Star of Ill-Omen

by Dennis Wheatley

  Next day they crossed two parallel canals about twenty miles distant from one another, and passed several parties of giants on trolleys, to whom their own monsters cackled greetings; then they entered another vast, desolate waste. Methodically, and apparently tirelessly, Anna examined every low cliff or group of boulders that they came to, but without any satisfactory result. Kem found the proceedings extremely monotonous, so he was very glad when sunset forced them to camp again, this time by the roadside.

  When they began to spread out their rough bedding, Zadovitch made one pile of Anna’s and his own, then with a laugh pulled her down beside him. She playfully tweaked his yellow beard and pummelled his chest, but after a moment shook back her hair and nestled down in the crook of his arm. Kem tactfully moved his things some way away. He already knew that she was Zadovitch’s mistress, as they had made no secret of the matter during the ten days they had been sleeping in the same cell as Kem’s party. Their blatancy was one of the things that Carmen so intensely resented about them; but Kem had excused it in his own mind as not unnatural in two people coming from a country where two or three families often had to live together for years at a stretch in a single room.

  On the following afternoon, as they were bumping over another seemingly interminable desert, quite casually, for something to say, Kem asked her, ‘How long have you been in love with Zadovitch?’

  Her china-blue eyes went round with surprise, and she exclaimed: ‘In love with him! Why should you suppose that I am in love with him?’

  ‘Well, you let him sleep with you, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course. He is an M.V.D. man.’

  Kem frowned. ‘What the devil has that got to do with it?’

  ‘Everything,’ she replied promptly. ‘In Russia no girl would refuse to sleep with an M.V.D. man if he wished her to. It would be far too dangerous. I mean…’ she corrected herself quickly, ‘they have considerable influence; so it would be foolish to quarrel with them. Besides, they are important servants of the State, so represent the People, and it is considered an honour.’

  Kem smiled to himself as he wondered how she reconciled such coercion with her vaunted ideas about freedom. It suddenly occurred to him that on the night she had been kidnapped, and Zadovitch had come into Harsbach’s laboratory to protest about her working such long hours, he had not been inspired by concern for her health, but was simply impatient to have her in bed with him. The thought that the Russian had paid for his impatience by being seized by the giants and brought to Mars was amusing. After a moment Kem said:

  ‘As you are no longer in Russia, there is no reason why you should go on sleeping with him if you don’t want to.’

  ‘But I do,’ she admitted frankly. Then she gave Kem a little sideways smile, and added: ‘With him, or somebody. I enjoy it, and, after all, it is the only pleasure that is left to us here on Mars.’

  At that Kem let the conversation drop, but curiosity about her impelled him to ask her later in the day, ‘Was Zadovitch your first affaire?’

  ‘Of course not,’ she laughed. ‘I am twenty-two, and I started at sixteen. That was not very pleasant, but two years later when I went to the University I greatly enjoyed myself with the young Comrades in my classes. But why do you ask? Do you wish to sleep with me?’

  The directness of her question took Kem aback, but he swiftly raised a grin and hedged. ‘Not if it means a bullet in the back from your friend Nickolai Zadovitch.’

  At that moment they arrived at a lone rock standing about fifteen feet high. It made quite a landmark in the surrounding desolation, and Anna had directed Uncle Sam to it; so for the time being no more was said of the matter.

  Night fell soon afterwards and they camped by another group of boulders. When the sun had set they had a singsong and afterwards, as Kem lay looking up at the stars before he drifted off to sleep, in spite of endeavouring to call up Carmen’s image, he could not prevent the wicked little smile Anna had given him from keeping on recurring to his mind.

  The fourth day passed no differently from the preceding ones, except that they made a wide semicircle and recrossed a canal that they had crossed the day before, in order that when they made a satisfactory strike, as Anna felt confident they would before long, it should not be too far from their base.

  Just as they had decided on a place to camp for the night, Anna pointed at a low ridge about a mile away, and said, ‘It seems a pity not to have done that one before finishing for the day.’

