The English Führer by Rory Clements

Author:Rory Clements
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bonnier Publishing Fiction

CHAPTER 24

Knowing that his gun had been taken, he couldn’t sleep. His eyes ranged around the room. Among other Japanese objets d’art in this exquisite space, a long and beautiful samurai sword was hanging on the wall at the side of the bed. It slid from its black and red leather scabbard as smoothly as a snake from a hole. He weighed it in his arms and the curved steel blade shone in the electric light. He ran a finger along the sharp edge and drew a thin line of blood.

Well, he had a defensive weapon, but he still wouldn’t sleep.

His thinking was clear, but decisions were hard to come by. Would it be prudent to slip away into the night, or would they be waiting for him, guarding the Riley? He could always make a getaway on foot, through the fields and woods. Looking out of the window, there was a twenty-foot drop and no safe way down, so he would have to make his way through the corridors and stairways of the house. What was he scared of? More than anything else, it was the removal of the pistol that unnerved him.

He sat on the bed against a bank of pillows, his knees bunched up, the sword in his lap. He needed sleep, but that seemed impossible. There wasn’t even a lock or bolt on the inside of the chamber door.

And yet sleep still beckoned. With a good meal and some alcohol inside him, his eyes became heavier and he was close to dozing off when there was a soft knock on wood.

It was 12.30 a.m. He was instantly awake. Why would someone rap at the door in the middle of the night? Killers don’t do that; they barge in and attack in a rush, or they steal in silently. Slipping off the bed, he made his way forward, clutching the long hilt of the sword with both hands, the blade inclined in a downward arc. ‘Who’s there?’

A strong Texan drawl. ‘It’s me, Larry Rhein.’

‘What do you want?’

‘Can I come in?’

‘The door’s not locked.’

Rhein turned the handle and peered around the door. His eyes opened wide at the sight of the samurai sword as he slid his unimpressive frame into the room. ‘Jesus, Wilde.’

‘I’m not planning to hurt you. Get in and shut the door.’

The American businessman had been the only one wearing a dinner jacket and tails, which he was still wearing. Now, however, his white tie was undone as was the stud of his wing collar. He kept his eyes on the blade.

‘Well, why are you here, Rhein?’

‘I’m here because I want to know what you’re doing here.’

‘Damn fool question. I’m trying to sleep, of course, and was about to nod off when you turned up.’

‘I mean here, in this house. What in God’s name are you up to?’

‘The same as you, Rhein – I’m here for the shooting party. Stop talking in riddles and get to the point.’

Rhein went across to the bed and sat down.

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