Leslie Charteris - The Saint Returns

Igor leaned against the wall a few feet away, clutching a bloody arm. Ivan came running up, automatic in hand, calling anxious questions in Russian.

As Smolenko answered, Simon looked over the moonlit courtyard, where bodies lay scattered over the ancient ground like fallen puppets. It was fairly obvious that Igor and Ivan had been distracted momentarily by Tanya’s shot, and their prisoners had gone for their own guns. The Russians, sheltered by shadows and the stone archways of the cloisters while their enemies were caught in the open, had won the battle, and all the Chinese, with Anton, lay dead.

“ I never thought I’d be glad to see you two,” Simon said to Ivan and Igor.

“I’m afraid this will change your mind.”

It was Tanya speaking, and she aimed her pistol at his chest. Calm but puzzled, he looked at her.

“I don’t understand,” he said levelly.

“Molière told them before they killed him — about your real mission.”

“My real mission? I’m sincerely curious to know what that is.”

“To use me until you had found the micro-explosive, and then to dispose of us and steal the formula yourself.”

Simon shook his head.

“Molière was just trying to save his skin.”

Tanya’s voice was louder.

“You used me. Made me a fool. But now it no longer matters. Ivan and Igor received orders from higher — to kill you. Now we shall have the explosive and you shall not have even your life. Ivan, go below and bring up samples. The formula may be in a chest beside the refrigerator.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Colonel,” Simon said, “but nobody gets the formula.”

“What do you mean?”

“No electricity. The movable walls are jammed solid.”

“Ivan. Wait.” She thought for a second. “We repair the wires.”

“No time. Remember the refrigerator full of fuses and explosives? The cooling has stopped, but that wood-burning monster of a stove is still going full blast. It would take several hours to untangle and match up and reconnect all those melted wires, and by that time this place will have been transformed into picturesque ruins.”

“You planned this, so we could not get the formula!”

“I must admit that the thought did pass through my mind. On the other hand, remember that I won’t get it either.”

Tanya’s face twisted into an expression of hatred. She lowered the pistol and slapped him again and again. He did not flinch, but his eyes narrowed.

“I dare you to do that without your army around.”

“You swine! You lied — cheated me.”

Igor raised his pistol.

“We have orders. I kill him.”

“No,” Tanya said. “He is mine. Go.”

The men hesitated.

“Go, I say. Have Igor’s arm attended to. Prepare the car and my luggage.”

Ivan and Igor left the courtyard by the main gates. Simon leaned back against the wall and waited as Tanya turned to confront him. Even in the moonlight he could not make out the nuances of her expression.

“Isn’t the condemned man allowed a last request?” he asked lightly.

Tanya did not answer, only waited, holding the gun on him as the ponderous footsteps of Ivan and Igor receded down the path.

“It’s usually a cigarette,” the Saint said, “but since I’ve given up smoking, how about a kiss? In memory of old times.”

“I could never come so close,” she said slowly. “I understand that it would be deadly to touch with my gun anybody so skilled in the arts of self-defence as you.”

“You never can tell,” he said.

For several seconds they faced one another without speaking as clouds scudded across the face of the moon, and rising winds gave a voice to the forest.

Then Tanya stepped forward and placed the barrel of her pistol against his chest.

He pushed the cold steel aside and pulled her body close, kissing her deeply.

“You will have to make it seem real,” she whispered. “Hit me hard, and then run. They may be waiting near. Can you go over the wall?”

“There’s a door from the kitchen to the outside. I saw it this afternoon. I’ll take your gun and shoot the lock if necessary.”

He took her face in his hands and forced her to look him in the eyes.

“The door’s big enough for two, and there’s a big world on the other side of it.”

“I... I’m afraid that is quite impossible. Maybe...”

“Later?”

“Later. Perhaps. But now... hit me after I fire one shot.”

“Goodbye, comrade.”

“Goodbye”

She fired the pistol into one of the crumbling arches. Simon hit her, just hard enough, and caught her in his arms as her knees buckled and her gun dropped to the ground. He lowered her gently, smoothed the soft brown hair from her face, and walked swiftly from the courtyard into the kitchen. The outer door was padlocked, but a single shot freed it.

Striding and sliding down the pathless mountainside, he felt a bittersweet mixture of sadness and relief. He paused and looked back up at the hulk of old stone almost lost to his sight among the moon-touched firs. Then he turned, measured the weight of the General’s purse of gold coins, which had by some mysterious means found its way into his Saintly pocket, and went on down once more for a while to the world of ordinary things.