The Salzburg Connection

by Helen Macinnes

  Then quite suddenly the cloud that had drifted obligingly over the face of the moon lifted and thinned. It was as if a mild floodlight had been turned on the meadow. Chuck was there, caught right in the centre; Andrew to one side. “Look out!” Mathison yelled as one of the running Nazis wheeled around, crouched, pointed his arm. Chuck dropped, lay still. Andrew veered, then fell on his face. The two quick shots sent tumbling echoes over the mountain slopes.

  The door opened behind him, Lynn was running out. “Bill—”

  “Stay back, stay back!” He kept his eyes on the meadow. The man who had fired was crouching there, watching Chuck and Andrew for any sign of movement. Beyond him, at the edge of the trees, the woman was pulling the box out of the shadows as if to make sure of what she had found. And then Mathison saw her face.

  She had glanced up when she heard the shots. The quick lift of her head swung her long loose hair clear of her face. In the moonlight, there was no doubt: it was Elissa. Briefly, she stared at the house across the meadow. She recognised my voice, thought Mathison. That look is deliberate. So is that light laugh. Then her head bent once more over the box.

  Mathison raised his automatic, steadied his arm, as the crouching man straightened his back and limped forward toward Chuck. I won’t carry that distance, thought Mathison grimly, but I’ll give him something else to think about. That’s one job he doesn’t finish. The man was taking aim at Chuck as Mathison squeezed his trigger, ran forward to get within better range for a second shot. He never fired it. Nor did the man, turning to face him, fire back.

  From the edge of the meadow where Elissa was rising to her feet, there was a sharp explosion, a violent blast, a burst of raging flame. There was nothing left standing, neither Elissa nor the Nazi who had just reached her. The box was in fragments, nothing remaining except a small glowing heap at the bottom of a wide hole.

  25

  As the echoes of the explosion rumbled over the hills, Lynn had run toward him. Mathison put his arm around her shoulders, and they stood together in silence as they looked across the meadow.

  The Nazi was the first to move. He made a limping dash for his car, but several men were there now, and other cars from Bad Aussee. He gave up meekly enough, perhaps under shock.

  Andrew rose stiffly to his feet, and went over to help Chuck. So he had been hit, thought Mathison. Seriously? He watched Chuck being pulled to his feet. At least he could walk with Andrew’s support. Then as one of the newcomers down at the road, a heavy-set man with blond hair and quick feet, ran toward Chuck and Andrew, Mathison remembered the Finstersee box. “Come on,” he said to Lynn, and he led her back to the house. Trudi and her mother were in the garden, the door as wide open as Frau Seidl’s mouth. This time, she wasn’t shrieking.

  And now, thought Mathison as he sat down at the table with Lynn opposite him and put one foot on the box, we have nothing to do but wait for Chuck and listen to Frau Seidl’s stream of consciousness. It was pouring freely.

  It started the moment she stepped back through the door, shivering in her nightdress. “God in heaven, did you hear that? Such an explosion. I thought the Nazis were back. Blasting the Sonnblick. We heard it all the way down at Bad Aussee. That’s where they sent us, the people of the village, when they took over here. They made some of the men work for them. My husband had to supply the logs. But everything they built was blasted to bits. The Russians were just to the east, you see; and the Americans to the south. So the Nazis destroyed all the fortifications—because they couldn’t get the big guns in place, not in time. Just as well they didn’t. Or else there would have been fighting all over Unterwald and not a house left standing. My husband used to say—”

  “The Sonnblick?” Lynn asked slowly. Where had she heard that word before? Tonight? She looked at Trudi. The mountain that was mostly a cliff face?

  “The Sonnblick,” Frau Seidl said, nodding vigorously. “They hollowed out its top for the big guns. It was a secret, but my husband knew what they were doing. So did his friends—the ones who had to haul the timber and the cement and the steel and the electric wires. The Nazis were working day and night. And then it was nothing at all, just explosions and explosions, and it was nothing at all.”

  Mathison was really listening now. “Heavy guns? Then the Nazis must have tunnelled into the Sonnblick. It would be interesting to see some of these fortifications. Where do you enter?”

