The Legion of the Lost

by John Creasey

  ‘I would hardly call him a newborn babe,’ objected Stefan judicially. ‘And you’re right, of course, those disadvantages are obvious. On the other hand, he might be telling the truth.’

  ‘They’re born liars,’ said Brian.

  ‘Difficult, yes,’ said Palfrey. He turned and looked at von Lichner, as if suddenly realising that the man was listening. He smiled vacantly. ‘You appreciate the difficulties, don’t you? You’ve had so many admirable liars working for you that we don’t feel disposed to trust you far. I don’t see any way out of it.’

  The German said thickly: ‘If you refuse to listen to me, you will be missing one of the greatest chances of your life! Be wise, and you will become men of great renown. You will—’ he stopped abruptly and glared at Stefan. ‘What is there amusing in that, Andromovitch?’

  ‘Oh, the whole situation,’ said Stefan airily. ‘Sap, supposing we see whether there is another cave, where we can talk for a few minutes on our own. It would be better.’ As he finished he moved towards the entrance of the cave, which was immediately opposite a blank wall of rock. They squeezed through a narrow fissure and soon found themselves in a smaller cave.

  Palfrey said dreamily: ‘Supposing we were to let him go now? Or leave him here and later let someone know where he can be found? Then we could go on to Berlin—he seems sure we’re going there, and I’m a little worried about that, but there isn’t a great deal we can do. We want Machez and Ridzer, that’s our job Number One. After we have got them out of the country, we could try to deal with von Lichner as far as finding out what he really wants. Meanwhile we could get a word to the Marquis, asking for instructions. On the whole, I think that is our line.’

  Stefan said: ‘You aren’t forgetting that he believes we are going to Berlin? If he really knows that, then he will have attended to everything. If he is lying now, just to ensure that we do not kill him—’ Stefan shrugged. ‘There will not be a great deal of hope for either Machez or Ridzer.’

  Brian chuckled.

  ‘Nor for us! But we should have an idea of whether he means what he says or not.’

  ‘Ye-es, but it will be a stringent test,’ said Stefan with a grimace. ‘I should like to take him with us to England. But the difficulties are nearly insuperable. On the whole—well, I shall make it unanimous, Sap! I am agreeable to your suggestion. With—’ He paused to search for a word. ‘With one reservation. That we send word to Trenborg about what we are doing,’ said Stefan quietly. ‘I have not forgotten what happened in Norway after we left. We do not want that to happen at Trenborg. We should make it quite clear to von Lichner that if it does—’ he paused, before adding weightily: ‘If it does, we shall stay in Germany at least long enough to make sure that he is killed. He might be impressed by that. It is worth trying. Certainly we should do all that we can to help our friends. He has heard the fat Hans speak,’ Stefan reminded him, ‘so Hans should be warned of the danger. Hans and Carlson might be able to leave Trenborg together eventually.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘There are many complications and I do not like them, but—’

  Brian spoke quietly: ‘Almost the first time we met, Stefan, I argued about the same thing. What was most important? Individuals, or the main issue? I was all for individuals then, but you put me right.’

  Stefan eyed him evenly, shrugged, then smiled a little.

  ‘And now you put me right? Good, Brian! We will leave it to you, Sap.’

  ‘There’s one other thing,’ Brian said. ‘We could make him tell us whether he knows anything about von Otten and our main quarry.’

  ‘We could, yes. But should we? It would tell him what we’re after, and we’re going to release him.’

  They made their way back to von Lichner, who was still sitting with his back to the wall. He eyed them closely as they entered the cave; it was clear that he had been on tenterhooks.

  They stood looking down on him until he snapped: ‘Well, what is your decision?’

  There was a fringe of perspiration on the German’s forehead. His face was pale, his eyes narrowed and wary.

  ‘We’re going to give you half a chance,’ said Palfrey. ‘We’re leaving you here—or somewhere nearby. We’re going to finish our work in Germany and the continent. Afterwards—’ he smiled, meditatively – ‘you will know exactly what we are doing and where we are, you say, so you can make contact with us again. We’ll listen to you then.’

