Blood oath 1982, p.16
Blood Oath (1982), page 16
Throughout the morning they had stopped in fifteen different towns to ask about the photograph, but no one seemed to recognize the castle. As the mountains loomed closer, Houston weary, cramped, and hungry had at last become discouraged. He'd been certain that the castle was a landmark, well known to the people who lived near it. Now he doubted. "Hell, it's hopeless. I was wrong.
We'll never find the place."
The young attendant's recognition of the photograph was like electric current.
"What?" he asked Simone. "He knows where to find it?"
The attendant's eyes were bright, delighted that he hadn't disappointed Houston.
He grinned, gesturing beyond the chateaux of Grenoble toward a faint dot in the tree line at the bottom of a far-off peak.
So near, so distant. Houston's mind began to trick him. His imagination magnified the dot. The tree line seemed to rush at him. To destroy the sickening illusion, he swung to face Simone. Her cheek was close beside him, thick hair hanging past her shoulders. Houston touched her, drawing fingers through her hair. "Just making sure you're beside me," Houston told her when she glanced at him, surprised. "For a second, I was doubtful. About everything."
"He's gone to get a road map. He can show us how to find the place."
"How far? It must be twenty-five kilometers."
"Or more. These mountains can fool you. They make the distance seem much shorter."
"That's exactly what I mean. If we can see the castle all the way from here, then how damned big is it? Up close, it must be huge."
They soon found out. The young man gave them directions and a map, and they drove eastward from Grenoble, higher into the mountains. Houston stared ahead.
Determined, he was nonetheless intimidated by the hulking pressure of the mountains, crowding closely around him. As the van whined in low gear, they navigated switchback roads that angled up and down forbidding granite passes, fir trees thinning upward toward the gray rocks and the snow.
The air got colder. They drove past cascading streams and swooping cliffs. They stared down toward the valley forests and what seemed a small-scale model of Grenoble in the distance. One wrong turn discouraged them, but they soon discovered their mistake, and finally they saw the castle they'd been searching for.
It lay above them, wedged between two mountains, black against a massive cliff, its spires rising high above the fir trees, its turrets and walkways clearly visible from this perspective.
The place was overwhelming, more impressive as they neared it. Houston studied the photograph, raising it so it blocked his vision through the windshield. On the page, the building seemed a childhood fantasy, a storybook depiction of an enchanted castle. He set the page down and saw the castle from the same perspective the photograph had shown, stunned by how much difference three dimensions made. The sheer expanse of what he stared at sent a shiver through him.
"It's like several buildings stacked on top of one another," he said. "It must have fifty rooms."
The road veered, skirting the estate. A private lane led toward a barred metal gate between high concrete walls.
"It's a fortress," Houston said.
Up close, the walls obscured his vision of the castle. Through the bars of the gate, he saw no guards beyond, no watch dogs, no activity at all, just wooded parkland and a gravel lane that curved until it disappeared. The grounds seemed rustic, innocent.
But among the sunbeams that filtered through the pastel forest, Houston knew there would be guards all right, security precautions, carefully prepared defenses.
As the van passed the massive gate, Houston had the strong sensation he was being studied from somewhere. Fighting to control the flutter in his stomach, he didn't turn to watch the gate recede behind him. Though he wanted to, he didn't scan the walls or try to locate what unnerved him. He peered forward, watching where the road climbed higher through the fir trees. He hoped that Simone and he seemed nothing more than unalarming tourists.
There had been a car ahead of them. He checked the sideview mirror on his door and saw another car approaching from behind. Granted, traffic wasn't frequent.
All the same, there was enough that Houston didn't think this van would seem conspicuous. The wall came to a corner, merging with another wall that swept back from the road to reach a mountain. Houston turned to face Si-mone.
"As soon as we get up a little higher, find a place where we can stop."
She found a "scenic site" with a guardrail and a gravel parking surface off the road. There were picnic tables, benches, and a row of pay telescopes.
"Aim the back end of the van so it's pointed toward the castle," he told her, squinting toward the dizzy view of the majestic valley spread below them. "I'm sure they watch the traffic on this road," he went on. "They'll get suspicious if we stay too long. And while we're here, we have to seem like tourists. Get out, and go over to those telescopes. But keep your back turned to the castle.
Act as if your single interest is the view toward the valley."
"Aren't you coming?"
"Not just yet."
"But if they watch the traffic on the road, they'll know there are two of us inside the van. They'll be suspicious if we don't both step out."
"I need five minutes."
Frowning, she opened her door and crossed the gravel toward the guardrail and the telescopes. The car that had been following them pulled up behind her.
