Biggles Looks Back Page 5
“I certainly am,” returned Biggles.
“We’ll come to that presently,” promised Von Stalhein. “To make things clear it would be better if I started at the beginning. Now, if you’re comfortable, I’ll tell you my tale of woe, then you’ll be up to date with the situation.”
CHAPTER V
VON STALHEIN EXPLAINS
“First of all I owe you an apology for dashing off with out warning you or telling you where I was going,” began Von Stalhein, contritely. “No doubt you guessed where I’d gone.”
“Of course.”
“I acted as I did for two reasons. Firstly, I did not want to see you involved in a dangerous undertaking as a result of what I had told you. Secondly, I thought I could handle the business on my own and give you a pleasant surprise by calling at your flat with Marie. And so I might have done had it not been for the most atrocious luck.” Von Stalhein smiled lugubriously.
“I know it is a common fault in human nature to blame misfortune for what is really one’s own fault,” he went on, “but I think you will agree, when I tell you what has happened, that I was out of luck almost from the time of my arrival in Rodnitz. I had no difficulty in getting here. I travelled the cheapest possible way, by train via Switzerland and Austria, and finally by a tourist charabanc, but even that nearly exhausted my slender capital. Actually, I arrived here with the equivalent of less than twenty pounds in my pocket. It therefore became necessary for me to find the cheapest possible accommodation.”
Biggles shook his head. “That was a mistake. Why handicap yourself by lack of funds? You should have come to me. You knew I’d have let you have some money.”
“You would have demanded to come with me, and that would have defeated my object in working alone — for reasons I have already told you.”
“Don’t let’s waste time on what we might have done. Carry on.”
“Near the station I found a small gasthaus, called the Pension Schmon which seemed to suit my purpose admirably,” resumed Von Stalhein. “Having established myself I went out to make discreet inquiries about the residence of the Janis family.”
“Couldn’t you have found it in a telephone directory?”
“That was the first thing I tried, but I could find no such name in it. Now I know the reason — but I’ll come to that presently. Returning to my room, having had no success, I was about to enter the gasthaus when someone touched me on the arm. I turned to find myself face to face with a man I had known in the Gestapo, and later in the service of the Soviet Union; a man by the name of Hans Reinhardt. Nothing could have been more unfortunate. In Germany I would expect to run into someone who knew me, but not here, and at that moment I wished him to the devil. I didn’t like him and I knew he didn’t like me, the reason being that he was once my junior and on more than one occasion I had to reprimand him for slackness and inefficiency.”
“For whom is this fellow working now?” interposed Biggles.
“I don’t know. I have no means of finding out. He might be a local police officer although I think that’s hardly likely. It wouldn’t suit his ambitious nature. It’s more likely he’s a local agent for the State Secret Police. As you know, in a Communist republic spies are everywhere.”
“What does he look like, in case I should bump into him?”
“He’s a little weasel of a man with a pale complexion and thin sandy hair. He has sandy eyebrows and eye lashes. His chin recedes so that he looks a weak type; but don’t let that mislead you; his brain is as sharp as a needle. A bit too sharp. That’s why we fell out. As you can imagine the last thing I wanted was to be recognized by anyone — least of all by him.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked me, quite naturally, what I was doing in Rodnitz. I had to find a reason, so on the spur of the moment I told him I was nearly broke and looking for work. This had a curious consequence. I don’t think he was serious, but he said he had just been to Cafe Wagner, in the Ludwigstrasse. There was a notice announcing a vacancy in the orchestra for a violinist. I might apply for the job.”
“Can you play the violin?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know that.”
Von Stalhein smiled wanly. “You have never given me an opportunity to demonstrate my private accomplishments. Your interest in my affairs made it difficult for me to carry a fiddle around with me. But Reinhardt knew. This put me on a spot. I had hinted that I was broke. If I didn’t apply for the job Reinhardt might wonder why. I decided that the only thing to do was live up to what I had said. I applied for the job, and, as you know, got it. You see, my trouble was, I didn’t know if Reinhardt was now a civilian or still employed in an official capacity. I asked him what he was doing and he merely said he was still working.”
“But he didn’t say for whom?”
“No.”
“Did he know about you having been sentenced to life imprisonment on Sakhalin Island?”
“That was of course the first thought that flashed into my mind. If he knew he didn’t mention it. He may have had a reason for that.”
“Meaning what?”
“Well, if I knew he knew, I might take fright and bolt. If he is still employed on Soviet Intelligence he would need time to check up on me. I still don’t know what he is doing in Rodnitz, so that is the Sword of Damocles that still hangs over me. It may fall at any moment. And if we are seen together it will fall on you at the same time.”
“What nationality is this man Reinhardt?”
“I think he’s a Bavarian.”
“Would he, as another German, rat on you?”