  ‘How long will your work take you?’

  ‘That will depend upon what interference we get,’ said Palfrey gently. ‘If you mean what you say, you can make it easier for us. If you can’t—’ he shrugged.

  ‘With some people I can make all necessary arrangements, but I have no influence with the Gestapo. You must understand that. I am not alone in looking for you now. I belong to a different faction from Himmler’s. I cannot guarantee that you will not be stopped by him and his Gestapo—nor by the army. I shall do my best,’ said von Lichner urgently. ‘Beyond that I can do nothing. I am not all-powerful.’

  ‘No-o,’ mused Palfrey; then softly: ‘You had better be powerful in one direction, von Lichner. There must be no reprisals in Trenborg for sheltering us—no reprisals at all. Otherwise there’s not only no bargain, but—’ he paused—‘Our next task will be very simple. It’s always easier to kill a man than to take him out of the country. Your life will be forfeit if any are taken in Trenborg.’

  ‘I tell you I can make no guarantees,’ the German said in a hoarse voice. ‘I do not agree with the policy of mass slaughter, but—’

  ‘You’re not all-powerful,’ Palfrey said abruptly. ‘You’ve told us that once. But you’ll be wise to get power enough for this.’ He turned to Stefan. ‘Tie his hands again, will you?’ he said. To von Lichner: ‘We’ll see that word gets to the Kommandant in Fredericia to come and look for you here—it might not be until tomorrow.’ He took two small slabs of chocolate from his pocket and put them on the man’s knee. ‘You’ll be able to get at them if you’re really hungry,’ he added, and turned away.

  Stefan finished and they stepped to the entrance. Von Lichner stared at them, his eyes protruding slightly, his lips parted. At the entrance to the cave, Palfrey said: ‘No reprisals in Trenborg, remember!’

  Then he left the cave. He could hear von Lichner’s heavy breathing, fancied that the man called out but checked himself. He went on, in the wake of Stefan and Brian.

  They were two miles outside Wylen as far as they could judge, walking behind a hedge to make sure that they were not seen by anyone on the road. It was very quiet; the clouds of the morning had dispersed and it was quite warm. The field across which they walked was of stubble, the crop having been gathered some time before. Rounding a corner, they found themselves face to face with two oldish men and a woman.

  So great was the shock that they drew back swiftly. Brian uttered a sharp exclamation, Palfrey’s heart began to beat fast. The trio stared at them, equally dumbfounded.

  Palfrey saw the eyes of the woman widen. She whispered something to her companions, but Palfrey did not catch what it was. There was a short, tense silence before one of them said slowly: ‘You have no need to fear us, please understand. We have heard something of what has happened; we know that Erikson is safely back in England.’

  Palfrey thought: ‘It’s incredible!’

  ‘We do not know where you wish to go in Wylen,’ the old man said, ‘but nowhere will be safe for the time being; be assured, please, of that! You will be wise to wait here.’

  ‘Ye-es,’ said Palfrey. He brushed a hand over his damp forehead, as a vision of von Lichner came to his mind’s eye. He remembered how the man had talked of English agents having helpers in all the towns and villages and realised, for the first time, just how important that was. Yet he was concerned for Stefan and Conroy, much more than he had been before.

  He told himself that they might have blundered into the village and into the hands of the soldiers.

  The old man said: ‘Soon we sh
all return to the village, and later we shall send a child to tell you when it is safe to come. You understand?’

  ‘We shall wait,’ said Palfrey.

  The trio inclined their heads gravely, then turned and made their wav across the field.

  They were quiet for a while, then Brian lit a cigarette, wafting away the smoke as it came from his lips to avoid making a streamer which might attract attention. As it grew quieter and they became more rested they felt easier in their minds. Palfrey decided that they had been so agitated because they were tired. Had they interviewed von Lichner after a full night’s sleep, they might have been in a very different frame of mind.

  Everything turned on whether von Lichner had, in fact, a proposition to put forward from his ‘principals’.

  If he had, who were the principals? Not Himmler, and presumably not Goebbels; von Lichner’s reference to the little doctor had been too disparaging.

