By Royal Command Read Free Page A

flower-filled meadows, their bells tinkling so sweetly, then it will seem like a fairy-tale castle. You are my princess, after all,’ he added.
    ‘We shall see,’ Liesl said, wrinkling her pretty nose.
    ‘Trust me!’ said Otto, and he slammed his foot down on the accelerator once more as they hit a straight.
    ‘Please, darling, you have made your point,’ Liesl shouted. ‘You must be more careful. Slow down.’
    Otto was just about to say something clever when they screamed around a blind curve and came upon a car stalled in the road. He applied the brakes with ferocious force and wrestled with the wheel until he had subdued the Bugatti and brought her to a halt less than three feet from the other vehicle.
    Liesl was on the verge of tears, but Otto was laughing with relief. The girl was right – he would need to be a little more careful in future – but today he was filled with a wild, careless spirit. He had almost believed the rosy picture he had painted of life at the Schloss. Ah, it wouldn’t be so bad. He would drum up some friends, bring them down for parties – all manner of smart types had summer villas in the Alps.
    There were two men standing by the car peering at the engine under the open bonnet. They seemed unperturbed by the near accident.
    ‘Are you in trouble?’ Otto called out. The road was narrow here and the other car was stopped right in the middle so that there was no way he could go round them.
    One of the men lifted his head and looked at Otto. He had the smallest eyes Otto had ever seen on a person: they were almost completely hidden behind thick, fleshy eyelids.
    ‘Do you know about motorcars?’ he said in German, with the hint of a foreign accent. Otto surmised that he was probably Russian.
    Did he know about cars? What a question! Otto had driven in the 1932 German Grand Prix, in the racing version of the car he was sitting in now, the Type 54. Did he know about cars, indeed? He loved cars – why, he sometimes thought he loved them more than he loved women.
    ‘I know a thing or two,’ he said, climbing out. ‘What seems to be the problem?’
    He strode over, placed his hands on the car and leant in to take a look. He could see no immediate and obvious problem, though there was a strong smell of petrol.
    ‘It is possible you have a leak in your fuel pipe,’ he said, and glanced inside the car. A third man was at the wheel, his face completely wrapped in bandages, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses.
    He was sitting very still.
    Otto looked away quickly, not wanting to stare, but the sight had unnerved him. He felt a chill of fear. He wanted to be away from here.
    He studied the engine once more and at last spotted something: a wire to the alternator had come unattached.
    ‘There,’ he said. ‘I think I see your problem.’
    Liesl was checking her lipstick in the side mirror. She looked over at the other car just as the two men stepped away from it. Otto had his head buried inside the engine. Liesl frowned as one of the men stooped down and picked up something that was lying hidden in the snow. It appeared to be a small box attached to a wire that snaked under the car. She was about to say something when the man pressed a switch on the box and a great gout of flame billowed from the car’s engine, engulfing Otto’s head and shoulders. He gave a hideous, high-pitched shriek and fell away, clutching his face.
    Liesl knew she was in danger; her first thought was to get out of the car and run. It would take too long to slide over the seat, take the wheel, start the car and put it into reverse gear. But, even as she reached for the door handle, the man with puffy eyes stepped up to the car and swung a knuckle-duster at her chin.
    She heard a loud pop and was overcome with a terrible sick feeling. Her brain seemed to be fizzing. Then she was walking through snow, surrounded by a hazy whiteness.
    No.
    It was snowing inside her head.
    So