Dennis Wheatley - The Forbidden Territory

“What about the — er — electric fence?” asked Simon, dubiously.

“I’ve thought of that — it isn’t higher than my chin. I’ll pitch you over one by one.”

“But yourself?” asked Marie Lou.

“Don’t worry about me. I wasn’t the big boy in the pole-jumping game at Harvard in my year for nix. I’d clear that fence with my hands tied.”

“It’s a ghastly risk.” The Duke shook his head. “To touch that fence is instant death. Besides, will there be petrol in the ’planes — enough to carry us any distance?”

“Now there you’ve got me. It’s on the cards they empty all their tanks at night, case of fire, but there’s a pump to each row of hangars. If we take the end ’plane we should be able to fill up before we start What d’you say?”

“I think the immediate risk is far greater; there is the fence — a sentry to overcome — the possibility that even if we succeed so far, we may be surprised by the officer on his rounds — and then the uncertainty about petrol. In our original plan we had only the Rakov family to deal with. Of course, if your plan was successful, it’s advantages are immense.”

“Sleigh won’t take us far,” said Simon, “and I’ll tell you — I think Rakov’s wife will go to the police, in any case, if she sees us tonight.”

“Are you certain that you can handle one of those ’planes, Rex?” asked the Duke.

“Sure, fundamentally they’re not all that different to the ordinary types. The wing rakes to give them added speed, and the helicopter’s to let ’em get up and down in a confined space — but if you can drive a Buick you can drive a Ford.”

“Mademoiselle.” De Richleau turned to Marie Lou. “Your freedom and perhaps your life, also, depends on this decision. What is your view?”

“I think that Monsieur the American has had the great idea. In Rakov’s sleigh we are almost certain to be overtaken. If we are caught it will be death for us all. Let us face death now, then. At least we have the wonderful prospect that we may get right away.”

“I agree with you entirely,” said the Duke. “I did no more than state the dangers, that the position might clear. It is decided then — we make our attempt by ’plane.”

There was a murmur of assent as he produced his map and spread it on the floor. “Where do you propose to make for, Rex?”

“Due westward would bring us to Latvia or Esthonia.”

“True.” De Richleau took a rough measure with his pencil. “But that is nearly eighteen hundred miles. Surely we cannot cover so great a distance?”

“Not in one hop,” Rex agreed.

“I hardly think we can hope to land, find petrol, and proceed again. All air-parks are naturally barred to us.”

“That’s a fact. Where’s the nearest frontier?”

“Mongolia.” The Duke put his finger on a yellow patch. “Just under a thousand miles.”

“I reckon I ought to be able to make that. I’ve done London to Cannes in one hop before now. That’s over six hundred miles.”

“But Mongolia,” said the Duke, “is a terrible place. We should land somewhere to the north of the great desert of Gobi, free from our enemies, perhaps, but faced with starvation and thirst in a barren land.”

“India,” suggested Simon. “That’s British.”

“Fifteen hundred miles, my friend; besides we could not fly the Himalayas, and even if we could we should probably be shot by the tribesmen on the other side.”

“What of Finland?” said Marie Lou. “That looks to be nearer — thirteen hundred miles, perhaps?”

“Nope.” Rex shook his head quickly. “Too far north — we’d sure run into blizzards this time of the year. Might get lost and forced down in the Arctic, and that ’ud be the end of the party.”

“Persia and Georgia are about equidistant — some sixteen hundred miles,” the Duke went on. “But I do not fancy either. Perhaps it would be best to make for the Ukraine.”

“But that is Soviet,” Marie Lou objected.

“True, my child, nevertheless it is a separate country to Russia proper. If we were forced to land we might receive diplomatic protection there, and the frontier is only thirteen hundred miles. It has the added attraction that if the petrol does not give out, and Rex can make a superhuman effort, we might do the few hundred extra miles into Poland or Rumania, which would mean final safety.”

“I never knew Russia was so big before,” groaned Simon.

“I don’t reckon the Ukrainians’ll exactly ring the joy-bells,” said Rex. “I’ve always thought they were pretty tied up with the rest of the Bolshevist bunch.”

“They preserve at least a measure of independence,” argued the Duke. “Not much, but possibly enough to serve our purpose.”

“O.K. by me,” Rex agreed. “What’s the course?”

“Dead south-west.” The Duke folded up his map. “It is dark already. Let us be going.”

“What’ll we do with this bird?” Rex jerked his head at Rakov.

“He shall carry our knapsacks. Later we will tie him to a tree, and if he is lucky someone will find him in the morning.”

Their preparations were soon made; Rex was the last to leave the foundry which he had come so many thousand miles to search for the jewels of the Shulimoffs. It was with the greatest reluctance even now that he tore himself away.

In single file they crossed the garden; Simon put up a better performance than they had hoped with the rough crutches that they had made for him, but their progress was slow. It took them over an hour to reach the death-dealing fence.

They decided that it was better to allow the camp to settle down for the night before making their attempt. Simon lay stretched out on his furs in a little hollow they had found — the journey had tired him sorely. Rex spent a considerable time searching for a tall sapling that would bear his weight. At last he found one to his liking and made several practice jumps, sailing high into the air. They divided their last tin of sardines and a packet of stale biscuits. Rakov was tied securely to a tree, and at last they decided that it was time to start.

Rex took De Richleau in his strong arms, and lifted him clear above his head. With a great heave he pitched him feet-foremost over the deadly fence — four feet clear of the wire.

The Duke smothered a cry of pain as he landed partly on his bad shoulder, but he was soon standing ready on the other side; the rugs and knapsacks were then passed over.

Marie Lou was easy. To Rex she was like a baby, and he dropped her gently in De Richleau’s arms.

Simon was lifted over with the greatest precautions — to throw him was to risk injuring his leg. De Richleau, being so much shorter than Rex, the business was not accomplished without difficulty, and Simon passed some apprehensive moments while he was within a few inches of the wire — but they got him safely to the other side.

“Stand clear,” Rex warned them, and with a rush his big body hurtled through the air; he dropped his pole neatly as he sprang, and cleared the fence by a yard at least.

Together they crept forward the two hundred yards to the edge of the trees. A row of hangars stood, a dark bulk, no great distance away. They crouched in a small runnel while Rex gave his last instructions.

“I’ll go forward on my lonesome,” he said. “When you hear me whistle twice you’ll know the sentry’s got his bonus. Come over quick as you can, then this is the drill: We’ll get Simon in the ’plane right away, the Duke gets the petrol hose and brings it to me in the shed, Marie Lou keeps her eyes skinned and her gun up outside. Is that all O.K. ?”

There was a murmur of assent and he crept away; they watched his big form till it disappeared in the shadows, then they lay waiting with beating hearts and bated breath.