The Lonely Skier

'Get the rest up,' Mayne ordered.

'Wouldn't it be better to open it up?' Engles suggested.

Mayne hesitated. The lust to actually see the gold shone in his eyes. 'All right,' he said. 'Prise it open with that pick and let's have a look at it.'

Engles pushed the box along the concrete floor towards him. 'You'd better do it,' he said. 'It's your gold.'

Mayne laughed. 'I'm not a fool, Engles,' he said. 'Break it open!'

Engles shrugged his shoulders. He took up one of the picks and, setting his foot on the box to steady it, drove the point of the pick into it. It went in quite easily and when he put pressure on it, the rotten box fell apart.

It was full of earth.

Mayne uttered a cry and peered forward. Then he jumped back, the gun quivering in his hand. 'What sort of trick is this?' he screamed. 'What have you done with the gold, Engles? That's not gold. It's earth. What have you done with it?' He had lost control of himself completely. His face was twisted with rage. 'What have you done with it?' he repeated. 'Tell me what you've done with it, or — or—' He had become almost incoherent. For a moment I thought he was going to shoot Engles down.

'Don't be a fool,' Engles said. His voice was abrupt and had a ring of authority in it. 'Those boxes have lain there in the earth since they were put there. Your friends Muller and Mann probably know where the gold is. But you've killed them.'

'Why did you suggest opening the box?' Mayne demanded. He had got a grip on himself now. 'Why did you want me to see what was inside? You knew the gold wasn't there.'

'I only suspected that your friends had double-crossed you,' Engles replied.

'They wouldn't have done that. They told me everything as the price of their release from the Regina Coeli. They dug the hole for Stelben and stacked the boxes and the bodies round it. He locked himself in here after that and draped the window so that they couldn't see in. Later, when they were able to look in, the hole had been filled in, the floor cemented over and the stove put back in its place. They weren't able to get inside because the door was locked.'

'That's their story,' Engles said.

Mayne looked wildly round the room. 'It's in here somewhere,' he said. 'It must be.'

'Are you sure Muller and Mann really brought it in here?' Engles asked quietly.

'Yes, of course they did. And he couldn't have shifted it out of this room without their knowing.'

i no 'You've only got their word for it,' Engles reminded him. 'After all, you double-crossed them. No reason why they shouldn't have double-crossed you.'

'Get up the rest of the boxes,' Mayne ordered.

'If one box is full of earth, the others will be,' said Keramikos.

'Get them up,' Mayne snarled.

We worked much faster now. We got up twenty-one boxes. Each one, as we got it up, was split open. And each one was full of earth.

'What do you wish us to do now?' Keramikos asked as the last one was split open to reveal its unprofitable contents.

But Mayne was not listening. His eyes roved over the machinery, the switchboard and the walls. 'It's in here somewhere,' he said. 'I'm certain of it. And I'll find it if I have to tear the place to pieces.'

'Suppose we have a drink and consider the matter?' Engles suggested.

Mayne looked at him. He hesitated. He had lost his self-confidence. 'All right,' he said. His voice was toneless. 'Put those things back in the hole and fill it in.' He indicated the bodies dumped on top of the earth in a grotesque pile.

When we had roughly filled in the hole, we carried the tools back to the hut. The snow seemed to be slackening, but it was bitterly cold and the wind drove right through my wet clothes. Joe was sitting snugly by the stove, reading. 'What in God's name have you people been up to now?' he asked. 'I was getting worried. What have you been doing with those things — gardening?' He indicated the tools we were carrying.

'No. Digging for gold,' Engles answered.

Joe grunted. 'You look as though you'd been examining the sewage system.'

Mayne went upstairs. Joe got up from his chair. 'This is a hell of a crazy place,' he said. His words were directed at Engles. 'First you say there's been a row between you and Mayne. Then you disappear with him, the whole gang of you. Valdini and the Contessa shut themselves up in their room. Suppose you tell me just what is going on.'

Engles said, 'Sit down and relax, Joe. You're paid as a cameraman, not as a nursemaid.'

'Yes, but this is ridiculous, old man,' he persisted. 'Something is going on here—'

'Are you a cameraman or not?' Engles' voice was suddenly sharp.

'Of course I'm a cameraman,' Joe's tone was aggrieved.

'Well, get on with your job, then. I'm not here to run around with you. You missed some good shots this afternoon because you were lazy and didn't get out.'

'Yes, but—'

'Good God, man, do you want me to wet nurse you on your job?'

Joe subsided sullenly back into his book. It was unkind and unfair. But it silenced his questions. The three of us went through to the back of the hut and put the tools in the ski room. As we stacked them in the corner, Keramikos said, 'I think Mayne will wish for terms now. He does not like being alone. And now that he does not know where the gold is, he will be unhappy. He does not dare shoot us because we may know where it is. But also he does not dare let us live unless we are his partners. I think he would like us all to be partners now.'

'But should we agree?' I asked him. 'With your help we should be able to dispose of him.' I was thinking of the gun he had.

Keramikos shook his head. 'No, no. He may be useful. We do not know how much he knows. We should come to terms first.'

'But does he know where the gold is any more than we do?' Engles asked.

Keramikos shrugged. 'Four heads are always better than one, my friend,' he replied, non-committally.

We went upstairs men. I was glad to get out of my cold clothes and change into something warm. Engles came into my room as soon as he was cleaned up. 'How are you feeling, Neil?'

'Not too bad,' I told him.

'Better have some Elastoplast on that cut of yours,' he said. 'I've got some in my haversack.'

He returned a moment later and put a strip of plaster on it. 'There,' he said, patting my shoulder. 'It's only a surface cut and a bit of bruising. Sorry it didn't come off, that break for freedom of yours. It was a good try.'

'It was rather a futile effort,' I apologised.

'Unnecessary, shall we say.' He grinned cheerfully. 'Still, you weren't to know that.'

'You mean, you knew the gold wouldn't be in those boxes?' I asked.

'Shall we say I had a shrewd suspicion.' He lit a cigarette and as he watched the flame of the match die out, he said, 'The man we need to watch now is our friend Keramikos. He is a much more subtle character than Mayne. And he thinks that we know where the gold is.'

'And — do we?' I asked.

He smiled then. 'The less you know about it the better,' he replied good-humouredly. 'Come down and have a drink. We're going to get plastered to-night. And see that you get as drunk as I do.'

It was a macabre sort of evening. Engles was at his wittiest, telling anecdote after anecdote of film stars he had known, directors he had got the better of, cocktail parties that had ended in rows. He worked like a street vendor to spread a veneer of cheerfulness over his audience. At first the audience was myself only. But then he brought Joe out of his Western and smoothed his ruffled feathers. And when Keramikos joined us, there was only Mayne left outside the little group by the bar.

That was what Engles had been playing for. Mayne went over to the piano and bull-dozed his way through a sonorous piece of Bach. It was a vicious piece of playing. The old piano cried aloud his mood of frustration and impotent anger.