1967 - Have This One on Me (14 page)

‘Your job Comrade, is to see they don’t cross the frontier. I don’t care how many men you use! These three must not cross the frontier!’

‘I am arranging that now,’ Suk said. ‘They won’t get across.’

Malik dismissed him with an impatient wave of his hand.

When Suk had gone, Malik lit a cigarette and stared into space.

He was furious with himself. He should have arrested the girl when Smernoff had warned him that Cain was interested in her. He had played it too smart. Savagely, he cursed Girland.

He could imagine how Kovski, his boss, would react. The two men hated each other. Up to now, Malik had always been in an unassailable position. He had never made a mistake, but he knew he had made one now and Kovski would take advantage of it.

He was still sitting at the desk an hour later when Smernoff came into the room.

‘We have a possible clue,’ Smernoff said and laid a snapshot on the desk. ‘This was found in a photograph album we took from Reid’s apartment.’

Malik studied the photograph. It showed Mala and a young heavily built man standing side by side. The man was wearing jeans, a check shirt and mud-caked boots. Behind them was a low built farmhouse. To their right were two big barns.

Malik looked up.

‘So?’

‘A lonely farm would be an ideal hiding place. It is worth checking,’ Smernoff said. ‘During the revolution, Reid’s father and a farmer named Braun were executed as traitors. His son, Jan Braun, is also a farmer.’

Malik kicked away his chair and jumped to his feet.

‘You know where the farm is?’

‘Thirty kilometres from here.’

‘Get men.’

‘I have three police cars waiting. There are twelve men with automatic weapons ready to go.’

‘If Girland is with them, we need three times as many men,’ Malik said. ‘Arrange it!’

‘If you say so,’ Smernoff said, shrugging, and reached for the telephone.

* * *

There was no comfort in the big, shabby room with its oak beams, its stone floors and rough deal furniture. The big open fireplace that dominated the room was smoke blackened and a large pile of white ash from previous fires still filled the grate.

Looking around, Girland thought it would be an icebox in the winter. He, Mala and Worthington were on upright chairs facing Jan Braun and his wife who were sitting on a long deal bench, their back to the fireplace.

Jan Braun was a heavily built man in his early thirties.

His round, fleshy face, his firm mouth and steady slate grey eyes inspired confidence.

Blanca, his wife, was some five years younger: a blonde girl with a plain, serious face, slimly built, and who radiated a serene calmness that pleased Girland. He was sure she could be relied on in any emergency.

The Branns were wearing well-worn jeans and black windcheaters. They had been in bed when Mala had hammered on the farmhouse door. She had told them that she and two friends were in trouble, would they help? They hadn’t hesitated.

While Mala had run back down the lane, they had scrambled into their clothes. Jan had opened the doors of one of the barns and Girland had driven the Mercedes under cover.

Girland was now doing the talking.

‘You don’t want to know too much about this operation,’ he was saying. ‘The less you know, the safer for you two and for us. We must get across the frontier. This is a top priority: a treble must with all kinds of international explosions if we don’t. So I repeat: we must get across the frontier. We have a G.R.U. agent - the best there is - after us. Money is no object. We have plenty of that, and we will buy our way out if it can be arranged.’

Jan studied Girland, then shook his head.

‘It won’t be money that will get you across the frontier,’ he said quietly. ‘It will be luck. None of you has a hope of passing through the police control with a false passport. That is a pipe dream. The frontier restrictions between here and Austria have been eased recently, but they still have the organisation to make a shutdown at a moment’s notice. If your G.R.U. agent thinks you are important enough, he can call out troops, and the whole frontier will be completely sealed.’ He paused and then went on, ‘But there is a place where a crossing is possible. It is some hundred and thirty kilometres from here. It will mean walking. The going will be rough. A four-day journey, averaging thirty kilometres a day.’

Girland grimaced. He couldn’t imagine Mala walking that distance.

‘Can’t we use a car?’

‘They will be watching the roads. No, it would be too risky. The only safe way is to walk, and to keep off the roads.’

Quick to realise how useful Jan would be to them, Girland said, ‘Suppose you two come with us. We could finance you. Why not?’

Jan and Blanca exchanged glances.

