller among the crowd.
‘Miller!’ exclaimed Kerr.
‘The P.M. must have sent him! That means we can get a plane in a hurry. Now...’
And he talked rapidly, mostly to Diana.