“He might, taking the opportunity to settle an old grudge. After we had parted, having given the matter a lot of thought I came to the conclusion that he was suspicious of me, but knew nothing definite. I’m pretty sure that if he knew I had escaped from Sakhalin I would have been arrested within the hour. Of course, he may he waiting for a report on me.”
“But surely the fact that you haven’t been arrested is a good sign?”
“Up to a point. There is a possibility that the truth about me is known, and the Security people are now trying to find out what brings me here — for whom I am working, my mission, and so on. That could be why I am being shadowed. They know that if they arrest me I would tell them nothing.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Three weeks.”
“And nothing else has happened?”
“Quite a lot of things have happened. Unfortunately, as things are I dare not pursue my quest for Marie, because if I did that would tell them what they want to know. And, I may say, from what I have learned, that could only end in disaster.”
“In the position you are, more or less helpless, haven’t you thought of returning to England?”
“With my mission unaccomplished? No. In any case, I couldn’t get home even if I wanted to.
“Why not?”
“I haven’t the money for the journey. I lost what I had. That, if you must know the truth, is why I sent you the postcard. I thought you might guess I was in trouble and devise some way of getting money to me at the Cafe Wagner.”
“What happened to your money? You seem to have got through what you had rather quickly.”
“I didn’t spend it. It was stolen, and that was my second stroke of abominable luck. This was how it happened. I went out to continue my inquiries about Marie. Afraid I might be arrested at any moment, or taken to police headquarters for questioning, I thought it unwise to have all my money on me, because that would at once give the lie to what I had said about being broke. Keeping only a small amount of money on me I put the rest between the handkerchiefs in my case. When I returned it had gone. As soon as I opened my suitcase I knew it had been searched.”
“Reinhardt? Did he know you were living in the pension?”
“I don’t know. He saw me about to go in so he may have assumed it. But it may have been a common hotel thief. There was nothing I could do about it. To rep
ort the theft would have brought me to the notice of the police, and that was the last thing I wanted. Without money I was on another spot. How was I to live? Then I remembered what Reinhardt had said about a vacancy for a violinist at the Cafe Wagner. In that way he may have done me a good turn. As I have told you, I applied for the job and got it. My wages are low, but at least I am also provided with food and, as you see, a roof over my head. Having to wear a uniform in the cafe is another advantage, in that I am unlikely to be recognized by anyone who might know me by sight.”
“I certainly didn’t spot you, and I was looking for you,” stated Biggles.
Von Stalhein continued. “The morning of the day I started my new job I had the only piece of good luck I have had since I came here. I was talking to one of the customers, a Swiss tourist, who happened to say he was returning home that afternoon. This seemed an opportunity to get a message to you. I asked him if he would post a card for me when he got back to Switzerland, making the excuse that it would be delivered earlier than if I posted it in Rodnitz. He agreed, and apparently he was as good as his word.”
“That, of course, was what brought us here. Do I take it you have learned nothing about Marie?”
“I am now coming to that. I have learned a certain amount, but far from being helpful it threatens to make our task impossible. I never stopped looking and also listening for news of Marie, or her family, and I was nearly in despair when I struck lucky in a most extraordinary way. It’s strange how things work out. I was talking one day to the old man who plays the zither in the orchestra. He’s a nice, simple old boy, who was ruined by war. He happened to say he had been born in Bohemia, so I asked him, quite casually, if he had ever heard of a family named Janis. His manner changed at once. He looked a bit scared and wanted to know why I asked such a question. I answered, as if the matter was of no importance, that in the war I had served under an officer named Janis who I thought came from Bohemia.”
Biggles nodded approvingly. “Nice work.”
“Well, it was soon clear that I had started something. I can only imagine the reason why the old man opened up was because he was a Bohemian at heart, and so was the Janis family. In this part of the world, where wars, prejudice and persecution have been going on for centuries, families cling closer to each other than they do in England.”
Biggles was now looking more interested. “Go on. what did he tell you?”
“He said the Janis home was named Schonschloss.”
Bertie broke in. “Schloss! That means castle, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Are we given to understand that Marie lives in a castle?”
“I don’t know quite what to make of it. I don’t think there can be any doubt about the castle being owned by the Janis family, and in her letter to me Marie states she is writing from the old home. That can hardly mean anywhere else but Schonschloss. She may have been there on a visit, without actually living there. Even if she was there when she wrote it doesn’t mean she is there now.”
“We can soon settle that,” declared Biggles. “Tomorrow we’ll go there and inquire.”
“That’s just what you can’t do.” asserted Von Stalhein.
“Why not?”
“The castle stands in a prohibited area. No one is allowed to go near it, There is a permanent guard on duty.”
“What’s the reason for that?”
“I have no idea. My informant, the old zither player, didn’t know. All he knew was the order had been made. He was nervous even of talking about, it, and I had to go warily with my questions. I’m sure that if he had suspected I had a definite purpose in asking them he would have closed up as tight as a limpet on a rock. I’m satisfied now that I know as much as he known, but it took me days to get it out of him.”
