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I realized this was an impasse; he could not get past me, but I was trapped too. If I were to retreat down the spiral staircase I would be vulnerable to an attack from above and the man I had once taken for a penny-pinching clerk was clearly capable of anything. I advanced into the room, swinging my staff ahead of me.

He was at the other end, behind the bells. He stepped out as I entered and I saw he had two big leather panniers tied together with a thick rope round his neck. The chink of metal sounded from them as he moved. He was breathing hard, brandishing the club in his right hand, the knuckles standing out white and hard.

'What was the plan. Brother?' I called out. 'Take the money from the sales and flee to a new life in France?' I advanced a step, trying to distract him, but he was watchful as a cat and swung the torch threateningly.

'N-no!' He stood there and bawled out the word like a child falsely accused. 'No! This is my fee to enter heaven!'

'What?'

'She refused me and refused me and then the Devil filled my soul with anger and I killed her! Do you know how easy it is to kill someone, Commissioner?' He laughed wildly. 'I saw too much killing as a child, it opened the door to the Devil, always he fills my mind with dreams of b-blood!'

His fat face was scarlet and the veins stood out on his neck as he screamed at me. He had lost control; if I could surprise him, get close enough to ring the bells-

'You'll find it hard to persuade a jury of that,' I called out.

'Pox on your juries!' His stammer vanished as his voice rose to a shout. 'The pope, who is God's vicar on earth, allows the purchase of redemption from sins! I told you, God figures our souls in heaven, the credit balance and the debit! And I will make him such a gift he will take me to his right hand! I am taking almost a thousand pounds to the Church in France, a thousand pounds from the hands of your heretic king. This is a great work in the eyes of God!' He eyed me furiously. 'You will not stop me!'

'Will it buy you forgiveness for Simon and Gabriel too?'

He pointed the torch at me. 'Whelplay guessed what I had done to the girl and would have told you. He had to die, I had to complete my work! And you should have died instead of Gabriel, you crow, God will hold you to account for that!'

'You madman!' I shouted. 'I will see you in the Bedlam, displayed as a warning of what perverted religion can do!'

Then he grasped his club in both hands and ran at me with an eldritch scream. The heavy panniers slowed him or he would have had me, but I managed to dodge aside. He whirled round and swung again. I raised my staff, but he knocked it from my hand with the torch. As it clattered to the floor, I realized he had got himself between me and the door. He advanced slowly, swinging the torch, and I backed up against the low railing separating me from the bells and the great drop below. He was cooler again now; I saw those wicked black eyes calculating the distance between us and the height of the rail. 'Where is your boy?' he asked with an evil grin. 'Not here to protect you today?' Then he flew at me and landed a clout on my arm as I lifted it to defend myself. He pushed me hard in the chest and I fell back, over the low railing.

I still relive that fall in dreams, the sensation of twisting as I fell, my hands grasping at empty air. Always I hear Brother Edwig's triumphant shout in my ears. Then my arms slapped against the side of a bell and instinctively I threw my arms round it, clutching at the metal surface, grinding my fingernails into the ornate design on the surface. It stopped my fall, but my hands were slick with sweat and I felt myself slipping down.

Then my foot hit something and I came to rest. I flattened myself against the bell and managed, just, to link my fingers together around it. Glancing quickly down I saw my foot had come to rest on the plaque on the old Spanish bell. I clung on desperately.

Then I felt the bell start to move. My weight was causing it to swing outwards. It hit the neighbouring bell and a deafening clang echoed through the bell tower as the juddering impact threatened to dislodge me. The bell swung back, with me clinging on like a limpet, and I had a glimpse of Edwig taking off his pannier and bending to the floor to pick up the coins he had dropped, all the while glancing malevolently at me. He knew I could only hold on for moments more. Far below I heard faint voices echoing up; the crowd outside must have run in at the unexpected peal of the bell. I dared not look down. The bell swung back and hit its neighbour again; this time it set the whole lot clanging with a noise I thought would burst my ears and now as the bell vibrated with the impact I felt my hands slipping apart.

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В канун Отечественной войны советский разведчик Александр Белов пересекает не только географическую границу между двумя странами, но и тот незримый рубеж, который отделял мир социализма от фашистской Третьей империи. Советский человек должен был стать немцем Иоганном Вайсом. И не простым немцем. По долгу службы Белову пришлось принять облик врага своей родины, и образ жизни его и образ его мыслей внешне ничем уже не должны были отличаться от образа жизни и от морали мелких и крупных хищников гитлеровского рейха. Это было тяжким испытанием для Александра Белова, но с испытанием этим он сумел справиться, и в своем продвижении к источникам информации, имеющим важное значение для его родины, Вайс-Белов сумел пройти через все слои нацистского общества.«Щит и меч» — своеобразное произведение. Это и социальный роман и роман психологический, построенный на остром сюжете, на глубоко драматичных коллизиях, которые определяются острейшими противоречиями двух антагонистических миров.

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Детективы / Исторический детектив / Шпионский детектив / Проза / Проза о войне