The Satanist (68 page)

Snatching the bread knife from under the blanket of her bunk, she jabbed it into the wood shoulder high, and wriggled it. The result was only a tiny splintered hole and it was obvious that such a tool was hopelessly inadequate for her purpose. All those with which it might have been done speedily were, she knew, in the shed near the rocket, and impossible to get at because the Great Ram was working there. But it struck her that she might find something stronger in the kitchen so, throwing down the bread knife, she ran along to it. The most promising thing she could find was a meat chopper. But after a few blows she abandoned that, as each time she struck with it its blade remained embedded in the wood, and she had difficulty in wrenching it out.

In desperation she reverted to the bread knife and dug frantically at the splintered patch that her blows with the chopper had made. After five or six minutes of stabbing and twisting with the point of the knife, she got the blade through and began to saw sideways with it. As she worked she could have wept with frustration at the seeming hopelessness of the task she had set herself. In ten minutes she had sawed through only an inch and a half of the plank and her wrist was aching intolerably.

Pulling the knife out she darted round with it to Wash and thrust it at him. Easing it into the other side of the slit she had made, he began sawing away with fierce, swift strokes, but he was handicapped by having to work left-handed. Another ten minutes sped by before he had
managed to saw right through the four-inch plank.

To get out a piece of the plank another cut had to be made lower down, but while Wash was still working on the first cut Mary had succeeded with the chopper in splintering out another hole eighteen inches below the first.

He got the knife through and continued the painfully slow sawing; meanwhile, she used the chopper to prise the cross-beam a fraction of an inch away from the planks. At last the second cut was completed. He gave a shout, she stood back, then he struck the eighteen-inch length of plank with his fist and it fell at her feet.

So far the job had taken them forty minutes, but now that he was able to get his hands through and grip the sides of the planks the work went much faster. Most men would have found themselves still faced with an hour’s work, and perhaps not even then had the strength to force the boards away from the nails that held them; but in Wash’s giant arms and shoulders lay the strength of half a dozen men, and after ten minutes of straining, ripping, bashing and kicking, he had made a gap wide enough to force his way through.

Both of them were panting and sweating from their exertion, but he did not pause to rest. Taking her by the arm he hurried her out and turned towards the entrance to the cave served by the cable railway.

Pulling back, she gasped, ‘Not that way. He’s working on his rocket, making final adjustments to it.’

‘To hell with him!’ Wash replied tersely. ‘We’re getting outa here while the goin’s good.’

‘We can’t. The cable-railway is no longer working. He blew it up.’

‘Then we’ll climb down.’

He continued to move forward but she dragged upon his arm. ‘Wash, you’re crazy! It’s like the side of a house. We’d fall and kill ourselves. I’ve never even climbed down a chalk cliff.’

‘Neither have I, but we’ll make it someway.’

‘There are Alpine troops on their way up, and…’

He halted then, towering above her, and exclaimed, ‘Troops? How come?’

‘We’ve been traced from England. The Great Ram told me. He has a twin brother who is psychic, too, and located us here. The valley if full of troops. They must know that it was you who stole the war-head, and they’ll have found your plane by now. Even if we could get safely down the mountain you couldn’t escape. It’s certain they’ll arrest you.’

‘That’s bad,’ he muttered. ‘Still, I’d leifer face a courtmartial than the Great Ram. ‘Sides, they can only jail me, and the jail’s not yet made that could hold me for more than a coupla weeks.’

For a second she hesitated. She dare not tell him about the tape-recorder and confess that she had betrayed him. If she did he might kill her there and then, and if she had to die she still hoped that it would not be uselessly, but in an attempt to thwart the Great Ram. Drawing a deep breath she took the plunge.

‘It won’t be jail, Wash. The British will hang you.’

‘Nerts! They’ve no jurisdiction over a member of the United States forces.’

‘Maybe not, but they’ll get you tried for murder.’

‘What in heck are you driving at?’

‘You remember the detective who came to the Cedars – Lord Larne?’

‘Yeah; but we didn’t kill him. He made a getaway after you threw that crucifix.’