‘We couldn’t do that,’ Jan said, but there was doubt in his voice.

‘Do you want to live here forever? What’s your future in this country? Once out, you can make a fresh start.’ Girland looked around the shabby room. ‘You’ve got nothing here, have you ... you’re getting nowhere, are you? Here’s my proposal: we have thirty thousand dollars. There are five of us. I suggest we split the money five ways. You will get twelve thousand. With that kind of money, you could make a fresh start in Austria ... Germany ... France ... anywhere you like.’

Worthington clutched hold of his suitcase.

‘You have no right to make such an offer!’ he exclaimed wildly. ‘This money doesn’t belong to you ... it belongs to Mala and me!’

The four looked at him, then Mala said quietly, ‘It doesn’t belong to us Alec. Please don’t be stupid.’

‘You’re always telling me that I’m stupid!’ Worthington cried hysterically. ‘Can’t you see, I’m trying to protect your interests? This money ...’

‘Alec! Will you please stop this!’ Mala said. She got to her feet and crossed to Worthington. ‘Give me the suitcase.’

Worthington looked hopelessly at her and then gave her the suitcase.

‘Take it,’ he said, his voice shaking with emotion. ‘You are giving away your future. You think I am stupid, but it is you who don’t realise what you are doing.’

‘Yes, I do ... we are buying our freedom,’ Mala said and pointing to the suitcase, she went on to Girland, ‘The money’s there. You deal with it.’

Girland nodded. To Jan he said, ‘Twelve thousand dollars - it’s yours if you take us across the frontier. It’s up to you if you return here or not.’

Jan hesitated, then got to his feet.

‘We must discuss this,’ he said. ‘Excuse us,’ and putting his hand on Blanca’s arm, he led her from the room.

Girland opened the suitcase and found the packet of money.

‘These two know the country,’ he said to Mala. ‘They speak the language and they know how we can get out. We can’t do without them ... that’s why I’m offering them the money.’

Mala nodded.

‘Yes, of course ... I understand.’

‘You can afford to give the money away,’ Worthington said bitterly. ‘It’s easy for you. You can blackmail Dorey for three times the amount you are giving away.’

Girland regarded him with unconcealed impatience.

‘If you feel so strongly about it, you can get the hell out of here. Your share is on the table ... six thousand dollars. You don’t have to come with us. Take your share and go back to Prague.’

Worthington glowered at him.

‘You know I can’t do that!’

‘Why should I care what you do? You have your share - do what you like, but if you come with us, you will pull your weight and you’ll stop being a pest!’

Worthington turned to Mala.

‘This man is a crook. Can’t you see that? He has already taken the money that belongs to you. He ...’

‘The money doesn’t belong to me!’ Mala said, her voice exasperated. ‘Will you stop talking this nonsense!’

Worthington looked helplessly at her, then shrugged in despair.

‘Very well ... then I will say nothing.’

While this was going on, Girland was looking around the room, bored with Worthington. He saw on the overmantel a framed photograph. He glanced at it, then away, then stiffening, he got to his feet and walked over to the photograph to examine it closely. It was of Mala and Jan with the farm building and the farmhouse in the background. He turned quickly.

‘This photograph ... have you got a copy of it?’

Mala looked at the photograph and realised at once what he was thinking. She turned white.

‘Yes ... it’s in an album at my apartment.’

Girland lifted his hands.

‘Well, that’s it then.’ He went to the door. ‘Hey, you two! Come back here!’

Jan and Blanca came from the bedroom. As they entered the living room, Jan said, ‘We have decided. We will come with you.’

Girland smiled crookedly.

‘You now have no choice.’ He pointed to the photograph. ‘Mala has this in her apartment. They will find it. It won’t take them long to identify the farm. They could be here in a couple of hours. We have to get moving. Here, take your share.’ He gave Jan a packet of the dollar bills. ‘Come on, we must get moving.’

Jan stared at the money, then hurriedly put it in his hip pocket.

‘Blanca ...’ He waved to Mala. ‘She can’t travel in those clothes. Find her something. I’ll get things together,’ and he hurried out of the room.

Putting her arm around Mala’s shoulders, Blanca said, ‘He’s right. Come with me. I’ll see what I can find for you.’ The two girls went into the bedroom.