  “There’s no entrance left. It was all destroyed and then closed up. It is just a mountain again.”

  Trudi said, “Get dressed, Mutti. There are people on the road. Everyone in the village is coming here.”

  Frau Seidl became aware of her clothes. One hand went up to her face, and she blushed like a young girl as she turned toward her room, leaning heavily on her walking stick. At its door, she paused with a new thought. “Who were they?—Oh, yes, the terrorists. And their dynamite exploded. Poor souls.” She stared blankly at Mathison. “But why did they keep dynamite on my meadow?” she asked, turning indignant. “We could all have been blown to pieces.” She closed her door with a bang.

  Terrorists and dynamite, Mathison thought: that would be the tale that would keep Unterwald talking for months. Was Frau Seidl’s story about the Sonnblick as much of a myth? “Did the Nazis really take over the village?” he asked Trudi.

  She nodded. “They put their troops in the houses. The inn was their headquarters.” She spoke absent-mindedly, listening to the rising flood of excitement on the road. “They have forgotten about Johann. The search for him has stopped.”

  “No,” Lynn said quickly. She looked at Mathison for support.

  He nodded, watching the door. There were two or three men out there, talking quietly. It could be an informal conference between Chuck and Andrew and the Austrian they had been expecting—Bruno, wasn’t that the name Chuck had mentioned? He rose, taking out his automatic once more, crossed over to the door and opened it. Hidden voices made him nervous tonight. But outside were Hank and Chris and a couple of other capable types. “Just making sure,” he told them.

  “That’s what we are doing,” Hank said with a grin. “The others will soon be here.” He nodded in the direction of three men coming slowly, a tight confidential bunch, along the garden path: Chuck, Andrew, and the man with light hair and broad shoulders. “All right, Bruno,” Andrew was saying. “That just about takes care of everything.”

  Mathison stepped back inside. “We can all relax,” he told the two anxious faces. “There are guards posted around the house. And, Trudi, three men are just about to come in. Two of them you’ve already met; the third is their friend. So you can trust them all. They will see that the box reaches the proper hands.” He looked at Lynn. “I’ll get you down to Bad Aussee right away. You are practically asleep on your feet.”

  “I’m tired,” she admitted, “but this isn’t a night for sleeping. Besides, it’s early—just half-past ten.” And I’m not going to be packed off to bed, miles away, while he comes back here and I am left alone to lie and worry about him. I may not be able to help much, but I’m staying as long as he stays, even if I do fall asleep standing up.”

  “I’m taking you down to Bad Aussee, Lynn,” he said determinedly as the door opened and Andrew appeared.

  “Just try and make it,” Andrew said cheerfully. “We are stuck right here, all of us, until the police get the people off the road and meadow. Don’t want too much gaping and gawking, do we?” He had a quick look under the table. “That’s right, baby,” he told the Finstersee box, “you stay there quietly until we can smuggle you out.”

  Chuck entered slowly. He had insisted on walking by himself, but he was glad to sit down at the table. Blood was spreading through the shoulder of his coat. He managed a grin for Mathison. “Thanks, Bill,” he said very quietly. “At least I can now groan without having a bullet pumped into me.” He glanced under the table. “Safe and sound?” He gave a long sigh of relief, and with Andrew’s help began to slip off his coat. It took a littl
e time.

  Bruno came in at last, locked the door behind him, noted that the curtains were already tightly drawn, went straight for the table and looked underneath. The frown line on his brow cleared away. Until this moment, perhaps, he had scarcely been able to believe that the Finstersee box was lying peacefully under Frau Seidl’s table. A broad smile split his round, pink-cheeked face; his brown eyes shone as he studied them all. “Congratulations to everyone,” he said in a soft, almost gentle voice.

  “We still have some distance to go,” Andrew reminded him as he began pulling off Chuck’s heavy sweater.

  “Just let anyone try to get that box away from us,” Bruno said. He shook Mathison’s hand with a hard grip; he spoke to Lynn; then switched into German for Trudi’s benefit. All these politenesses over, he stood looking at Chuck. “And just how did you manage to get that?”

  “Wasn’t keeping my mind on my business.”

