Airs Above the Ground (27 page)

Unbelievingly, horrified, I heard Timothy’s voice.

‘Who’s that – why, Herr Balog! What are you doing here?’ And then, sharply: ‘What on earth are you doing with that saddle? Look, just what is going on around here? And where’s Vanessa? Ah, you—’

The rush of feet; the brief sound of a scuffle; a cry from Timothy, bitten off. A thud, and then the racing sound of retreating footsteps. They made for the stable door, and out, then I heard them cross the corner of the courtyard, to be lost as he reached the archway and the bridge.

‘Timothy!’ Somehow I got the carriage door open. I stumbled out, missing the single step and almost falling. The light had gone with Sandor, but my hands found the door handle and the massive key of their own volition, and in a matter of seconds I had the big door open and was in the stable.

Moonlight spilled mistily through the cobwebbed window opposite Grane’s box. Beside the corn bin, huddled on the floor near the wreck of the saddle, lay Timothy.

I flew to kneel beside him, and almost choked on a cry of thankfulness as he moved. He put a hand to his head, and struggled strongly enough up on to one elbow.

‘Vanessa? What happened?’

‘Are you all right, Tim? Where did he hit you?’

‘My head . . . no, he missed . . . my neck . . . blast, it’s sore, but I think it’s all right. It was that swine Sandor, you know, the—’

‘Yes, I know. Don’t worry about that now. Are you sure you’re all right? You went with the most awful
crack, I heard you clear through the door, I thought you’d hit your head on the corn bin.’

‘I think that must have been my elbow. Hell, yes, it was, the funny bone.’ He was sitting up now and rubbing his elbow vigorously. ‘I think it’s paralysed, probably for life, the stinking swine. I suppose he’s made off? I say, he was ripping the saddle open. What in the world—?’

‘What in the world—?’ The echo came from the shadows just behind us, and we both jumped like guilty things upon a fearful summons. We’d have made very bad agents, Timothy and I. It could easily have been Sandor returning: but it was Lewis, looking for one fantastic second not like Lewis at all, but like something as dangerous as Sandor himself, and straight from Sandor’s world.

But almost before we had seen the gun in his hand it had vanished from sight again, and he said: ‘Timothy, it’s you. I suppose you caught him at it. What the devil brought you down? No, never mind, he’s gone and I’ve got to get after him. Did you see what he took?’

‘Packets of some kind, flat packets . . . about the size of those detergent samples they shove through your door.’ Timothy abandoned the elbow, and began to scramble to his feet. ‘He’s left one, anyway. I fell on it.’

Almost before the boy’s body had left the ground, Lewis had pounced on the thing. It was an oblong flat package, not much bigger than a manilla envelope, made apparently of polythene. Lewis whipped a knife out and slit a corner of it, gingerly. He sniffed, then
shook a few grains of powder into the palm of his hand, and tasted them.

‘What is it?’ asked Timothy.

Lewis didn’t answer. He folded the cut corner down, and thrust the package back into Timothy’s hands, saying abruptly: ‘Keep that safely for me, don’t let anyone see it. Are you all right?’

‘Yes, quite.’

‘Then stay with Vanessa.’

‘But I—’

But Lewis had already gone. I heard the door of his car open and then slam behind him as he got in. The engine raced to life.

As the Mercedes swung backwards out of the coach-house I jumped up and ran out into the courtyard. The car swept back in a tight arc and paused. I jumped at the offside door and dragged at the handle. Lewis leaned across and flicked the lock open and I pulled it wide.

‘Yes?’

‘I’m coming with you. Don’t ask me not to, please. I won’t get in your way, I promise. But don’t ask me to stay away.’

He hesitated only fractionally. Then he jerked his head. ‘All right, get in.’ As I scrambled in beside him, Timothy reached in over my shoulder and pulled open the lock of the back door.

‘Me, too. Please, Mr March. I could help, I honestly could. I’d like to.’

Lewis laughed suddenly. ‘Come one, come all,’ he said cheerfully. ‘It’s just as well I’ve handed in my
cards, isn’t it? All right, get in, only for God’s sake hurry.’

Before Timothy’s door was shut the Mercedes had leapt forward from a standing start, swept round with a whine of tyres, and was shooting for the narrow archway like a bullet from a gun. Her headlights flicked on momentarily, the archway lighted, leapt at us, echoed past us with a slam like the smack of a sail. The bridge boomed for a second beneath us, and then, lights out, engine silken and quiet, we were running downhill under the tunnel of the dark pines.

