Rendezvous With Danger

by Margaret Pemberton

  ‘How are you so sure Stephen will do what you want?’

  Gunther smiled, leaning back in his chair steepling his fingers together. ‘Harvey Ellis booked you out of the hotel in Augsburg. He said you were moving to the Furstenhaus, Oberammergau, and if there were any queries or post, to forward it there … and now …’ He lifted the briefcase on to his knee and withdrew two large envelopes, tossing one to Harvey Ellis and the other to Ivan Levos. The men hastily checked the contents and then Levos said, ‘What about the passports?’

  Gunther reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out two passports. He handed them to the two men who, money and passports safely stowed away, showed no desire to stay any longer. Gunther rose, adjusting his shirt cuffs with meticulous care.

  ‘You will excuse me, Susan, while I see our friends off the premises.’

  Harvey looked up sharply. ‘What about you? Aren’t you coming as well?’

  ‘A convoy is hardly necessary, Harvey. I’ll leave shortly. When the business in hand has been attended to.’

  Harvey Ellis looked at me, seemed about to say something, then abruptly turned and the three of them left the room.

  I sat quite still, staring into space. From outside came the rise and fall of voices. I heard Stephen’s name mentioned and stiffened, straining my ears to catch whatever it was they were saying, but it was no use. The door slammed and I could hear them walking across the yard; this time their voices floated clearly into the room.

  ‘Be sure you split up before Munich Airport.’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ replied Harvey Ellis irritably. ‘ But what about him?’

  ‘Do you think after your performance these last few days I’d leave anything as important as that to you two?’

  ‘I think you’re chancing your arm, that’s what I think.’

  ‘You’ve done what you were paid to do. If you’ve any complaints, you’d better tell me now.’ Gunther’s voice was harsh and Harvey Ellis didn’t reply. The conversation lapsed into German with Ivan Levos sounding as unhappy as Harvey. Then Harvey said as if he could contain himself no longer, ‘My letting him go when he came snooping round here wasn’t half as bad as you not catching up with him when you knew he was on to us.’

  Gunther swore, then said as if talking to a retarded child, ‘If I’ve told you once I’ve told you a hundred times. His behaviour at Augsburg proves he knows nothing important. He wants to find the girl, that’s all. I only missed him by minutes at the hotel. The receptionist said she’d told him Miss Carter had booked out and was travelling to the Furstenhaus Hotel, Oberammergau. That’s where he’ll be, and that, before the day is over, is where I’ll be. There’s a flight out in the early morning from Munich. I’ll be on it, leaving behind a very harmless Mr Maitland.’

  He chuckled. ‘Harvey collecting her things and paying her bill was fortunate. We’ve no problems, none at all.’

  I had been so intent on listening to what was being said, that the real point of what I heard passed over me. Suddenly the truth hit me. The room spun round. Stephen was alive after all! Alive and waiting in Oberammergau for me! I gripped the arms of the chair with sweating hands. But he would not be alive much longer if Gunther had his way.

  Somehow I had to warn him. Somehow. I was dimly aware of Harvey saying, ‘I’ve left my glasses inside, won’t be a minute,’ and a few seconds later there was the click of the door opening. I ran across to him but before I could implore his help he thrust a key into my palm, saying, ‘It fits the front door. Good luck.’ Then he was gone.

  Seconds later there came the sound of doors slamming and the car which had brought me to the farm lurched on to the dirt track and was away.

  Across the yard Gunther’s footsteps approached unhurriedly. I slipped the key into my pocket, bracing myself. Not only my life, but Stephen’s, depended on what happened in the next few minutes. For what seemed like an eternity I stood in the centre of the room, watching the door, waiting. When he entered the room he was still smiling, smoothing his blond hair sleekly back, as urbane and unperturbed as ever.

  ‘Alone at last, Susan,’ he said softly, closing the door behind him. ‘What a pity it has to be in these circumstances. But then, you were never one to avail yourself of opportunities when they arose, were you? We had plenty of time in which to become better acquainted but you played the part of the shy little virgin to perfection and now, alas, it is too late. Unless of course, you have changed your mind?’

