Hammond Innes - The Lonely Skier

The large bar room was a ghostly space of silence in the wide shafts of moonlight. I crossed it quickly and opened the door. Outside it was cold and bright with the moon. I put my shoes on and tiptoed across the belvedere and down the steps on to the snow path that led up from the slittovia.

I was in shadow here, for the platform of the belvedere was higher than my head and the path ran close beside it. I stopped to consider. There was no sign of the figure I had seen from my window. The rifugio, viewed from this angle, had a perfectly straight facade. The great pine piles on which it was built were so tall that it was possible for a man to walk underneath by bending slightly. Halfway along, the pine supports ceased and the base of the hut became concrete. This was the concrete housing of the slittovia plant. It had a broad window looking straight down the sleigh track. I could see the dark square of it despite the fact that it was in shadow. Just below the window was a slit and the cable that emerged from it was just visible. Opposite the window, a wooden platform had been built out on to the actual slope of the trackway to enable passengers to alight from the sleigh.

I was cold, standing there, and I began to regard myself as more than a little foolish, wandering about in the snow after shadows at two in the morning. But just as I was considering returning to the bar for a drink, I saw a slight movement where the pine supports gave place to the concrete machine housing. I watched closely. For a while there was no further movement, but now I could make out a darker shadow against the concrete. It was the shadow of a man standing very still almost underneath the flooring of the bar.

I froze to complete stillness. I was in shadow. As long as I did not move he might not see me. I must have stayed like that for perhaps a minute, debating whether I dare risk moving right under the platform, for, if he came back towards me, he was bound to see me. Before I could make up my mind, however, the shadow began to move. It came out from underneath the rifugio and moved along the concrete face of the machine-room. He was quite clear to me now in silhouette against the white snow of the firs beyond. He was a shortish, thick-set man. He was not a bit like the man I had seen cross the belvedere. He stopped by the window of the machine-room and peered in.

I climbed quickly over the crisp-piled snow and got in under the platform. Then I made my way carefully along under the hut until I was close to the concrete section. I peered out. The man was still there, his body a dark shadow by the window.

A light suddenly shone out from the machine-room. It was the moving light of a torch and it rested for a moment on the face of the watcher. I recognised it instantly. It was Keramikos. I stepped back behind one of the supporting piles. I was only just in time. The Greek slipped back into cover. But he was not quick enough. The sound of footsteps crunched in the frosty snow and the torchlight was shone straight on to him. ‘I have been expecting you.’ I could not see the speaker. He was just a voice and the glare of the white circle of his torch. He spoke in German, the lighter German of Austria.

Keramikos stepped forward. ‘If you were expecting me,’ he replied in German, ‘there’s no point in my continuing this game of hide-and-seek.’

‘None whatever,’ was the reply. ‘Come inside. You may as well look at the place whilst you’re here and there are some things we might talk over.’

The beam of the torch swung away and the two figures moved beyond my line of vision. A door was closed and their voices immediately ceased.

I slipped out of my hiding-place and moved quietly to where Keramikos had been standing. I knelt down to peer in through the window, so that my head would not appear at the level expected if the torch were shone on the window again.

It was a weird scene. The torch was held so that the light of it fell full on Keramikos. His face was white in the glare of it and his shadow sprawled grotesquely on the wall behind him. They sat opposite each other on the great cable drum. The stranger was smoking, but he had his back to me, so that the slight glow as he drew on his cigarette did not show me his face. Except for the one wall, the room was in half darkness, and the machinery showed only as shadowy bulks huddled in their concrete bedding.

I remained watching till my knees began to ache. But they just sat there talking. They did not move. There were no excited gestures. They seemed quite friendly. The window had small panes set in steel frames. I could not hear a word.

I crawled across the platform and stepped over the cable. The snow crunched noisily under my feet. I was at the very top of the sleigh track. It dropped almost from under my feet, a snowy slash between the dark firs. I crossed it and went round the corner of the concrete housing to the door, which was under the wooden flooring of the rifugio. It was closed. Very carefully I lifted the latch and pulled it towards me.

Through a half inch slit I could see that the scene had not changed. They were still seated, facing each other, with Keramikos blinking like an owl in the glare of the torch. ‘… loosen off this cog,’ the stranger was saying, still in Austrian. He shone the torch on a heavy, grease-coated cog that engaged the main driving cog on the rim of the cable drum. Then all we have to do is to knock it out when the sleigh has started down. It will be on the steepest part. There will be an accident. Then I will close the rifugio. Afterwards we can search without fear of interruption.’

‘You are certain it is here?’ Keramikos asked.

‘Why else did Stelben buy the place? Why else did his mistress want to buy it? It’s here all right.’

Keramikos nodded. Then he said, ‘You didn’t trust me before. Why should you trust me now? And why should I trust you?’

‘Case of necessity,’ was the reply.

Keramikos seemed to consider. ‘It is neat,’ he said. ‘That would dispose of Valdini and the Contessa. And then—’ He stopped abruptly. He was gazing straight at me. ‘I thought you shut the door. There’s a draught coming through it.’ He got to his feet. The torch followed him as he moved towards the door.

I slipped quickly into the shadows among the piles. The door was thrust open and the light from the torch made the snow glisten. I peered out from behind the support that sheltered me. Keramikos was examining the ground outside the door. He bent down and felt the snow.

‘Anything wrong?’ The other’s voice sounded hollow from the interior of the concrete room.

‘No,’ replied Keramikos. ‘I suppose it was not latched properly.’ He closed the door. It was dark again and the silence of the night drew closer to me.

A few minutes later they came out. A key grated in the lock of the door and the two shadowy figures disappeared along the path that led back to the belvedere.

I waited there for perhaps half an hour. It was very cold and rather eerie in that white silence with only the stars for company. But I was determined to take no chances. Keramikos must not see me return. And I had plenty to occupy my mind as I stood there in the chill darkness.

But at last the cold drove me in. I moved quietly, keeping to the shadows. I crossed the belvedere in the shadow of a fir tree that had crept across it, for the moon was getting low. The bar room seemed warm and friendly after the cold of the night. I crossed to the bar and poured myself a stiff, neat cognac. It was fire in my chilled stomach. I poured myself another.

‘I have been waiting for you, Mr Blair.’

I nearly dropped the glass. The voice came from the shadows in the corner by the piano. I swung round.