The Forbidden Territory

XXVI — The Dash for the Frontier

Simon was walking slowly to and fro in the narrow space of his bedroom. He was too restless to sit still, and yet anxious not to tire his wounded leg.

It was past ten o’clock, but he knew that even if the prisoners had already left their cell the journey underground must take some little time, therefore he controlled his impatience to be off. He wished to be certain that they should reach the fort first; two waiting figures would be far less likely to attract attention than a stationary car, and in any case Richard would be there to meet them.

He had already been down to the garage and arranged for the car to be in immediate readiness. The man in charge, knowing him to be Valeria Petrovna’s friend, had made no difficulties.

He opened the connecting door to Valeria Petrovna’s room and looked about him sadly. Her silk garments were strewn on the bed, just as she had left them when she changed to go to the theatre, her favourite perfume hung in the air.

By his decision to leave with the others Simon was deliberately placing a unique experience in his life behind him. No other woman had ever meant so much to him — yet, when he had agreed to sacrifice his whole existence to her he had known in the bottom of his heart he could never be happy cut off from all other interests. Richard had been right in his surmise — Valeria Petrovna had asked a ransom for the return of Rex and the Duke, not in so many words, perhaps, but by definite implication.

Simon had been prepared to carry out his side of the bargain — she had not attempted to carry out hers. To him such failure was a breach of faith going to the very roots of life. He loved her, so if she had confessed her inability to help his friends, and given him the opportunity to do what he could on his own, things might have been different. As it was, she had tricked him, so he was determined to make the break.

He wondered how she would take his disappearance. After her deception he had not dared to confide in her again; there had been no good-byes. She had gone cheerfully to her gala performance full of vitality and happiness.

Simon gazed sadly at the little row of smart high-heeled shoes. “Never again,” he thought, “never again ... what a blank she will leave in my life!” With a sigh he turned away, and switched out the light. He glanced at the clock in his own room once more; it was ten past ten — they should be there by twenty past — if he left now there should be no waiting on either side. He picked up the small parcel containing his belongings and left the room, locking his door behind him.

The car had been run out of the garage all ready for him; he stood beside it for a moment while he lit a cigarette, anxious not to show any sign of haste in front of the mechanic. As he did so he realized that he had struck his last match, so he sent the man for another box. Hardly had he done so when the half-hour chimed from a neighbouring clock. It was a good bit later than he had thought, and the knowledge made him impatient to be off. At last — after what seemed an age — the mechanic returned. Simon stuffed the matches in his pocket, nodded cheerfully to the man, and drove quickly out of the yard.

The neighbourhood of the old fort was dark and deserted; he drew the car in under the shadow of the wall, and peered round anxiously for the others, but no one came forward to meet him. After a moment he shut off the engine, switched out the lights, and stepped down into the road.... Possibly they had thought it best to remain hidden round the corner... he whistled softly — there was no reply.

Simon began to feel worried; it must be nearly a quarter to eleven — he was terribly late — they should have been here for the last twenty minutes at least — and where was Richard? Had Shubin given them away? The escape been frustrated, and Richard arrested here a few minutes before his own arrival? He glanced apprehensively up and down the road. An occasional figure hastened by on the far side, only momentarily discernible in the dim pools of light cast by the infrequent street lamps. Nobody seemed interested in him or the car.

He limped round the corner and found the crumbling steps that led to the entrance of the fort. It showed — a pitch black rectangle in the faint glow that fell upon the pitted stonework of the walls; Simon climbed up to it, and stood for some minutes listening intently. An almost uncanny silence brooded over the close, musty darkness of the interior. “Richard!” he called softly, and although his voice was hardly above a whisper it seemed to echo back at him from the hollow darkness as though he had shouted aloud. He waited, but there was no reply, so he stumbled down the steps again and round the corner to the car, really frightened now that something had gone definitely wrong. A quarter of an hour should have been ample for them to get through the catacombs — perhaps the escape had been delayed — but even then what could possibly have become of Richard?

He climbed back into the car and sat there in the dark, thinking furiously of all the possible hitches which might have occurred. Should he drive back to the hotel or wait there in the hope that they would turn up? He feared that at any moment a policeman might come on the scene and want to know what he was doing there; or worse, if Shubin had actually given them away, that some of Leshkin’s people might arrive to arrest him!

By the time the sound of eleven striking was born faintly to him on the still night air, he was thoroughly jumpy, but he realized that if Rex and the Duke did make a belated appearance and he had already driven off, they would be stranded in a hopeless situation, so he determined to stick it out.

A moment later his quick ear caught the sound of footsteps near the corner of the wall, and a tall figure stepped up to the car, peering at him in the darkness.

Simon gave a sigh of relief. It could be no one but Rex, and that must be the Duke behind him.