  ‘Would it make any difference if I had?’

  ‘Possibly. It would certainly make the afternoon more interesting. Ivan is ringing me when they reach the airport. We have until then before I leave … and until your fate is, as they say, sealed.’

  ‘I have a choice then—death or a fate worse than,’ I said sarcastically.

  ‘I really believe that is how you would look upon it. I find you quite incredible, Susan. Also amusing, which is why I’ve taken such risks for you.’

  ‘Risks!’ I said, genuinely startled. ‘What risks have you taken for my sake?’

  ‘Surely they are obvious. I should have killed you that first evening, after Ivan Levos had made such a mess of trying to shoot you in the woods, but instead I waited, thinking that …’

  ‘You could amuse yourself with me a little longer, seduce me before the charade was over?’

  ‘Precisely. Unfortunately, of course, the outcome would have been the same. You would have had to die, but that way it would not have been so tiresome.’

  ‘I still fail to see where you’ve put yourself at risk,’ I said, desperately playing for time.

  ‘My dear Susan, if things had gone according to plan, Harvey Ellis would be back in London, Ivan Levos would be continuing his motoring holiday in Alsace-Lorraine, and I would be back home in Brazil. Our success at assassinating Herr Ahlers and getting away with it must be obvious even to a person of your limited intelligence. But not until we have split up and left the country are we truly safe. My delay at tidying up the loose ends, namely you and Mr Maitland, cost us another precious day. This indulging in whims is a failure of mine I must try to control in future.’

  He paused, staring at me thoughtfully, the pale blue eyes revealing nothing. ‘ It would be a great mistake for your body to be found here,’ he said at last. ‘I am afraid you must take to the road once more, but this time your journey will be a short one.’

  His voice had an air of finality and I knew that, if I was to stall him any longer, I would have to change tactics.

  I said softly, ‘Is it really necessary? I don’t care what you’ve done with Stephen Maitland, it means nothing to me, but there’s really no need to kill me.’ I looked across at him meaningfully.

  He stubbed out his cigarette and rose, crossing the room towards me, the smile gone.

  ‘So, a fate worse than death is preferable after all?’

  ‘Perhaps your assumptions have been wrong from the start,’ I said huskily, the key in my pocket burning like a red hot branding iron. He was in front of me now, his legs brushing against my knees. I took hold of his hand. ‘Let’s be friends, Gunther,’ I begged.

  I could tell by the mounting excitement in his eyes that I had struck the right chord. The prospect of making love to me, believing me lulled into a false sense of security, then murdering me, was irresistible. All I had to do was play the game till a chance of using the key arose. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the nose of the Mercedes parked outside. His jacket was still lying over the back of the chair. I didn’t know whether his car keys were in the pocket but I could hope. That was all I now had left. Hope.

  His voice was thick as he pulled me to him. ‘I knew you would see things my way finally.’ Then his mouth came down hard on mine, and I closed my eyes, forcing myself to yield. When I could stand it no longer I pushed him away but gently, saying breathlessly, ‘We must celebrate.’

  His hands were moving expertly over the front of my dress, seeking the buttons, his mouth hot on my throat. I wound my ar
ms around his neck wondering how much longer I could keep this up.

  ‘There’s some whisky upstairs,’ I murmured. ‘ Please Gunther, there’s a bottle of Scotch in the chest of drawers upstairs. Harvey hid it there.’

  He was breathing hard, his eyes glazed. For a horrible, endless moment I thought he was going to refuse.

  ‘Please,’ I whispered. ‘Don’t you want to drink to this occasion?’ I stroked his face, fluttering little kisses on his forehead, his eyes.

  With a gesture of impatience he put me from him and I could hear him mounting the stairs two at a time. I controlled myself until he had reached the top, then grabbed his jacket. My fingers closed round his key-ring and I raced to the door. Breathless with panic, I struggled with trembling hands to fit the key into the lock. I heard Gunther shout, heard the thud of his feet as he ran along the landing to the head of the stairs, then miraculously the key turned and I was outside.

  The constriction in my chest was so tight I thought I was going to faint as the massive door swung shut behind me and I ran to the car, struggling once more with lock and key.

