Midnight Plus One - Lyall Gavin (книги полностью бесплатно .TXT) 📗

'But, of course, I am not bound to appear. So if this Calieron killed Herr Fiez, I could stop the meeting by not arriving.'

I nodded slowly. 'I get it. So as long as he's trying to kill you, he's got to keep Fiez alive.'

But I still didn't see why simply getting Maganhard in jail wouldn't have done just as well.

We rumbled through the covered wooden bridge into Langnau and across the cobbled streets. Beyond that, we were in the picture-postcard country of the Entlebuch valley: dark sweeps of pine forest on the hills, bright apple blossom by the roads, and old church spires that looked like witches' caps.

But to me, most of Switzerland is a picture postcard. Calm, arranged, carefully trimmed… the weather isn't bad, the Rolls is going well, but not much excitement -nobody's shot at us in hours… It's something to do with me, not with Switzerland. Maybe just that this place looked like a postcard when a lot of Europe was like something from a horror film.

I'm too old to grow out of it, Lat perhaps it'll die with me.

Harvey shifted in his seat, rubbed his face again and sneaked another look at his fingers. He just spread them open in front of him – not as obvious as stretching them full out at arms' length the way doctors make you do it, but clear enough if you knew what he was up to. The fingers were shaking like a hula dancer's hips.

He turned his head slowly and looked at me. His face was blank – as blank as his face could ever be. It was still a face that would know hell when it saw it, but it didn't show what it knew now.

Except that I could guess. I said: 'You need a drink.'

He looked at his spread fingers again, with no more emotion than if he was deciding he needed a manicure. Then he said slowly and simply: 'Yes. I'm afraid I need just that.'

I'd been expecting this – but still hoping I wouldn't get it. After getting plastered last night at Pinel, he was back on the old routine: either he took a drink, or his hands shook themselves off his wrists. He'd only managed to delay it so long by the wine he'd drunk at the General's; now even that was wearing off.

The shakes would pass, all right – in about twenty-four hours. I might need him handling a gun inside five.

I sorted the maps in my briefcase and consulted one. 'We should be in Wolhusen in ten minutes. You can get a couple of quick ones there.'

He nodded, but went on staring at his hand. Then he said: 'Or maybe a bottle.'

I didn't like the idea. I wanted him to take on just enough to cure his shakes, but not so much that he slowed his reactions. It was a pretty thin line… I was crazy: it wasn't a line at all, only a matter of time. Once he started drinking, he wouldn't stop until he'd dissolved. That's what alcoholism's about.

But an alcoholic who's worrying about where the next one's coming from won't have time to worry about anything else. A bottle would reassure him, and all I could do was hope any trouble came before his co-ordination had washed away.

'All right,' I said. 'We'll stop and pick one up.'

Miss Jarman said: 'Must you, Harvey?'

Harvey twisted and held a hand out to her. She looked at the dancing fingers, then reached and held them for a moment. Then she opened the mahogany glove-box set into the wall beside her, and took out the biggest silver flask I've ever seen.

'I found it earlier,' she said simply.

He took it and unscrewed the big cap and poured himself a shot. Whatever it was, there must have been well over half a bottle of it. He sniffed and sipped.

'Four-star, too,' he said.

'Cognac?'

He nodded, lifted the cap, and toasted me. 'It could be a good day yet.'

I wasn't sure about that.

We passed Wolhusen and ran into Luzern. We lost time there by mixing in with the rush-hour traffic, but I'd have been far more worried to reach the frontier in daylight and dawdle around waiting for darkness.

After that we were into a series of long switchbacks: winding along the level by a lake, then hauling up over a small range of mountains, and down to the next lake. Nobody said much. Harvey took occasional sips at the cognac: 'twice he filled the cap up again. But he wasn't rushing it.

I looked at my watch. An hour and a half to dark. Five hours to midnight Maganhard asked: 'Have you worked out where we shall cross, Mr Cane?'

I grabbed to make sure the partition window was wound up tight – and found Harvey's hand on it already. He smiled easily. By now, he was just about at his brightest and best. Three cognacs had killed the shakes without clouding his reactions.

But from now, the only way he couldgo was downhill.

I pulled out the photostat map aria spread it across my knees. The fortifications run crossways over a small ridge -the Flascherberg. The tank path stays on the road side, runs almost parallel with it, a few hundred yards away. So if we cross over the ridge, alongside the river, we can walk through there and nobody'll hear us.'

'In all, how long will it take?'

'If we can get started soon after eight-thirty – well, we may have to get through a bit of barbed wire at the front itself--Let's say we'll be at a phone on the other side by ten o'clock at the latest. We get your pal Fiez to come and collect us, and we'll be in Vaduz by half past.'

'We are not going to Vaduz.'

I turned and peered into the gloom. 'Maybe I should have asked this before: I'd been worrying just about the frontier. Right – whereare we going in Liechtenstein?'

'Company meetings are held at Herr Flez's house in Steg.'

'Steg?' At first the name didn't mean anything to me. Then I remembered it: a little village way up on the only road that ran up into the mountains. The road itself faded out a couple of kilometres farther on, at a ski hotel right under the peaks that were the Austrian border.

'Christ,' I said slowly. 'It's a pretty lonely place up there.' All I could remember of it was a few woodcutters' huts and a handful of chalets. 'Fiez must be an honest man.'

'We have not had dealings with gunmen before this,' Maganhard said. 'And I do not think it would be wise for Herr Fiez to come and fetch us. You forget: he will have this Galleron with him by then. If Calieron knows we have escaped his ambush, he may…' He tried to think of things this Galleron might do.

I could think of them for myself. I started to ask if Merlin would be there by then, but didn't: even if he was, the same snag applied. We'd still tip off Calieron and lose the element of surprise.

Maganhard said calmly: 'So you must find us a car on the other side of the frontier.'

That was all – just find a car. And a driver to get a good look at our faces – even if he agreed to go up the steep, stony road to Steg that was probably snowed-in at the top. And we wouldn't even find that nearer than Vaduz, ten kilometres beyond the frontier.

Maganhard knew Liechtenstein – and the problem. 'You may have to steal one," he added just as calmly.

'That always sounds the easy way,' I said gloomily. 'Look – there won't be many cars in those little villages just across the frontier. And they won't be parked in the street. And even if they are, they won't have the keys in them. And I can't start opening one up and rewiring it in the middle of the village.'

Then you will have to think of something else,' Maganhard said. 'I hired you to get me to Steg by-'

'I know. I'm thinking.' But I didn't like what I was thinking. And the more I thought, the less I liked it. But I couldn't think of anything else.

I said slowly: 'We're already in a car.'

Harvey jerked his head round, then slanted his eyebrows at me. Miss Jarman said: 'What d'y ou mean?'

'The tank path. If it'll take a tank, it'll take a Rolls-Royce. We kick out Morgan – and drive across. Then we've got a car on the other side.'