“Did you find out where the place is? That’s the important thing.”
“Yes. Well, roughly. The old man had seen the castle once, many years ago.”
“Then it is, literally, a castle.”
“Oh, yes. There’s nothing remarkable about that. There must be thousands of castles scattered all over Central Europe, the strongholds of the princes and barons who held the different territories by force of arms, not only through the Middle Ages but up to the beginning of the last century. Of course, the castles vary in size and importance.”
“How big is Schonschloss?”
“I think it must be fairly formidable. It has been held by a long line of barons. Marie’s father was the last. He had no sons so I can only suppose the title died with him. I’m not sure, but I don’t think that would prevent Marie from inheriting the property.”
Bertie stepped in. “Castles — bold bad barons — maidens in distress, this gets more and more like a fairy-tale.”
“Why not?” returned Von Stalhein. “It was in this sort of country that fairy-tales started.”
“Never mind about that,” broke in Biggles impatiently. “Where is this castle and how much do you know about it?”
“At the far end of the Ludwigstrasse there is a bridge over the River Voltava. On the far side a road branches off to the left, following the river bank. After four miles, on the right hand side a track climbs up steeply through the forest to end at the castle. It leads to nowhere else. This track was once the main approach to the castle, but as for years it has been little used. I gather it has become much overgrown. So the old man told me. He passed it about a year ago when he was cycling along the riverside road.”
“Can the castle be seen from the road?”
“He didn’t say so. I didn’t ask him.”
“But if he once saw the castle he must remember how it stands, and its general appearance.”
“I daren’t press him too closely, but he told me it was a fine place, standing high overlooking the river. On one side the hill falls steeply, almost a precipice, to the flat ground at river level. I can imagine it. Such a site was a favourite place for a castle, defence being the most important factor.”
“You haven’t seen it?”
“I haven’t dared to go near. If I am being watched all the time, and I’m pretty sure I am, to try to reach the castle would explain my presence here. As far as I’m concerned the position is a stalemate.”
“What I don’t understand is this,” said Biggles, looking puzzled. “If the castle has been closed, and put guard as you say, there must he a reason for it. Someone must know what the reason is. A whisper, rumour, must have leaked out among the local people.”
“If so, I don’t think the old man had heard it. He had a suspicion, but he assured me it was only his personal opinion.”
“And what was that? We might as well hear it. Did he know anything about Marie?”
“I don’t think so. One day I went so far as to say that I understood Generaloberst Janis had a daughter. Searching his memory he said he thought that was true, but he knew nothing about her.”
“Why did he think the castle had been closed to the public?”
“For political reasons. This, briefly, was his explanation. The seizure of Czechoslovakia by Hitler naturally turned the Czechs against Germany. When the war came they fought on the side of the Allies. When you won the war most of the German colonists living in Czechoslovakia were turned out and their property confiscated. Baron Janis was of German origin—”
“Then why was he allowed to remain?”
“That’s the point. The family was allowed to retain its home and land because to have evicted them would have upset the local people. The Janis’s may have been of German blood but they had lived in Bohemia for so long that for all practical purposes they had become Bohemians. They had fought for Bohemia. Successive barons had been good to the people and had gained their affection. When they looked like being turned out there were protests. So, Russia, then trying to get the country under control, allowed them to remain — with a stipulation that they had to remain in the castle.”
“In plain English they were put under house arrest.”
“Do you believe that?”
Von Stalhein shrugged. “I suppose it could happen. As you know, the Communists take no chances with possible subversive activities. Do you believe it?”
Biggles looked dubious. “I’d say there’s more to it than that. Had the government seriously wanted the Janis family out of the way they would soon have fixed it. If Baron Janis and Marie were sympathetic towards Bohemia why did they fight on the side of Germany?”
“They couldn’t do otherwise. To have refused would have meant death. They served only on the Western Front, not in the East, so they never found themselves in conflict with old friends in Czechoslovakia.”
Biggles shook his head. “What a complicated business. I have a feeling there’s another reason why the castle is under guard. We shall have to find out what it is.”
“How will you do that?”
“By going to the castle.”
Von Stalhein stared. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Possibly; but we shan’t find Marie by walking about the streets. You say her father is dead. Do you know of any other relations who might be living in the castle?”
“No. Nobody talks about it. No doubt in time the whole thing will be forgotten. How do you propose getting to the castle?”
“Hire a car to take me somewhere near it, then walk. But before I do that I shall have to support my purpose in being here. I’m supposed to be on a glass buying project for a London store. I shall probably call at the factory tomorrow.” Biggles looked at his watch and sprang up. “By gosh! Look at the time. We must go, or we shall be locked out. We must meet again. When would suit you?”
“Tomorrow night. Same place, same time. I shall be doing my job.”
“Right. Come on, Bertie, let’s get along.”
“Be careful how you leave here.”