‘I know.’ She strove to choose her words carefully now, so as not to incriminate herself. ‘But I told you at the time that I knew him – that he had been accepted as a neophyte by the circle at Cremorne. It’s certain that your flying out with the war-head will have sent the balloon up. After that Scotland Yard would not have delayed another hour in raiding the Temple. There must be papers there they will have seized, and some of the Brotherhood will have been arrested. Ratnadatta will have been, for certain, because Lord Larne knew him quite well. The odds are he’ll turn Queen’s Evidence to save his own skin; and he
owes you a grudge. He’ll put you on the spot as having taken part in the murder of that other police spy. The one you told me about’

For a moment Wash remained silent, then his dark eyes narrowed. ‘You’ve sure got something there, honey. If the British have bust that Temple open and got Ratnadatta it could be pretty hot for me. Go or stay put it looks as though I’m for it either way.’

His words braced her for the next effort. They showed that he was coming round to where she wanted him; but before she could speak again he gave a sudden laugh and dashed her hopes.

‘We’ve been talking foolish. When the Big Chief lets off his rocket the past will be washed out. Here in Switzerland I guess we’ll stand a better chance of survival than most. But Scotland Yard, Ratnadatta, the air base at Fulgoham – they’ll mean as little to us as Noah and his Ark. There’ll be no one left to indict.’

To Mary it was a body blow; for in the urgency of the moment both of them had failed to take into account the effects of the rocket and now, by doing so, he had nullified all the arguments by which she had been endeavouring to steer him into attacking the Great Ram. Even so, she made a quick recovery.

‘Of course; how stupid of me. But it was you who brought the war-head here. You can’t get away from that. And the Swiss must know it. If the rocket is fired you will be accounted guilty of mass murder. They’ll not try and hang you but tear you limb from limb.’

He passed a hand over his still sweating forehead. ‘Sure, sure. I’d not thought of that. Then I’d best remain here. I’ve got my gun. I’ll shoot it out with them as they come up.’

‘No,’ she cried. ‘That would mean death for certain. If you’ve got the guts, you can still save yourself.’

‘Tell, honey, tell? I like my life.’

‘You must face up to that fiend and stop him launching his rocket.’

Wash groaned. ‘You don’t know what you’re asking.’

‘He was right, then,’ she flung at him contemptuously, ‘when he said this morning that you were only a little backwoods magician.’

‘Did he say that!’ Momentarily Wash’s hook-nosed face showed angry belligerence. Then he shrugged. ‘Well, maybe he’s right. Anyways I’m not in his class. Didn’t I try all I knew to break that barrier he put up ‘cross my cabin door? No, he’s the tops. He’d turn me into a cockroach and stamp on me.’

‘All right then! Forget all this bloody magic! You’re a man, aren’t you, and so is he. You’ve got a gun. Go down there and shoot him.’

He stared down at her. ‘If I could catch him unawares I might. Odds are, though, he’d pick up my vibrations. Then he’d paralyse me before I could get a bead on him.’

She seized the lapels of his jacket and, her face turned up to his, raved at him, ‘You’ve got to risk it! Don’t you see that it is your only hope! You brought the war-head here believing that it was to be let off in Switzerland, with the result that all such weapons would be abolished and the world relieved for good from the fear of a nuclear war. That’s the truth. When the time comes you must tell it and shame the Devil. But there is more to it than that. Much more. You’ll be the man who saved civilisation. All the evil things you’ve ever done will be forgiven and forgotten. You’ll never be charged with rape, or arson, or murder. Instead you’ll be the world’s No. One hero. The British will make you a Duke and the Americans a millionaire. Even the Russians will give you the Order of Lenin or something. You’ll never again have to run a shady racket to live in comfort. You’ll be given lovely homes and lots of servants in all the countries you have saved from untold horror, and be received everywhere like a prince or a bigger than biggest film star.’

Breathless, she paused, for she saw that the picture she painted had rung a bell. Swift as ever to react to fresh emotional stimulants, Wash was smiling, and he muttered, ‘Could be; could be. Honey, you’re a squaw in a million.
I’ll do it. Yes, I’ll do it. I’ll shoot the bastard in the back.’

‘Come on then!’ She pulled him round to face the other way before some new thought might cause him to change his mind. Glancing at her watch, she added, ‘It’s twenty to twelve. We haven’t any too much time.’

‘Steady!’ he warned her. ‘We’ll be walking on egg shells and if we break one we’ll get no second chance. Praises be, I was brought up to stalking from the time I was a papoose. Get your shoes off and keep a good twenty paces in rear of me. I learnt early to control my breathing, but he might hear yours.’

