Next day, when Malacou came to dress Gregory's wound, Kuporovitch told the doctor of his decision. Instantly the tall, dark-faced master of the ruin swung round upon the Russian. His black eyes flashed, his big, hooked nose stood out like an eagle's beak as he thrust forward his head and his full red lips trembled with anger.
`You'll do nothing of the kind,' he declared harshly. `You must be mad even to think of such a thing. Do you wish to have us all stripped and bleeding in one of the Gestapo torture chambers? Three months here has made your German fairly fluent. But you could never pass as a German. And the papers you brought with you are now your death warrant. You'd not bet twenty miles before you were halted and asked to give an recount of yourself. Within a matter of hours they would be flogging you with their steel rods and pulling out your toe-nails. No-one can stand up to that sort of thing. Despite yourself, you would give us all away. No! No! You will put this crazy idea out of your head and remain here looking after our invalid.'
It had already occurred to Gregory that if Kuporovitch were caught he might bring disaster on them all, but he had not wished to appear to be taking advantage of mentioning such a possibility as a means of dissuading his friend from leaving him. Now he remained silent; but he could not help feeling a reaction of selfish pleasure when the Russian looked uncomfortably at the ground and muttered:
`Pardon me. I had not thought of that. I see now that I must abandon the idea.'
The next three days were uneventful. Sweating and moaning, Gregory submitted to the doctor's ministrations. Kuporovitch continued to bring up his meals, wash him and perform the functions of a nurse. For the rest of the time he sat on his own bed in the corner, talking a little, reading a little and apparently resigned at having had to give up his project of trying to get home.
On the morning of Saturday the 11th, Gregory awoke about seven o'clock and saw that Kuporovitch's bed was empty. To that he paid no special heed, assuming that his friend had left the room for some normal purpose. Ten minutes later Malacou burst in, gave one look at the Russian's empty bed, then lifted his hands, wrung them and wailed:
`I knew it! The moment I awoke, I knew it! He is gone! He is not downstairs; he is not here! Iblis defend us from this madman. He will be caught! He will betray us. What are we to do? Oh, what are we to do?'
For the first time since they had met Gregory found himself regarding Malacou with a faint contempt. He felt no doubt that the doctor was right and that during the night Kuporovitch, ignoring the danger into which he might bring them, had slipped away. But nothing could now bring him back. The doctor's loss of control seemed lamentable and his outburst entirely futile. '
As Gregory lay looking up at the suddenly haggard face of the occultist he felt a little sorry for him, but he was far more grieved for a different reason. He took it hard that his friend had not told him of his secret intention, nor even left a written message near his pillow, bidding him good-bye.
9
Devil's Work in the Ruin
For some minutes Malacou continued to wring his hands and lament, crying:
`That accursed Russian will betray us. I know it! I know it Those black Fiends will come and drag us all to the slaughter. They’ll strip us of our clothes and hang us up by our testicles. They'll shave Khurrem's head and thrust a red-hot poker into her. Oh, woe is me; woe is me! Was it not enough that I should be born one of the afflicted race? Have I not forsworn Jehovah? Where have I Left the Path that this chastisement should come upon me?'
Lifting himself painfully into a sitting position, Gregory shouted:
`Stop that! Pull yourself together, man! it will be time enough to start squealing when the Gestapo use their rubber truncheons on you. They've not got us yet.'
Malacou abruptly ceased his wailing, stared at him and muttered, `You are right. The thought of abandoning all the aids to my work here breaks my heart. But I must make preparations to leave Sassen at the earliest possible moment. If I can reach Poland I'll have little to fear. I still have many friends there who will aid me. These Nazi swine cannot know that I lived there before the war. I still own a house in the town of Ostroleka, north-east of Warsaw. In the country districts many thousands of Jews have been left their liberty, because the Germans cannot afford to deprive themselves of the produce they grow; and my Turkish passport will protect me from molestation.'
Gregory's heart gave a sudden lurch. Obviously Malacou would not jeopardize his flight by taking with him a stretcher case and at that a man whom the Gestapo must still be hunting high and low. After a moment he asked, `Do you then intend to abandon me?'
The doctor hunched his shoulders and spread out his hands. `What else can I do? After all, it is you who have brought this terrible situation upon Khurrem and myself.'
`That is not true!' Gregory snapped back. `You brought it on yourself by having Khurrem send that message about Peenemьnde to Sweden.'
`Well, perhaps. But I must have been temporarily out of my wits to do so. I succumbed to the temptation to strike a blow against the tormentors of my race, and see where it has landed me.'
`Damn it, man! How can you stand there now and bleat to me that the risk you must have known you were taking was not worth while? Between us we have succeeded beyond our wildest hopes. Tens of thousands of your people have died without the chance to avenge themselves on a single Nazi. If we have to give our lives that's a small price to pay for the destruction of Peenemьnde.'
`But I do not want to die,' Malacou wailed, beginning to wring his hands again. `I have work to do; work of great importance. That I must leave you here distresses me greatly. But why should I stay here to be tortured and murdered with you when I still have a chance to escape?'
As Gregory could not yet even move from his bed he needed no telling that his only possible chance of saving his own life lay in persuading the doctor to remain at Sassen. If Malacou left it was certain that he would take Tarik, as well as Khurrem, with him. That meant that if Kuporovitch succeeded in getting away and the Nazis did not arrive to find the long sought Major Bodenstein abandoned there, he would suffer a lingering death from thirst and starvation. He wondered grimly how Kuporovitch would feel about it if he ever learned the terrible fate that had overtaken his friend as a result of his decision to try to get back to England. Knowing that he was fighting for his life, Gregory racked his wits for a way to make Malacou change his mind. Suddenly one came to him and he said
`If you leave me here you are going to die anyhow. I'll see to that. By telling me of your plan to go to Poland you've played into my hands. Directly the Gestapo boys get here I'll tell them where you've gone.'
Malacou's dark face paled. `No! No!' he gasped. `You wouldn't do that. Think of all I have done for you.'
`What you've done won't cut much ice if you leave me here to die of starvation.'
A sudden evil gleam showed in the doctor's black eyes and he shook his head. `You forget that you are at my mercy. I'd have no difficulty in seeing to it that you were dead before the Nazis got here.'
At this checkmating of his threat Gregory drew in a sharp breath. Then he exclaimed, `So you'd go to those lengths, eh? To save yourself you'd even murder a man who is your ally?'