Dennis Wheatley - They Used Dark Forces

`Where is Sabine now?

'God knows; I don't. But she left a note for me containing a suggestion about how we might get away.'

`Yes, Kurt,' Erika put in eagerly. `Before she went she filled the tank of the motor launch with petrol. We meant to start in about half an hour and go in it down the Havel. Please, please forget the past. Anyway until we are all safe again. Put these terrible thoughts of revenge out of your mind and, instead, come with us.'

`Thank you, my dear, for the information,' replied the Count dryly. `That is an excellent plan and I shall adopt it. But as I dislike the company of spies and loose women I shall go alone.'

`Then you'll get yourself killed,' said Gregory quickly. `The Russians are in Potsdam and they are certain to have searchlights trained on the river. They will shoot you and the launch to pieces.'

`Oh no they won't. Not when I've stripped that uniform you're wearing from your dead body and they see me in it.'

`They will; unless you can speak Russian and answer in it when they challenge you.' Gregory was standing some eight feet away from the Count, so too far off to rush him. He knew that he would be mown down before he could even clutch the Sten gun; and there could be no question about the extreme peril with which he and Erika were faced. Their only hope of saving themselves lay in talking von Osterberg out of his declared intention to murder them both, so he hurried on

`Erika is right. Surely you have seen enough of violence and death in Berlin these past few months? Try to remember that we were once all decent civilized people, and now that this ghastly war is as good as over we should cease from acting like savages. You are not a Gestapo thug but a German nobleman. It's your duty to your caste to behave like one. Only a few years ago you would have been horrified at the idea of shooting two people in cold blood. I know enough Russian to get us through, and it's your life as well as ours. For Christ's sake be sensible and let's all go together.'

The Count gave a frosty smile. `You would make a good barrister; but, in this case, not quite good enough. If they challenge me I'll shout some gibberish and as I will be wearing a Russian uniform they'll take me for a Kalmuck or a Tartar, and let me pass. Then somehow I'll find Sabine Tuzolto. No; when I've had the pleasure of shooting you two beauties I'll set out on my own.'

As he ceased speaking Erika began to plead again, but he cut her short and snarled at her, `Silence, you bitch! Get up off that bed and stand with your face to the wall.'

Pale as death she shook her head. Suddenly he swivelled his gun and fired three shots into the end of the bed within a few inches of her feet. As the detonations reverberated through the cellar, with a little cry she jerked up her legs, half fell off the bed and did as he had ordered.

His eyes starting from their sockets, Gregory sprang forward. But Malacou grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back. Von Osterberg swiftly turned his gun in their direction. As they struggled together, Gregory shouted:

`Wait Listen! You can't do this You must have loved Erika once and she is still your wife.'

Von Osterberg nodded and said bitterly, `Yes, she is my wife and I once thought her the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. But ours was a marriage of convenience. She accepted me only to please her dying father and resuscitate the family name after she had been prostituting herself to the millionaire Hugo Falkenstein. She made a bargain with me that I was never to enjoy her but she was to be free discreetly to sleep with anyone she liked. In exchange I was to have the prestige of being the husband of the most beautiful women in Germany and she would supply me with all the money I needed for my scientific experiments. But she did not keep her bargain. She ran away to England with you, and as an enemy of the country the Nazis confiscated the great fortune that Falkenstein had left her, leaving me nearly penniless. For that, and for having dragged my name in the mud by betraying her country

I've nursed a growing hatred for her for years. She is a heartless, treacherous bitch and deserves to die.'

He passed his tongue over his dry lips, then went on a sneer. `No doubt you would have liked me to die so that you could marry her. But it is going to be the other way about. By killing her I'll gain my freedom. Then when I find Sabine Tuzolto I'll be free to marry her. She was my mistress the most wonderful mistress I've ever had, and although that did not last we are still good friends. After all, I am won Osterberg, and my family is older than the Hohenzollerns little Hungarian Baroness, however beautiful, is not likely to reject such a match.

You poor fool. Gregory gave a harsh laugh. The only reason Sabine ever became your mistress was because Ribbentrop set her to spy on you. When I was hiding here she spoke of you with contempt as a poor old once-a-weeker. She wouldn't have you as a gift.'

`You lie!' yelled von Osterberg, his face going crimson with mortification and fury. `Not one word of that is true.' In his surge of rage he ran down the last few steps of the stairs and levelled his gun. From the glare in his eyes it was evident that he was about to press the trigger.

Gregory stiffened, realizing that for him the end had come. But at that moment Malacou hurled himself forward. The Sten gun belched flame and the cellar echoed to its thunder. As the bullets buried themselves in Malacou's body he gave a gasp but by a last effort of will he seized the barrel of the gun before slumping to the ground at the Count's feet.

It was Gregory's opportunity. He seized upon it. With a cry of triumph he hurled himself at the Count. His arms were outstretched, his fingers spread wide. In another moment they would have closed on the neck of the older, weaker man in a strangler's grasp and borne him down. But the wine had made the stone floor of the cellar horribly slippery. Gregory's feet slid from under him and he fell backward with a loud splash, measuring his length beside the table. By the time he had regained his feet von Osterberg had wrenched the gun barrel from Malacou's dying grasp, kicked him in the face and had the gun pointing again at Gregory.

Malacou moaned, shuddered and lay still. He had said only a few hours before that he had nothing left to live for and was ready to die, and he had given his life to save a man whom, however different their standards of conduct, he had regarded as his friend. But his sacrifice had been in vain. Erika still stood with drooping shoulders facing the wall and Gregory, now dripping with the spilt wine, was still covered by von Osterberg's murderous weapon.

Wiping the muck from his face with a shaky hand, Gregory said hoarsely, `There! You've killed a man; and one who never did you any harm. You'll have to answer for that in the hereafter. Isn't that enough to have on your conscience?

'No,' replied the Count quietly. `The fool got himself killed

only because he threw himself in the way. Although I suppose I would have had to eliminate him later. Otherwise, as he was a friend of yours he might have played me some trick. Now we've talked enough. Turn round and face the wall.'

At that moment they all caught the sound of light footsteps on the upper stairs. For a second Gregory hoped that the sound would distract von Osterberg so that he could spring upon him. But the Count did not turn his head. Keeping Gregory covered he snarled, `Stay where you are.'

Looking up over his head, Gregory saw Sabine come into view. Her hair was disordered and she was dirty and bedraggled. As she took in the scene below her in the cellar her face showed her amazement, and she gasped:

`Kurt! Gregory! Whatever is going on down there?'

Still not looking round, the Count, recognizing her voice, cried, 'Sabine! You're safe! Thank God! Where have you been?'