Along the road, since they had left Vaduz, they had passed guard houses and on two occasions concrete pillboxes, heavy automatic weapons projecting from their slots, but they had been stopped only once, and then, briefly. The guards were obviously acquainted with his guide.
Now they pulled up before an ultramodern building with two heavy steel cables extending from its interior up to the schloss. There were ten or twenty other vehicles in the parking area.
They got out, each carrying a bag, and headed for the entry. There were two guards there, armed with the usual Gyrojet automatic carbines, stationed to each side of the metal door, and one who, by his shoulder tabs, was obviously an officer wkh a sidearm in a quick-draw holster.
When the two approached, the guide gave an easygoing salute to the officer and it was returned just as offhandedly.
The guide said to Frank, 'Your identification?'
Frank handed it to the officer, who looked at it briefly, handed it back, and said, 'Go on in, Mr. Pinell. You're expected. Welcome to the Wolfschloss.'
The metal door slid to one side, into the thickness of the wall, then slid silently shut behind them. They were in a moderately large room, steel of walls, ceiling, and even the floor, which was, however, carpeted. Six armed men studied the newcomer.
One of the seated officers held out his hand without words and Frank handed over his International Credit Card again.
There was a faint buzzing sound, and the officer looked at him coldly. Two of the guards hurried over. The other two covered Frank, less than casually now.
The officer said, 'You're carrying a shooter.'
'That's right,' Frank told him.
The two guards frisked him quickly and came up with his stubby Gyrojet with its attached silencer. It was put on the desk of the examining officer.
That worthy said dangerously, 'You mean you've got the gall to try and get in to see Mr. Windsor armed?'
'For Christ's sake,' Frank said, mildly impatient. 'It was issued to me by Nat Fraser, in Tangier. Nobody told me where to hand it in.'
The officer looked at him for a long moment, then down at the gun. 'It's one of our models,' he muttered. He flicked on a desk screen and spoke into it in German.
The officer finally looked at Frank's guide and said, 'Take him up, Colin.'
While this was going on, two of the other guards had taken Frank's luggage, opened both bags, and gone through them. Frank got the feeling that they were being electronically scanned at the same time.
His guide, Colin, said, 'This way, Mr. Pinell.'
They went through another metal door and into what turned out to be the cable house proper. It looked like the waiting room of a small shuttleport. There were unupholstered benches and chairs, and a small bar at which a pretty young blonde, in a feminine version of the ever-present commando uniform, presided. There were two more guards at their ease here, and three civilian-dressed, bored-looking men, all carrying very ordinary-looking attache' cases.
The ceiling was only partially roofed and the double cables, which were attached by heavy links of chain to the floor, extended through the opening. In only moments, a cable car came sliding into the room and descended into the slot built for it into the floor. One of the guards went forward and unlocked its door. Two passengers emerged, one a tall, well-dressed black carrying a very large briefcase, the other an efficient-looking, middle-aged woman who looked Spanish or Italian. They headed for a door other than the one Frank and Colin had utilized.
The three other men, one an Oriental, entered the cable car. Frank and his guide got in, too. The car was rectangular, with rounded corners and modest windows. By the looks of them, none of the windows could be opened, and Frank suspected that the glass was bulletproof. As Frank took a seat, the guard outside locked the door and they took off with a slight lurch, climbing at a sharp angle though the swaying gondola remained horizontal.
Frank stared out a window in fascination. Beneath them were scrubby, hardy trees and massive, jagged boulders, occasionally with wiry grass. From time to time he could spot a zigzag trail ascending the hill. It looked as though it hadn't been used for years and, from time to time, there were indications that it had once been wider— perhaps a narrow road. In the distance were spectacular snow-topped Alps.
He looked over at Colin and said, scowling puzzlement, 'You mean that this cable car is the only access to the, uh, schloss? Surely it can't be supplied from a gondola?'
'Of course not,' the other grunted. The guide was slumped back in his seat, not bothering to look out. He had obviously made the trip many a time.
In ten minutes, the cable car swung into an aperture again and settled on its skids into another slot. Frank could see, through the windows, only a small portion of huge castle wall, partially brick, partially massive stone, before they passed into the interior.
A guard unlocked the door and all issued forth. The three other passengers hustled off. They left the waiting room of the terminal by one door, and Colin led Frank through another.
The steel room into which Frank was ushered was similar to that below, but not identical. For one thing, there were ports in one of the walls which evidently overlooked the cable car ascent. Before each of them was mounted heavy weapons of a design Frank had never seen before, even in films. There were six guards on duty here and, once again, two officers. Their shoulder tabs looked more impressive than those the two below had worn.
He went through much the same procedure as before: he was electronically searched, and his credit card was checked out, then handed back to him. 'Righto, corporal,' the bored officer said. 'You're cleared for the donjon.'
'Yes, sir,' Colin said, saluting in the offhand manner that seemed to apply to these professionals.
This part of the castle had been reconstructed recently. On the other side of the metal door through which they exited was a modem, though militarily barren corridor, which couldn't possibly have dated back to medieval times. It extended only fifty feet or so before they were confronted by another heavy portal, which automatically opened for them onto a vista which made Frank gasp.
Before him lay an immense area, more like a park than the courtyard of a looming fortress—a park devoted largely to sports. From where they entered, Frank could see an enormous swimming pool at the far end, with scores of bathers, both men and women, enjoying the place. Nearer were a dozen tennis courts, also well patronized. And nearer still, a fairly good-sized putting green, largely patronized by older types. There were also practice courts for basketball and jai alai. Between them were pleasant walks, extensive lawns neat as a golf green, fountains and gardens spotted here and there.
To the right, however, was also a copter landing pad, and on it two aircraft, one a heavy cargo carrier, the other a fighter, weapons protruding from apertures. Frank realized then what his guide had meant when he'd answered that the cable car wasn't the only manner of supplying the Wolfschloss.
One had to look about the walls, the battlements, the projecting turrets, the round towers at the corners of the walls with their conical tops, to realize that this was indeed the interior of a castle, centuries old.
'Not bad, eh?' Colin said. 'The Graf must have spent a mint doing the enceinte up like this.' He led the way.
'Enceinte?' Frank said.
'The ward,' the other told him. 'The open area inside the walls.'
It came to Frank that the Wolfschloss must house the population of a small town. The buildings, snuggled up against the heavy stone walls, were sufficient to provide all the needs of thousands.
The closer Frank looked, the less medieval it seemed. He could make out anti-aircraft guns, missile launchers, mortars, and machine guns. He said with a touch of sarcasm, 'One small nuke and that's the end of the whole works.'
Colin looked over at him as they walked. 'Straight down, about half a mile, are the bomb shelters. You're as safe here as you'd be in the Octagon in Greater Washington.'
'I'd hate to dig myself out, afterwards.'
'You wouldn't have to. There are tunnels leading off to exits more than a mile away. The Wolfschloss couldn't take a fusion bomb, maybe, but it could take a helluva lot.'
