‘Why don’t you just kill him now and get it over with?’ I said angrily. ‘This cat-and-mouse nonsense – ’
‘Keep your suggestions to yourself,’ John said.
‘We must make sure he has not tricked us,’ Max explained. ‘I promised him a pleasant death if he would cooperate. I will keep my word, but if he has deceived me . . .’
‘That does it,’ John announced. Picking up the heavy frying pan, he tossed it into the sink with a theatrical gesture. ‘I’ve had it. No more Mr Nice Guy. No more cooking, no more delectable dishes – ’
‘Thank heaven for that,’ Max said, poking at the shreds of burned egg. ‘Come. To work.’
THERE WAS A purposefuless to Max’s procedures that morning that had been lacking before. Until I saw what he could do in the way of organization. I did not fully realize how uncharacteristically indecisive his earlier actions had been. For the past twenty-four hours he had just been marking time. If he hadn’t known it before, one look at the pasture would have told him that random digging was no use. I could think of several reasons why he had been willing to waste time, and I didn’t like any of them. I disliked his brisk, angry efficiency even more. Today was the day. If John’s revelations turned out to be a red herring, Max would pack it up and leave – after he had finished his other business. We had at the most about twelve hours.
John had reached the same conclusion. His seemingly erratic behaviour had one purpose – delay. He was hoping for darkness – twilight, rather – before making his attempt to escape. I was pessimistic about his chances. Twelve hours is a long time.
Nagged by Max, Georg collected the equipment he proposed to use. It wasn’t impressive; the stakes and string and other implements resembled gardening tools, and were, in fact, taken from the shed that served that function. At Max’s pressing invitation I joined the group and we left the house.
The sky threatened, and a chill breeze denied the approach of midsummer. I demanded a coat, and Max let me go up to get it. When I returned he glanced at the purse I had slung over my shoulder, but did not object; he had searched it himself and knew I had no weapon.
When we reached the pasture, everyone stared expectantly at Max. The wind that ruffled John’s flaxen locks and blew my hair into my eyes didn’t stir a strand of Max’s grey wig. He took a paper out of his breast pocket, studied it, and turned a minatory eye on John.
‘Fifteen paces due west from the large boulder at the northeast corner. Fifty paces due south. Sixteen paces west from the dead pine on the southeast corner, fifty paces due north from there. Is that it?’
‘I told you it was rough,’ John said defensively.
It was straight out of ‘The Gold Bug’ or some other fiction. Perhaps Max had not been raised on the classics. He was sceptical, though; as his chilly gaze remained fixed on John, the latter shivered exaggeratedly and wrapped both arms around his body. ‘The Second set of measurements is obviously a cross-bearing,’ he added.
Georg shook his head and made disapproving noises. ‘It is very inaccurate. How long is a pace? There are too many boulders; which is the correct one? And I cannot believe that none of you had the intelligence to bring a compass.’
Mine was in my purse at that very moment, disguised as the butt end of a flashlight. At least one of Gus’s boats must have direction-finding apparatus, but since none of the gang had thought of that, I didn’t see any reason to bring it up.
The men scattered, looking for landmarks. There was no dead pine at the southeast corner. Finally someone found a stump and concluded that must be the remains of the tree. Georg sat down on the stump, took out notebook and pencil, and began making calculations, muttering, ‘If we take it that true north lies that way . . .’
The proceedings had a certain macabre humour, but I was in no mood to enjoy them. ‘I’m going for a walk,’ I told Max. ‘It’s freezing.’
‘Stay away from the hut,’ Max said curtly. His eyes were on John, who, closely followed by Rudi, was pretending to look for a boulder. They wouldn’t let him out of their sight from now on.
The hut didn’t interest me. Gus wasn’t there. The Austrian had been following me the day before. Max had ordered him to give the impression that he was guarding the hut if I seemed to be interested in it, but he had had to run to get there before I did.
I was almost certain I knew where they were keeping Gus, but almost wasn’t good enough. If I was wrong, there might not be time for a second guess. So I went into the forest.
It had been eerie before, in the dimness of twilight. Under a stormy sky, with wind lashing the upper branches, it was a perfect setting for a horror film. One expected to see the Frankenstein monster come lurching along between the trees.
The search didn’t take long, since I was looking for a man-made structure. I found a few blocks of dressed stone, tumbled down by the growth of tree roots that had heaved them to the surface. Man had left his mark, but not in the recent past The blocks might have lined a grave.
When I emerged from the trees onto the headland above the water, the wind blew my hair back like a banner. It was a north wind, carrying the snowy breath of the high mountains. Thirty feet below, waves attacked the tumbled rocks of a shallow bay. The cliff wasn’t sheer; in fact, it could hardly be called a cliff – just a steep decline, half rock, half earth, with clumps of rough weeds clinging to pockets of soil. I wondered if Gus could get down, with his game leg. It was the only place I had seen that offered possible hiding places, among the wave- washed rocks. As for swimming – the steel-grey water, laced with dirty white froth, was not enticing.
I started back. I must have been midway through the belt of trees before I suddenly realized that I wasn’t nervous any longer. The shadowed aisles between the trunks promised shelter from wind and storm, not hiding places for monsters. The moan of the boughs overhead stirred my blood instead of chilling it. The trees might guard the crumbling bones of the ancient dead, but the spirits of those antique warriors and herdsmen held no terror for me. They had accepted me as one of their own.
I arrived at the dig in the middle of a loud, abusive argument. The digging had not yet begun, and the first words I heard, from Max, explained the delay.
‘What use are your mathematics?’ he shouted at Georg. ‘You are wrong. Your cross-bearings come nowhere near one another.’
‘I made a slight error’ Georg muttered. ‘If you will try these new calculations – ’
Max slapped his notebook from his hand. ‘The man who found the reliquary did not use exact measurements. We will imitate his method. We will pace off –’
‘But you don’t know the length of his stride,’ Georg protested, with some justification.
‘No matter. You – no, you, Willy.’ The Austrian started nervously when Max pointed at him. ‘Go to the boulder. Then walk normally. Count as you go and stop when you reach fifteen.’
It had taken them almost an hour to arrive at this common-sense solution. There is an adage dear to strategists: Divide and conquer. Confuse and conquer is an even better technique.
‘I think there’s a cemetery in the woods,’ I said brightly.
‘Later, later.’ Max waved me to silence
‘I think I’ll go back to the house.’
‘Later. Are you at the boulder, Willy? Good. Start walking. One – two – three – ’
‘I could make some coffee,’ I said. ‘Mr Smythe looks as if he could use a stimulant.’
I shouldn’t have mentioned his name. Max had become sensitized; the syllables stung him like a hornet.
‘No!’ he cried, turning to me. ‘Don’t speak to him; don’t go near him. Be quiet. You are distracting me. Curse it, Willy; how far have you got?’
Willy was standing stiffly at attention, arms at his sides. ‘Fifteen, sir.’
‘Good. You are sure you counted correctly? Then turn – a right-angle turn. Fifty paces.’
Willy started off in measured slow step, like the Marines at a funeral procession. The formal deliberation of his movements had a hypnotic effect; I found myself counting in chorus with Max: ‘Forty nine, fifty.’ Max shrieked, ‘Stop!’ with such shrill vehemence that Willy leaped into the air.
‘Stand still,’ Max shouted. ‘Don’t move. If you stir one inch, under any circumstances whatever, I will skin you alive. Now.’ He turned a measuring eye on the remainder of his crew. According to their temperaments they shrank or stiffened under his survey. Hans giggled nervously.
