A car behind them flashed on its headlights and flashed them off.

  'That's Grau.' He reached for the microphone. 'She's just ahead, Grau, overtake me and get in front of her. Watch out you don't lose her at the fork road to Italy. She could turn off for Villars.'

  'Roger.'

  Twenty minutes later with Grau some metres ahead of the Aston Martin and with Baumann a hundred metres behind, they saw the car swing to the left.

  'She's going to Villars,' Baumann said. 'It'll be rough up there,' and he accelerated. 'The visibility as you climb gets bad, and it is certain to be snowing.'

  They hadn't climbed more than a kilometre before snow started flaking on the windshield. The Aston Martin had increased speed and was travelling dangerously fast, taking the sharp bends with a skill that hinted the driver knew the road well. Baumann had turned off his lights and he drove after the Aston Martin, keeping close, scared that on this stretch of road he would lose sight of the car.

  Grau had gone on the Italian road and he had had to stop, reverse and come after them.

  Through the narrow bottleneck of the small village of Huemoz, the Aston Martin slowed and Baumann had to brake sharply to avoid a collision. He cursed under his breath.

  'I wonder if she spotted us,' he said. 'There she goes. Goddamn it! She can certainly handle that lump of metal!'

  They stormed up the steep ascent and into the village of Chesieres, empty in the mist and snow.

  The Aston Martin was now a hundred metres ahead. Baumann took the slight turn out of the village too fast and got into a skid. He steered into the skid, slowed and for a moment the Jaguar threatened to turn right around. Then Baumann got control and straightened the car.

  'She's gone,' Cade said in a flat voice. He had been sitting forward, staring through the misting windshield, his eyes glued on the bright red rear-lights: now they had vanished.

  'She's heading for Villars . . . there's nowhere else for her to go,' Baumann said. He slowed and began the steep approach that led to the town.

  'To your right!' Cade exclaimed. 'She's gone in there! Double gates! I saw two men closing them!'

  Baumann kept on, but slowed. A few metres further on, he pulled up. Grau in a Lancia drew alongside. Cade looked at him as he leaned out of his car window, snow whitening his green Swiss hat and his raincoat. Grau was around the same age as Baumann. He was fat and broad-shouldered and typically Swiss.

  'She turned off into some estate,' Baumann said. 'Did you spot her?'

  'No. How can you see anything in this snow?'

  Baumann got out of his car.

  'Wait here,' he said and bending his head against the driving snow, he walked back down the road.

  Grau manoeuvred his car ahead of the Jaguar to get off the road. He lit a cigarette and getting out, came over to Cade.

  'So you're Cade,' he said, peering at him. 'I've heard a lot about you.'

  'I've heard a lot about myself,' Cade said indifferently. He shifted around so he wasn't looking directly at Grau and fumbled for his cigarettes.

  'You certainly can take photographs,' Grau went on. 'I've followed all your work.'

  'So have I,' Cade said.

  There was a long pause, then Grau sensing he wasn't wanted, walked back to his car.

  After a five minute wait, Baumann returned. 'She's gone in there all right,' he said. 'High walls; iron gates and a long drive-in. Can't see any sign of a house. Okay, Grau you stay here. Watch the gates. We are going on to Villars. I have to find out what this place is.'

  'Okay,' Grau said and waved as Baumann, getting into the Jaguar, drove on towards Villars.

  chapter eight

  The lounge of the Bellavista Hotel was deserted at this time of 20.00 hours. The few visitors who had come up to Villars with the optimistic hope of early sport were in the dining room. A big log fire crackled in the grate. The parchment-shaded lights cast a red glow on the highly polished parquet floor. The room was homely and pleasant.

  Cade sat in a lounge chair in a corner, away from the fire, his eyes closed. He wanted a drink, but he fought off the urge. He had gradually become intrigued by Braddock's assignment, and he knew if he started drinking, he wouldn't get pictures. He now wanted to prove to himself that he was still capable of getting pictures.

  The door pushed open and Baumann with Ben Sherman on his heels, came in. They joined Cade and sat down.

  Cade opened his eyes and stared at Sherman.

  'Where did you spring from?'

