1967 - Have This One on Me (23 page)

How long would he have to wait? he wondered. Maybe Smernoff had been right when he said he was crazy. The chances were Girland wouldn’t succeed in escaping from the mine, then when the minefield had been cleared, the soldiers would move in to trap him. Again Malik heard distant voices.

He looked towards the forest, but could see no movement. Then it dawned on him that if the Austrian troops remained in the forest, he could not risk shooting Girland. Even if he killed him, he himself would be trapped. The sound of the shot would bring the soldiers around him like a swarm of wasps and he would have no chance of getting back to the other side of the frontier.

Well, he would wait. He had no doubt, with his immense strength, he could kill Girland with his bare hands, but was he in the best position, should Girland come from the mouth of the tunnel? He surveyed the ground and decided he wasn’t.

He must make his way to the high ground above the mouth of the tunnel. From there he could drop on Girland as he came out.

As the sun came up behind the trees. Malik cautiously began to edge towards the new position.

* * *

The raft bumped gently against the bank. Ahead of him, Girland could see daylight. Fresh air, pouring down the mineshaft, cooled his exhausted, sweating body. ‘We’ve arrived, baby,’ he said. ‘We’re in Austria.’

Mala lay flat on her back, too tired, too exhausted to care.

She was streaked with dust, her jeans were plastered to her body, her hair in long wet rattails.

‘Come on, sweetheart.’ Girland said. ‘We’ve arrived.’

He slid off the raft into the filthy water and hauled the raft up on to the sandy bank. His body ached and he felt frighteningly weak, but he didn’t care: they had won through.

Mala made the effort and reaching for his hand, dragged herself off the raft. They lay side by side, breathing the cool air and resting. They remained like that for some minutes, then Girland stirred himself. Getting up, he untied the rucksack from the raft. Their difficulties weren’t over yet, he told himself. He had no idea what their reception would be when they encountered the frontier guards. He had no idea how far away they were from the nearest village or town.

‘Feel like moving?’ he asked, bending over Mala who lay flat on her back, her eyes half open.

She regarded him and smiled.

‘You’re a wonderful man. I’m so grateful to you.’

‘The civil reception can come later.’ Girland said. ‘Come on ... up on your feet.’

She gave him her hand and he pulled her to her feet.

‘I must look a sight.’ she said ruefully.

He laughed.

‘I’ve seen worse, but not much worse.’ He picked up the rifle and the rucksack. ‘Let’s go.’

Slowly, side by side, they walked up the long tunnel.

Ahead of them, they could see a small circle of blue sky. When they finally reached the mouth of the tunnel, Girland stopped, putting his hand on Mala’s arm.

‘Stay here. I’m taking a look around. We don’t want to get shot by some trigger-happy Austrian.’ He laid down the rifle and the rucksack. ‘When I’m satisfied it’s safe, I’ll be right back.’

‘No! Don’t leave me!’ Mala’s eyes widened with fear. ‘Let me come with you.’

‘Do what I tell you,’ Girland said. ‘I must see first if it is safe.’

The tone of his voice quelled her rising panic.

‘All right ... I’ll wait.’

He regarded her affectionately. Although she was dirty, bedraggled and woebegone, there was this thing about her that made her special to him. He gave her a little hug.

‘I’ll be right back.’

He moved cautiously to the opening of the mouth of the tunnel. He stood for some time looking across the rough grass, the shrubs and the sand. There was a brooding silence over the distant forest. The sun made shadows. Lazy white clouds floated in the blue sky. It looked very peaceful out there, but Girland had learned never to take anything on its face value.

He remained still, listening. No sound came to him. Well, it looked safe, he told himself, and was about to call to Mala when he stiffened to attention. A few metres from him he saw a footprint in the sand. He studied it then looked for other prints, but couldn’t see any more. Someone had been here, had moved from one grass tuft to another and had probably slipped and made this print before recovering and getting back to the grass.

Girland moved back. One footprint! This could only mean the man who had come here had been anxious to leave no trace of his approach. He again studied the print: the impression was deep and big: therefore a big heavily built man. Girland became very alert. A big, heavily built man ... Malik? Again he studied the ground. He could see nothing suspicious.

Could it be Malik? Had he crossed the frontier, knowing there was this exit from the mine? Girland nodded. Yes, Malik would take such a risk.

