Whiff Of Money

Kirst had only been working for von Goltz for two years. He had a badly paid job as an assistant to the estate manager who constantly bullied him. Kirst was far from satisfied with his job and was planning to make a change as soon as something better came along. However, the Paris trip had made up for a lot of his past grievances, and although he had spent more money than he could afford, he told himself, as he walked through the Customs, that it had been worth it.

A silver-haired giant of a man approached him.

'Your name?'

The snap in the voice and the cold green eyes brought Kirst to attention. He was so used to being snapped at by his superiors he reacted automatically.

'Fritz Kirst, sir,' he said.

Malik nodded.

'Good . . . your master told me to pick you up. Follow me,' and without looking at Kirst, Malik, knowing the German weakness for obeying orders, turned on his heel and walked briskly to where the Mercedes was parked.

Kirst, a little bewilderd, had to break into a trot to keep up with him. Who was this man? he was asking himself. Why had the count sent him? But when he saw the count's car, his uneasiness disappeared. Malik was already at the wheel, and Kirst had to scramble in as Malik eased the car out of the parking bay.

As Malik drove out on to the main road, Kirst said timidly, 'Excuse

me, sir,but...'

'I don't like people talking to me when I'm driving!' Malik snapped. Kirst placed his brief-case on his knees and sat back, snubbed and silent.

This big man certainly could handle a car, he thought as Malik whipped the Mercedes through the traffic with expert ease. They quickly left Munich behind. As they reached the highway to Garmisch, Kirst happened to look in the off-side wing mirror. He stared... stared again, then stiffened.

Right behind the Mercedes was a small scarlet car. Kirst immediately recognised the driver and the girl beside him.

They were the two the count was keeping prisoners at the Schloss, and that car! It was the car he had been ordered to leave at the airport!

Sweat broke out on his face. He looked wildly at Malik who glared at him so evilly Kirst shuddered.

' Sit still and keep quiet!' Malik snarled.

Some way down the busy highway, there was a left turn: a narrow country road leading to a distant farmhouse. Malik slowed, swung the car down the road, drove until he reached a bend that would put the car out of sight from the highway and pulled up.

'You have a packet from a Paris bank I want,' Malik said. 'Give it to me!'

The T.R.4 pulled up behind the Mercedes and Girland slid out. He came to the off-side door of the Mercedes and looked through the open window at Kirst.

'Has he given it to you?'

'Not yet... but he will.'

Kirst hesitated for only a second, then with shaking hands, he opened the brief-case and took from it a square-shaped, sealed packet. Malik took it from him and examined it.

Girland quietly slid his gun from his hip pocket. He didn't trust Malik. He kept the gun down by his side, but the movement hadn't escaped Malik who looked up, stared at him and grinned.

'You take after me... you trust nobody,' he said and reaching across Kirst, he thrust the packet at Girland who took it with his left hand.

'I apologise ... force of habit,' Girland said and put the gun back into his hip pocket. He went over to Gilly who was waiting in the T.R.4. 'Is this it?' he asked showing her the packet.

'Yes' Gilly said and made a quick snatch at it, but Girland was too quick for her. She looked pleadingly at him. 'Please give it to me... it's mine!'

Girland shook his head.

'Don't let's go all over this again, Gilly. You gave me your word. This goes to your father.'

She went white.

'No! Please! I couldn't live knowing he had seen those films! If you give them to him, F11 kill myself! I swear I will!'

Girland studied her.

'But, Gilly, shouldn't you have thought of this before you made them? After all, you were going to send them to his enemies, weren't you?'

'Of course not! Please believe me! I was bluffing. Of course I wasn't going to send them to them. I Can't bear to think of anyone seeing them!'

'Oh come on, Gilly. You've already sent one spool to your father.'

'I didn't! It was Pierre! He sent it and then told me afterwards ! I could have killed him! Besides, these . ..' She caught her breath in a sob. 'They - they are much worse. I can't bear anyone seeing them. Don't you understand? I didn't know what I was doing as you or anyone else wouldn't have if you had had as much L.S.D. as I had.' Tears began to run down her face. 'You can't do this to me!' ¦

Girland regarded the packet in his hand, then looked at her.

'This little lot is worth ten thousand dollars to me. Why should I care what it does to you?'

She hid her face in her hands and began to sob violently, rocking herself to and fro: a picture of misery. Girland became aware that Malik had got out of the Mercedes and was watching him curiously.

Still holding the packet in his hand, Girland said, 'What are we going to do with our friend?'