“That you?” he whispered.

“Sure — Yakovkin told us there’d be a car to meet us — but we’re almighty late; and we’ve had an accident.”

“Never mind — hurry! — where’s Richard?”

“Hang on one moment.”

“For God’s sake be quick,” urged Simon, as they left him without further explanation, “the police may be on us at any moment!”

He waited impatiently... then shadows moved again in the darkness. Rex and the Duke were carrying what looked like a body between them — Simon’s heart almost stopped — was that Richard? In another moment he knew that it was.

The others were propping him up in the back of the car. His head lolled helplessly; there was blood on his face.

“What’s happened?” asked Simon anxiously, as he moved into the next seat. “Rex, you’d better drive; my leg is still pretty dicky.”

“I coshed him,” Rex admitted, as he took the wheel. “Didn’t know who it was in that hellish place.”

“He... he isn’t dead, is he?” Simon’s voice quivered slightly.

“We don’t know yet,” De Richleau answered from the back. “I’ll look after him — drive on now,” he added urgently, “we’ll talk later.”

Rex turned the car round away from the river, and soon they were out on the main highway heading for Birdichy and the frontier. It was a big, modern, powerful car, and the telegraph poles flashed past on either side as they roared through the darkness. They had over a hundred and eighty miles to go, so Rex was taking no chances, but settled down to a steady even pace.

As soon as they were free of the outskirts of Kiev the Duke pulled the flashlight from his pocket and began to examine Richard’s head. Never in his life had Rex felt so wretched — he could not possibly have known who the man with the light was — had not even the least idea that Richard was in Russia. Now, perhaps, he had killed one of his best friends!

“Say, how is he?” he asked anxiously.

“He is alive,” came the Duke’s quiet reassurance, “we must be thankful that you only struck him with that small marlinspike. If it had been an iron bar his head would have cracked like an eggshell. How did he come to be in Russia, Simon?”

“He came over to look for us. I thought Valeria Petrovna had got you both safe out of it until he turned up in Kiev yesterday. He planned your escape. Is he badly hurt?”

“I can find no cut on his head — his hat saved him, I think — the blood is only from his nose.”

“How on earth did it happen?”

“It was in those darned caves,” Rex explained. “They sure gave me the shivers — stuffed full of corpses propped up against the walls. Our light died on us — then it was hell! I’ll tell the world — so hot we couldn’t breathe, too. I figured we were there for keeps, but we spotted a guy coming down the corridor. I bumped him, and the Duke snatched his light.”

“He must have got worried when you didn’t turn up and gone down to look for you.”

“It was fortunate for us that he did,” commented the Duke. “If he had not we should have died for a certainty. I was afraid, too, that if we got out you would not be there. Leshkin has been to Moscow and seen Stalin; you were to have been arrested again tonight!”

Simon laughed jerkily.

“It’s a fact,” added Rex; “the old baby-killer told us that himself. There was going to be a shooting party for the bunch of us tomorrow!”

“Well, we’re out of that muddle for the moment I only hope he doesn’t run into Marie Lou!”

“Marie Lou? Was she around as well?” exclaimed Rex. “If that’s so, why isn’t she on in this party?”

“She was,” Simon informed him, “but Richard didn’t want her to be mixed up in this — ”

“Say, not so fast! — you wait a minute.” Rex began to slow down the car. “We can’t leave her to get out alone.”

Simon shook his head. “It’s quite all right. Richard made special arrangements for her. She’s got a British passport now; he married her the other day in Vienna.”

“Holy smoke! You don’t mean that?”

“I do. He said that it was so that he could get her back into Russia to act as his interpreter, but if you ask me he’s crazy about her!”

De Richleau leant forward. “If that is so, surely it is all the more reason that he should have been careful for her safety. Are you certain that he meant her to travel alone?”

“Um,” Simon nodded. “Told me so himself — said she was going to leave the country in the proper way.”

“Well — if you are sure of that — but I do not care to think of that child alone in Kiev.”

“She’ll be on the train by now,” Simon assured him.

The car bore on into the night They were beginning to climb now, up easy gradients, to higher ground. Richard began to groan loudly.

“He’s coming round,” said the Duke. “I doubt if he’ll know what he’s saying at first. I wish I had some morphia; sleep is the best thing for him at the moment.”

“Here — take these.” Simon delved into his pocket and produced a small bottle. “They’re sleeping-tablets that Valeria Petrovna got for me — there’s medinol in them, I think.”

Richard swayed forward. He looked dazedly round, then sank back with a moan, shutting his eyes quickly.

“Take these,” said the Duke gently, spilling a couple of the tablets into his palm.

“Where... where are we?” muttered Richard.

Rex turned round to grin at him. “Sorry, Richard — hadn’t a notion it was you — ’fraid I nearly bumped you off!”