He returned to where Mala was waiting.

‘I think we have trouble,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I don’t know for sure, but I think Malik is out there waiting for us.’

Mala caught hold of his hand.

‘Take it easy,’ Girland said. ‘We can handle this.’ He picked up the automatic rifle. ‘Have you ever used one of these?’

She stared at him, her eyes dark with fear.

‘No.’

‘It’s simple enough. Here, take hold of it.’ He pushed the gun into her shaking hands. ‘All you have to do is to point it and keep your finger hard on the trigger. It will fire twenty continuous rounds. Understand?’

She nodded dumbly.

‘Here’s what to do. I’m going out there. You come to the mouth of the tunnel. Point the gun at the sky and as soon as I’m in the open, press and hold back the trigger. Watch out. The gun will be hard to hold. The idea is to distract Malik’s attention until I can spot where he is. The noise will also alert the frontier guards.’

While this was going on, Malik had seen Girland’s shadow as he had come nearly into the open. He could hear him talking.

He decided to make the first move.

Girland was saying, ‘Got it all? Okay, don’t be scared. All you have to do ...’

‘Don’t move,’ Malik barked. He appeared at the mouth of the tunnel, his pistol covering both Girland and Mala.

Mala dropped the rifle and screamed.

Girland grinned wryly.

‘I had an idea you were around.’ he said. ‘You’re sticking your thick neck out crossing the frontier, aren’t you?’

‘Come out here,’ Malik said and began to move back into the open, still covering them. ‘The girl stays where she is. You come Girland. I want you.’

Girland’s mind worked swiftly. Malik could have shot them both without them even knowing he was there. Why hadn’t he? Obviously, being on the wrong side of the frontier, he would know at the sound of a shot he would be trapped. So, the gun in Malik’s hand was bluff. He dare not shoot.

Girland regarded him.

‘Run away,’ he said. ‘If you’re lucky, you might just get back to the other side. Go on Comrade, get lost!’

Malik studied him. He realised that Girland knew the gun was a bluff.

‘I warned you the next time we met it would be the last time.’ he said. ‘Come out here.’

Although Girland was ready for Malik, he wasn’t prepared for the speed this giant could move. With a quick flick, Malik tossed the gun from him and came at Girland with a charging rush. It was like the spring of a wild cat. He had the advantage of being on higher ground. Girland was badly placed. Malik hit him with his body, sending him crashing flat on his back. As Malik made a grab at Girland’s throat, one of his long legs swept Mala off her feet, sending her flying back to land with a splash and a scream into the oily water.

The grip on Girland’s throat was like a vice. Savage, thick fingers dug into his windpipe. Malik was some ten kilos the heavier and Girland was completely flattened. While the breath in his lungs lasted and he knew it could only last a few seconds, he slashed at the side of Malik’s neck with a chopping karate blow. Malik relaxed his grip and geared back, then smashed his clenched fist down towards Girland’s face, but Girland, breath streaming back into his lungs, shifted his head in time and Malik’s’ fist slammed down on the Stone ground.

He caught his breath in a gasp of agony as the bones in his hand shattered. Girland chopped him again and Malik fell away from him. Girland tried to struggle up, but his strength had gone. He managed to roll away from Malik and the two men lay on their sides, staring at each other. Slowly, his left arm hanging by his side, Malik got to his feet. He looked down at Girland.

Girland lay still. It was as if he were bloodless. The journey through the tunnel and the struggle had drained all the strength out of him.

Malik moved closer. He lifted his heavy boot with the intention of smashing it down on Girland’s upturned face, then he hesitated. Why make a mess on his boot? He turned to look for a stone and found himself facing Mala, dripping wet, covered in oil, her eyes staring, the automatic rifle held firmly in her hands.

Seeing her wild, desperate expression, Girland cried. ‘Don’t kill him!’

‘I’m going to!’ she sobbed.

‘Mala!’

The snap in Girland’s voice stopped her. She backed away as Girland dragged himself to his feet. He joined her and took the rifle from her.

Malik watched them. He braced himself, expecting Girland would kill him. His shattered hand was beginning to swell, but his stone like face was cold and expressionless as he stared fixedly at the rifle.

Girland regarded him, then shook his head.

