World War II Thriller Collection (41 page)

Gaafar seemed to hesitate. Wolff said: “All right, Gaafar, snap it up. We haven't got all day.”

“Yes, sir,” Gaafar said, reaching with the reflex of an Egyptian servant addressed in an authoritative manner by a European. “Billy is just finishing his breakfast. Would you wait in here for a moment?” He opened the drawing-room door.

Wolff propelled Elene into the room and at last let go of her arm. Elene looked at the upholstery, the wallpaper, the marble fireplace and the
Tatler.
photographs of Angela Vandam: these things had the eerie look of familiar objects seen in a nightmare. Angela would have known what to do, Elene thought miserably. “Don't be ridiculous!” she would have said; then, raising an imperious arm, she would have told Wolff to get out of her house. Elene shook her head to dispel the fantasy: Angela would have been as helpless as she.

Wolff sat down at the desk. He opened a drawer, took out a pad and a pencil, and began to write.

Elene wondered what Gaafar might do. Was it possible he might call GHQ to check with Billy's father? Egyptians were very reluctant to make phone calls to GHQ, Elene knew: Gaafar would have trouble getting past the switchboard operators and secretaries. She looked around, and saw that anyway the phone was here in this room, so that if Gaafar tried, Wolff would know and stop him.

“Why did you bring me here?” she cried. Frustration and fear made her voice shrill.

Wolff looked up from his writing. “To keep the boy quiet. We've got a long way to go.”

“Leave Billy here,” she pleaded. “He's a child.”

“Vandam's child,” Wolff said with a smile.

“You don't need him.”

“Vandam may be able to guess where I'm going,” Wolff said. “I want to make sure he doesn't come after me.”

“Do you really think he'll sit at home while you have his son?”

Wolff appeared to consider the point. “I hope so,” he said finally. “Anyway, what have I got to lose? If I don't take the boy he'll definitely come after me.”

Elene fought back tears. “Haven't you got any
pity?”

“Pity is a decadent emotion,” Wolff said with a gleam in his eye. “Scepticism regarding morality is what is decisive. The end of the moral interpretation of the world, which no longer has any sanction . . .” He seemed to be quoting.

Elene said: “I don't think you're doing this to make Vandam stay home. I think you're doing it out of spite. You're thinking about the anguish you'll cause him, and you love it. You're a crude, twisted, loathsome man.”

“Perhaps you're right.”

“You're sick.”

“That's enough!” Wolff reddened slightly. He appeared to calm himself with an effort. “Shut up while I'm writing.”

Elene forced herself to concentrate. They were going on a long journey. He was afraid Vandam would follow them. He had told Kemel he had another wireless set. Vandam might be able to guess where they were going. At the end of the journey, surely, there was the spare radio, with a copy of
Rebecca
and a copy of the key to the code. Somehow she had to help Vandam follow them, so that he could rescue them and capture the key. If Vandam could guess the destination, Elene thought, then so could I. Where would Wolff have kept a spare radio? It was a long journey away. He might have hidden one somewhere before he reached Cairo. It might be somewhere in the desert, or somewhere between here and Assyut. Maybe—

Billy came in. “Hello,” he said to Elene. “Did you bring me that book?”

She did not know what he was talking about. “Book?” She stared at him, thinking that he was still very much a child, despite his grown-up ways. He wore gray flannel shorts and a white shirt, and there was no hair on the smooth skin of his bare forearm. He was carrying a school satchel and wearing a school tie.

“You forgot,” he said, and looked betrayed. “You were going to lend me a detective story by Simenon.”

“I did forget. I'm sorry.”

“Will you bring it next time you come?”

“Of course.”

Wolff had been staring at Billy all this time, like a miser looking into his treasure chest. Now he stood up. “Hello, Billy,” he said with a smile. “I'm Captain Alexander.”

Billy shook hands and said: “How do you do, sir.”

“Your father asked me to tell you that he's very busy indeed.”

“He always comes home for breakfast,” Billy said.

“Not today. He's pretty busy coping with old Rommel, you know.”