Houston tensed. But then he saw a man, a woman, and three children tumble out.
Excitedly they scrambled near Simone, delighted by the vista. Good, he thought.
They give her cover. With that car behind her, someone watching from the castle doesn't have an unobstructed view.
He crawled back to the rear compartment of the van and grabbed the binoculars he'd bought in Grenoble. Their eight-power lenses were the largest he could use without a tripod to control the tremors of his hands. He stayed back from the window to hide himself and, peering through the lenses, concentrated on the castle, which he judged to be a thousand meters away.
He scanned the edifice, a few small buildings near it, then the parkland and the wall enclosing the estate. At times, the image was so clear he felt he could almost touch the stone blocks of the castle or the smooth blue glinting surface of a Porsche that was parked beside a small peaked building a carriage house or servants' quarters. Or a guardhouse.
Houston grabbed the picnic basket, pulled open the side door of the van, and got out, hidden by the van from anyone who would be watching from the castle. He walked into view, showing his back and in particular the picnic basket that he held.
"Simone."
She stepped back from the telescope, as if reluctant to be leaving the perspective of the valley, and turned sideways toward a table. As she sat, the van was once again a barrier between the castle and themselves.
"It worked?" she said.
"I found out what we need to know."
Their breakfast had been hot croissants and coffee. They'd skipped lunch. His hunger was insistent as he reached inside the basket. Sausage, cheese, a strong red wine. He chewed and swallowed, mouth hot from the sausage.
"Guards with rifles," he said.
She stiffened.
"Five of them. Two German shepherds roaming freely. I assume there are more. The towers are equipped with searchlights." Houston heard the strangled noise in her throat. "The walls enclosing the estate hold television cameras. Even if we figured how to climb the walls and not be seen, we'd never get beyond the barbed wire at the top. Oh, we could cut the wire, but I'm guessing it's electrified, and once the current's interrupted, I'm assuming that alarms are triggered in the castle."
"Then it really is a fortress. There's no way to get inside."
He wiped his mouth, reluctant to suggest what he was thinking. "Maybe."
"Maybe nothing. It's impossible."
"No. Only difficult." He put the food and wine back in the basket.
"How?" she said.
He heard a door close, turned, and saw the man, woman, and their children get into their car. The engine started.
"We've stayed here long enough," he said. "When they pull out, we ought to go too. The view is great but not enough to make us hang around all day." He stood.
"I asked you how."
"We go in from behind the castle. From above it. No, don't turn around to look."
She stopped herself. "The back's a cliff! No, never mind a cliff! The sheer wall of a mountain!"
"So they won't expect visitors from there. They'll figure it's too dangerous."
"They'd be right! If you expect me to "
"Just think about it. In the meantime, we've got errands."
She eyed him suspiciously.
"Equipment. From Grenoble."
Chapter 40
"But I'm afraid of heights!" Simone said.
They struggled up the high-pitched rocky slope. Above, a ridge of fir trees beckoned. Houston's knapsack weighed against him, cutting at his shoulders. He was sweating, eyebrows scrunched together from his effort. Knees ached. Thighs objected. Underneath his knapsack, his thick shirt and sweater clung against his back, their wetness chilling him although his face felt feverish.
"Then don't look back," he answered.
Behind and below them, a maze of wooded draws and ridges fell abruptly toward the chasm of the valley. From this distance, he could not see where they'd left the van beside a hidden boarded-up chalet a hundred meters off the road. Nor could he see the disused weed-grown lane that led up to the building. He could see the main road through the mountains, though, a ribbon from this height, a random slender blackness on which isolated dots of traffic inched like insects.
"Don't look back?" she told him. "Don't look back? The shock would kill me. At the least, I'd wet my pants."
He had to laugh, although he didn't want to. If he lost his concentration, he would make mistakes, and while the slope was not a sheer drop, it was steep enough so that if he fell he'd hurt himself. Here, even minor injuries were deadly. Sprains and bruises would restrict his movements, causing other accidents until . . .
"You think that's funny?"
"No," he said. "It isn't. None of this is funny."
"Anyway, I don't mean now. If I get dizzy, there are rocks I can grab. But I mean later, with the ropes. I don't think I can do it."
He climbed toward her, staying to the right, so that if she dislodged a rock it wouldn't hit him. "You're in shape. You jog. You used to do gymnastics."
"Physically I don't have any doubts. In principle I know I can use the ropes.
But I'm not trained for them."
"I'll teach you."
"In one day?"
He didn't answer. To avoid the truth, he passed her, climbing higher.
