The Legion of the Lost, стр. 14

Chapter Six

Six People and a Boat

Raffleck gasped: ‘Where do we go? What do we do?’

‘We put an end to them,’ said Conroy, in English.

The flash of a shot from his automatic was lost in the brilliant headlights; the noise was covered by the humming of the motor. One of two bright orbs of light went out and the car swerved a little to one side.

‘Down!’ said Palfrey urgently. ‘All of you, down!’

He suited his action to his words. Raffleck needed no further telling, nor did Drusilla. Stefan leapt towards the tree-clad side of the drive, Brian went in the other direction, and Conroy fired again. There was a metallic clang but the single light remained; the car came on as its driver recovered from the sudden dousing of one of his lamps. Then Palfrey, on the ground, saw what he had expected earlier – a different kind of light from the car, quick flashes from a machine-gun or an automatic rifle. He thought the bullets would strike the drive near him, but heard nothing; suddenly he realised that they were going high above his head. At that angle good shooting was almost impossible.

In the light of the remaining lamp he saw Stefan leap along the road on one side and Brian on the other. They worked in unison as if it had been prearranged. When they reached the car Palfrey heard the reports of their shots; their guns were not silenced like Conroy’s.

The car stopped, and Palfrey saw that it was beginning to go backwards, down the incline.

He straightened up and moved towards the white post, clear in the one bright light. Not far away was the Aker, and the boat which Orleck had promised them. But if the people in the car had realised that there might be trouble, it was at least possible that the boat had been located. He drew Raffleck towards the verge as Drusilla came after them, while the shooting stopped by the car. Stefan was on the running-board on one side, Brian on the other. There was a squeal of brakes and the car came to a standstill.

An eerie silence descended upon the grounds.

It did not last long but was broken soon afterwards by the shrill piping of a whistle which seemed to float upwards towards them on the wind. Palfrey knew that the alarm had been raised, but thought of the stiff climb and the fact that no one would be able to hurry up the slope. He saw Stefan come away from the car and hurry towards him; Brian followed a few seconds afterwards. Conroy had already joined them.

‘No torches,’ Palfrey said, for Brian was shining a light.

It went out abruptly. The shrill whistle sounded several times again but was drowned by the whining of the wind through the trees. Palfrey broke through to the other side and for the first time saw the faintest glimmer of light reflected on the water of the narrow Aker river.

It revealed the outline of a boat and the man holding the torch.

‘Hurry, please!’ said a youthful voice, agitatedly, ‘or they find us.’

‘He’s right,’ said Stefan. ‘I’m going to create a diversion. I will find you later.’

Then he turned and they heard him scrambling up the bank; once they saw a torch shine towards him which revealed him clinging to the slim trunk of a tree as he hauled himself up.

It had an unreal effect. Palfrey, as the boat was propelled with surprising speed towards the middle of the river, heard Stefan bellow in German: ‘Not here, they are not here! To the hills!’

Torches were flashing towards him, but turned as he made his way through the trees, going upwards towards the sanatorium and the way of escape they would have taken, had the choice been free.

The lights went further away.

Palfrey relaxed a little, lowering himself to a seat. The others were all between him and the oarsman, who pulled through the ruffled water with a speed and precision which seemed inherent in the Norwegians. The sea was rougher than it had been five nights before, but the old, sturdy craft moved well enough.

The voices from the bank had almost faded by then, and the lights from the torches were no more than little pinpoints. All sense of immediate danger had gone.

Then Palfrey began to think of the mines in the fjord, of the probability that, when the alarm was raised in Oslo itself, the river and the head of the fjord would be watched. There was little sound but the dipping of the oars, the rougher lapping of the sea and the creaking of rowlocks. The river was swift, and Palfrey realised suddenly that was why they were able to make such speed. He took a little reassurance from that, then tried to estimate the speed of the current. He gave it up – then saw what he imagined to be a cliff rising out of the water to their left.

His heart turned over.

It was not the shore, but a ship lying at anchor, which was passed fully ten feet away. The lad at the oars said nothing, their speed gradually slackened as they reached the broader waters.

After what seemed an age, the flat bottom touched ground. The youth shipped his oars speedily and jumped out. Brian was quickly after him, and they pulled the boat ashore.

The youth said, urgently: ‘You will be safe here, for there is room to hide. It is the old monastery, of