“Has he been in another fight?”

Wolff hesitated. “Matter of fact he has, but he's okay. He got a bump on the head.”

Billy seemed more proud than worried, Elene observed.

Gaafar came in and spoke to Wolff. “You are sure, sir, that the major said you were to take the boy to school?”

He is suspicious, Elene thought.

“Of course,” Wolff said. “Is something wrong?”

“No, but I am responsible for Billy, and we don't actually know you . . .”

“But you know Miss Fontana,” Wolff said. “She was with me when Major Vandam spoke to me, weren't you, Elene?” Wolff stared at her and touched himself under the left arm, where the knife was sheathed.

“Yes,” Elene said miserably.

Wolff said: “However, you're quite right to be cautious, Gaafar. Perhaps you should call GHQ and speak to the major yourself.” He indicated the phone.

Elene thought: No, don't Gaafar, he'll kill you before you finish dialing.

Gaafar hesitated, then said: “I'm sure that won't be necessary, sir. As you say, we know Miss Fontana.”

Elene thought: It's all my fault.

Gaafar went out.

Wolff spoke to Elene in rapid Arabic. “Keep the boy quiet for a minute.” He continued writing.

Elene looked at Billy's satchel, and had the glimmer of an idea. “Show me your schoolbooks,” she said.

Billy looked at her as if she were crazy.

“Come on,” she said. The satchel was open, and an atlas stuck out. She reached for it. “What are you doing in geography?”

“The Norwegian fjords.”

Elene saw Wolff finish writing and put the sheet of paper in an envelope. He licked the flap, sealed the envelope, and put it in his pocket:

“Let's find Norway,” Elene said. She flipped the pages of the atlas.

Wolff picked up the telephone and dialed. He looked at Elene, then looked away, out of the window.

Elene found the map of Egypt.

Billy said: “But that's—”

Quickly, Elene touched his lips with her finger. He stopped speaking and frowned at her.

She thought: Please, little boy, be quiet and leave this to me.

She said: “Scandinavia, yes, but Norway is in Scandinavia, look.” She unwrapped the handkerchief from around her hand. Billy stared at the cut. With her fingernail Elene opened the cut and made it bleed again. Billy turned white. He seemed about to speak, so Elene touched his lips and shook her head with a pleading look.

Elene was sure Wolff was going to Assyut. It was a likely guess, and Wolff had said he was afraid Vandam would correctly guess their destination. As she thought this, she heard Wolff say into the phone: “Hello? Give me the time of the train to Assyut.”

I was right! she thought. She dipped her finger in the blood from her hand. With three strokes, she drew an arrow in blood on the map of Egypt, with the point of the arrow on the town of Assyut, three hundred miles south of Cairo. She closed the atlas. She used her handkerchief to smear blood on the cover of the book, then pushed the book behind her.

Wolff said: “Yes—and what time does it arrive?”

Elene said: “But why are there fjords in Norway and not in Egypt?”

Billy seemed dumbstruck. He was staring at her hand. She had to make him snap out of it before he gave her away. She said: “Listen, did you ever read an Agatha Christie story called ‘The Clue of the Bloodstained Atlas'?”

“No, there's no such—”

“It's very clever, the way the detective is able to figure everything out on the basis of
that one clue
.”

He frowned at her, but instead of the frown of the utterly amazed, it was the frown of one who is working something out.

Wolff put down the phone and stood up. “Let's go,” he said. “You don't want to be late for school, Billy.” He went to the door and opened it.

Billy picked up his satchel and went out. Elene stood up, dreading that Wolff would spot the atlas.

“Come on,” he said impatiently.

She went through the door and he followed her. Billy was on the porch already. There was a little pile of letters on a kidney-shaped table in the hall. Elene saw Wolff drop his envelope on top of the pile.

They went out through the front door.

Wolff asked Elene: “Can you drive?”

“Yes,” she answered, then cursed herself for thinking slowly—she should have said no.

“You two get in the front,” Wolff instructed. He got in the back.

