Silhouette in Scarlet - Elizabeth Peters [74]
The order was directed at Hans, but that unfortunate innocent was still hopelessly entangled in the folds of his sweater. His pale blue eyes peered over it with vague wonder.
Rudi and Willy carried Max. They were all looking groggy. The combination of beer and dope hadn’t knocked them out, but it had slowed their reflexes just enough to make the crazy plan feasible. Urged by guns and exhortations, the procession made its way to the hut in the trees. It took John only a few seconds to open the padlock, with the heavy needles in my pocket sewing kit. He bundled the prisoners inside and snapped the lock. Then, for the first time, he addressed me.
‘Where is Gus?’
‘The barn. I thought you were supposed to look for him.’
‘I had too many other things to do last night. Besides, I knew you wouldn’t take my word for it.’
He had a point. I said, ‘Hadn’t we better collect the rest of the artillery?’
‘Yes, right. We can’t carry that lot around; it’s too bulky. Over the cliff?’
‘Sounds good to me – ’ I broke off with a gulp. The figure looming up in front of me looked like an ambulatory tree trunk, featureless against the lighter grey of the open pasture beyond.
‘Vicky! Thank heaven, you are all right I heard you scream; I thought . . .’ Leif held out his arms. I stayed where I was.
‘Put your hands up, Hasseltine,’ John said, edging away.
‘Don’t be afraid.’ Leif’s voice was contemptuous. ‘I would not risk myself for you, but I am happy you have succeeded. Now I can take my brother to a doctor. Come, let us return to the house.’
Not unnaturally, he kept an eye on John’s gun, turning as the latter continued to move sideways. The muzzle of the weapon stayed fixed on Leif’s chest, and he said impatiently, ‘Don’t be a fool, Smythe. Vicky, convince him that I – ’
I hit him across the side of the head with the barrel of the shotgun. He had a skull like a granite boulder. The blow dropped him to his knees, but he didn’t flatten out until John had pounded him a few more times, with the methodical precision of a carpenter driving in spikes.
‘That’s enough,’ I said, wincing.
John handed me the gun.
‘Keep him covered,’ he said.
Kneeling, he yanked off his belt and strapped Leif’s ankles. I contributed my belt, which he used on Leif’s wrists. He wasn’t satisfied. ‘What we need is a drum of wire,’ he grumbled. ‘Go get that heavy twine Georg was using, and be quick about it.’
By the time he finished, Leif had begun to stir and mutter.
‘Shall we put him in the shed?’ I asked. ‘Can you think of any reason why we should open that door?’
‘Actually, I can think of several good reasons why we shouldn’t. Let’s go.’
Chapter Ten
IT DIDN’T TAKE long to dispose of the extraneous weapons, but John begrudged every second. He was moving with the eellike quickness he displayed when the bad guys were breathing down his neck. He didn’t have to spell it out for me. We had the upper hand, but only temporarily. The only way of immobilizing a crowd like that permanently is with a machine gun. Our inane coup had succeeded because we caught them off guard and hustled them into prison before they had time to realize how vulnerable we were. The shack wouldn’t hold them forever; and the odds were almost four to one against us – higher, considering that they were trained killers, that Max might have a reserve supply of artillery in his luggage, and that Leif was an army in himself. I could picture him snapping his bonds like a comic-book hero bursting out of his shirt when he turns into Captain Muscle. There was no need for a consultation on our next move. We had to go, and stay not upon the order of our going. I had no idea how we were going to get off the island, but when push came to shove I’d have preferred to take my chances in the water rather than huddle in a cul-de-sac with Leif on my trail.
For all his quickness, John was not at his best. When we started back across the pasture towards the house, his breathing was a little