  Andrew said, “He was watching the trees to see where the man went—the one who signalled Elissa.”

  “He moved toward the road,” Chuck said flatly. Of that, he was sure. Then he gave a yelp of pain as the sweater came away from his shoulder. He looked at Lynn, who was watching and suffering with him. “I told you I liked to complain. Would you mind taking over from this heavy-handed monster?”

  If only I knew what to do, thought Lynn as she tried to ease off the shoulder of his shirt. She looked at Trudi for help. “I’ll get my mother,” said Trudi, and ran.

  “Does her mother know about the box?” Bruno asked.

  Mathison said, “No. And I don’t think Trudi wants it mentioned.”

  “Do they understand English?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Then we can talk in it. Except”—Bruno looked quizzically at Andrew—“when we are being polite.” He was exceedingly polite for the next minute to Frau Seidl, whose complaints and astonishment were outmatched by her compassion for the wounded man who had taken refuge in her kitchen.

  “Of course I know what to do,” she told them impatiently. “Get away from this table. Trudi, you clear it! Heat some water! You stay with me, gnädiges Fräulein,” she said to Lynn, and looked at the wound. “This isn’t bad. I’ve seen worse. Oh, these terrorists... Why do they have to go around shooting people? You would think the Nazis were back.”

  Andrew said, “I believe I know where to borrow some brandy.” He unlocked the door, slipped into the night.

  “Where is Zauner?” Chuck asked.

  “He should be at the inn by this time, holding Grell and any friends for questioning. We can’t move them, of course, until that crowd out there starts going back to bed.” Bruno watched Frau Seidl closely. Had she understood any of that? No, he decided, and relaxed; but he had better rely on speed for extra safety. His words came out more quickly than ever. “He took six men with him. So don’t look worried. Grell won’t escape. He couldn’t have had time to destroy anything either. Zauner is hoping for a nice little haul.”

  “Did he see the explosion?” And from where? Down on the road? Chuck’s face was white and gaunt.

  “Stop talking so much. I’ll try to answer your questions without your having to ask them.” He looked around at the door as it opened, but it was only Andrew returning with a flask of brandy and a neat little antiseptic package.

  “Compliments of Chris,” Andrew said with a grin. “He’s the careful type.”

  Chuck took a swig of brandy. “Go on,” he told Bruno.

  “We all saw the explosion from the road—I had just arrived as the shooting started. Felix was as shocked as any of us. And bitter, too. He said, ‘They did not even give her one minute.’ That’s all I heard as I went running over to you. I didn’t see him again until just after you had entered this house. He had his plans all ready for the inn. They sounded good to me. So he left at once. Sent you his best wishes.”

  Chuck looked down at Frau Seidl’s strong hands. Lynn had lit a cigarette for him. The women at least seemed to know what they were doing.

  “They did not even give her one minute,” Andrew repeated slowly. “Meaning? That Felix believes she was given a device to destroy the box but that it was timed to get her, too?” He shook his head. “Pretty drastic, even if she was an agent out of control.”

  “Far out,” Chuck said, and winced and then nodded reassuringly for Frau Seidl. It mattered little now whether the device had been faulty or ruthlessly accurate. Zauner was what interested him. “Did he speak of anything else before he left for the inn?”

  “Only to ask briefly about Anna Bryant’s death.”

  Lynn, opening the package of penicillin, looked up quickly. “Please!” said Frau Seidl sharply, and Lynn’s attention was whipped back.

  Mathison asked the question for her. “How did Anna die?”

  “Suicide. Nothing is quite clear about it. We know what happened. But we can’t understand why. Felix took the news badly. He said something about Vienna, something that happened long ago to Anna. He didn’t have time to explain, and perhaps he will never explain. But there was no doubt that whatever he knew about Anna made her death seem twice as bad. He is in an ugly mood. So you can relax, Chuck. Grell won’t get away. Oh, I agree with you. Felix didn’t watch Elissa carefully enough. She outwitted him, and he is chagrined about that.” So am I, Bruno’s tight voice seemed to say. But he wasn’t criticising one of his own in front of foreigners.