  He was still drowsy when he heard footsteps from the direction of the village. Brian opened his eyes quickly and they sprang up, peering round the corner of the hedge.

  Their adviser had been right; a man was approaching, about a hundred yards off, and they had a fair chance of getting away before he arrived. They would have done so but for the fact that he held the hand of a little child, who looked about six or seven.

  The man and the child drew nearer. They could hear the latter’s clear voice; it was a girl, dressed neatly in a white knee-length frock with multi-coloured patches. Her thin, rather pinched face was animated, but her eyes looked too large for the rest of it. Palfrey saw in her the evidence of malnutrition; yet she was gay.

  The man with her was small and round-shouldered. As he drew nearer they saw his hunched back. He was thin, his face was white and his eyes red-rimmed, yet there was a remarkable calmness in them as he peered ahead of him, answering the child in a soft, caressing voice. The voice was at variance with the man’s appearance, for in spite of his size and his deformity he was a striking-looking individual.

  The child saw them first. She stopped abruptly, her face falling; then her lips opened and she spoke in a piping voice. Palfrey could not understand her words.

  The man in black did not immediately raise his eyes to look at them, but took her hand more firmly. Then he looked up, with a smile, not wide, not of amusement – but of welcome and friendliness. Palfrey rarely trusted a man on sight; he trusted this man even before he spoke.

  ‘I am glad to see you, my friends,’ he said at last. ‘I have been looking forward to this meeting and hoping that it would not be postponed. I am Dross, the Chemist of Wylen.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Reunion at Wylen

  The first thing that entered Palfrey’s head was the inaptness of the name. ‘Dross’ was so obviously wrong, although he forgot that in Danish it would hardly mean what it meant in England – if it meant anything at all. He smiled tentatively.

  ‘It’s good to see you,’ he said.

  ‘I am glad to hear you say so,’ said Dross. ‘But I have been well impressed by what I have heard of you!’ Now his smile was of humour, a gentle humour which puzzled Palfrey. ‘I wish that I could have received you in the village, but it would not be wise for a little while. I had friends waiting at all the roads—you met three of them—so that you could be warned. There is the other member of your party, too—the large man. He is not hurt, I hope?’

  Stefan had insisted on going a different route by himself, because his size would make him easy to spot, limiting the chances of the others.

  ‘No,’ said Palfrey, ‘only being cautious.’ So there was no news, good or bad, of Stefan.

  ‘I see. So many who arrange to come to me are prevented, that I am quite used to disappointments,’ said Dross. ‘I will arrange for the countryside to be watched and for him to be given safe guidance. Now I have brought food for you, and am going to advise you to stay here for a little longer. I think the village will be free of its other unwanted visitors before long. I will send my niece to tell you when that is the case. You will remember the gentlemen, Lissa?’ He smiled at the child.

  ‘Yes,’ she said clearly, her great eyes searching their faces. ‘Yes, I will.’

  ‘That is good. Do not think that I am asking a child to do what I would not do myself,’ said Dross. ‘She lives in a cottage further along this road; you saw the back of it, perhaps. So no one will be surprised to see her pass by. She often comes out with me to look for the wild flowers of the fields, so there is nothing surprising in our walk. I arranged, also, to be warned if I should be followed, but I am not alarmed. They are searching the houses, no more than that.’ He took a newspaper package from inside his pocket and handed it to them. ‘This will serve until you can come and eat at my table, my friends. Now you will forgive me if I leave you?’ He looked down at the child. ‘Come, Lissa!’ He bowed, smiled again and turned away.

  They heard the voices of children on the road; soon that of Lissa grew recognisable. There was an outburst of laughter, hurried footsteps – and then the child appeared through a gap in the hedge.

  She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

  ‘It is quite safe now,’ she said. ‘Goodbye!’

  She was gone almost as quickly as she had come, leaving Brian staring after her, as she rejoined the children on the other side of the hedge.

  Palfrey rubbed his chin.

  ‘Nicely done,’ he said.

