Dangerous Inheritance

by Dennis Wheatley

  When the map was spread out van Goens said, ‘The east coast would be best as it is both flat and sparsely populated. As there is no point in your going further north than you have to I suggest somewhere about half-way between Batticaloa and Trincomalee.’

  ‘The ‘plane must have some easily identifiable object to home on,’ said the Duke, ‘and I see there is a railway from Polonnaruwa to Batticaloa. They could pick that up easily enough, and it reaches the coast at a little place called Kalkudah, about twenty-five miles short of completing its run. Somewhere in that area seems a good possibility.’

  Putting his finger on the map, Truss added, ‘There’s a useful little cape jutting right out for four or five miles north of Kalkudah. With the railway just south to help them they couldn’t miss that. It… yes, it’s called Elephant Point.’

  ‘Couldn’t be better.’ De Richleau looked at van Goens. ‘That is, if the terrain is suitable for a ‘plane to land.’

  ‘I can’t say for certain, Your Grace, because I haven’t been there. But along most of the north-east coast there is a deep belt of sandy waste, so it should be.’

  ‘Very well then. We will settle for Elephant Point. And, Truss, you had better buy bright red headscarves for the three of you to wear. Then when the ‘plane comes over your father will not mistake a group of peasants for you and make a landing to no purpose. Now; is there anything else?’

  For a further ten minutes they discussed the situation with which they were faced but no other points arose; so van Goens went off on his search for a crook whose build suited him to take Douglas’s place and soon afterwards Fleur and Truss went down to his car together.

  As he turned it in the direction of her home, she said, ‘Aren’t you going to your agent to send that cable? It ought to go off as soon as possible, and I can sit in the car outside while you send it.’

  He shook his head. ‘They’ll not get it till tomorrow morning anyway, and my agent’s office will be shut by now. I’ll have to dig him out at his home and take him along to produce the code book. Time enough for that after dinner, and I know you must be anxious to see what Lalita’s thugs have done to your house.’

  When they arrived the servants met Fleur with doleful faces. They had done their best to put the place to rights, but every cupboard had been ransacked and every drawer emptied of its contents; so much tidying up had yet to be done. The head boy told them that the seized contraband had been hidden under the raised wooden floor of the summer house, and had consisted of some large rolls of Thai silk, cases of spirits and several Japanese miniature radio sets. Going out into the garden, they found that the summer house floor had been ripped to pieces; but Truss consoled Fleur a little by saying that the place chosen to plant the contraband made it less likely that one of her servants was in Lalita’s pay and spying on her, as the stuff could have been put there any night without their knowledge.

  The shock of the news with which the Duke had greeted them, and the urgency of the conference that had followed, had temporarily taken their minds off the fatigue they had felt after their eight-hour journey. But now it came upon them again and they were both longing for a hot bath to revive them; so Fleur said:

  ‘You can have one in the guest bathroom and I’ll have one in my own; meanwhile the servants can be getting ready some dinner for us.’

  Truss gave her an uneasy look. ‘Is that wise, honey? I mean, it may look to them as though you’re taking advantage of your husband being in prison to bring home a guy.’

  She shrugged unhappily. ‘I don’t give a damn what they think. By now that fiend Lalita has probably done his worst on poor Douglas and will put it all over Colombo tomorrow that he came on you and me in bed together. Besides, with luck, this will be the last night I’ll ever spend here.’

  Accordingly Truss stayed on, but throughout dinner he adopted a very formal manner, and left immediately afterwards, to drive to the home of the head of the firm that in Colombo acted as the agents for his bank. It was only on the other side of the Race Course, so not far away, and his acquaintance proved eager to render any service to the heir to the Van Ryn millions. A quarter of an hour later they were in the firm’s office and Truss encoded the following telegram to his father:

  In serious trouble. Stop. Please return Colombo with utmost urgency in own aircraft. Stop. Repeat own aircraft. Stop. On arrival communicate with Duke immediately. Stop. Truss.

  As the Post Office was closed he took it along to the American Embassy and had it despatched from there. By ten o’clock he was back at the Galle Face getting ready for bed. Soon afterwards, with the health of the young, he was sound asleep.