‘Relax, Comrade,’ he said. ‘I’m not shooting you. Like me you do a job, and like me you are a sucker to do it. That’s the way it is.’ He pointed to the raft. ‘That’s your best way home. Watch out for the rats. It’s some journey, but I did it ... so can you. Get going.’

Malik regarded him, his green eyes puzzled.

‘I was going to kill you,’ he said. ‘What’s the idea?’

‘You take your job too seriously,’ Girland said. ‘Just because you were going to kill me doesn’t mean I have to kill you, does it?’

Malik paused to consider this, then he again regarded Girland who waved him to the raft.

‘Go on ... shove off,’ Girland said.

Still Malik studied him, then he said, ‘We’ll meet again. When we do, I’ll buy you a drink.’

Girland knew this was Malik’s way of thanking him and he grinned.

‘That’s a date. Wait a moment.’ He turned to Mala. ‘Get his pistol.’

She stared at him.

‘Get his pistol, baby.’

She hesitated, then ran up the tunnel, found the automatic pistol Malik had thrown away and returned.

Girland took it from her, then walked to the water’s edge.

‘You won’t get far without a gun. The rats don’t like noise,’ and he offered the gun, butt first to Malik.

Malik made no move. He looked intently at Girland.

‘I’ve always thought you were mad,’ he said finally, ‘now I’m sure of it.’

Girland laughed.

‘That makes two of us. No one but mad men would do the work we do.’

He again offered the gun.

‘That gun’s loaded,’ Malik said.

‘So what? It wouldn’t be much use if it wasn’t loaded, would it?’

‘You are giving me a loaded gun?’ There was a bewildered expression in Malik’s eyes.

‘Oh, come on!’ Girland said impatiently. ‘You won’t get through without it. We’re professionals ... and we are both working in this shabby, dirty racket. There comes a time when we can forget the little stinkers at the top who pull the strings ... take it.’ He shoved the gun at Malik who took it.

Mala watched breathlessly. She wanted to scream. Now this awful blond giant would kill him. She looked frantically around for the automatic rifle.

Girland turned.

‘Don’t get worked up, baby,’ he said and going to her, he put his arm around her shoulders. ‘He and I just happen to be on the wrong side of the Curtain.’ He looked back and waved to Malik who was motionless, the gun hanging his side, watching them. ‘So long, and good luck.’

Picking up the rucksack, leaving the rifle, his arm still around Mala, he led her to the opening of the tunnel and into the early morning sunshine.

* * *

Mavis Paul, Dorey’s secretary, was clipping papers into a file when her office door pushed open and Girland wandered in.

At the sight of him, she blushed and looked quickly around her desk for a suitable weapon. She had met Girland before and she knew he took liberties.

Girland looked very handsome. He was wearing a cream lightweight suit, a blood-red tie and reverse calf ankle high boots.

‘There you are,’ Girland said and smiled at her, putting his big brown hands on the desk and gazing with rapt attention into her eyes. ‘I’ve been counting the hours. Last night I dreamed of you.’

Mavis’s fingers closed around a long, heavy ruler.

‘Mr. Dorey is waiting for you. Please go straight in.’

‘It’s sad that a beautiful girl like you should be so wrapped up with a silly little man like Dorey.’ Girland said sadly. At the same time he was watching the ruler. He had one slap in the face from Mavis and knew she had surprising strength. ‘You and I could have lots of fun together ... how are you fixed? How about the day after tomorrow? A cosy dinner, and then I could show you my electric razor.’

‘If you don’t get in there fast. I’ll hit you!’ Mavis said fiercely, pushing back her chair.

Girland drew back.

‘Some other time, perhaps? Well, all right. Sooner or later the inevitable must happen. You’re wasting the best time of your life, baby.’

‘Get in there!’ Mavis said, brandishing the ruler.

‘While I’m talking to the old goat.’ Girland said, moving to Dorey’s office door, ‘take stock. Think about what you are missing. You and I could have an experience together that would put L.S.D. off the map.’

Her face scarlet. Mavis pulled the typewriter to her and began pounding the keys.

Girland wandered into Dorey’s office, closing the door behind him.

Dorey sat at his desk. Looking at him seeing his white, drawn face, the dark shadows under his eyes, Girland felt sorry for him, but he didn’t show it.

‘Hello there.’ he said, and walked to the visitor’s chair and sat down. ‘How are your ulcers?’