Dennis Wheatley - The Satanist

Both of them were panting and sweating from their exertions, but he did not pause to rest. Taking her by the arm he hurried her out and turned towards the entrance to the cave served by the cable railway.

Pulling back, she gasped, 'Not that way. He's working on his rocket, making final adjustments to it.'

'To hell with him!' Wash replied tersely. 'We're getting outa here while the going's good.'

'We can't. The cable-railway is no longer working. He blew it up.'

'Then we'll climb down.'

He continued to move forward but she dragged upon his arm. 'Wash, you're crazy! It's like the side of a house. We'd fall and kill ourselves. I've never even climbed down a chalk cliff.'

'Neither have I, but we'll make it someway.'

'There are Alpine troops on their way up, and...'

He halted then, towering above her, and exclaimed, 'Troops? How come?'

'We've been traced from England. The Great Ram told me. He has a twin brother who is psychic, too, and located us here. The valley is full of troops. They must know that it was you who stole the war-head, and they'll have found your 'plane by now. Even if we could get safely down the mountain you couldn't escape. It's certain they'll arrest you.'

'That's bad,' he muttered. 'Still, I'd leifer face a court-martial than the Great Ram. 'Sides, they can only jail me, and the jail's not yet made that could hold me for more than a coupla weeks.'

For a second she hesitated. She dare not tell him about the tape-recorder and confess that she had betrayed him. If she did he might kill her there and then, and if she had to die she still hoped that it would not be uselessly, but in an attempt to thwart the Great Ram. Drawing a deep breath she took the plunge.

'It won't be jail, Wash. The British will hang you.'

'Nerts! They've no jurisdiction over a member of the United States forces.'

'Maybe not, but they'll get you tried for murder.'

'What in heck are you driving at?'

'You remember the detective who came to the Cedars - Lord Larne?'

'Yeah; but we didn't kill him. He made a getaway after you threw that crucifix.'

'I know.' She strove to choose her words carefully now, so as not to incriminate herself. 'But I told you at the time that I knew him - that he had been accepted as a neophyte by the circle at Cremorne. It's certain that your flying out with the war-head will have sent the balloon up. After that Scotland Yard would not have delayed another hour in raiding the Temple. There must be papers there they will have seized, and some of the Brotherhood will have been arrested. Ratnadatta will have been, for certain, because Lord Larne knew him quite well. The odds are he'll turn Queen's Evidence to save his own skin; and he owes you a grudge. He'll put you on the spot as having taken part in the murder of that other police spy. The one you told me about.'

For a moment Wash remained silent, then his dark eyes narrowed. 'You've sure got something there, honey. If the British have bust that Temple open and got Ratnadatta it could be pretty hot for me. Go or stay put it looks as though I'm for it either way.'

His words braced her for her next effort. They showed that he was coming round to where she wanted him; but before she could speak again he gave a sudden laugh and dashed her hopes.

'We've been talking foolish. When the Big Chief lets off his rocket the past will be washed out. Here in Switzerland I guess we'll stand a better chance of survival than most. But Scotland Yard, Ratnadatta, the air base at Fulgoham - they'll mean as little to us as Noah and his Ark. There'll be no one left to indict.'

To Mary it was a body blow; for in the urgency of the moment both of them had failed to take into account the effects of the rocket and now, by doing so, he had nullified all the arguments by which she had been endeavouring to steer him into attacking the Great Ram. Even so, she made a quick recovery.

'Of course; how stupid of me. But it was you who brought the war-head here. You can't get away from that. And the Swiss must know it. If the rocket is fired you will be accounted guilty of mass murder. They'll not try and hang you but tear you limb from limb.'

He passed a hand over his still sweating forehead. 'Sure, sure. I'd not thought of that. Then I'd best remain here. I've got my gun. I'll shoot it out with them as they come up.'

'No,' she cried, 'That would mean death for certain. If you've got the guts, you can still save yourself.'

'Tell, honey, tell? I like my life.'

'You must face up to that fiend and stop him launching his rocket.'

Wash groaned. 'You don't know what you're asking.'

'He was right, then,' she flung at him contemptuously, 'when he said this morning that you were only a little backwoods magician.'

'Did he say that!' Momentarily Wash's hook-nosed face showed angry belligerence. Then he shrugged. 'Well, maybe he's right. Anyways I'm not in his class. Didn't I try all I knew to break that barrier he put up 'cross my cabin door? No, he's the tops. He'd turn me into a cockroach and stamp on me.'

'All right then! Forget all this bloody magic! You're a man, aren't you, and so is he. You've got a gun. Go down there and shoot him.'

He stared down at her. 'If I could catch him unawares I might. Odds are, though, he'd pick up my vibrations. Then he'd paralyse me before I could get a bead on him.'

She seized the lapels of his jacket and, her face turned up to his raved at him, 'You've got to risk it! Don't you see that it is your only hope! You brought the war-head here believing that it was to be let off in Switzerland, with the result that all such weapons would be abolished and the world relieved for good from the fear of a nuclear war. That's the truth. When the time comes you must tell it and shame the Devil. But there is more to it than that. Much more. You'll be the man who saved civilization. All the evil things you've ever done will be forgiven and forgotten. You'll never be charged with rape, or arson, or murder. Instead you'll be the world's No. One hero. The British will make you a Duke and the Americans a millionaire. Even the Russians will give you the Order of Lenin or something. You'll never again have to run a shady racket to live in comfort. You'll be given lovely homes and lots of servants in all the countries you have saved from untold horror, and be received everywhere like a prince or a bigger than biggest film star.'

Breathless, she paused, for she saw that the picture she painted had rung a bell. Swift as ever to react to fresh emotional stimulants, Wash was smiling, and he muttered, 'Could be; could be. Honey, you're a squaw in a million. I'll do it. Yes, I'll do it. I'll shoot the bastard in the back.'

'Come on then!' She pulled him round to face the other way before some new thought might cause him to change his mind. Glancing at her watch, she added, 'It's twenty to twelve. We haven't any too much time.'

'Steady!' he warned her. 'We'll be walking on egg shells and if we break one we'll get no second chance. Praises be, I was brought up to stalking from the time I was a papoose. Get your shoes off and keep a good twenty paces in rear of me. I learnt early to control my breathing, but he might hear yours.'

As he spoke he was taking off his own shoes. Having done so he got out his automatic, tested the recoil with practised efficiency, and clicked a bullet up into its chamber. Giving her a smile he set off down the tunnel. She walked close behind him till she reached her cabin, slipped into it to collect the chopper she had left there, then, giving him the lead he had asked for, followed him, her heart beating like a sledge hammer.

Ahead of her Wash gave no sign of any tension. He was not walking on tiptoe, but after each medium-length pace was putting a stockinged foot down firmly without a sound. He seemed to glide rather than walk, and in the dim light might have been taken for the dark ghost of some long dead giant.