Richard moved his head painfully from side to side, groaned again, and tried to put his hand up to his head. It fell back helplessly. “Where are we?” he asked again.

“We’re in the car — you saved us all, Richard — we’re making for the frontier,” said the Duke.

“No... no...” Richard struggled to sit up again. “Stop the car — I’m going by ’plane.”

Rex laughed. “I’d just hate to be a passenger in your ’plane tonight, Richard. You couldn’t push a pram after the swipe I gave you!”

“I... don’t mind leaving... the ’plane,” Richard muttered, “if we... all get away... safely.”

“Don’t you worry, Richard, we’re all here. You take these and have a good sleep till we get to the frontier.” The Duke pushed the tablets into his mouth. He sank back on to the cushions of the car. “Yes... the frontier... make the frontier...” his voice sank into indistinct mutterings — in a few moments he was fast asleep.

“D’you reckon they’ll send out a warning about us?” Rex asked, after a long silence.

“Not about you and me,” the Duke replied. “With Yakovkin on guard, it is unlikely that they will discover our escape till the morning — but I am afraid there will be trouble about Simon.”

“Certain to be if Leshkin meant to arrest me again tonight,” Simon agreed, pessimistically; “they’ll find the car missing, and try and trace us by that — probably try and hold us up on the road.”

“Have you got a gun?”

“Ner, but Richard may have.”

The Duke felt him over. “No,” he said, “he’s unarmed.”

“That leaves me and the marlinspike,” said Rex, thoughtfully. “Maybe there are a few spanners at the back. Guess we’ll have to step on the gas if we’ve got to go through any towns, Simon.”

“Birdichy — that’ll be difficult, biggish town — after that, there’s nothing to worry us till we cross the Bug at Vinnitsa.”

“Is there any way of avoiding Birdichy?” asked the Duke.

“Don’t think so — map I saw wasn’t up to much. Birdichy’s out of the way a bit, but it seemed the only decent road.”

“Better going on the highway,” Rex agreed. “Got to take a chance about the towns.”

They had come into forest country now; the trees showed ghostly in the arc of the headlights. They gave the impression that the car was going at immense speed as they rushed to meet it and were swallowed up again in the darkness behind. Occasionally they passed through a deserted village street, but no attempt was made to stop their headlong progress.

At last the road debauched on to a level plain. “Got the time?” asked Rex.

De Richleau looked at the illuminated dial of his watch. “A little after two,” he said.

“Can’t be far off Birdichy, then.”

Ten minutes later they passed some scattered houses. “This’ll be it,” said Rex, and he was right.

The houses became more frequent, the open road a street. De Richleau tapped Rex on the shoulder. “Try to avoid the main street,” he suggested; “take the first turning that you come to on either side.”

“We’ll sure get lost,” protested Rex.

“No — no, do as I say.”

Rex switched the car sharply to the right They ran slowly down a long hill.

“To the left, Rex, to the left!” came De Richleau’s voice.

Rex obeyed. They ran along the turning for about a hundred and fifty yards, then had to pull up — the road ended in a gate leading into a field.

“Back her out, man — quick — if we’re caught sitting we’re done.” Simon peered behind as Rex backed the great car in a succession of curves and jerks on to the hill road. They took the next turn to the left and ran along it for nearly half a mile; the low houses became less frequent.

“We’ll be out in the country again soon,” remarked Simon, anxiously.

“We have gone too far — there was a turning up the hill farther back — try that!” The Duke moved Richard’s head a little on his shoulder as he tried to make out their position in the darkness.

Rex backed the car once more, and they took the turning up the hill.

“First to the right at the top, and then out of the town as fast as you can,” came the Duke’s voice from the back.

He had judged rightly; a minute later they came out into the high street As they turned a sudden shout went up from some men with lanterns fifty yards to the left, but their voices were lost on the night air as the great car went speeding out of the town.

“That was a picket, sure enough,” Rex grinned. “Those guys wouldn’t be standing in the street at half past two in the morning just for fun!”

“Yes, the hunt is up.” De Richleau sat back with a sigh. “May we be as lucky at Vinnitsa.”

“Don’t like Vinnitsa,” said Simon. “We’ve got to cross the bridge there.”

“If we manage that, there is still the frontier,” De Richleau spoke gloomily. “Have you got any plan about that?”

“I had,” Simon announced, “but by knocking Richard on the head you’ve put paid to it. He was to have met us at the cross-roads about a mile to the west of Mogeliev — land his ’plane in the nearest field, and taxi us over one at a time. Lord knows how we shall manage now.”