  “He didn’t do so badly with her,” Andrew said. “He did keep her occupied for some time before he brought her back to the inn. At least she wasn’t in our way for most of the evening.”

  “Kept her occupied?” Bruno asked sharply.

  “Presumably talking. I saw her arrive at the inn. So, by my watch, I don’t think she had much more than half an hour to get those Nazis moving.”

  Mathison looked at Andrew quickly. Half an hour? Half an hour, not much more... Mathison’s thoughts began racing.

  “She made good use of it,” Chuck said. He looked at Bruno. “How is the man you captured on the meadow? Singing?” He could tell us a lot, save all this discussion.

  “Not yet. He knows that if he starts answering one question, he may tell more than he intends. He will keep silent until we find some piece of information that really will scare him into talking.”

  Mathison said very quietly, “And how did they manage to get Johann to talk about the Finstersee box? They knew exactly where to look for it—upstairs, in this house. Only Johann could tell them that. So what threat did they use? What made him break down so quickly?” Mathison looked across the room at Trudi, who had stared at him the minute he had spoken Johann’s name. She understood that, all right, even if she didn’t understand English. “Did they threaten to take Trudi prisoner, too?”

  “That’s only supposition,” Andrew said. “But it’s a possibility, of course. It’s within their pattern.”

  Mathison said, “I’m not starting to argue a case about how they learned Trudi and Johann were engaged, or who passed them the word, or why. The point I’m trying to make is that they got Johann talking in a hurry. Everything moved too damned fast. They must have been able to reach Johann in a matter of minutes, once they knew what threat to apply. It certainly loosened his tongue. And again within minutes, the men at the inn had the information they wanted. And acted upon it. Immediately.” He glanced at Andrew. “Half an hour, you said?”

  “Not much more.” Andrew was definitely impressed. “What you’re saying is that their speed is the clue to where Johann has been hidden. I agree. He cannot be too far away.”

  “Except,” Bruno said, “he is not in any house or building in the village. He is not in any hut or shack in the woods near the village. That has all been searched. So the hiding place cannot be reached in a matter of minutes. Not on foot, certainly. Not by car either—all roads are being checked.”

  “There couldn’t have been any telephone message,” Andrew said. “You have the inn’s line tapped, haven’t you?”

  Bruno
nodded. “We have also been listening for any radio transmissions—Grell is bound to have some kind of installation hidden there, or else he could never have functioned properly. We have heard nothing.” He looked at Mathison sadly. “You see, Mr. Mathison?”

  “Yet they did reach Johann. Quickly. And once his guards knew what threat to apply—Trudi seized, and brought to the place where they are working on Johann, to share his—” Mathison glanced at Lynn, who was listening even if she seemed to be concentrating only on Chuck’s arm—“share his experiences,” he ended lamely, giving up on the syntax of that sentence, too. But his meaning was clear enough. “He talked, almost at once. Why? Because of the feeling it was useless to hold out? Yet that hadn’t made him talk before, had it? But what if he knew that the threat was immediate—that it would not take long to be put in action? You don’t lose much time debating what you are going to do if you know that the girl is not far away.”

  “An interesting point. That kind of threat could get him to talk.” Bruno’s tone was polite but impatient. “The question still remains: where is he?”

  Mathison risked it, “In a cave, perhaps. Up on a mountain overlooking Unterwald, with some kind of direct communication between the cave and the inn.”

  They were all staring at him. Bruno’s impatience was gone, though. “We are starting a search of the mountains around here at dawn, as soon as there is enough light.”

  “Dawn may be too late for Johann.” And there were a hell of a lot of mountains around here. “What about trying the Sonnblick tonight?”

  Bruno took a map from his inside pocket, spread it over the free end of the table. “Why the Sonnblick?”

  “You know its history.”

  “Yes. But the Nazi fortifications were destroyed, sealed off.” Bruno pointed to a heavily shaded area on the map. “There it is. It forms the south shore of Finstersee—a steep slope, heavily wooded, pitching into the lake. On its other side, there is a complete drop of sheer cliffs. That is where the Germans intended to conceal their big guns. They made an interior gallery, I heard, all through the top of the mountain to overlook the valley south of it.”