Girland and Worthington eyed each other. Worthington started to say something, but the bored look in Girland’s eyes stopped him. Girland lit another cigarette and then waved to the money on the table.

‘Take your share, and listen, while we have a moment together. If I have any further trouble with you, you won’t know what’s hit you. This is tricky enough without you trying to gum up the works.’

Worthington flushed. With an unsteady hand he took his share of the money and put it in his pocket.

Girland grinned at him.

‘Relax. Don’t look so tragic. If we’re going to save our skins, we’ve all got to work together.’

Worthington walked over to the window and stared out into the dark night. Girland eyed him, then shrugged. After a ten-minute wait, Jan came back with three bulging rucksacks.

‘I’ve collected all the food we have ... there’s some canned stuff, candles, soap, matches and a blanket each ... it’ll have to do,’ he said, dropping the rucksacks on the floor. ‘We have a long hike.’

Blanca and Mala came into the room. Mala was wearing a pair of faded jeans, a sweater and stout walking shoes. Girland thought the shabby clothes set off her figure very well.

‘What’s the first move?’ Girland asked as he gave Mala her share of the money.

‘I have a hut in the hills,’ Jan said. ‘We’ll go there first. It is ten kilometres from here. Once there, we’ll be safe to make plans. I have maps and can show you the route we will have to take.’ He put the two big paper bags on the table. ‘This is pepper. They will have tracker dogs with them. Sooner or later, I knew we would have to go on the run and I’ve been hoarding pepper for months. We’ll walk in single file. I go first.’ He looked at Girland. ‘You will be last. You take the pepper. Scatter it carefully behind you. It should last at least two kilometres ... that will be enough. Now, let’s go.’

Five minutes later, the five of them started across the rough grass in single file. Girland had made a tiny hole in one of the paper bags and was allowing the pepper to fall behind him.

Soon, away from the farm, they began to climb through a forest of firs. The tree-studded, rocky slope leading up to the hill was hard going. Jan set the pace, and Mala had trouble in keeping up. Blanca used to this kind of climbing, swung along easily.

Every now and then Girland had to come forward to help Mala.

Worthington climbed sullenly behind Jan without looking back. He carried his suitcase awkwardly. He was dismayed and furious that Girland should have split the money the way he had. Twelve thousand dollars to these two small-time farmers! It was ridiculous! They would have been happy with a third of such a sum, he kept thinking.

They branched off on to a narrow path, coming out of the forest, and Jan began to move even faster. After climbing for ten minutes or so Mala wailed, ‘I must stop ... I can’t go on!’

The party paused. Jan looked impatiently at her.

‘We still have some way to go.’

‘Look!’ Girland said and pointed down the hill.

Away in the distance they could see the narrow lane, like a white ribbon in the moonlight, that led to the farm house.

Coming up the lane were cars, looking like toys from that distance ... ten of them, strung out and moving fast.

‘Here they come!’ Girland said and yanked Mala to her feet. ‘Come on, baby!’

Galvanised by the tone of his voice Mala started after the others. Stumbling, sweating and panting, the small party struggled upwards until they reached a plateau where they had an uninterrupted view of the farm far below. They could see lights showing at every window and ant-like figures moving around the farm and the outbuildings.

‘The pepper’s finished,’ Girland said.

‘It’ll be enough,’ Jan returned. ‘This next bit is rough. Let’s take it easy ... it leads to the hut.’

He began to force his way through the undergrowth, off the path, and the others followed. If Girland hadn’t constantly helped Mala, she would never have made the climb.

Worthington, sulking and still furious, didn’t look back although he knew Mala was in difficulties. Finally, after an exhausting half hour’s climb they came to a log cabin, set on a plateau, overhung with trees. It was practically invisible until they came right on it.

‘This is it,’ Jan said and unlocked the cabin door. ‘It’s not much, but it will be safe.’

Blanca took a torch from her rucksack and lit the way in.

The big room was damp and smelt musty. There was a table, a few stools and four bunks on the walls.

While Jan was lighting the candles. Mala, scarcely able to drag one foot after the other, headed for one of the bunks.

‘Don’t lie in that!’ Blanca said sharply. ‘There could be a snake in there!’