Dennis Wheatley - The Forbidden Territory

Several men were playing a game of volley-ball in the courtyard, but Simon saw that Rex was not among them. They entered a long, low room in one of the buildings. Most of the occupants seemed to be asleep.

The place was furnished only with trestle tables, hard benches, and the usual big porcelain stove. The floor looked as though it had not been swept for weeks.

Simon’s sharp eyes travelled backwards and forwards, while the Rabbi spoke to one or two of the prisoners, evidently men of the Jewish race, but there was no sign of the big American.

They left the building, and entered a hall in the second block; it was furnished in the same way, and was identical in size with the first. No warders were in evidence, and it seemed that the prisoners were allowed to move freely in and out just as they liked. Here also the majority of the occupants were sleeping or talking quietly together — still no sign of Rex.

In the common-room of the third block, a similar scene met Simon’s eyes; filth, discomfort, lassitude, but no attempt at any ordered control. It was in the third building that he noticed a curious thing — none of the men wore boots! Instead, they had list slippers. He was just pondering over this when his attention was attracted by a small group squatting on the floor in the corner. Two little Yakuts, with merry faces and long Mongolian eyes, sat with their backs to the wall; before them, facing away from Simon, was a fat, bald-headed man, and a broad, strapping fellow, of unusual height, with powerful shoulders.

The bald man shook a small box that rattled, and it was evident that the four were engaged in a primitive form of dice.

Simon looked again at the colossal back of the young giant. “Could it be? If it was — gone were the dark, wavy curls — this man’s head was close cropped. Suddenly, in a loud voice, he spoke: “Come on, digger — spill the beans!”

Then Simon knew that the first part of their mission was accomplished. In this sordid Siberian prison, he had run to earth that most popular figure among the younger generation of society from Long Island to Juan les Pins — Mr. Rex Mackintosh Van Ryn.

Simon was in quandary — he could not see any guards, but did not know if it was better to go up and speak to Rex, or wait till the latter saw him; either way there seemed to be the risk that Rex might give the show away in his surprise. The problem was solved by the American turning round, and Simon saw that he had been recognized. Rex kept his head — he did not stand up at once, he played two more rounds of dice, and then, getting lazily to his feet, strolled out of the room.

Simon followed him slowly — he found Van Ryn eagerly waiting for him round the corner of the building, none of the other prisoners was in sight.

“Say, boy!” Rex exclaimed, seizing his shoulders in an almost painful grip. “If this isn’t just marvellous! I’ll tell the world, I never thought to see you in this Godforsaken quarter of the globe.”

Simon grinned, delighted. “See too much of me if you’re not careful — I’ll be in there playing dice with you.”

“How in heck d’you make this place? It’s in their darned forbidden territory — but I reckon you’ll be wise to that!”

“Two trains and a stolen sleigh,” Simon chuckled.

“Good for you! The Duke’ll have got my chit, I guess.”

“Yes, he’s here, too — in the local synagogue!”

“Holy smoke!” Rex shook with silent laughter.

“What a perfect hide-out. No one will go looking for the big thief there!”

“Oh, he’s all right for the moment — but how are we going to get you out, now that we are here?”

Van Ryn laughed, showing his white, even teeth. “That’s easy,” he said casually. “I’ll walk!”

“Aren’t there guards and warders?”

“Not so’s you’d notice them. They’ve got peculiar ideas about prisons in this city. It’s got Sing-Sing beat to a frazzle! No one tries escaping, ’cause they can’t get anywhere — no money, and no boots, that’s the bars they use in this burg; that, and one spy in each block to let them have the low-down about any little plan to frame a get-away.”

“But lots of the prisoners must have friends in the town — surely they could get out first and get help later?”

“That’s where you’re all wrong. Not a man in this prison was raised in Tobolsk. The local crooks get put on rail for a lock-up a thousand miles away — so what could a fellah do, anyway, with no friends, no boots, no money, and a couple of hundred miles of snow between him and the next town?”

“You can get out, then, if we can get you away afterwards?”

“I certainly can! About five o’clock ’ll be the best time.”

“How — er — will you manage?” Simon asked, a little doubtfully.

“Get a pal to have a yarn with the man on the gate — it’ll be near dusk — I’ll be able to slip through all right — the rest of the guard sleep most of the day. They start in rounding us up for the night about six, locking us in our own blocks and doing a sort of inspection round.”

“They will miss you at once then? That’s a pity.”

“We’ll be unlucky if they do. The inspection they have in this place would give the Governor of Dartmoor fits. I’ll leave a bundle of stuff in my bunk. Ten to one they’ll never realize it isn’t me!”

“Where will you go when you get outside?”

“Down to the north-west corner of the prison wall. That’s to the right going out of the gate, get me? And for the Lord’s sake don’t forget to bring me boots — if you do my toes’ll drop off under the hour in this cold. Say, Simon, you haven’t by chance got any food on you, have you? I’m that hungry I’d pinch peanuts off a blind man’s monkey.”

Simon searched his pockets and found a decrepit bar of chocolate. He proffered it dubiously.

“Thanks!” Rex seized and bit into it ravenously. “My, that’s good and no mistake. I guess I’d eat ten dollars’ worth if you’d got it. Now tell me about the Duke.”

“He drove the sleigh for seventeen hours yesterday. He was about all in last night”

“Did he though? At his age! I’ll say he’s the greatest man in Europe, is our Duke, and you’re a close second, Simon!”

“Don’t be silly — I’ve done nothing.”

“Honest, I mean it.” Rex patted Simon’s arm affectionately. “I don’t know two other guys who’d risk getting into this place to get another fellah out I was never so glad of anything in my life as when I saw your ugly mug just now,” Rex grimaced. “Another month or so of this and I’d have had to wring the neck of one of these fool guards, just to make life more interesting.”

Simon chuckled. “Wouldn’t have been much good our coming if you had!”

“No. I reckon it would have been a free ad. in the wrong end of the hatched, matched, and dispatched column of the New York Times for this child. Still, praises be you’ve come. I guess we’d better separate now.”

“Yes. I’ll get back. We’ll be waiting for you at five.”

“Sure —” Van Ryn moved away with a last grin.

“See-yer-later, Simon — round about cocktail time!”

Simon rejoined the Rabbi. They visited three more of the barracks and then left the prison. Simon’s heart was high with the good news that he was bringing to the Duke. True, Rex was lean and cadaverous now, but well and cheerful.

The Duke, meanwhile, had been exercising his stiff limbs. The long drive from Turinsk had been a great strain on him. He thought, ruefully, of his marble bathroom at Curzon Street, and the gentle ministrations of the excellent Max, but not for long. If it had been his habit in recent years to spend much of his time idling in the pleasant places of the earth, he had, during his earlier life, been soldier, hunter, and explorer, and the experiences of those strenuous days stood him in good stead now. At one period he had had a Japanese manservant, from whom he had learnt many things about the human body. Among them was the secret of certain exercises, which relaxed the muscles and relieved their strain. He ceased therefore to think of Lubin’s bath essence, and applied himself to these continual and gentle evolutions, much to the astonishment of the morning gathering of students in the school of the synagogue.