  Kem looked across at it. The two giants had already stepped down to the ground while Zadovitch, eager to get his water ration, had jumped off with them and was walking towards the second trolley. The three bee-beetles who were acting as observers of the expedition had flown off as soon as the trolleys halted; as it was their custom to return to their hive every night and fly out to rejoin soon after dawn each morning.

  On several occasions Kem had attempted to get the giants to let him try his hand at driving one of the trolleys, but they always pushed him away. This seemed an excellent opportunity; so he took a few paces along the deck, grasped the control lever and thrust it forward. As he did so the trolley ran on along the road. Having seen the giants work them so often he had felt certain that they must be almost fool-proof, and so it proved. He found that he could steer and regulate the pace without any difficulty.

  At the sound of the trolley moving Zadovitch turned and shouted something after them, but Anna shouted back and pointed at the ridge she wanted to prospect; which apparently satisfied him. The giants, too, had turned and came running in pursuit, but the trolley was much too fast for them to catch, and they soon gave up the attempt.

  Having run the trolley a quarter of a mile down the road, Kem cautiously manœuvred it across the sand between the gaping crevasses, until they reached the ridge. As he halted it the flaming sun went down below the horizon. Jumping to the ground, they covered the last fifty yards of broken ground on foot. By the time they had done so darkness had fallen and only starlight lit the desert scene.

  Looking round, Anna said: ‘It’s too dark now to do any prospecting; but that’s no reason why we shouldn’t stay here for a while. Let’s find a comfortable place to sit down.’

  In silence they searched about until they came upon a little cave and, without exchanging a word, sat down inside it.

  After a moment she said with a giggle: ‘I bet Nickolai is hopping with rage about our having run away from him. But we need not worry about that. He dare not try to follow us here now daylight has gone, from fear of falling down one of the crevasses and breaking his neck.’

  ‘That goes for us, too,’ replied Kem. ‘I’d never be able to manœuvre the trolley back safely in the dark. It looks as if we are marooned here for the night.’

  ‘Are you sorry?’

  ‘No; it’s a pleasant change to be free of him and of those four ugly brutes.’

  Anna pouted. ‘Is that all! I know you are in love with that awful anti-social Argentinian woman, but at least you might be polite.’

  He turned his head. It was very close to her round, piquant face, and he could see her eyes bright in the starlight. With a rueful smile he said, ‘Your guess is right; and since I can’t tell you that I love you, what do you expect me to say?’

  ‘You don’t have to say anything,’ she smiled back. ‘There are better uses for a pair of lips.’

  When she had said that she opened her mouth, put her little pink tongue out and waggled it at him.

  It was three months since Kem had stepped off the liner on which he had met Carmen. Grinning at Anna he now put out his tongue and leaned forward. Her arms went round his neck.

  They made love with violent, savage passion. In everything else they were poles apart, but for the time being it dominated them both utterly. Then, still clasping each other tightly, they lay there while the stars above moved slowly on.

  It was now very cold, but they did not notice it. The only thing that impinged upon their consciousness was the inte
nse, utter silence of the desert.

  Suddenly they heard a stone clink, then footfalls. Starting apart they sat up. At the same instant they caught sight of a figure against the skyline. It was Zadovitch. He had risked the crevasses and found them. He was only about ten yards away, and as they moved he saw their white faces in the shadows. With a snarl of rage he took a pace forward and drew his gun. As Kem sprang to his feet he knew that his life was not worth the five beans he had missed for supper.

  23

  All Set for a Killing

  The instant Kem had seen Zadovitch he had realised that he could expect no mercy if the Russian believed he had made love to Anna. One imprudent glance from either of them, giving that away, and he would be finished. But he thought there was still a chance for him if they showed no sign of guilt. Zadovitch could have seen nothing. To all appearances a sudden impulse had caused his companions to go off to prospect a last pile of rocks before the light failed; sunset had caught them and they had become benighted there. Such was the fact, and Kem’s intentions had been completely innocent. That he had succumbed to Anna’s blandishments was neither here nor there. Everything hung on whether Zadovitch accepted their situation as the result of an accident, or believed that they had deliberately planned to evade and deceive him.