If Lewis by your assistance win the day . . .

Shakespeare:
King John

‘I don’t suppose he’s using lights either,’ said Lewis. His voice was rather less excited than if he had been driving to meet a train. ‘But take a look and see if either of you can see where he is, will you?’

‘Did he have a car?’ asked Timothy.

‘A jeep. At least, I saw a jeep parked to one side among the trees when I was on my way up. I had a look at it. I’ll bet it was his. See if you can see anything.’

The Mercedes swung left-handed into the first arm of the zigzag and Timothy and I peered out and down, through the black stems of the trees. At first I could see nothing, but then, just as Lewis swung wide to take the next bend, I saw a flash of bright light, momentarily, it seemed a long way below.

Timothy and I both exclaimed together: ‘There! There he is!’ I added quickly: ‘There was just a flash a fair way down. It’s gone again.’

Timothy said: ‘Wasn’t there a sort of woodman’s hut away down there? I seem to remember noticing it
before. When his lights flashed on, I thought I saw it in the beam.’

‘Yes, there was,’ said Lewis. ‘Damnation.’

‘Why?’

‘I think I know why he put his lights on. Just beside that hut there’s a forest track going off. I can’t imagine why he should flash his lights unless he wanted to see his way into it. He’d manage it easily enough with a jeep, but whether we can with this car’s another matter. We’ll see. Well, supposing you tell us what happened, Tim. What were you doing down in the stable?’

‘Something woke me, I’m not sure what it was. A cry or something. Did you call out, Vanessa?’

‘Yes.’

‘That must have been it, then . . . But I wasn’t sure. You know how you lie awake and wonder what it was that wakened you? Well, I lay and listened for a bit, and I didn’t hear anything else, and I thought I must have been mistaken. Then – I don’t know . . . I felt sort of uneasy; so after a bit I got up out of bed and went to the door. I thought I heard a door open somewhere, so I opened my own door and looked out into the corridor. But there was nobody there, and then I definitely heard a sound. I thought it was from Vanessa’s room.’

‘That would be when he had my inner door open,’ I said. ‘You might have heard something.’

‘Yes? Well, anyway . . . It occurred to me then that you might have come, Mr March, and you might have been going to Vanessa’s room, so I thought I’d just made a fool of myself, and I went back into my own room and shut the door. I was wide awake by that time,
so I went across to the window, and just stood looking out. The moonlight was marvellous, and I just stood looking, and – well, thinking . . . and then I thought I saw someone dodging about among the battlements, over by the gate tower. I couldn’t see at all clearly, because of the trees beyond, and the shadows, and at first I thought I was just being imaginative, but after a bit I was certain there was someone there. So I shoved some clothes on and ran along to tell Vanessa. I mean, enough odd things have been happening to make me wonder, if you know what I mean.’

‘We know what you mean,’ said Lewis.

‘I opened the outside door of Vanessa’s room to knock on the inner one, but that was wide open, and then I saw the room was empty and the curtains were pulled back all anyhow, and the little door was open. So of course I went out on the roof. I was a bit uneasy now – I mean, you and Vanessa might just have gone for a moonlight walk or something, but I didn’t think you’d have left the door open, or the curtain dragged back like that . . . In any case, I kept pretty quiet, and I’d got a fair way round the roof when I saw the car arrive. Everything was dead quiet, so I just stood and waited where I couldn’t be seen. Then you went into the castle, and you hadn’t been gone two seconds when I saw him move. I couldn’t see who it was, but it was Sandor, of course. He was on the roof beside the gate tower. He ran down those steps into the courtyard. I looked over, and saw him go into the stable.’

‘So,’ said Lewis, rather dryly, ‘naturally, you followed him.’

‘Yes. Well, naturally.’ Timothy sounded faintly surprised. ‘I mean, there was the cry I thought I’d heard, and all the mystery and everything. I don’t know what I thought about it, I thought it might have something to do with old Piebald. After all, he was a stolen horse, and I suppose he’s valuable. But I tell you I didn’t think about it at all, I just went in very quietly, and there he was on the floor, ripping the saddle to pieces. I think I asked him what he was up to, and then he went for me. I’m sorry if I’ve done anything wrong and spoilt things.’

‘You jumped the gun a bit, but probably not much. He hadn’t much time to spare, and I still hope we’re not going to lose him. In any case, I’m grateful to you for your care of my wife.’

‘Oh . . .’ Timothy swallowed, then managed, negligently enough, and man to man: ‘Well, naturally, anything I can do . . .’