  There followed an anxious day of conferences and visits. In the morning Fleur went to see her parents-in-law. In his office old Mr. Rajapakse, believing that she was still in love with Douglas, received her with the deepest sympathy and did his best to console her; although he admitted that he saw little hope of securing Douglas’s early release. When she left him she was almost weeping at the thought of the blow it would be to him when he learned that she had betrayed and made a laughing stock of his son. At the Rajapakse home she found her mountainously fat mother-in-law in tears, but the old woman quickly dried them and began to reproach her bitterly. Quite illogically, as it was her husband’s firm that had initiated the dispute about Count Plackoff’s will, knowing only that her son’s arrest was in some way connected with it, she laid the blame for his misfortune on Fleur and her English friends. Having paid this duty visit, Fleur left her with increased loathing and the hope that she would never see her again.

  Truss, meanwhile, had been waiting impatiently with the Duke at the Galle Face to learn if van Goens had been successful. He was not in his room and an enquiry at the desk produced the information that he had not come in till four o’clock in the morning and had gone out again at nine.

  He did not return till nearly midday, but when he did he was smiling. During the night he had traced a pickpocket named Wira Banda, but succeeded only at a second meeting that morning in persuading him to do what was required for two thousand rupees—the equivalent of a hundred and fifty pounds. Van Goens said that he meant to provide Banda with a long, loose gown and a soft hat to pull down over his eyes; and that, if his face was partly bandaged as though he had an infection in one of his eyes, Douglas Rajapakse coming out in the same rig should have a good chance of passing for him. He was to receive half the money before the job and the other half when he was released.

  The Duke had arranged with the hotel cashier that morning to provide him with a considerable sum against traveller’s cheques; so he handed over the money with an additional five hundred rupees to van Goens for expenses. Van Goens then gave Truss the names of the Chief and second warders at the prison and directions how to get there. It was situated behind the city over two miles from the sea front, which Truss learned with satisfaction, as that meant they would be able to drive straight off into the country without the delay caused by going through crowded streets.

  While they were lunching, a cablegram was brought to de Richleau. It had been handed in at Manila at 9.40 that morning and said only On our way stop rexsimon. Laconic as it was, it cheered them greatly to know that, at latest, the aircraft could be expected to arrive in Colombo by the following morning and so be able to make the short hop up to the rendezvous on the east coast in the afternoon.

  As soon as they had finished their meal, Truss went out to his car and drove to the prison. There, he slipped a twenty rupee note into the hand of the clerk at the enquiry desk and no difficulty was made about his seeing one of the senior warders. To him he explained that, as a friend of Mr. Rajapakse, he wanted to bring him some food and a change of clothes; but that he had had no time to get them that morning and business engagements that he could not put off would not make it possible for him to visit the prisoner until between eight and nine o’clock.

  The warder told him gruffly that five in the afternoon was the latest hour at which visits were allo
wed, upon which Truss produced his gold cigarette case to offer the man a cigarette. Out of the case there fluttered to the floor a hundred rupee note. Truss made no attempt to pick it up but regarded the warder with a quiet smile. The warder returned the smile and said:

  ‘Exceptions can be made. America has been good friend to Ceylon. Very much against old Colonial system; so helped to push Britain into giving us independence. For American business man I make exceptions. I give your name at gate, Mr. Van Ryn, to be admitted any hour up to nine o’clock.’

  Owing to the wide knowledge of the world that Truss had acquired from his father, it was his private opinion that his country had let the side down by coercing Britain into giving self-government to many peoples who were not yet fitted for it, and exposing them to Communism. But he naturally refrained from saying so and, much relieved, shook the official warmly by the hand.

  On leaving the prison, he drove his hire-car to its garage, had it fully serviced and filled to capacity with petrol. While this was being done he went into a nearby grocer’s, had a good supply of drinks and provisions packed into two cartons, carried them back to the garage and put them in the boot of the car.

