by Ronald Seth
The ease with which he climbed up the high wall gave the impression that he was walking up it. Admittedly there was a sloping ledge about two and a half feet from the ground which gave the first foothold, but the latter afforded holds only for the fingertips and the very tips of the toes.
As he reached the top he drew his head up very slowly and peered over, and then with a kind of leap—how he did it I do not know—he had vaulted over the wall and disappeared. I took this to be a signal for me to follow, and with a good deal of difficulty I reached the top of the wall and flopped over with a kind of roll.
As I did so, I was conscious of some sort of commotion below me, and when I hit the ground saw that Jo was hanging onto the back of a soldier as fiercely as a tigress hangs onto a hunting elephant when cornered. His arm was round the man's throat, from which issued curious gurgling sounds as he clawed at the boy's arm trying to release the grip. Immediately I saw what was happening. I struck out with my fist to the point of the man's jaw, his knees bent and he crumpled up on the ground, Jo leaping clear as he felt the man going.
"He was just below me," Jo whispered. "He must have been leaning against the wall, because I didn't see him until I touched him."
"What shall we do with him?" I asked. "We shall have to keep him quiet while we're with Dr. Paranu."
Below the fire escape, in a kind of basement area, was a very large bin. Jo went to it and took off the lid.
"It stinks a bit," he said, "but it's empty. Would he go in here?"
I examined the bin and sized up the man and thought we might just get him inside it. So we gagged him with his own handkerchief and bound his arms with his belt and his legs with the sling of his rifle, and within a few moments had stuffed him into the bin, putting the lid half on so that he would not suffocate.
"You go up to Paranu alone," Jo suggested, when we had finished. "I will watch down here. If there is any danger I will come to warn you. Be as quick as you can. When you come back I have my instructions where to take you. All Gallia is working with you now, captain! But hurry!"
As I mounted the fire escape I wondered why he had not told me this before. Perhaps he thought I might protest again, as I had protested when he had said he would reconnoiter the neighborhood for me. But it was no use trying to find reasons now. The knowledge that I was not working on my own but had the resources of an organized secret movement behind me sent my spirits soaring, and I felt confident now that I should succeed.
The fire escape passed French windows on each floor, and when I came to the third floor I tapped quietly on the glass. A piano was being played in the room and my taps were not heard. I tapped again, a little louder this time. The playing stopped abruptly. I tapped again, and a second or two later the curtains were drawn aside and Paranu's neatly bearded face peered through. As soon as he saw me he opened the doors and I passed quickly through into the drawing room.
The little man grasped my hand.
"My dear captain!" he exclaimed. "I had given you up. I was quite certain you would not come after the curfew began, and I was afraid you would come before the curfew and fall into Gombroch's trap, until I had your telephone message."
"I could not have come had Gallia not helped me," I told him. "I have a guide waiting at the bottom of the fire escape, doctor, and he has asked me to be as quick as possible. I do not want to seem ungracious, but the boy has risked so much for me already."
"Ah, the boy!" Paranu said. "He is a legend in Gallia, you know. I should like to meet him, but not now! Captain, I… I…"
Suddenly, and without any apparent reason, he seemed embarrassed. To help him, I said: "Doctor, I do not wish to stay in Tredentz, or indeed in Gallonia, longer than I need. When will it be possible for me to meet the expert who will explain the plans of the gun to me?"
"That is what I must tell you, captain," he said. "He was arrested this afternoon."
"Not Dr. Samakis!" I exclaimed. "The arrest which was broadcast in tonight's news?"
"Yes, I fear so. We had thought for some time he had been compromised, and had decided that he should not meet you," the doctor explained. "But his arrest has come as a great shock. He is so valuable to the regime we thought he might merely be disciplined. His arrest, however, can only mean one thing."
"What is that, doctor?" I asked, my heart sinking.
"That they've discovered the gun is missing!"
"The gun is missing!"
"Yes. You see, we thought it would be much more satisfactory if we could give you an actual model of the gun," the doctor explained. "Six prototypes have been made, one each for the six experts who have designed it so that they could carry out their particular experiments easily Samakis had arranged with one of the gunsmiths, who is also working with us, to make another model secretly, but it takes time when it has to be done by hand, and when we were told that you would be arriving soon, Samakis insisted that you should be given his gun and he would play for time until the new model was ready."
"Three days ago he was asked by the director of the Atomic Institute to demonstrate the results of some experiments on which he had been working. But we had already prepared the gun and packed it in a convenient package for you to carry. Samakis stalled, but was told that he must give his demonstration yesterday."
"When the time came, he tried to stall again, but the director would take no excuses and ordered him to report with his gun within the hour. There was no time to get the gun from me and to reassemble it in that time, so Samakis pleaded illness and promised to make the demonstration today. The gunsmith had promised to have the new model ready by today, but ran into difficulties, so today again, Samakis had to make excuses. Then this afternoon he was arrested."
"How does this affect you and Gallia?" I asked.
"We do not know—yet. Gombroch is no fool and will undoubtedly connect the missing gun with you."
"And I am connected with you, doctor! This is terrible!" I exclaimed.
He shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't think you need worry about that," he said. "I have a very strong position here. I have patients come to my house quite frequently. I shall deny all knowledge of you, except from having seen you this morning, and suggest that you might have used me as a means of getting past the secret police into Tredentz. They can prove nothing between us."
"But it means that the Maran family is compromised!" I cried. I felt quite sick.
Paranu nodded. "Yes, it means that. But it was one of those things they had always to be prepared for. You needn't worry about them, captain. They can look after themselves."
If only I had not jumped off the train, I thought, I should have been caught myself, but at least I should not have endangered all these people. I had tried to be so clever, and look what I had done!
Paranu seemed to read my thoughts.
"Please don't think about what might have been," he said kindly. "You are here; we have the gun for you. What the knowledge of this gun will mean to the West is worth all the danger, and even a few lives."
He was right, of course, but that did not make things any easier for me. When it was all over I should be all right, I knew. But for the time being it depressed and upset me.
"I don't know what Gallia has planned for you, captain," Paranu went on, "but we ought not to delay any longer."
He went out of the room and presently returned with an automobile jack. Fascinated, I watched him carry the jack and a low oak coffee table to the grand piano, put the jack on the table and push both under the tapering rear of the instrument. With a few quick turns of the jack handle he raised the rear leg of the piano six inches from the ground. Then he twisted the leg, and a few seconds later had unscrewed it. From the hollowed-out leg he drew a rucksack and a long bulky envelope.
"The gun is in the sack," he said, "and here are the blueprints in this envelope. Samakis has made some brief explanatory notes on them, and together with the gun, which we have sawn up into short sections, they should tell your experts all
they need to know."
I picked up the rucksack and balanced it in my hands. It weighed about ten pounds, I estimated.
"Do you mean the complete gun is here, doctor?" I asked, unable to hide my surprise.
"Yes. It's weight is one of its chief features," Paranu answered. "It is only a little heavier than an automatic weapon. If you…" He stopped short as a series of sharp taps came on the French window. Signaling me to stand out of sight of the window, he opened the heavy curtains a narrow crack and looked through.
"The boy!" he said quietly, and quickly opened the window.
Jo stepped into the room, his hand shading his eyes, and looked around until he saw me.
"Captain, we must go quickly. There is trouble!" he said urgently.
"What's happened?" I asked.
"The soldier at the street end of the passage came to look for his companion, and when he couldn't find him, ran off to give the alarm," the boy answered. "Let us go quickly."
"Yes, go quickly, captain!" Paranu urged.
"But they will know I have been here," I protested.
"Leave that to me!" Paranu snapped. "Good luck, captain, and all our gratitude!"
He shook me briefly by the hand and more or less pushed me out onto the fire escape. As Jo and I began to descend the iron stairs the wail of a police car siren came from the distance, growing louder every moment.
As we went down I had an idea which I thought might help the doctor. I explained it quickly to Jo when we reached the bottom of the stairs, and he agreed.
So working rapidly we hauled the still unconscious soldier from the bin, took off his gag and his bonds, and arranged him on the three or four steps leading down to the basement area in such a way that it would look as if he had fallen down them. I bent over him and lifting his head I gave it a crack on the edge of the bottom step that I hoped would keep him unconscious for a long time.
Jo, who was waiting by the wall for me, called a quiet warning and the sound of soldiers' footsteps running up the passage toward us came echoing between the building and the wall.
"Over you go, Jo!" I urged. "I'll throw the rucksack over the wall. Mind it doesn't hit you. It's heavy."
Almost before I had finished speaking he had disappeared. With determination not to be captured now giving me an added strength, I leaped and caught the top of the wall with my fingertips. Scraping the toes of my shoes and the flesh off my knees under my trousers, I hauled myself in some fashion up the wall, rolled over and fell with a breathtaking thud on the other side at Jo's feet. The soldiers were almost under the wall it seemed. The beam of a flashlight momentarily lit up the fire escape down which we had come only minutes before. Then one of them made a low exclamation. He had found our victim.
By this time I had recovered my breath and felt for the rucksack. But Jo had already fixed it on his back and by signs refused to hand it over to me. Taking me by the hand, he started off once more.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Sewers of Tredentz
Again we climbed garden walls, passed through gardens and squeezed along narrow passages. I had no idea where Jo was taking me, but I could tell by the position of the moon that it was in the opposite direction from which we had come.
After about twenty minutes Jo signaled to me to stop. We were in a passage, but a few yards ahead the brilliant moonlight formed a square of light.
For the first time since we had left Dr. Paranu's Jo spoke, in a low whisper.
"Captain, I have to take you to the tomb of the grand dukes. Out there is Nicolaus Square and at the far end is the Nicolaus Cathedral, our oldest and largest church. In the cathedral churchyard is the tomb of the grand dukes. Opposite the end of this passage in the middle of the road is a manhole leading into the sewers."