As she pulled away, Elene saw Wolff lean forward. He said: “See this?”

She looked down. He was showing the knife to Billy.

“Yes,” Billy said in an unsteady voice.

Wolff said: “If you make trouble, I'll cut your head off.”

Billy began to cry.

“TAND TO ATTENTION!” JAKES BARKED IN HIS SERGEANT MAJOR'S VOICE.

Kemel stood to attention.

The interrogation room was bare but for a table. Vandam followed Jakes in, carrying a chair in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. He sat down.

Vandam said: “Where is Alex Wolff?”

“I don't know,” said Kemel, relaxing slightly.

“Attention!” Jakes yelled. “Stand straight, boy!”

Kemel came to attention again.

Vandam sipped his tea. It was part of the act, a way of saying that he had all the time in the world and was not very concerned about anything, whereas the prisoner was in real trouble. It was the reverse of the truth.

He said: “Last night you received a call from the officer on surveillance at houseboat
Jihan.”

Jakes shouted: “Answer the major!”

“Yes,” Kemel said.

“What did he say to you?”

“He said that Major Vandam had come to the towpath and sent him to summon assistance.”

“Sir!” said Jakes. “To summon assistance, sir!”

“To summon assistance, sir.”

Vandam said: “And what did you do?”

“I went personally to the towpath to investigate, sir.”

“And then?”

“I was struck on the head and knocked unconscious. When I recovered I was bound hand and foot. It took me several hours to free myself. Then I freed Major Vandam, whereupon he attacked me.

Jakes went close to Kernel. “You're a bloody lying little bloody wog!” Kemel took a pace back. “Stand forward!” Jakes shouted. “You're a lying little wog, what are you?” Kemel said nothing.

Vandam said: “Listen, Kernel. As things stand you're going to be shot for spying. If you tell us all you know, you could get off with a prison sentence. Be sensible. Now, you came to the towpath and knocked me out, didn't you?”

“No, sir.”

Vandam sighed. Kemel had his story and he was sticking to it. Even if he knew, or could guess, where Wolff had gone, he would not reveal it while he was pretending innocence.

Vandam said: “What is your wife's involvement in all this?”

Kemel said nothing, but he looked scared.

Vandam said: “If you won't answer my questions, I'll have to ask her.”

Kemel's lips were pressed together in a hard line.

Vandam stood up. “All right, Jakes,” he said. “Bring in the wife on suspicion of spying.”

Kemel said: “Typical British justice.”

Vandam looked at him. “Where is Wolff?”

“I don't know.”

Vandam went out. He waited outside the door for Jakes. When the captain came out, Vandam said: “He's a policeman, he knows the techniques. He'll break, but not today.” And Vandam had to find Wolff today.

Jakes asked: “Do you want me to arrest the wife?”

“Not yet. Maybe later.” And where was Elene?

They walked a few yards to another cell. Vandam said: “Is everything ready here?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He opened the door and went in. This room was not so bare. Sonja sat on a hard chair, wearing a coarse gray prison dress. Beside her stood a woman army officer who would have scared Vandam, had he been her prisoner. She was short and stout, with a hard masculine face and short gray hair. There was a cot in one corner of the cell and a cold-water basin in the other.

As Vandam walked in the woman officer said: “Stand up!”

Vandam and Jakes sat down. Vandam said: “Sit down, Sonja.”

The woman officer pushed Sonja into the chair.

Vandam studied Sonja for a minute. He had interrogated her once before, and she had been stronger than he. It would be different this time: Elene's safety was in the balance, and Vandam had few scruples left.

He said: “Where is Alex Wolff?”

“I don't know.”

“Where is Elene Fontana?”

“I don't know.”

“Wolff is a German spy, and you have been helping him.”

“Ridiculous.”

“You're in trouble.”

She said nothing. Vandam watched her face. She was proud, confident, unafraid. Vandam wondered what, exactly, had happened on the houseboat this morning. Surely, Wolff had gone off without warning Sonja. Did she not feel betrayed?