  Then I was behind the wheel, manipulating brake and clutch, praying out loud as the running feet drew nearer and nearer. The car lurched off over the uneven cobbles, swerved between the gateposts and skidded on to the rough track that led to freedom.

  Like a man demented he ran after me, throwing himself on to the rear of the car. Through the mirror I saw his arms stretched out, struggling to clamber aboard, then he began to lose his grip, fingers clawing at the smooth surface, sliding away inch by inch. I spared him a brief glance as he rolled over and over in the mud, then I hurtled round the bend and down the slope between the dark, beautiful green of the pines.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Mercedes shook and swayed down the rough track to the road. With only one thought in mind I swung the wheel hard left, pressing my foot down on the accelerator. I had to reach Oberammergau and Stephen in the shortest time possible.

  Darkness had already fallen and the large car felt strange beneath my hands as I speeded recklessly down the narrow, unlit road. I passed the familiar turning to Niedernhall at a suicidal seventy, and then the sudden bend that led on to the main highway south was in front of me. It was too late to slow down. With a prayer on my lips I swerved round it, the car skidding wildly on to the wrong side of the road, the back wheels gouging up the mud and leaves at the roadside. The wheel spun clammily through my hands as I righted the car. Beneath the headlights the road shimmered and gleamed like a live thing, flashing up and under the wheels as the needle on the speedometer hovered between seventy-five and eighty.

  I glanced anxiously in the driving mirror for any signs of pursuit, but the road remained blessedly empty. Ahead were a couple of overnight lorries and I dipped my lights, speeding past them down the crown of the road. Eighty … eighty-five … the Mercedes was like a large bird of prey, eating up all before it as I raced through Schwabisch Hall to Nordlingen.

  It was the second time in twenty-four hours that I had travelled this road, but now there was a world of difference. No longer was I chugging along in my old Morris, being led like a lamb to the slaughter. This time I had a powerful car at my disposal … and the facts.

  All I had to do was keep free of Gunther. I glanced nervously through the driving mirror again, but only the large headlights of the lorries gleamed in the distance. I began to feel more confident. Even if there was another car tucked away at the farm, it wouldn’t be as highly powered as the Mercedes, and I knew whereabouts in Oberammergau Stephen would be. The Alte Post. Christina had overheard him making a booking there. For once I held the cards, not Gunther, and Harvey and Ivan would be no use to him now. They would be well on their way to the airport.

  At the thought of the airport I froze, my heart in my mouth. To get to Munich they would travel this road. With growing apprehension I tried to remember how far behind them I had been in leaving the farm. Fifteen minutes, twenty? Surely at the speed at which I was travelling I would have passed them by now, and if I had, then they would recognize the car …

  The road ahead was clear, but through the mirror I could see fresh headlights in the distance and I licked my lips nervously, trying to recall the cars I had passed. Surely if Harvey or Ivan had been at the wheel I would have noticed them? Once again I drove down the narrow, cobbled streets of Nordlingen, past the spot where my Morris had broken down and where, minutes after, Stephen had stood, scanning the crowded street for a glimpse of me. At the thought of Stephen, the tears fell heedlessly down my face. Please God, I prayed. Please let me reach him first. Please let it be all right. Please … oh please!

  The timbered houses tailed off into fields and vineyards, and the inky blackness of open countryside pressed in on either side of me as I hurtled towards Augsburg, oblivious of everything but the need to reach Stephen.

  A hurried glance behind me showed a clear road, and for the first time since I had left the farm, my hands relaxed their grip on the wheel.

  I was nearly in Augsburg now. My luck was holding. Once Augsburg was behind me I had nothing to fear from Ivan and Harvey. If they had taken the same road from Niedernhall, then they would turn off it here. Ahead was only Stephen. He was only hours away. Soon my nightmare would be over.

  My fear had left me now. My intention not to waste a moment in reaching Oberammergau—and Stephen—was calming me. Somewhere, in the dark night behind me, was Gunther. I needed all my wits to escape him. To succumb to the nervous panic that had threatened to overwhelm me earlier would be fatal.

