I had just slid down one of these clear patches and nearly smothered myself in a deep drift, when I looked back. The hut had now completely disappeared from view, but coming out of the snow was the figure of a skier. He was taking the slope in quick zigzags. On the soft snow he did a jump turn and with his skis parallel to the slope, rode the snow as it spilled down as though he were surf-riding.
I dived for the shelter of the trees. The snow had drifted badly here. But wading and rolling, I made the side of the track, caught at a branch and pulled myself in amongst the trees.
I gave a quick glance back and was just in time to see Mayne do a perfect Christi against the deep snow through which I had struggled. He came up standing and facing me. Barely half-a-dozen yards separated us. I felt tears of anger smart in my eyes. My feet were bedded deep in snow and the branches of the trees were thick. Mayne slipped his hand inside his windbreaker and brought out his gun. ‘Do I shoot you now?’ he said. ‘Or do you want to come back and join your friends?’
His voice was quite callous. It was clear that he did not mind whether he shot me now or later. ‘All right,’ I said. ‘I’ll come back.’ I had no choice. But it was with a bitter sense of failure that I began to trudge back up the track I had made coming down. Once a drift gave way under me and I fell. I did not want to get up. I had a feeling of utter disappointment. But he began hacking at my ribs with the points of his skis. After that he gave me his sticks. He followed a little behind, side-stepping up, the gun ready in his hand.
I was utterly exhausted by the time I reached the top. He directed me round to the side of the concrete housing. I guessed that Engles and Keramikos were locked inside, for the door was being battered from within. Outside lay a pile of tools; picks, shovels and a heavy long-handled hammer that quarry men call a biddle. He unlocked the door and, catching hold of me by the back of the neck, flung me inside. I tripped on the snow in the doorway and fell. Something hit my head and I passed out.
When I came to, I found myself propped in a sitting position against the wall. I was very cold and my eyes would not focus. I could not think where I was for the moment. There was a lot of noise and the room was full of dust. The blood hammered in my head, which felt heavy and painful. I put my hand up to my forehead. It was wet and sticky. My fingers came away covered in dirt and blood and the icy water of melted snow.
Then I remembered what had happened. I concentrated my gaze on the room. My back was resting in the corner of two walls. On the opposite side of the room, beyond the cable, Mayne stood with his back against the closed door. Under the switchboard, opposite the window, Engles and Keramikos were hacking away at the concrete flooring with pick and hammer. The room began to swim again. I closed my eyes.
When I opened them again, the room was steady. Engles had stopped pounding at the concrete with his hammer. He was leaning on the haft and wiping the sweat from his forehead. He caught my eye. ‘Feeling better?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I’ll be all right in a minute.’
But he saw I was shivering with cold and he said to Mayne, ‘Why don’t you lock him in his room? He’s wet through. He’ll get pneumonia.’
That’s his lookout,’ was Mayne’s reply. He did not trouble to conceal the fact that it would make no difference to me whether I caught pneumonia or not. But just at that moment I think I was past caring about death.
Engles looked across at me and then at Mayne. ‘I don’t often feel like killing people,’ he said. ‘But by God I do at the moment.’
‘Better not try,’ was all Mayne said.
Engles turned back and swung his hammer viciously against the concrete floor. The thud of it shook the whole room. They had moved the big cast-iron stove and where it had stood they were breaking up the concrete preparatory to digging. I glanced round the room. It was grey and dirty. The dust rose in a cloud round Engles and Keramikos — a fine, choking dust. Above me was the wall against which the German soldiers had been shot down. Examining it closely, I noticed that the concrete here was newer than the concrete of the floor.
I began to feel better. But my wet clothes chilled me and I was shivering uncontrollably. I got to my feet. I felt a bit dizzy, but otherwise not too bad. I said, ‘Mind if I give you two a hand?’ Engles turned. ‘I’d be warmer doing some work,’ I explained.
‘No, come along,’ he said.
Mayne made no objection and I climbed over the clutter of machinery. Already they had made a great gap in the concrete flooring. Keramikos was beginning to pick at the earth underneath. There was a hard frozen crust at the top, despite the concrete covering. But six inches down it was soft. Engles put his hammer down and I took up a pick. ‘Take it easy,’ Engles whispered to me. ‘There’s no hurry. Sorry you didn’t make it. Good try — but quite hopeless.’