As he spoke he was taking off his own shoes. Having done so he got out his automatic, tested the recoil with practised efficiency, and clicked a bullet up into its chamber. Giving her a smile he set off down the tunnel. She walked close behind him till she reached her cabin, slipped into it to collect the chopper she had left there, then, giving him the lead he had asked for, followed him, her heart beating like a sledge hammer.

Ahead of her Wash gave no sign of any tension. He was not walking on tiptoe, but after each medium-length pace was putting a stockinged foot down firmly without a sound. He seemed to glide rather than walk, and in the dim light might have been taken for the dark ghost of some long dead giant.

To Mary, as they advanced, time seemed to stand still. The only sound that broke the stillness was that of the drip of the melting ice at the entrances to the cave. Before she expected him to, Wash came to a halt. Seized with the idea that he had lost his nerve, and needed fresh encouragement, she continued to move forward stealthily. When she was within a yard of him he suddenly raised his gun, took a swift stride forward and fired.

Just in time to see the first phase of the encounter on which so much depended, Mary rounded the curve of the cave. The Great Ram was standing by the rocket with his back turned. As though struck on the head with an invisible hammer he fell to his knees. But he had not been shot.
Warned of his danger by telepathy, he had dropped of his own accord a second before Wash squeezed the trigger of his pistol.

Its report, in that confined space, was deafening, and reverberated like thunder through the tunnel. In an instant the Great Ram had squirmed round to face the attack. His eyes, now appearing reddish, flashed as though they were rubies caught in a shaft of sunlight. The second bullet tore through the right sleeve of his coat, then he threw up his left hand as though in a futile attempt to ward off others.

But his gesture was nothing of the kind. As he raised his hand Wash’s gun hand, too, jerked upwards. The remaining bullets in his automatic sped in a swift fusillade harmlessly overhead. Before he or Mary even had time to move, the Great Ram’s body became half obscured by black smoke. Rooted to the spot, Mary guessed what was about to happen. Within seconds the smoke solidified into the Black Imp.

Wash gave a terrified bellow, ‘No! No; no!’ and turned to run. But in two bounds the infernal creature was upon him. It seemed to dissolve again and, paralysed by horror, Mary saw it streak into his wide open mouth. Next moment he dropped his gun and reeled forward, clutching at his stomach. Wisps of smoke were coming from his nostrils and his ears. His near-white hair was standing straight up on his head; his eyes, suffused with blood, were protruding as though on stalks. He was on fire inside. He emitted one long-drawn scream that ended in a gurgle, then crashed face downwards on the floor.

As he fell his right arm swung out and its fist, tight-clenched in the agony of death, struck Mary sharply on the thigh. The blow caused her to stagger, so jolting her out of the paralysis that had held her rigid with horror. Letting out a piercing shriek she turned and fled.

For the next few moments she had no clear impressions. As though she had been transported by wings she found herself at the far entrance of the cave, brought up short in her flight by the edge of the rock platform. Her first conscious
thoughts were that the Great Ram had triumphed and that the sands of her own life were swiftly running out.

A shout from below caught her attention. Looking down she saw four of the teams of climbers all scaling the mountain by different routes; but the nearest was a good three hundred feet below the level of the cave. Still gasping for breath she shouted back. But her cry was one of despair, for the teams were moving upward only at a crawl, and she knew that they could not possibly arrive in time to save her – unless, unless she could find somewhere to hide.

As she looked down she saw that about eight feet below the platform on which she stood there was another ledge. If she could reach it and crouch back against the rock face beneath the overhang she might conceal herself there while the Great Ram, failing to find her at the entrance to the cave, supposed that she was hiding in one of the cabins. By the time he had searched them all there was at least a chance that help might reach her.

Two of the stanchions that supported the terminus of the cable railway were embedded in the lower ledge. Running along to the platform, she threw herself flat upon it, then wriggled backwards until her legs were dangling in space. A few wild kicks and they closed round the stanchion. There followed an awful moment as she lowered herself until she could also grip it with her hands. The ice-cold metal bit into them with savage heat. She gave a gasp of pain, released her hold and slid the last few feet to fall with a bump in the snow. Tears were now streaming down her face but, picking herself up, she scrambled along to the deepest indenture in the cliff wall and crouched down there.