  'Don't talk about it,' Sherman said with an exaggerated shudder. 'I nearly killed myself trying to follow that bitch from Paris. I'm still in a state of shock.'

  'I've heard all that,' Baumann said impatiently. 'You knew what you were in for. Give it a rest.' He leaned forward and tapped Cade on his knee. 'I have been asking around. Anita has gone to ground in the Chateau owned by General Fritz van Ludwig. Remember him? He surrendered his army to the Russians in 1943 at Stalingrad. He has been living in retirement in this Chateau for the past twenty years. What do you make of that?'

  Cade shrugged.

  'Nothing ... what do you?'

  Sherman said, 'I remember him. When the Russians made him a prisoner, he broadcast anti-Hitler propaganda from Moscow. Anita is Russian by birth, isn't she?'

  'That's right,' Baumann said. 'The idea was she came to Switzerland to meet a lover, not an eighty-year-old German General.'

  'That should disappoint Braddock, shouldn't it?' Cade said.

  The two men looked at him.

  'This intrigues me,' Baumann said. 'You and I are going to take a look at that Chateau tonight.'

  'Is that such a hot idea?' Sherman asked. 'You'll leave footprints all over the place. Do you want to alert Anita we are on to her?'

  'It won't matter if it goes on snowing this hard,' Baumann pointed out. 'Any prints we make will be covered by the morning. Look, Ben, suppose you go and relieve Grau? He's been out there for the past two hours.'

  'Why should I care?' Sherman said. He got up and went over to the fire, holding-out his hands to the comforting warmth.

  'Get going!' Baumann snapped. 'He'll relieve you at midnight.'

  'How nice,' Sherman said, but he left the lounge.

  Baumann lit a cigarette.

  'S. B. has a fantastic instinct for news. This could turn out to be a lot more interesting than a love affair. An aged German General with Russian sympathies and one of our top movie stars. Could be quite a story. You and I are going to get it, Cade.' As Cade said nothing, Baumann stood up. 'Let's eat. We have a cold night ahead of us.'

  After dinner, the two men went to their rooms. Baumann had booked three bedrooms all leading into one another with a sitting-room at the far end. He had ski clothes for Cade and both men changed. Then equipped with skiing boots and gloves, they left by the service door of the hotel and drove down to where Sherman, cold and miserable, was sitting in his Simca.

  There was now a high wind and the snow made visibility difficult. It was also freezing.

  'We'll take a look around,' Baumann said as Sherman lowered his car window.

  'Rather you than me,' Sherman said sourly. 'God! It's cold!'

  Cade and Baumann reached the high wrought iron gates after a few minutes of difficult walking.

  They paused outside the gates. Beyond them, they could make out the dim outlines of a small lodge.

  A light showed in one of the lower windows.

  'We don't go in that way,' Baumann said. 'Come on . . . follow me.'

  He continued on down the road by the high flint and concrete, wall of the estate. After walking some thirty metres, he stopped.

  'We'll go over the wall.'

  He stepped down into the ditch, the snow covering his boots, and set his back against the wall.

  'Come on. I'll give you a lift up.'

  Cade put his foot in Baumann's clasped hands and Baumann heaved him up. Cade's fingers reached the top of the wall, got a grip and he swung his leg over. He sat astride the wall and looked down at Baumann.

  Baumann tried to reach Cade's outstretched hand, but he was too short and he cursed.

  'Okay. I'll wait here. You take a look. Be careful. See if you can get a look at the Chateau.'

  'How do you expect me to get back over the wall on my own?' Cade asked mildly. He was careful not to let Baumann see how intrigued he was and how he welcomed this adventure.

  'I'll get a rope. Ben has one in his car. I should have thought of that. You wait here. I won't be long,' and Baumann vanished into the darkness.

  Snow pelted down on Cade as he crouched on the wall. He decided not to wait for Baumann, He scraped a high pile of snow off the wall where he was sitting, marking his place of entry, then he swung his leg over and dropped down into the deep snow. Although the snow broke his fall, the drop came as a jar. His feet stinging, his legs a little shaky he set off through the trees, moving cautiously and silently.

  He had no idea how long he walked. It was some time. The wind howled, around him and the snow turned him into a white, ghost-like figure. Finally, he was free of the trees, and he came upon a large flat snow-covered surface which he guessed would be the lawn, surrounding the Chateau.