They had entered wooded country once more, and the way was a succession of steep gradients alternating with sharp, down-hill bends. In the twisting and turning road it was difficult to see far ahead; the headlights on the trees were trying and deceptive, but Rex seemed to have a genius for judging the bends and twists. The low car roared through the tunnels formed by the over-hanging trees. A dozen times it seemed that they must crash into some vast tree trunk looming up in front of them, but they always swerved in time, hunting down the miles that lay between them and Rumania.

They entered Vinnitsa at four o’clock. All three braced themselves, for they were certain that if a serious attempt was being made to stop them it would be here. It was useless to try side-roads this time, for there was only one bridge. The car flashed through the streets of the sleeping town, awakening thunderous echoes. A sharp slope led down to the narrow bridge; there were lights ahead, and little dark figures clustered at the bridge-head — their worst fears were realized.

Rex had to make a quick decision: should he stop, or risk charging through them? If he did the latter and chains had been drawn across the road, they would crash; even if there were no chains and he knocked down a man, the car passing over his body would be thrown out of control and might plunge into the river below. He decided to slow up.

The men were shouting and waving torches. The car moved towards them at a gentle pace; in the half-light Rex saw that they were armed. As the car drew level one of them sprang on the footboard — there were no chains — the car moved steadily on — the man shouted something in Russian — another jumped on the other side of the car.

“Ready, Simon?” asked Rex, quietly. “I’m going to step on it.” As he spoke he slashed at the first soldier’s face with the marlinspike, and the car leapt forward — the man fell with a loud cry.

“Duck!” Rex shouted, “duck — they’ll shoot!”

Simon had struck his man in the face, but the fellow still clung on — he struck him again, but his fist seemed to make no impression on the peasant’s thick skull. There was a crack of rifles as the car tore over the bridge. With uncanny skill Rex zig-zagged from side to side — a bullet clanged into the metalwork behind — another crashed through the window at the back. The Duke was crouching on the floor, and had drawn Richard down beside him. Simon struck his man again, but the soldier would not let go; the rattle of another scattered volley sounded from the rear — Simon’s antagonist straightened with a sudden jerk and dropped from view; the car rushed across the farther bridge-head and up the hill on the other side. A last bullet pinged on the mudguard, and they had crossed the Bug!

“When I last crossed that river it was stiff with corpses,” remarked the Duke, with a quiet chuckle. “The fighting here was terrible during the War.”

“Reckon there’s another corpse tonight,” Rex laughed; “that chap on Simon’s side got it in the neck all right.”

“I simply could not make him leave go,” muttered Simon angrily.

“If you had used one finger instead of your fist, and poked it in his eye,” suggested the Duke, mildly, “he would have dropped off quick enough; these people have skulls like cannon-balls.”

“Must remember that,” said Simon, thoughtfully.

Richard had slept through it all. The Duke had propped him up again, but beyond an occasional moan he showed no sign of life.

The car leapt forward; the going was easier now, long straight stretches of common land with scrub and occasional woods. Rex was getting every ounce out of the engine. The stars began to pale in the sky, and as the Duke glanced through the shattered rear window he saw the grey light that heralds the dawn. An hour and a half after crossing the Bug, they came to the outlying farms of Mogeliev; another few miles and they would be over the frontier into Rumania.

Rex was for pressing on, but De Richleau was against it.

“The wireless is certain to have been busy,” he said, “and the frontier strongly guarded. To attempt to rush a second post in broad daylight would be madness — we should be shot to pieces.”

At Simon’s suggestion they adhered to his original plan and took a by-road to the west at the entrance of the township. It was little better than a cart-track, but it proved to be the same road that he had seen with Richard on the map, and a mile and a half farther on they found the cross-roads which had been decided on as the rendezvous. A solitary farmstead standing a little way back from the road occupied one corner. A few yards from the gate leading into the yard, Rex pulled up.

“What’s the drill now?” he asked.

“Better wake Richard,” said Simon. “Now we haven’t got his ’plane to go over in we’ll need all the ideas we can get.”

De Richleau shook the sleeper. Richard muttered angrily at first and refused to waken, but the Duke was persistent. At last he opened his eyes and groaned.

“Oh, God! my head!”

“Wake up, Richard — wake up!” said De Richleau loudly.

With heavy eyes Richard looked about him. “What’s happened?” he asked stupidly.

“I guess I nearly broke your poor old head,” Rex admitted.

“Gosh — it feels like it — still, you found the car — you’d better clear out.” Richard made an effort to get up.

“We’re here,” said Simon. “Mogeliev — Rumanian frontier.”

“What? What’s that?” — Richard was awake now.

“The frontier,” Simon repeated. “Want your ideas about getting across.”

“Where’s Marie Lou?” gasped Richard, looking round wildly.

“She went by train, you know. You told me you’d made special arrangements for her.”

“You fool — you stupid fool,” cried Richard, angrily. “I never said anything of the kind. She was coming with me by ’plane.”