  In that tense moment Kem had taken such comfort as he could from the thought that the Russian had no grounds whatever to suspect him of designs upon Anna, as he had never shown the least personal interest in her, nor she, as far as Zadovitch could know, in him. But the thought was cancelled while still half-born. The Russian’s angry cry on catching sight of them, and his pulling his gun from its holster, demonstrated more plainly than any words could have done his conviction that their desertion of him had not been accidental. Now the whole attitude of his massive body, outlined against a background of innumerable stars, showed unconcealed menace.

  Kem knew that in Soviet Russia life was held cheaper than among any race of savages. Tens of thousands of people were condemned, without trial, to death every year, merely through being sent to endure the impossible hardships of the forced labour camps. And every M.V.D. man was an habitual killer. He could speak no Russian; so it was impossible for him to reason or plead with Zadovitch. Even could he have done so, he knew that it would have been useless. Zadovitch was a dangerous animal who believed that he had been robbed of his mate.

  Kipling’s famous line, ‘I have taken my fun where I found it, an’ now I must pay for my fun’, flashed with grim appropriateness into Kem’s mind, to be followed instantly by the cynical rider that, in this instance, even if he hadn’t taken his fun he would, all the same, be on the point of paying for having had the opportunity to take it.

  About having done so he had no regrets, as it had been fun; if only on the same level as riding a fine horse at a breakneck gallop across a mile of firm sand, or making a perfect dive from a rock into the clear waters of the Mediterranean.

  As Kem came to his feet and braced himself, these thoughts passed through his brain with the swiftness of the flickering of a morse lamp. Mingled with them were wild speculations on ways in which he might attempt to save his life.

  Had he been in the open he would have turned and run, taking a chance on evading Zadovitch’s bullets by ducking and dodging as he fled in the semi-darkness. But he was standing with Anna in a little bay of the ridge; behind them and on either side the rock was almost sheer, rising to a height of about twenty feet. Owing to his lightness on Mars, in three or four bounds he could have scrambled up it, but not before the Russian could put a bullet through his back.

  For an instant he contemplated seizing Anna and swinging her in front of him as a shield; for it was highly improbable that Zadovitch would be such a fool as to cut off his nose to spite his face by shooting her. Yet such a display of fear would be equivalent to an admission of guilt, and it could only postpone the issue. There was still just a possibility that if he showed no concern, and could survive the next few moments, Anna would succeed in allaying Zadovitch’s suspicions.

  As the Russian took a pace forward, Kem decided that he would stand a slightly better chance if he relied on Anna using her wits than if he burnt his boats by endeavouring to shield himself with her body. In a low, urgent voice, he exclaimed:

  ‘For God’s sake speak to him! Tell him we couldn’t help getting stuck here! Pretend to be pleased that he’s found us!’

  To his amazement no swift gabble of Russian followed his appeal. The only sound that broke the stillness was that of Zadovitch’s boots crunching on the stones as he halved the distance between them.

  Kem shot a quick glance at Anna. Her silence had suggested that she was too petrified by fear to speak; but no fear showed on her face. She was standing with her arms akimbo and her head thrown back. The starlight glinted on her pale gold hair. Her eyes were shining with excitement and her mouth hung a little open.

  ‘Quick!’ he gasped. ‘Say something! Ask him why he’s got his gun out. Show amazement, and be as indignant as hell if he accuses you of deceiving him.’

  Still Anna remained silent; apparently entirely absorbed in the same detached expectancy with which one witnesses the development of a crisis in a thrilling play. It was impossible to guess if her attitude was the outcome of Slav fatalism, of a conviction that it was useless to protect innocence because Zadovitch knew her too well to believe her, or simply that she thought she would have less trouble with him later if she showed complete indifference to Kem’s fate. In any case it was clear that she had no intention of making the least effort to save him.

