Silk came pounding up the stairs. As he started up the next flight of stairs, Girland went after him. Half-way up the stairs, Silk heard him. He stopped short and spun around, but Girland was on him, grabbing at his ankles. Girland heaved and Silk went over his head to crash down the stairs, his gun flying out of his hand.
Girland spun around and launched himself at Silk as Silk was struggling to his feet. Silk couldn't avoid the flying body and went down under Girland with a crash that set the weapons on the walls jangling.
With strength that startled Girland, Silk threw him off and the two men rolled apart. Girland was first into action. He was half up and slamming himself down on Silk before Silk could raise himself. Girland chopped with the side of his hand, smashing down on the side of Silk's neck. Silk went out like a snuffed candle.
Malik came leaping down the stairs as Girland bent over Silk. Seeing the blood on Malik's face, Girland asked, 'You hurt?'
'It's nothing.' Malik wiped his face with his handkerchief. He stared down at Silk.'Who is he?'
'I wouldn't know... sweet looking specimen isn't he? You watch him. I'll get a curtain cord.'
Girland went into one of the rooms and broke off a length of cord. He returned and bound Silk's hands behind his back and his ankles together.
'Let's dump him out of the way.'
They carried Silk's unconscious body into the room and put him on a bed.
'He'll be out for an hour or so.' Girland tore off a piece of the dust sheet covering the bed and gagged Silk. 'Let's hunt up some food . .. I' m starving. Hang on a moment, I'll get Gilly.'
Ten minutes later, the three of them were sitting in the vast kitchen, hungrily eating cold chicken and thick slices of ham.
'I have an idea,' Malik said as he began to demolish another slice of ham. 'We don't have to stay here until the messenger arrives. We can meet him at the Munich airport. Between the two of us we can persuade him to part with the films. We could be back in Paris by midnight.'
'Too risky. We might not spot the messenger.'
'I had a good look at him... I'll spot him.'
'How about the electric fence?'
Malik wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
'We'll take a car... there are four of them in the garage, go down to the lodge, take it, turn off the current and we're on our way.'
Girland considered this idea. He checked his watch. The next plane from Paris wouldn't arrive for another five hours.
They had plenty of time.
'Okay... we'll do it.' He turned to Gilly. 'Can you drive, baby?'
'Of course... and don't call me baby!'
Girland laughed.
' Come on up and pack.' He turned to Malik. Will you get the car?'
Ten minutes later, Girland, carrying Gilly's bag and his own, followed by Gilly, ran down the steps to the waiting white Mercedes 200.
'You drive,' Girland said to Gilly as he dumped the bags in the boot of the car.
He and Malik got in the back. Gilly set the car in motion and drove down the long, twisting drive until Girland told her to stop,
'.We'll go the rest of the way on foot. When I whistle, come on down to the gates.'
'Please be careful!' Gilly said. She was getting scared again.
'Oh, sure.. .just relax and listen for my whistle.'
He joined Malik, and together they went swiftly on down the drive. When in sight of the lodge, they paused.
'I'll go around the back,' Malik said,'drawing his-gun.''Give me a couple of minutes.'
But they need not have taken precautions for the three guards in the lodge were having lunch. They were absorbed in a vast meal of white sausages with a mustard sauce and sauerkraut.
Girland kicked open the door and the three guards stared with stupefied eyes at his threatening gun. Malik joined him.
Turn the current off!' Malik snarled and the threat of his green eyes so scared the head guard that he scrambled to his feet and pulled down a lever on the wall.
It took them a few minutes to tie each man securely to his chair, then Malik and Girland left the lodge.
While Malik ran to open the big gates, Girland went up the drive and whistled piercingly.
Later, as Girland drove the Mercedes into the crowded car park at the Munich airport, Gilly said, There's the T.R.4.' She pointed to where the scarlet T.R.4 was parked among other cars.
Malik, sitting in the back of the Mercedes, leaned forward.
I'll handle this,' he said. The messenger may have seen you. He hasn't seen me. Here's what we do ...'
* * *
As the aircraft from Paris stopped at the arrival bay, Fritz Kirst reluctantly undid his safety belt. He wasn't pleased to be back, but it had certainly been marvellous luck to have been sent to Paris on such an easy mission. When he had arrived, the bank had been closed so he had the whole evening and half the night to explore this city which he had never had the good fortune to visit before.
Kirst had only been working for von Goltz for two years. He had a badly paid job as an assistant to the estate manager who constantly bullied him. Kirst was far from satisfied with his job and was planning to make a change as soon as something better came along. However, the Paris trip had made up for a lot of his past grievances, and although he had spent more money than he could afford, he told himself, as he walked through the Customs, that it had been worth it.
A silver-haired giant of a man approached him.
'Your name?'
The snap in the voice and the cold green eyes brought Kirst to attention. He was so used to being snapped at by his superiors he reacted automatically.
'Fritz Kirst, sir,' he said.
Malik nodded.
'Good . . . your master told me to pick you up. Follow me,' and without looking at Kirst, Malik, knowing the German weakness for obeying orders, turned on his heel and walked briskly to where the Mercedes was parked.
Kirst, a little bewilderd, had to break into a trot to keep up with him. Who was this man? he was asking himself. Why had the count sent him? But when he saw the count's car, his uneasiness disappeared. Malik was already at the wheel, and Kirst had to scramble in as Malik eased the car out of the parking bay.
As Malik drove out on to the main road, Kirst said timidly, 'Excuse
me, sir,but...'
'I don't like people talking to me when I'm driving!' Malik snapped. Kirst placed his brief-case on his knees and sat back, snubbed and silent.
This big man certainly could handle a car, he thought as Malik whipped the Mercedes through the traffic with expert ease. They quickly left Munich behind. As they reached the highway to Garmisch, Kirst happened to look in the off-side wing mirror. He stared... stared again, then stiffened.
Right behind the Mercedes was a small scarlet car. Kirst immediately recognised the driver and the girl beside him.
They were the two the count was keeping prisoners at the Schloss, and that car! It was the car he had been ordered to leave at the airport!
Sweat broke out on his face. He looked wildly at Malik who glared at him so evilly Kirst shuddered.
' Sit still and keep quiet!' Malik snarled.
Some way down the busy highway, there was a left turn: a narrow country road leading to a distant farmhouse. Malik slowed, swung the car down the road, drove until he reached a bend that would put the car out of sight from the highway and pulled up.
