When Sandeuer heard that the women staff were to be taken to the fair at Garmisch, he gaped at von Goltz. ’But your lunch, Excellency… the rooms are yet to be done.’
Von Goltz waved him away.
‘Never mind! I want everyone out of here. Arrange it and arrange it quickly!’
Because he knew better than to argue with his master, Sandeuer hurried away to obey his orders.
There was an uproar and a great deal of heated talk from the chef and his staff when they were told that they were to go out into the forest to look for two missing guests. The chef, an enormously fat Frenchman, declared he was not going.
He was about to prepare a complicated sauce and he had no intention of going out all day into the forest. It was only when Sandeuer threatened to call the count that the chef was finally convinced that for once his culinary expertise had to take second place. Red faced and furious, he tore off his white uniform and put on his green livery. Half an hour later the exodus from the Schloss began. From every quarter, men left and headed across the vast expanse of lawn towards the distant acres of the forest.
Later, five women, chattering and excited, left by car, heading towards Garmisch.
Sandeuer, sweating but triumphant, came up to the first floor to report that his master’s orders had been obeyed.
Von Goltz told him to wait in the corridor. He shut the door and regarded Silk who was lighting yet another cigarette.
‘Then I leave you?’ he said.
‘Yes. I have the place to myself?’
‘All the staff has gone. You are quite sure you don’t want me to stay with you?’ von Goltz asked reluctantly.
Silk smiled mirthlessly.
‘Do you want to?’
‘I want this operation to be a success.’
‘ I didn’t ask you that.’ Silk lowered his voice and stared at von Goltz with his hard, single eye. ‘Do you want to be an accessory to murder?’
Von Goltz lost colour. His mind went back into the past and the terror he had known until Radnitz had saved him. He turned and walked out of the room and joined Sandeuer.
‘Let us see what the men are doing,’ he snapped and strode down the stairs to the terrace.
Silk got silently to his feet. He went swiftly to his room. From his suitcase he took a 7.65 mm Luger automatic. He checked the magazine, then holding it in his hand, he went silently down the corridor, down the stairs and into the main living-room. He opened the double door leading into the hall and to the foot of the staircase.
Silently, he moved a chair so that he could just see the stairs when he sat in the chair without being seen himself. He guessed he would have a long wait, but he was used to waiting.
Sooner or later, Girland would come down the stairs and then he would have him.
Girland had heard the door of the banqueting hall ease open. It had opened so gently, Gilly didn’t hear it. Girland put his hand on her arm and his left hand touched her lips in a signal to keep silent. He felt her stiffen against him.
He could see nothing in the darkness. His hand closed around the butt of his pistol. He heard the door ease shut.
There was a long pause, then a voice whispered out of the darkness:
‘Girland… this is Malik.’
For a brief moment Girland was so startled, he remained motionless. Malik! Here? He had immediately recognised the guttural voice.
He pressed Gilly behind him. Then he thumbed back the safety-catch on his gun. The little snick of the catch made a loud noise in the vast silence of the room.
‘Don’t move,’ Girland said. I have a gun in my hand.’
‘Don’t you recognise my voice, Girland?’ Malik asked. ‘You don’t need the gun.’
Girland snapped on his flashlight. The small, powerful beam hit the double doors, shifted to the right and centred on Malik who was standing against the wail, his hands raised.
Gilly caught her breath at the sight of this giant of a man and she retreated.
Girland lowered the beam of his flashlight so it didn’t dazzle Malik.
‘You’re the last person I expected to see, Comrade,’ he said. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘It seemed to me,’ Malik said, ‘that you needed help.’
Girland laughed.
‘ An understatement.’ He paused and looked thoughtfully at Malik. ‘Since when have you wanted to help me?’
‘I owe you something.’
Girland’s puzzled expression cleared.
‘I get it… last time we parted you promised to buy me a drink. Is this your idea of a drink?’
‘Call it that if you like. I’m here to help.’
Girland walked down the vast room, keeping his flashlight’s beam on Malik’s legs until he reached him. He put his gun back in his hip pocket and offered his hand.
‘It’s quite a time… I’ve missed you.’
The two men shook hands.
‘I think I have also missed you,’ Malik said. ‘At least when we were fighting against each other, it was amusing. Since last time we met, life hasn’t been amusing.’
They were speaking so quietly that Gilly who was crouched against the far wall, couldn’t hear what they were saying.
This silver-haired giant scared her. Seeing Girland walk towards him and then shake hands with him did nothing to allay her fears.
‘You’ d better meet Gillian Sherman,’ Girland said.
They joined Gilly at the far end of the room. With Girland holding the flashlight so they could all see each other, he made the introductions.
‘Gilly, I want you to meet an old enemy of mine of the Soviet Intelligence. His name is Malik: a name that is as infamous as it is famous.’
Gilly looked at Malik with horror. He regarded her with his flat evil green eyes with the indifference of a man regarding a hole in a wall.
‘Malik, this is Gillian Sherman, the daughter of the possible future President of the United States,’ Girland went on, enjoying himself. ‘Shake hands nicely and let’s be sociable.’
Gilly backed away while Malik thrust his hands in his pockets.
‘I know all about her,’ Malik said in German. ‘I want to talk to you. * He paused, then went on, ‘Can she understand German?’
‘No… French but no German.’
‘Good.’ Malik took out his flashlight, turned it on and walked halfway down the room. He sat down in one of the high back leather chairs and lit a cigarette.
‘He wants to talk to me,’ Girland said to Gilly. ‘There’s nothing to be scared about. Sit there and wait for me.’ He led her to a chair against the far wall.
‘I’m frightened of that man… he’s evil.’
‘Just relax. I know a lot more about him than you do.’ The conversation was carried on in whispers. ‘Sit down and leave this to me.’
‘You’re so goddamn cocky, aren’t you?’ Gilly exploded in a furious whisper. ‘You’re so sure of yourself? I tell you he’s evil!’
Girland felt for her face, pinched her chin in his forefinger and thumb and kissed her. For a moment she tried to avert her face, then her lips met his and parted.
‘Another time… another place,’ Girland said, drawing back.
He again turned on his flashlight and made his way to a chair next to the one Malik was sitting in. He sat down beside him.
‘Cigarette?’ Malik asked, offering his pack.
Girland took the Russian cigarette and both men lit up.
There was a brief pause, then Malik said, speaking in soft German, ‘I want you to know, Girland, I’m working with you. That’s why I’m here.’
This statement didn’t entirely surprise Girland. He had heard through his various contacts that Malik was out of favour and had been taken out of the active field. He was aware that Malik owed him his life. This man now appeared to be an odd mixture: ruthless, dangerous and clever, but now it seemed there was a sentimental s streak in him.