  ‘They’ve got it all worked out to a decimal point,’ said Brian. ‘We’re learning, Sap. And von Lichner knows it, of course, he fears what will happen when we get our feet on Europe again. D’you know,’ he added with a smile, ‘I don’t feel half as browned-off as I did a few hours ago!’

  They made their way to the village, keeping by the hedge all the time. On the outskirts they were greeted by one of the men whom they had seen on the field. He gave them directions carefully, assuring them that no one who might see them would betray them. They entered a narrow street, at the far end of which it widened, looking very like the square at Trenborg. But here the wooden houses with their gables and quaint carvings looked older; Wylen had a forgotten air; seeming, like Dross, to be relics of the middle ages, untouched by the ugly hand of modernity.

  On the opposite side of the road they saw a single shop.

  Its window was quaint, mostly of green bottle-glass through which they could not see, but transparent in one small panel showing three large bottles of coloured water, the inevitable sign of the chemist’s shop. There was no name over the facia, but the word ‘chymist’ in old style lettering. They crossed the road, which seemed quite deserted, as the door of the shop opened and a quiet voice said: ‘Come in, please!’

  It was a woman, short, thin, smiling – the pleasure on her face gave Palfrey a feeling of contentment; her eyes were as warm and genuine as the chemist’s. She led the way to the back of the shop, through a narrow, dark passage with oak beams which made Palfrey and Brian duck their heads, then opened a door at the end of the passage to admit them to a small, square room with tiny latticed windows, oak beams, a glow of copper and brass. The floor was of stone with rush mats upon it; a piece of wick floated in a tiny clay crucible of oil.

  ‘I am asked to tell you that the American is here,’ said the woman, ‘and that there is word that the Russian is also on his way. He will not be long. Now, please, will you wait?’ She beamed as if she had never been so happy in her life and went out by another door. They heard her calling softly. Her voice faded, but soon footsteps sounded on the stairs.

  ‘Not the woman’s,’ thought Palfrey, and they did not sound like Conroy’s. He gave them little attention, for he was too exhilarated at the news about Stefan and Conroy to worry much about anything.

  Then the door opened and Drusilla Blair entered the room.

  It happened as quickly as that, with no fuss at all: one moment the door was closed, the next it opened and on the threshold stood Drusilla, smiling, a glow in her eyes, her head on one si
de.

  ‘’Silla!’ gasped Palfrey. ‘My dear—but—’

  ‘’Silla!’ shouted Brian. He jumped towards her, gripping her hands and hugging her. ‘Bless your heart, I didn’t dream—’

  Then they all began talking together, Palfrey’s eyes glowing, his depression completely gone. He forgot the dangers, felt inclined to laugh aloud with satisfaction.

  Drusilla had arrived – by air – on the previous day. Although the chemist’s shop had been searched with the rest, there had been little danger – she had been hidden beneath the bath. The bath moved on a hinge; behind and beneath it was a box-room where half-a-dozen people could shelter without difficulty.

  They had a meal of vegetable soup, with lettuce and salads to follow; there seemed plenty and to spare. Dross and his wife were downstairs most of the time; the bell of the shop door kept ringing. Palfrey, smoking a pipe pressed on him by the chemist – it was one which, Dross assured him, had been burnt out with a cinder but smoked by no one-leaned back in a winged armchair. Brian, sitting astride a rush-seated, upright chair, smoked a cigarette.

  ‘You’re slipping,’ said Conroy. ‘You’ve been here over an hour and you haven’t asked a single question. Why, Drusilla?’

  ‘Ah’, said Palfrey, looking at her. ‘Yes, why? Did you persuade Brett against his will?’

  Drusilla laughed.

  ‘Could anyone? No, he wanted me there for a few days, he had—’ she frowned, as if a darkling thought had entered her mind, until then free of everything but contentment at the reunion. ‘He had an idea, Sap. I don’t know what you’ll think of it.’ She pushed her fingers through her dark hair and settled back on a fireside stool. She wore a tweed skirt, stout shoes and a leather jacket, all of them showing signs of wear. ‘He’s going to use Hilde.’