  It was then that he saw the house: a big, rambling building with turrets: a typical Swiss Chateau, three storeys high with narrow windows, some of which were showing lights.

  A feeling of danger made him pause. He drew back and stood by a snow-covered fir tree and looked towards the Chateau. He stood motionless, watching, unaware of the coating of snow that built over him. Slowly, his eyes became accustomed to the dark, and he was thankful he had made no attempt to cross the coverless space ahead of him. He saw a movement near the Chateau, and peering into the driving snow, he saw a figure of a man walking with bent head around the outside. Then he saw other figures standing against the walls, sentinels, spaced widely apart, facing him and sinister enough to make him step further back into the shelter of the forest.

  He remained watching for some twenty minutes until the cold began to creep up his legs and chill his body. Then, satisfied he had seen enough, he headed back to the wall.

  He had difficulty in finding the mark he had left on top of the wall. In a few more minutes, the snow would have obliterated his landfall.

  He called softly, 'Baumann?'

  'Right here,' Baumann replied from the other side and a rope snaked over the wall, the end dropping at Cade's feet.

  It took him several minutes to haul himself up and he was so out of condition, he had to rest on top while his breath rasped at the back of his throat and his heart slammed against his ribs. Finally, in control of himself, he dropped down beside Baumann.

  'Why didn't you wait for me?' Baumann said angrily. 'I told you to wait.'

  'So you did,' Cade said. 'Let's get out of here.'

  They walked in silence to the Jaguar, then shaking off the snow that covered their clothes, they got into the welcome warmth of the car.

  'What's cooking?' Baumann asked as he began to drive back to the hotel.

  'Something,' Cade returned. 'We'll talk about it when we get back to our room.'

  A few minutes later, Baumann pulled up outside the hotel and the two men entered the warm, brightly lit lobby. The manager of the hotel, Willi Tanz, a pudgy, smiling Swiss and a good friend of Baumann's came from behind the reception desk.

  'Horst, you haven't completed the usual police cards for your friend and Mr. Sherman. Would you do that for me?'

  'Sorry, I forgot,' Baumann said. 'Give them to me. I'll take them up with me.'

  Tanz gave him the two cards, then nodding, Baumann led the way to the lift. Up in their sitting-room, Baumann began to strip off his skiing clothes.

  'Well? Come on, Cade, don't be so damn mysterious.'

  Cade had taken off his windcheater and now, sitting before the fire, he began to take off his boots.

  'There are about a dozen armed men patrolling the grounds of the Chateau,' he said. 'At least two have automatic rifles.'

  Baumann gaped at him.

  'Are you sure?'

  'I watched them for a good twenty minutes. I am sure.'

  'Well, what do you know?' Baumann kicked off his boots. He pushed his stockinged feet towards the fire. 'But why?'

  Cade shrugged.

  'How's the barometer?'

  Baumann got to his feet, went over to the telephone and asked the desk about the weather, listened, grunted and hung up.

  'It's rising. Should be fine tomorrow'

  'There's a big Arolla pine tree at the edge of the forest,' Cade said. 'It faces the Chateau. It's my only hope to get pictures. There's a terrace on the second floor. If it is sunny tomorrow, Anita might possibly come out on the terrace. I can't see any other way I can get pictures. I'll need a 600 mm Tele Rokkor lens. Where can I get one?'

  'What about these armed men?'

  'Never mind about them. Concentrate on the lens.'

  Baumann thought for a moment, then looked at his wrist watch. The time was a few minutes after midnight.

  'I can get you one tomorrow some time.'

  'I want to be up that tree with my equipment before daylight.'

  Baumann frowned, then crossed to the telephone, dialled a number, waited, then spoke in a low voice. Cade didn't bother to listen. He moved close to the fire, his mind busy with the technical difficulties that faced him of getting good pictures of the terrace. With the Rokkor lens, he decided he could get good close-up photographs always providing the sun was warm enough to tempt Anita out onto the terrace.

  'I'll send Grau,' Baumann said as he hung up. 'I have a friend who owns a photographic shop in Montreux. He has the lens. Grau will have it here in less than three hours.'