  I opened the window slightly, letting some fresh air into the car, trying to think what Gunther’s next move would be. His first action after I had left the farm would have been to get hold of a car. To do that, he would have had to ring for a taxi to take him to the village. That could have delayed him anything from fifteen minutes to forty minutes. Then he would have to hire a car … With luck I had an hour’s start. Without luck … I bit my lip. Without luck there would have been another car at the farm. Yet in that case wouldn’t he have caught me up by now?

  A new, more terrifying thought struck me. Had it all been a little too easy? Was he still using me? Using me to lead him to Stephen? Beads of perspiration broke out on my fore-head. I would have to be very careful when I reached Oberammergau. I would have to make it impossible for anyone to follow me to the Alte Post. I slowed down. If I motored into Oberammergau and started knocking up the hotel, I would be pretty conspicuous. If he was behind me …

  I glanced into the driving mirror, torn by indecision, and a few miles later, where the dark fringe of a wood ran down to the road, I drove the car beneath the trees, bucketing over the rough ground. Tensely I waited in the cold and the dark. Finally I huddled in a corner and fell into a fitful sleep.

  Four hours later, stiff and shivering, I drove the car back on to the road, my mouth sour and dry. I became aware of the dark shape of rising ground, of the hills that shelved down to the roadside growing steeper, the tops of the trees, silhouetted in the moonlit sky, growing denser and higher. There was the first subtle lightening of the darkness. In the east the stars had disappeared and the sky was paling to grey. As I watched, the grey became gold and the first fingers of the rising sun appeared beyond the mountains.

  Immediately before me the hills remained as an impenetrable black mass across the skyline, but beyond them, bathed in the pale, ghostly light of early morning, were the jagged peaks of the Alps. Like an insurmountable barrier dividing Germany from Austria, they rose, hardening and sharpening as the light grew. Snow glistened on the summits, running like alabaster down the fissures and crevices, and then the countryside around me softened, the darkness turning green as the light increased.

  The sun rose and the sky turned a pale, steely blue. On either side of me were soft, undulating grasslands dotted with groups of conifers and small squat bushes. A wooden chalet lay half submerged between one fold of gently rising ground and another, and wild grass
grew high at the edge of the road. A soft mist hung over the valley, promising a day of heat and sun.

  With growing elation I turned left on the secondary road to Fussen, the ground thick with dew-wet leaves, as I sped through the trees, taking a short cut to Oberammergau. The road dipped and turned, winding beneath giant cliffs to the still sleeping village.

  I motored slowly down the main street, searching the hotels and guest-houses for the sign of the Alte Post. The early morning sun shone brightly on the white walls making my tired eyes sting and smart. My head was beginning to throb and I longed for the luxury of clean sheets and a soft bed.

  The hotels with their trim wooden fences and scarlet shutters stared back at me, the Gantner, the St. Rochus, the Regentblau. Then, squarely at the end of the street, half hidden by two enormous elm trees, hung the ornate sign of the Alte Post.

  Painted saints and angels flanked the door, soaring in an extravaganza of colour around the windows with their troughs of thickly massed flowers, spiralling to the eaves, culiminating in a gorgeous riot of cherubim and seraphim. Weak with relief and anticipation, I parked the car and stepped out into the heady mountain air. The little gate swung open with a protesting creak and in the garden birds were singing shrill and sharp. Apprehensively I rang the bell and waited beneath the gently rustling leaves and the protective wings of the painted saints for admittance.

  A few minutes later heavy bolts slid back and the door was opened by a stout, redcheeked woman wearing traditional dress.

  I licked my lips nervously. ‘Guten Morgen. Have you a Herr Maitland staying here, please?’

  She shrugged. ‘ Perhaps, Fraulein,’

  ‘Would you check for me, please?’

  With a gesture of impatience she turned and I followed her into the sparsely furnished entrance hall. Feverishly I waited while she moved early-morning tea trays from the centre of the reception desk, and then, oh so slowly heaved the guest-book on to the cleared space.

  I twisted my head round, trying to see if Stephen’s name was on the nearly full page, while she slowly ran her thumb down the list of names.