Dennis Wheatley - The Forbidden Territory

“Be careful I beg, Barina , be careful, pray — it might go off, the little gun — I have a use for both my ears, point it the other way.”

“It will go off, Rakov — if you do not do just what I say.” She stood in the doorway of the inner room — he upon the far side by the wall. “Hands above your head, Rakov, and turn your face to the wall.” She nodded approval as he obeyed her order. “Listen now — if you so much as move your head the bullets will come crashing into that ugly curved back of yours. This door remains open, and I will shoot you for the dog you are.”

A movement at her side made her turn quickly — it was Rex, appearing from the cupboard.

“Great stuff,” he said, with his jolly laugh. “Netted the whole party. I’ll attend to this bum”; he walked over to Rakov.

The peasant swung round, his small eyes lit with the terror of death, he wrung his knobbly hands. “Mercy, master, mercy,” he pleaded. “I have a family, little ones — they will starve. I am an old man.”

“What about the horses?” asked Rex, in halting Russian.

“Yes, master, the best — and I should only ask a little price — less, much less than before; also you shall have my sleigh.” He trembled as he eagerly spread out his greedy hands.

“No,” said Marie Lou, decisively. “He would play us some trick. Deal with him as with the others.”

“What you say goes,” Rex agreed, with a smile. “Come here, you.” He seized the whining Rakov by the collar, and threw him face down on the bed. Kneeling on the peasant’s back, he tied his hands behind him with a scarf, and gagged him with a towel. His feet he secured with the man’s own belt. Then, picking him up bodily, he thrust him under the bed.

“What of the others,” asked Marie Lou, anxiously.

“Easy money. While they were giving you the once over down here, we made a sand-bag out of some sacking and your box of nails. De Richleau coshed ’em as they put their heads through the trap, and I drew ’em in. They’re trussed up now all swell and dandy.”

“Mademoiselle, my congratulations.” It was the Duke who had joined them. “As I speak Russian I was able to appreciate every word of that exciting conversation; your presence of mind was beyond all praise.”

The dimple on Marie Lou’s little chin deepened as she smiled. “It was a difficult moment, Monsieur, when the man of the Ogpu decided to go up. I feared that you would shoot. He was a brave one, that — or foolish!”

“Guess he thought he’d found our hide-out, but reckoned the birds had flown,” Rex laughed.

“Our danger is not over, Monsieur,” said Marie Lou, seriously. “If Rakov has spoken of me at the police office, others will follow when these do not return.”

De Richleau nodded. “Mademoiselle is right, we must leave immediately.”

“What of your wounded friend?” she asked.

“We must take him with us,” the Duke replied. “Poor Simon, it will cause him much pain, but it is the only thing to do. I dread to wake him — he has slept soundly through all this.”

Marie Lou shivered slightly. “It is terrible — two wounded men, and no shelter but the woods.”

“Let’s think a bit,” said Rex. “The Duke and I can manage someway. It’s Simon who’s the jamb. Can’t you think of some folks who’d take him in — a lonely farm, maybe. We’d cash up handsome if they’d do it. Then we’d come back and pick him up when he’s able to move round a bit again.”

“I would do it gladly, Monsieur, if it were possible — but it is not. No one would take that risk — it is too dangerous, and I, myself, shall soon be sought for by the police.”

“It is as I feared, Mademoiselle,” De Richleau said, sadly. “We have brought misfortune upon you. After what has happened tonight you are forced to leave your home because of us.”

She shook her head. “No, you are not to blame. I knew quite well the risk I ran — but ever since I can remember I have had a feeling of waiting — waiting for something to happen. I knew that I should not grow to be an old woman among these forest here. It may be that we shall die — it may be the beginning of a new life for me, who can tell — but I am not sorry, I am glad. It is, I think,” she smiled, “the second chapter in the fairy story of the Princess Marie Lou.”

“I think you’re just marvellous,” Rex grinned. “Things aren’t so almighty wonderful with us at the moment — but they might be a darn sight worse. We’ll get out of this jamb yet — someway!”

De Richleau unthinkingly shrugged his shoulders; the sudden pain made him grimace. “I wish I was so optimistic as you, my friend. Living in the woods in the depths of winter will play the devil with my old bones. How we shall keep from freezing to death, I cannot think.”

“We’ll take every covering we can lay our hands on,” said Rex. “We’ll be all right if only we can throw the cops off our trail.” He yawned, loudly. “Lord, I guess I never knew what it was to be so tired.”

“Which direction do you suggest?” asked the Duke.

“North — just as far as we can hike it. It’s ten grand to a single greenback that they’ll figure we’re beating it back to Tobolsk and the steam-wagons!”

“That was our argument before,” said De Richleau, slowly. “We might have been successful had it not been that Leshkin knew you were after the jewels. Now we have no sleigh, and Simon cannot be moved more than a few miles in any direction. I am for doing the unexpected; let us stay in the heart of danger, while they are beating the country on every side. Mademoiselle, do you not know a cave, or some place in the forest near here where we could hide. We can take food for several days.”

“No, Monsieur, there are no caves, and the forest, as you know, has little undergrowth.”

“Wait!” exclaimed the Duke. “I have it, the Château! They will never dream that we shall return there, where we faced so much danger — there must be a hundred places in the ruins where we can hide.”

“That’s a great idea,” Rex nodded. “Leshkin and the boys’ll be back in the town or the air-park long ago. That is, what’s left of them.”

“You agree, Mademoiselle?” De Richleau asked, eagerly. “I value your advice.”

“Monsieur le Duc has reason,” she smiled. “I know every corner of those ruins — there are many places that are easy of defence, and there will be shelter for the little one.”

“Come then.” The Duke looked round quickly. “Every scrap of food must go with us — also all the warm clothes that we can carry. Bring down the haversacks from the loft, Rex; also the arms and any ammunition you can find on those men. Let Simon sleep until the last moment I will assist Mademoiselle.”

Marie Lou began at once to strip her bed, and spread out the blankets to make bundles. Unfortunately her food supply was very limited, but the iron rations in the haversacks remained practically untouched. She produced quite a number of furs and rugs. De Richleau insisted that they could not have too many, as the cold would prove almost as dangerous as the enemy.

Simon was lowered gently from the loft — the morphia had dulled his pain, but his face was deadly white — his eyes bloodshot and haggard. They laid him on the divan while they made their final arrangements.

“Now, Mademoiselle,” said De Richleau. “If you are ready, we will start.”

She looked sadly round her little home, running her hand over the shelf of books. “We cannot take anything that is not necessary, I am afraid,” added the Duke, gently.

She nodded, unhooking from the wall as she did so a large abacus, painted in many colours.

“Say, what’s that thing?” asked Rex. “Looks like the beads I used to count on when I was a kid.”