  He went into Grau's bedroom and got him out of bed. Grau cursed when he was told he had to go right away to Montreux, but after a brief delay while he struggled into his clothes, he went off.

  Cade had brought his camera equipment from his bedroom into the sitting-room. He began loading film into his Minolta.

  'I'll need enough sandwiches to last me for twelve hours, coffee, a half-bottle of brandy, some thin cord, three metres of knotted rope, a good hunting knife and a set of climbing irons,' he said. 'That tree isn't going to be easy to climb, but once I'm up, I'm not likely to be seen.'

  Baumann nodded. For the first time since he had met Cade, he looked animated.

  'I'll fix all that for you. Anything else?'

  'I don't think so. I'm going to bed. Call me at six o'clock. That'll be time enough.'

  'Do you want me with you?'

  'Once I'm up the tree, I'll be better on my own, but I might have to get out fast. How can we keep in touch?'

  'I have a two way radio you can take with you. It'll be heavy, but it is the safest way for us to keep in touch. How's that?'

  'Fine. You'll have to come over the wall with me. If it stops snowing, you'll have to wipe out our prints and you can help carry the gear, then you can leave me.'

  A little after 06.00 hours the following morning, Cade and Baumann left the hotel. Grau had got the Rokkor lens and Baumann had collected the various things Cade had asked for: these he had packed into a rucksack which Cade carried. It was now no longer snowing, and the moon, riding high, cast a brilliant light over the white landscape. It was frosty and well below freezing, the road surface was dangerously slippery.

  They stopped beside Sherman's Simca, still parked off the road. Baumann told him about the armed men guarding the Chateau.

  'What's the idea?' Sherman asked, looking startled.

  'That's what we are going to find out,' Baumann said. 'You are to wait this side of the wall: When I return, it's your job to throw me the rope. So keep awake.'

  Baumann led the way to the wall, hoisted Cade up and then Sherman hoisted Baumann up beside Cade. Sherman tied the rucksack, Cade's camera equipment and the short wave receiver to the end of the rope and Baumann hauled them up. The two men slid over the wall and cautiously moved off through the dark forest. They walked one behind the other, Baumann careful to step into Cade's deep footprints.

  Finally, Cade said softly, 'We're not far off. Watch out.'

  Baumann grunted. They could see through the trees the snow-covered lawn ahead of them, dazzlingly white in the moonlight.

  Cade continued more slowly until he reached the tall Arolla pine tree he had noticed during the night.

  'See them?' he whispered and pointed across the lawn.

  Baumann's breath hissed in sharply as he saw the sentinels. They were spaced some ten metres apart: dark, motionless figures, holding rifles and looking towards the forest.

  Cade stepped back into the shadows. He sat in the snow and began to fix the climbing irons to his boots. His fingers were so cold he had difficulty in securing the straps.

  Baumann said, 'What the hell do you think they're guarding?' He was still staring across the lawn at the motionless men.

  'You make a guess,' Cade said and stood up. He uncoiled the knotted rope, tossed one end over the nearest bough, then catching hold of the loop, he dug his climbing irons into the trunk of the tree and slowly, laboriously hauled himself up. He reached the lower branches, then paused. 'Okay. Let's have the equipment, then you get off,' he said, astride a branch and leaning forward. 'Make sure you get rid of our prints.'

  Baumann attached the various things they had brought with them to the end of the rope and watched while Cade hauled them up into the tree. Then with a wave of his hand and a muttered 'Good luck,' he moved off into the darkness, pausing at every step to wipe out their prints with a fir branch he had cut off.

  Cade waited until Baumann was out of sight, then he began climbing. He moved cautiously to avoid knocking off the thick snow that covered the branches of the tree. Finally, nearly at the top of the tree, he was level with the big terrace under which the massive entrance to the Chateau was built.

  He set up his light tripod, tying the legs to the fir branches, then he secured his rucksack to another branch and settled down to wait. After a cold, dull half hour, he switched on the short wave receiver and called Baumann.

  'Listening in,' Baumann's voice said immediately.

  'Keep that way,' Cade said into the microphone. 'I'm all set and waiting,' then' he switched off.

 

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