“Baumann? Are you listening in?”
“This is Sherman,” Sherman replied. “How’s it going?”
“I have all the photos I need,” Cade said. “I want out. What’s the situation?”
“You can’t leave before dark. I drove past an hour ago. There are two men at the gates, watching the length of the wall. You’ll have to wait until it’s dark.”
“It’s important. I have dynamite here.”
“No can do. You’ll have to wait.”
“Okay,” Cade said resigned and switched off. He looked towards the terrace.
Hardenburg was wheeling Duslowski back into the Château. Anita, carrying the portfolio, followed him. The french windows closed and the terrace became deserted.
Cade began to dismantle his camera which he carefully packed into the rucksack. He untied the tripod and packed that away. While he worked, his mind was busy.
He had no idea how the American Consul would handle his pictures and he didn’t care, but he was certain he had a responsibility to get the pictures to the Consul and he was determined to do so.
He relaxed back against the trunk of the tree and waited for darkness.
A little after 17.15 hours, snow began to fall, and it turned very cold. Darkness crept over the forest, shutting out the Château except for three or four lighted windows.
During the long, cold wait Cade had watched the guards as they walked around the Château, pausing to talk to one another, then moving on, alert and watchful.
Now, satisfied it was dark enough, Cade switched on the short wave receiver.
“Baumann?”
“Listening in,” Baumann said. “Okay. We’re coming. Think you can find your way back to the place we came over?”
“I’ll try. In this darkness it all looks the same.”
“You’ve got something?”
“The biggest ever,” Cade said. “Give me a flash from your headlights when you arrive. That’ll guide me.”
“What do you mean... the biggest ever?” Baumann demanded.
“You’re wasting time. Get me out of here,” Cade said and switched off.
He began lowering his equipment down by rope. It didn’t prove easy as the branches of the tree grew closely together, but finally, after some nerve irritating jerking and moving of the rope, the equipment finally reached the snow.
Cade began his cautious descent. He felt shaky and short of breath. Once or twice, he had to pause to rest, but at last, he dropped into the snow. He picked up his equipment and stood motionless, listening. He heard no sound except the moaning of the wind and the movement of the trees. He had only a vague idea where the wall was over which he had climbed. He began a cautious approach towards where he thought it would be.
His equipment was heavy and he wished Baumann was with him to carry the short wave receiver. Then suddenly his foot caught in something and he fell flat on his face. For a moment he choked in panic as his mouth and nose sank into the cold snow, then he struggled up on hands and knees.
He became aware of a soft light all around him. He looked back, his hair bristling, fear clutching at his heart. For a long moment the Château seemed bathed in light, then everything went dark again, blinding him. Somewhere in the distance he heard a shrill bell ringing.
He knew then that he had set off a trip wire of an alarm. He got frantically to his feet, more frightened than he had ever been before. His one thought now was to get to the wall before the guards began to search the forest.
He dropped the short wave receiver, but clung on to the rucksack as he blundered forward into the darkness, banging against tree trunks, his panic increasing.
Then suddenly he saw the beam of a flashlight switch on and immediately switch off some fifteen metres to his right.
Cade came to a standstill, trying to control his hard breathing. He listened, peering towards where he had seen the light.
He heard a rustle of shrubs, then a movement alarmingly close to him. He let the rucksack slip to the snow. His heart was beating so violently, he had trouble in breathing. Instinctively, he crouched, then suddenly the beam of the flashlight hit him.
He was half aware of a man’s grunt of startled surprise, then without thinking, Cade dived forward, his hands seeking the man’s legs. His shoulder hit the guard’s thigh, and together, the two men crashed down into the snow.
Frantic with panic, Cade butted, punched and clawed at the invisible face. For several seconds he was on top of the fight as the guard had been taken completely by surprise, but Cade’s efforts were not enough to reduce the guard to submission. Once over his surprise, the guard exerted his superior strength. His body was trained and he quickly slid away from Cade’s clumsy hold. He flung Cade off and then rearing up, crashed down on Cade as he was trying to get to hands and knees.
Cold, steel-like fingers quested and found Cade’s throat. He felt fingers close on his windpipe, and for a horrible moment, he thought he was about to die. He remembered the hunting knife he carried in his belt. Even as consciousness began to slip away from him, he found the knife, drew it and stabbed upwards with all his remaining strength. He felt a jar run up his arm as the knife cut through the guard’s clothing and sank into his body. The steel-like fingers released their grip. Sobbing for breath, Cade rolled clear, got to his feet and peered down at the dark figure in the snow.
He became aware of voices not far off. At the same time he saw a light flicker on, outlining the wall that was not more than ten metres from where he was standing.
He turned and blundered towards the wall, still gripping the knife, his heart pounding, his breath rasping in his throat.
“Cade?”
He recognised Baumann’s voice.
“Yes!” His voice was a croak.
Something hit him sharply on the shoulder. It was the end of the knotted rope that Baumann had tossed over the wall. He could hear men crashing through the forest and looking back, cold sweat masking his face, he could see flickering beams from a dozen flashlights.
He caught hold of the rope, dropping the hunting knife, and bracing his feet against the wall, he climbed to the top. He got astride the wall, then dropped over, falling into the snow close by where Baumann was standing.
“Let’s go!” Cade panted as he struggled to his feet. “They’re after me!”
Baumann was quick-witted enough to recognise the frantic note in Cade’s voice. He grabbed hold of him, hoisted him to his feet and half dragged, half pushed him to the parked Jaguar.
It wasn’t until the car was moving with Cade, panting and exhausted by his side that Baumann said, “What the hell’s going on?”
Cade tried to speak, but he couldn’t. He was remembering with horror the feel of the hunting knife as it had cut into the guard’s clothes and into his body. He could have killed him! he thought.
“Cade!”
“Shut your goddamn mouth!” Cade managed to say. “Drive!”
Ten minutes later, skidding on the ice-bound road at a reckless speed. Baumann pulled up outside the hotel.
“I have to have a drink!” Cade said. “For Christ’s sake... get me a drink!”
Baumann got out of the car, went around to Cade’s seat, opened the door and hauled him out.
“Don’t take me through the hotel, you fool,” Cade panted. “I’m all over blood!”
“Just what the hell has happened?” Baumann demanded, his voice rising.
“Get me upstairs!”
Baumann cursed, then grabbing hold of Cade, he led him to the back of the hotel. They took the service lift up to the second floor. Baumann, still clutching hold of Cade, walked quickly along the corridor and into their sitting-room where Sherman was pacing up and down, and Grau, a bored expression on his face, sat in a chair, chewing gum.