CHAPTER NINE
COL DA VARDA IN FLAMES
Having seen Aldo come out of the room in which Carla was imprisoned, I half expected her to emerge at any moment But the corridor remained empty. It seemed a long time that I remained there with my eye to the crack through which a cold draught came. But it was only three minutes by my watch before the second door from the end was suddenly thrown open and Keramikos rushed out. He was fully clothed even to ski boots which clattered noisily on the boards as he dived down the stairs.
As soon as he was out of sight, I went into Joe's room. The noise had not wakened him. He was snoring peacefully, his face to the wall and his mouth open. I flung open the window and leaned out with the water jug in my hand. The facade of the hut was brilliantly lit in the moonlight. I swung the jug with my arm straight and pitched it just beyond the machine-room so that Engles could not fail to see it from the doorway.
He appeared at once. He had his skis on, but he did not leave at once. He came round to the front of the concrete housing and slipped his right ski along the wall, for all the world as though he were measuring the frontage as Valdini had done. Then he turned quickly and, with a flick of his sticks, he was off down the slalom run. A shot rang out from beneath the hut. I stayed at the window, keeping an eye on my watch, the second-hand of which was quite visible in the moonlight. Just eighty-five seconds after Engles had disappeared into the dark band of the trees, Keramikos started down the slalom run after him. And from the speed at which he took the first slope and the way he handled his sticks, I guessed him to be a pretty good skier.
I closed the window then. Joe hadn't stirred. I opened his door and glanced quickly out to see whether the corridor was clear. And at that moment Carla's head appeared — not out of the door of Valdini's room, but up the stairs. She was carrying a heavy can. I pulled my head back then and listened, waiting for her to go back into Valdini's room.
A board creaked. There was silence for a moment.
Then I heard the burble of liquid being poured out of a can. It was the sound a petrol can makes whilst being emptied. I took a chance on her seeing me and looked out. She was bent low, pouring liquid from the can on to the floor outside Mayne's door. It was petrol. I could smell it, even though I was at the opposite end of the corridor. And as I realised this, I knew what she was going to do.
I stepped out into the corridor then. She looked up at the sound of my slippers on the boards, but she did not stop pouring. The liquid was streaming under the door of Mayne's room. 'Don't be a fool!' I said. 'You can't do that.'
She laid the can on its side and straightened herself. She had a box of matches in her hand. Her face looked white and strained and there were dark bruises on either side of her mouth where a gag had been. She didn't seem very steady, for she leaned against the wall for support. Her eyes stared at me wildly down the length of the corridor, 'I cannot — no?' She fumbled for a match and backed to the stairs. Then she struck it viciously and held it up. 'Then you watch,' she said. And she tossed the burning match lightly into the pool of petrol. It went up with a roar. In an instant the whole far end of the corridor was a sheet of flame.