The Lonely Skier

I nodded. 'Perfectly clear,' I assured him. The thought of action had sobered me up.

But he wasn't satisfied. He had me repeat them over to him. When I had finished, he lay back on the bed and drew a blanket over himself. 'Now sit there and listen for the others to come tombed,' he said. 'Who's still down there — Joe and Mayne? Right. Wake me half 199 an hour after the last of them has come to bed. And don't fall asleep.'

'I won't, 'I said.

'One other thing,' he added as he settled himself. 'If you can't get through to Trieste, try Udine or any town where we've got troops and persuade the garrison commander to take action. I don't want Keramikos to slip through our ringers. He did us a lot of damage in Greece and he's probably hand-in-glove with ELAS.'

'Don't worry,' I said. 'I'll get through to someone.'

'Good!' he said. And within a few minutes he was asleep. He was like that — always able to sleep when he wanted to.

It must have been about half an hour later that Joe and Mayne came up together. They sounded talkative and drunk. Their footsteps stopped at the head of the stairs by Mayne's door. It was Mayne who was talking and the touch of Irish brogue in his speech was more pronounced than usual. At length they wished each other good-night. Mayne's door closed. Joe's footsteps wavered along the corridor. He went into his room and I heard him sit down on his bed with a grunt. He remained there for some time. At length he began to move about again. Then the springs of the bed creaked. He grunted for a moment as he settled himself and then began to snore. I glanced at my watch. It was just after midnight.

I got up then and, unlocking the door, opened it a fraction. The naked electric light bulb burned in the corridor. The stairs were a dark pit. All was very silent.

I closed the door and sat down in my chair again. I began to feel sleepy. I kept on glancing at my watch. The minutes ticked by incredibly slowly.

But at last the half-hour was up and I woke Engles. He looked at his watch and was wide awake in the instant. 'Thanks,' he said and put on his windbreaker and gloves. Then he opened the little casement window and, supporting himself on a chair, began to wriggle through, feet first. When all but his head and shoulders were through and he was supporting himself on his elbows he said, 'Stick by the telephone at Tre Croci, will you, Neil. I'll ring you there as soon as I get into Cortina.'

'I will,' I said.'Good luck!'

He nodded and dropped from sight.

I looked out of the window then and saw him sprawled in a drift of snow. He got to his feet and waded through the snow to one of the tables. He felt about in the snow and pulled out the pick he had dropped. He looked up then and raised his hand. His face looked white and set in the moonlight. He crossed the belvedere and disappeared from sight round the back of the hut.

I set my door ajar and looked down the length of the corridor. And at that moment Aldo popped his head out of Valdini's old room. It shone baldly in the naked light. He looked like a clown as he peered quickly left and right along the corridor. Then he slipped out and vanished into the black void of the staircase on stockinged feet.

CHAPTER NINE COL DA VARDA IN FLAMES

Having seen Aldo come out of the room in which Carla was imprisoned, I half expected her to emerge at any moment But the corridor remained empty. It seemed a long time that I remained there with my eye to the crack through which a cold draught came. But it was only three minutes by my watch before the second door from the end was suddenly thrown open and Keramikos rushed out. He was fully clothed even to ski boots which clattered noisily on the boards as he dived down the stairs.

As soon as he was out of sight, I went into Joe's room. The noise had not wakened him. He was snoring peacefully, his face to the wall and his mouth open. I flung open the window and leaned out with the water jug in my hand. The facade of the hut was brilliantly lit in the moonlight. I swung the jug with my arm straight and pitched it just beyond the machine-room so that Engles could not fail to see it from the doorway.

He appeared at once. He had his skis on, but he did not leave at once. He came round to the front of the concrete housing and slipped his right ski along the wall, for all the world as though he were measuring the frontage as Valdini had done. Then he turned quickly and, with a flick of his sticks, he was off down the slalom run. A shot rang out from beneath the hut. I stayed at the window, keeping an eye on my watch, the second-hand of which was quite visible in the moonlight. Just eighty-five seconds after Engles had disappeared into the dark band of the trees, Keramikos started down the slalom run after him. And from the speed at which he took the first slope and the way he handled his sticks, I guessed him to be a pretty good skier.

I closed the window then. Joe hadn't stirred. I opened his door and glanced quickly out to see whether the corridor was clear. And at that moment Carla's head appeared — not out of the door of Valdini's room, but up the stairs. She was carrying a heavy can. I pulled my head back then and listened, waiting for her to go back into Valdini's room.

A board creaked. There was silence for a moment.

Then I heard the burble of liquid being poured out of a can. It was the sound a petrol can makes whilst being emptied. I took a chance on her seeing me and looked out. She was bent low, pouring liquid from the can on to the floor outside Mayne's door. It was petrol. I could smell it, even though I was at the opposite end of the corridor. And as I realised this, I knew what she was going to do.

I stepped out into the corridor then. She looked up at the sound of my slippers on the boards, but she did not stop pouring. The liquid was streaming under the door of Mayne's room. 'Don't be a fool!' I said. 'You can't do that.'

She laid the can on its side and straightened herself. She had a box of matches in her hand. Her face looked white and strained and there were dark bruises on either side of her mouth where a gag had been. She didn't seem very steady, for she leaned against the wall for support. Her eyes stared at me wildly down the length of the corridor, 'I cannot — no?' She fumbled for a match and backed to the stairs. Then she struck it viciously and held it up. 'Then you watch,' she said. And she tossed the burning match lightly into the pool of petrol. It went up with a roar. In an instant the whole far end of the corridor was a sheet of flame.

Carla had disappeared down the stairs. I dived back into Joe's room and dragged him from his bed. 'Go away,' he grunted as he hit the floor. 'Not the time for damn-fool tricks. Oh, my head!'

I slapped him across the face. 'Wake up!' I shouted at him. 'The place is on fire.'

'Uh?' He opened his eyes and shook his head so that his cheeks quivered. 'Wadidyousay?'

'Fire!' I yelled at him.

'Eh? What?' He sat up and regarded me with bleary eyes. 'Aren't trying to be funny by any chance, old man?'

'For God's sake!' I said. 'Can't you hear it?'

'There's a sort of roaring in my ears. Blood pressure. Always get it after drinking too much.' Then he began sniffing. 'By God! You're right. There is a fire."