  Meanwhile, Zadovitch had halted about twelve feet from Kem. Raising his pistol he pointed it at Kem’s chest, and said a few words in a harsh voice. At that moment Kem would have given ten years of his life to be able to speak Russian. Then he could have replied and, perhaps, with his far more subtle mind have argued Zadovitch into postponing his execution. As it was, he could do nothing but attempt to force a disarming smile, shrug his shoulders, spread out his hands and take a pace forward in the hope of getting near enough to grab the gun.

  But Zadovitch was too old a bird to be caught by such a trick. He promptly took a pace back, thereby maintaining a distance which was too great for Kem to jump before getting a bullet through the head. Levelling his pistol again, he spat out a curse and squeezed the trigger.

  As the Russian extended his arm Kem knew that his last moment had come. In spite of the cold, beads of perspiration had broken out on his forehead and the palms of his hands were damp. He hated the thought of death. Yet his principal emotion was not fear; it was surprise that he should actually have come to this. Somehow, even in the tightest corners in which he had ever been, he had never really believed that he would be killed while still quite young. Even now it seemed utterly preposterous that he, Kempton Lincoln, should be rendered as lifeless, stiff and unsavoury as a slaughtered horse lying in a knacker’s yard, through a single bullet tearing a hole in the muscles of his heart. All the same, he had had more experience than most people of the sudden, grotesque and appalling change that even a small bullet could effect on penetrating a vital area of the human body.

  It was now too late to seize Anna and drag her in front of him. There was no escape. Aghast, yet still half unbelieving, that at last death had really caught up with him, Kem stared down the gun barrel, expecting it to spurt flame and send crashing into his chest the little metal ball that would slay him as surely as if an Atom bomb had been dropped upon his head.

  No flame leapt from the barrel; no violent impact of nickel-coated lead on bone sent him reeling back to spit blood and choke out his life. Nothing happened. There came only the sound of a faint click. Zadovitch squeezed the trigger a second time. Again there came the click. Only then did Kem realise that something had gone wrong with the mechanism of the pistol. With a yell of triumph he flung himself at his would-be murderer.

  Relief, even wild elation, at such an escape was justified; but any sense of triumph was prematu
re. Even unarmed, Zadovitch was physically more than a match for Kem. He was a good two stone heavier, every bit as unscrupulous in a fight, equally courageous, and his muscles might have rivalled those of a strong man in a circus.

  From their first clash neither gained any advantage. Kem’s astonishment at finding himself still alive befogged his judgement. As he launched himself in a rugby tackle at the Russian’s knees he miscalculated his distance and landed flat on the stones with his hands clutching empty air two inches short of their objective. Zadovitch wasted a precious minute in trying to find out what had gone wrong with his gun, so missed the chance to kick Kem’s head in while he was still prostrate. On Kem lurching to his feet they struck half-blindly at one another, and his left caught the Russian’s left wrist, knocking the useless pistol from his hand.

  Zadovitch drew back for a second, then came sailing in with outstretched arms and clutching hands, hoping to seize Kem in a gorilla-like embrace. Kem, his wits now restored from the temporary paralysis that had affected them, realised the danger of coming to grips with his more powerful antagonist. He side-stepped and, as the Russian came charging past, landed a blow behind his ear. Zadovitch staggered sideways, but recovered and spun round with amazing swiftness for a man of his bulk. Again Kem dodged his charge, struck out and gave back; so that the movement brought him well out into the open, and he no longer had any reason to fear being pinned up against the steep side of the ridge.

  Bellowing like a bull, the Russian came in again. Once more Kem sidestepped and struck out. Zadovitch, his eye cut by the blow, gasped and lurched away; but only to adopt a new tactic. Stooping, he picked up a boulder as large as a harvest-festival marrow and hurled it at Kem. Had they been on Earth he could never have thrown a rock of such a size, but here on Mars the lesser gravity enabled him to do so. That cut two ways. Although the great stone caught Kem on the shoulder, its weight was not sufficient to knock him down. Nevertheless it caused him to stagger backwards. His heel struck another large stone and he fell.