  Before returning to the Galle Face he went again to his agent’s and drew five hundred dollars’ worth of rupees, then to Cargill’s big store and bought three large bright-red handkerchiefs. When he got back to the hotel he had a bath, packed his suitcases and paid his bill, then he went in to de Richleau.

  Fleur was there, slumped in a chair, looking very gloomy; and although Truss was able to report that he had arranged matters satisfactorily at the prison, he was far from sanguine that this attempt to rescue Douglas would prove successful.

  By then it was the cocktail hour and, observing their depression, the Duke rallied them upon it.

  ‘Come, my children,’ he smiled. ‘Why such long faces? Your parents would be ashamed of you. In the old days the prospect of getting the better of a pack of rogues always stimulated us; and to have confidence in yourselves is half the battle. I only wish I were still young enough to join you in tonight’s undertaking. But at least I can put some stimulant into you. God alone knows how it got here, but they have some of Môet and Chandon’s special cuvée, the Dom Perignon, down in the cellar. There are no magnums; but ring down, Truss, and order up a couple of bottles.’

  While the wine was still in the ice buckets van Goens came in to make final arrangements. He said that he had provided Banda with everything necessary and, when Truss told him about his visit to the prison, that he would meet them with the pickpocket at the crossroads where Campbell Place and Baseline Road met, about a quarter of a mile south of the prison, at ten minutes to nine. They were to drop him a few hundred yards short of the prison gate. He would remain there to observe how things went; and, as soon as the attempt was over, one way or another, return to report to the Duke.

  The superb wine put new heart into Fleur and Truss and, when van Goens had drunk good luck to them and left, they went down to dinner with de Richleau. During the meal he kept their thoughts from the danger they were going into by recounting past exploits in which he, with the aid of their fathers and Uncle Simon, had tricked and brought to grief their enemies.

  At half past eight, a frail white-haired figure, leaning on his malacca, but with glowing eyes beneath his ‘devil’s’ eyebrows, he blessed them and waved them away in their car.

  They had left well ahead of time to cover the three miles to the crossroads, but found van Goens and Banda already there. The latter proved to be a smarmy little man who had a smattering of English, but his height and general appearance gave the impression that, unless seen face to face, he might pass for Douglas.

  Three hundred yards short of the prison van Goens asked Truss to pull up, again wished them luck and got out. Truss then drove on to the main entrance to the building. Fleur took over the wheel of the now stationary car, and murmured a prayer as Truss left it followed by Banda carrying a big basket. As they approached the iron-studded door a sentry who had been lolling against it took up his rifle and challenged them. Truss produced a piece of paper with his name written clearly on it and that of the senior warder with whom he had arranged his visit.

  The sentry took it, stared at it upside down for a good minute, then jerked down an iron bell pull. A bell clanged dismally somewhere in the distance. They waited several minutes, then the door was opened by a short, thick-set man with long gorilla-like arms. The sentry handed him the paper and, after looking at it, he beckoned them inside. Truss slipped him twenty rupees and he nodded. Without a word said they followed him down a succession of dimly lit corridors. Halting at last, he jangled his bunch of big keys, selected one, opened a cell door with it, and motioned them to go inside.

  Truss was now feeling on his mettle but, even so, his heart gave a nasty lurch as the iron door clanged to behind him and Banda, and he heard it relocked.

  Douglas was sitting disconsolately on a truckle bed, but the moment he recognised Truss he came to his feet with an exclamation of surprise and delight. In a low voice Truss made his explanations as briefly as possible, and they set to work without delay. Banda took off his gown and hat, and unwound the bandage round his face. Douglas put them on, then helped to tie Banda up and gag him with cords and a strip of cloth that had been brought in with other things in the big basket. Then they laid him on the bed and covered him up with his face towards the wall.

  There followed an anxious ten minutes, as it would have appeared unnatural for a friend of the prisoner to have cut his visit short before he had to by banging on the door for the warder.

  Douglas’s greeting had been so spontaneously friendly that Truss thought it improbable that he had yet learned about Fleur and himself. But he felt so ill at ease while not knowing for certain that he asked a leading question:

  ‘I suppose Lalita’s been here to gloat over having got you. Was he particularly offensive?’