"I shall go ahead and reconnoiter the street. If all is clear I will go out into the middle of the road to clean the dust out of the manhole hand grips. When I go, you will come to the end of the passage. Then, when I have removed the dust, I will whistle. Come to me then, and we will lift the cover and I will go down first. You must replace the cover, because it is too heavy for me. Inside the hole there is an iron ladder fastened to the wall. Be careful you do not slip on it, because it is always wet. I am sorry I have to take you this unpleasant way, but it would be too dangerous for us to cross the square above ground. Ready?"
I nodded, wondering how a boy of his age could think and plan so clearly. He had every move we should have to make decided upon. I knew exactly what to do, exactly what to expect. Once we were out in the open, as a consequence of the planning, we could do what we had to do without fumbling and without wasting a moment.
Jo moved forward to the end of the passage and looked out. As he seemed about to move forward a police car turned into the square at the northeast corner, and though the square was free of all traffic, it raced, with its siren wailing, down the east side, and at the corner, with a scream of tires, turned east again and disappeared from sight and hearing.
As soon as it had gone Jo darted out into the middle of the road and, squatting down, began to work feverishly with his knife at the dust in the manhole hand grips. Presently he looked my way and gave a low whistle. I ran out to him, but at the moment I started forward the police car siren came faintly from the distance and grew louder each second. I hesitated, wondering whether to go back to the passage, but Jo waved me on. Together we bent over the manhole cover, each seizing a hand grip.
"Lift!" said Jo tensely between his teeth.
The cover gave a little, but dust was clogging its outer rim.
"Your knife!" I said.
He handed it to me by the handle and I ran the point of the blade between the rim of the cover and the hole. The wail of the siren was now bursting into the square.
"Ready?" I asked. "Lift!"
This time the heavy cover gave under our pressure, but we did not pull it quite clear.
"Lift!" I snapped again.
The cover came clear of the hole and we slid it so that half the hole was uncovered.
I looked up and saw the headlights of the car racing toward us.
"Quick!" I cried to Jo and he lowered himself into the hole. But the rucksack on his back caught on the edge of the hole and for a second or two he had to struggle to release himself. Then I heard him fall with a thud.
The men in the police car had seen us, and as I let myself through the hole a shot rang out and the bullet spat up the dust of the road less than five feet from me. Hanging onto a rung of the iron ladder with my left hand, I put up my right to pull the cover back into place. Shots were following one another in quick succession as the car charged down on the manhole. But I could not move the cover, however much strength I applied.
I was on the point of dropping to the ground beside Jo and suggesting that we should try to shake off our pursuers in the subterranean passages of the sewers, when there was a fearful shrieking noise and the crash of an explosion. Peering above the rim of the hole, I saw the car reared up vertically on its rear wheels, its front wheels resting on the wall of a house, looking exactly as if it were trying to climb up the building. Then it toppled over backward and a vivid sheet of flame burst from it. Within seconds it was a blazing heap of twisted wreckage. And no one moved from it!
With renewed effort, I closed the manhole and went down the iron ladder to Jo.
"Did the car crash, captain?" he asked.
"Yes," I told him. "Which way do we go?"
"To the right," he answered, and shone his light along the slimy flags of the "walk" skirting the sewer.
The stench was indescribable. The walls and ceiling dripped water in great globules which were sticky to the touch if you put out your hand to steady yourself, or they fell on you from above. The sewer ran with a low angry hiss by our side, and every few yards, as the light of Jo's torch startled and frightened them, grossly fat rats plopped from the path into the disgusting stream.
"I'm sorry it's so unpleasant," Jo said, and his vo
ice echoed along the tunnel, rippling into the distance. "But it's not far."
It took all our concentration to keep on our feet and prevent ourselves from slipping into the sewer after the rats. But we squelched and splashed on until suddenly a brilliant light flashed on us, dazzling us, and a voice behind it said: "Is that you, Jo?"
"Yes," the boy said.
"Is everything all right?"
"Yes, everything is all right."
The relief in the man's voice was deep.
"Ah, that is good!" he said softly, and took a pace forward with his hand outstretched. "I am Frank Manek. I believe you have met my brother George at Kobo-Vazon."
It seemed a strange place for introductions, and he spoke in such a calm and matter-of-fact tone.
"Yes, I have," I said, as I shook his hand. "Are you the deputy secretary at the Ministry of the Interior he's so proud of?"
"Yes, I hold that post," he answered. "But we mustn't stay here chatting. Our friends are waiting for us in the tomb of the grand dukes. Jo, you go up first and keep well in the shadow of the cypresses. The square has been alive with the L.P.R. all evening."
The manhole cover at the top of the iron ladder was open, and in a second or two Jo had climbed up and disappeared. I followed and found myself in the churchyard of the Cathedral of St. Nicolaus, where tall cypresses edged the broad paths and where white tombstones glowed here and there among them with a kind of phosphorescence.
I helped Frank Manek replace the cover of the manhole, and then with him as our leader we went in Indian file up the path, keeping in the black shadow of the trees. We walked, I suppose, for about five minutes, covering the best part of half a mile. At last we turned into a path wider than any of those we had so far walked along, and at the far end reared up a huge, castellated tomb—the family vault of the hereditary grand dukes of Gallonia.