"Even when I'm on a plane," she said, "I can't look out the window. I get sick."
Her voice was strained. He heard her boot soles scrape the rocks. "Besides, the sun is almost gone."
He squinted up. The sun was red and swollen, dipping low behind the mountains.
"That can help," he said.
"I don't know how."
"Well, in the dark you won't see what's below you."
His hand gripped a rock. He braced a boot on an outcrop of stone and heaved himself to the top. Relief spread through his muscles. Sweat dripped off his face. He quickly turned. Simone climbed near him. Offering his hand, he helped her up, and they peered past a narrow Alpine meadow toward a murky wall of fir trees and the craggy cliffs that soared beyond them.
Houston took no time to savor what he saw. The sun was lower. Hurriedly he left the slope's edge to prevent his silhouette being seen from below. Almost to the fir trees, standing on the soft grass of the meadow, he slipped off his knapsack, stretched, and rubbed his aching shoulders. Then he fumbled in the knapsack and pulled out a canteen and two chocolate bars. The bars were mushy from the heat of his exertion, but he peeled the wrappers and gave one bar to Simone and chewed on the other. His energy was so depleted that he couldn't taste the sweetness, but the bar was gone before he realized how fiercely he'd attacked it. He twisted off the cap of the canteen and swallowed warm metallic water.
Not too much, though. He'd get cramps.
Simone wiped chocolate from her mouth. "And now we rest, I hope."
"No, now we make sure we're not lost."
He pulled a map and compass from the knapsack. He spread the map on the grass and angled it so that the contour lines of slopes and ridges matched the terrain around them.
"Through these trees" he pointed "we'll reach another slope. Don't look like that. We're finished climbing. We head left along the base and pass two draws along the right. We reach a third draw on the left. It takes us down. We'll come out on the cliff behind the castle."
"And how high is it?"
He checked the compass.
"Pete, the cliff. How high?"
"Don't ask."
"You really know what you're doing?"
"I told you the other day, to write a book I have to research special subjects.
If there's shooting in my novels, I have to learn about the guns. I took a weapons course. In my second book, I had a hero who was chased up through some mountains. He knew all about survival. He could climb and use ropes and well, I didn't have a clue about that stuff. I had to learn it so that I could be convincing. I can't make you any expert. But I'll keep you out of trouble."
Houston closed the map. He shoved the compass in his pocket. "Let's get moving while we've still got light. I want to teach you how to use the ropes."
Chapter 41
He stood behind her, watching her hold the rope. "That's good. Now keep your left arm straight ahead of you. No, not so high. Like this."
He stepped close, putting his arms around her, reaching in front to guide her hand.
The movement was instinctive. He didn't plan for what happened. Grief for Jan, combined with fear, had pushed the thought of sex completely from his mind. But as he held Simone, as he felt her body, he found he was suddenly kissing her.
The smooth skin on her neck. The sweet smell of her hair. With a moan, she turned and embraced him. His impulse startled him. He tried to stop, to back away. She held him more tightly, kissed him again. As her tongue probed past his lips, he felt a flame surge through his body. Nothing mattered but his need.
He sank to the ground with her. He fumbled at her shirt. He touched her rising breasts. He kissed them, kissed her stomach. He was lost, his passion urgent, mindless. Everything around him disappeared the sky, the air, the trees, the ground. Everything except Simone. He entered her, crying in total surrender.
Gently, then with fury, slowly, deeply, quickly. Each instant became eternal.
Smoothly. No! Yes! His soul exploded, left his body, soaring.
She thrust upward, higher, tensing, shuddering. "Oooohhhh!"
The cool air made him conscious of the sweat on his back. He lay beside her holding her tightly, suddenly thinking of Jan.
"I'm not her rival," Simone said.
"I can't help it."
"You feel guilty? We did nothing shameful."
"Not because of this."
"Then why?"
"Because she's dead, but I'm alive. I shouldn't feel alive. It isn't right."
Simone gently touched his lips.
Chapter 42
In the darkness, with Simone beside him in his arms, he wakened to a night bird's song. He gazed at the starry sky, the sickle moon on the horizon. Had he slept too long? How late was it? He checked his watch. The glowing dial showed him thirteen minutes after ten, and slumping back, reluctant to disturb Simone, he took advantage of these last few leisured moments. In the shelter of the boulders, near the soothing shadows of the forest, the fir trees giving off a pleasant resin scent, he felt the needle-matted earth beneath him and remembered the sweet love Simone and he had made before they slept.
He nudged her gently. Sleepily she looked at him. She smiled and put her hand against his cheek. "It's time," he said.