  To Truss’s relief Douglas replied, ‘I’ve been expecting a visit from him any time; but so far the little swine hasn’t been near me.’

  Soon afterwards the warder unlocked the door, and with a jerk of his head signified that the time had come for the visitors to leave the cell. With a word of good night to the figure in the bed, Truss led the way out, followed by Douglas, with the brim of the felt hat pulled well down over his bandaged face and carrying the now empty basket.

  With heavy, echoing footfalls, the gorilla-like warder conducted them through the long corridors, then let them out. As Truss felt the fresh night air on his face he sent up a silent prayer of thanksgiving. Then he saw that another car had driven up behind that in which Fleur was waiting for them. From it there had just emerged a Security Guard and a civilian. A moment later, with Douglas still behind him, he was within a few yards of the approaching men.

  The light above the door of the prison shone directly on their dark features and it struck Truss that those of the Security Guard were vaguely familiar. Next moment the man displayed his white teeth in a broad grin, and said, ‘Hello! You not with pretty girl tonight, eh?’

  Suddenly Truss recognised him as the Sergeant who had entered Fleur’s room at the hotel in Trincomalee with Lalita and Mirabelle, and next day escorted them all to the airport. His heart had begun to hammer violently, but he managed to raise a laugh, and reply, ‘I don’t always have such luck.’

  Ignoring his crack, the man was now staring past him at Douglas. Suddenly becoming suspicious, he demanded:

  ‘Who with you? Who you bring out of prison?’

  Taking a step forward, he grabbed Douglas by his gown and swung him round so that he could see his features in the light.

  ‘Devils!’ he exclaimed. ‘It is Rajapakse who I help arrest day before yesterday!’

  Next moment he had sprung back and unslung his Sten gun.

  21

  A Desperate Bid for Freedom

  Truss had only seconds in which to decide. Should he surrender or make a fight for it? If he a
llowed himself to be arrested he would be charged with aiding a prisoner to escape. That would mean a prison sentence of several months. And worse: Douglas would remain at the mercy of Lalita. Yet if he tackled the Sergeant and failed to get away he would receive a much heavier sentence. Still worse, during the scuffle, he might be riddled with bullets from the Sten gun.

  These possibilities flashed through his mind with the speed of lightning, to be followed by a sudden memory. It was of the Duke’s mesmeric, grey, yellow-flecked eyes glowing with delight in those past exploits that he had recounted over dinner. Truss knew then that he would never be able to look ‘Grandpa Greyeyes’ in the face again if he tamely gave in.

  The Sergeant had lost no time in unslinging his Sten gun from round his shoulders, but before he could bring it up Truss sprang forward and seized it with both hands.

  ‘Run, Douglas, run!’ he shouted as he gave the weapon a violent twist. ‘Get in the car! Don’t wait for me!’

  Spitting curses, the little Sergeant clung to his gun gamely. But Truss was a head and shoulders taller than the puny Sinhalese and too strong for him. Another violent wrench and the gun was torn from his grasp. Having got possession of the weapon Truss swung it round and jabbed its barrel hard into his adversary’s stomach. With a grunt the man doubled up, swayed sideways and, clasping his belly, collapsed on the ground. The civilian who had accompanied him from the car had remained standing a few yards off, watching the struggle with frightened eyes. The moment he saw the Sergeant collapse he turned and ran.

  During the bare minute the struggle had lasted it had fully engaged Truss’s mind. Now he became aware of slithering footsteps and heavy breathing behind him. Douglas had not, as urged, made a bolt for the car. He had swung round and, before the slothful sentry could raise his rifle, struck him a blow under the chin that had temporarily knocked him out. But the warder had not, as Truss had thought, closed the door of the prison after them. Seeing the Sergeant and his companion approaching, he had kept it open. Then, as Truss sprang at the Sergeant and Douglas knocked down the sentry, the warder had run out to take Truss in the rear. Douglas had barred his path and they had gone into a clinch. But the warder was much the more powerful of the two and now, as Truss swung about, he saw that Douglas was being dragged back into the prison.