‘Believe me, you’ve done plenty. Whether you meant it or not, it was a master-stroke getting that package. Now we know exactly where we are. I really am grateful to you for that.’

‘Single-minded swine,’ I said, without rancour.

I saw him grin. Timothy cut in again from behind us. ‘What was it? Something must be pretty valuable.’

‘It is. Hang on to your package, Mr Lacy. It’s several hundred pounds’ worth of cocaine, unless I’m much mistaken.’

‘Cocaine! Drugs? Dope rings, and all that jazz? Gosh!’ Timothy sounded neither shocked nor alarmed, but only excited and vastly pleased. ‘Gosh! I say,
Vanessa, did you get that? Sandor Balog, eh? I knew he was a stinker! And I’m sure there were at least half a dozen packets, maybe more. Big deal.’

‘As you say,’ said Lewis calmly, ‘big deal. And likely to be bigger. It is indeed dope rings and all that jazz. I’ve a feeling that you two little do-gooders with your long-lost Lipizzaner have got a lead on a ring the police have been trying to break for quite some time, but leave that great thought for later: here’s the hut. Hang on.’

The Mercedes rocked to a stop. Just by the offside door was a break in the thick trees, where a rutted woodland ride led off, twisting upwards and out of sight through the forest.

‘Wait,’ said Lewis, and swung out of the car. I saw him stoop over the verge, examining it closely in the moonlight which struck brightly down the open ride.

A moment later he was back in his seat and the car was moving again.

‘Not that way?’ I asked.

‘No sign of it. He’s making for the main road, thank God.’

‘I gather you don’t think he’ll be heading back for the circus?’

‘I doubt it. He knows your husband’s arrived, and that he – the husband – will certainly raise an alarm as soon as possible. Balog can’t possibly go over now with the circus . . . not carrying the stuff, that is . . . He’ll reckon that that will be the first call the police will make after we alert them, and obviously the circus will be stopped at the frontier and searched from stem to stern . . . if that’s the right idiom for a circus?’

‘It does seem to be the only one you know,’ I said.

‘Are you a Navy type?’ asked Timothy.

‘I once owned half of a twelve-foot dinghy, and I’ve fallen in twice on the Norfolk Broads. If you think that qualifies me – hold it, he’s throwing out the anchors.’

Below us the red lights blazed suddenly. The Mercedes slowed sharply to a crawl. Beside the road the trees were sparse, and we could see over and down the next slope. We were half way down the hill. The jeep’s brake lights vanished, but flashed again as he turned out on to the bridge.

Lewis said: ‘We’ll wait and see which way he turns. Left, for a bet . . . I don’t think he’ll risk going back through Zechstein . . . Can you see him?’

‘Just,’ said Tim, craning. ‘There . . . he touched the brakes again. Yes, he’s turning left, away from the village. What d’you reckon he’ll do?’

The Mercedes surged forward smoothly. ‘What would you do, mate?’ asked Lewis.

‘Telephone the boss,’ said Tim promptly. ‘You can’t tell me that blighter’s anything but a second-class citizen. He’ll not be able to make his own decisions.’

‘That’s just what I’m hoping for – that our second-class citizen may give us a lead to higher things; if not to the boss in Vienna, then to the local contact. It could be the best thing that happened, your bolting him like that.’ I wondered if he was thinking, as I was, of the trip across the frontier which he might not now have to make. ‘He’s got the stuff on him now – he may think he’s got it all – and he’s been startled by you two into running for it. He won’t be in a panic hurry yet,
because he won’t have any idea we’re after him so quickly, and he’s certainly not worried that the police can have taken him up yet. The evidence is, from the way he blazed his lights, that he thinks he’s still on his own. So we follow and watch.’

‘If I were him,’ said Timothy, ‘I’d ditch the stuff, and fast.’

‘He well may. If he does, we may see him, with luck.’

‘Yes, but we’ve got him anyway, haven’t we? Oh, I see, someone else would have to come and pick it up, and you could have it watched?’

It had occurred to me that Timothy was taking with remarkable ease Lewis’s change from PEC salesman to armed investigator. But then, I supposed, it was to be expected. Timothy was not unintelligent, and I had offered no explanation of Lewis’s original disguise as Lee Elliott; and now Lee Elliott had turned up once more, armed, remarkably well informed, and fully prepared to launch himself without hesitation or question into the wake of a drug smuggler. Timothy must have made some more or less dramatic guess long since.