She said, "I must go."
"Why?"
"I do not wish to meet him." She pushed her drink to one side and picked up her handbag.
I said, "You might as well finish your drink. It's the first drink I've ever bought you. No man is worth losing a drink over, anyway."
She relaxed and picked up the Campari. "Eduardo is not worth anything," she said tightly. "All right, I will be civilised and finish my drink; then I will go."
But we did meet him, after all. Only an Estrenoli -- from what I had heard of the breed -- would have paused dramatically in the doorway, veered over to our table and have addressed Francesca as he did.
"Ah, my loving wife," he said. "I'm surprised to find you here in civilised surroundings. I thought you drank in the gutters."
He was a stocky man, with good looks dissipated by red-veined eyes and a slack mouth. A wispy moustache disfigured his upper lip and his face was flushed with drink. He ignored me altogether.
Francesca looked stonily ahead, her lips compressed, and did not turn to face him even when he dropped heavily into a chair by her side.
I said, "You weren't invited to sit with us, signor."
He swung round and gave a short laugh, looking at me with an arrogant stare. He turned back to Francesca. "I see that even the Italian scum is not good enough for you now; you must take foreign lovers."
I stretched out my foot and hooked it behind the rung of his chair then pulled hard. The chair slid from under him and he tumbled on to the floor and sprawled full length. I got up and stood over him. "I said you weren't invited to sit-down."
He looked up at me, his face suffused with anger, and slowly scrambled to his feet. Then he glared at me. "I'll have you out of the country within twenty-four hours," he screamed. "Do you know who I am?"
The chance was too good to miss. "Scum usually floats on top," I said equably, then I hardened my voice. "Estrenoli, go back to Rome. Liguria isn't a healthy place for you."
"What do you mean by that?" he said uneasily. "Are you threatening me?"
"There are fifty men within a mile of here who would fight each other for the privilege of cutting your throat," I said. "I'll tell you what; I'll give you twenty-four hours to get out of Liguria. After that I wouldn't give a busted lira for your chances."
I turned to Francesca. "Let's get out of here; I don't like the smell."
She picked up her handbag and accompanied me to the door, walking proudly and leaving Estrenoli standing there impotently. I could hear a stifled buzz of comment in the lounge and there were a few titters at his discomfiture. I suppose there were many who had wanted to do the same thing but he was too powerful a man to cross. I didn't give a damn; I was boiling with rage.
The tittering was too much for Estrenoli and he caught up with us as we were crossing the foyer. I felt his hand on my shoulder and turned my head. "Take your hand off me," I said coldly.
He was almost incoherent in his rage. "I don't know who you are, but the British Ambassador will hear about this."
"The name's Halloran, and take your goddamm hand off me."
He didn't. Instead his hand tightened and he pulled me round to face him.
That was too much.
I sank three stiff fingers into his soft belly and he gasped and doubled up. Then I hit him with my fist as hard as I could. All the pent-up frustrations which had accumulated over the past weeks went into that blow; I was hitting Metcalfe and Torloni and all the thugs who were gathering like vultures. I must have broken Estrenoli's jaw and I certainly scraped my knuckles. He went down like a sack of meal and lay in a crumpled heap, blood welling from his mouth.
In the moment of hitting him I felt a fierce pain in my back. "Christ, my back!" I groaned, and turned to Franceses. But she was not there.
Instead, I was face to face with Metcalfe!
"What a punch!" he said admiringly. "That bloke's got a busted jaw for sure; I heard it go. Ever consider fighting light-heavyweight, Hal?"
I was too astounded to say anything, then I remembered Francesca and looked about wildly. She moved into sight from behind Metcalfe.
He said, "Wasn't this character saying something about the British Ambassador?" He looked about the foyer. Luckily it was deserted and no one had seen the fracas. Metcalfe looked at the nearest door, which was the entrance to the men's room. He grinned. "Shall we lug the guts into the neighbour room?"
I saw his point and together we dragged Estrenoli into the lavatory and stuffed him into a cubicle. Metcalfe straightened and said, "If this bird is on speaking terms with the British Ambassador he must be a pretty big noise. Who is he?"
I told him and Metcalfe whistled. "When you hit "em, you hit "em big! Even I have heard of Estrenoli. What did you slug him for?"
"Personal reasons," I said.
"Connected with the lady?"
"His wife."
Metcalfe groaned. "Brother you do get complicated. You're in a jam, for sure -- you'll be tossed out of Italy on your ear within twelve hours." He scratched behind his ear. "But maybe not; maybe I can fix it. Wait here and don't let anyone use this John. I'll tell your girl-friend to stick around -- and 'I'll be back in a couple of minutes."
I leaned against the wall and tried to think coherently about Metcalfe, but I couldn't. My back was hurting like hell and there was a dull throbbing in the hand with which I had hit Estrenoli. It looked as though I had made a mess of everything. I had repeatedly warned Coertze not to get into brawls and now I was guilty of that same thing -- and mixed up with Metcalfe to boot.
Metcalfe was as good as his word and was back within two minutes. With him was a squat, blue-jowled Italian dressed in a sharp suit. Metcalfe said, "This is a friend of mine, Guido Torloni. Guido, this is Peter Halloran."
Torloni looked at me in quick surprise. Metcalfe said, "Hal's in a jam. He's broken a governmental jaw." He took Torloni an one side and they spoke in low tones. I watched Torloni and thought that the mess was getting worse.
Metcalfe came back. "Don't worry., Guido can fix it, he can fix anything."
"Even Estrenoli?" I said incredulously.
Metcalfe smiled. "Even Estrenoli. Guido is Mr. Fixit himself in this part of Italy. Come, let's leave him to it."
We went into the foyer and I did not see Francesca. Metcalfe said, "Mrs. Estrenoli is waiting outside in my car."
We went out to the car and Francesca said, "Is everything all right?"
"Everything is fine," I said.
Metcalfe chuckled. "Excepting your husband, Madame. He will be very sorry for himself when he wakes up."
Francesca's hand was on the edge of the door. I put my hand over hers and pressed it warningly. "I'm sorry," I said. "Francesca, this is Mr. Metcalfe, an old friend of mine from South Africa."
I felt her fingers tense. I said quickly, "Mr. Metcalfe's friend, Mr. Torloni, is looking after your husband.' I'm sure he'll be all right."
"Oh yes," agreed Metcalfe cheerfully. "Your husband will be fine. He won't make trouble for anyone." He suddenly frowned. "How's your back, Hal? You'd better have it seen to right away. If you like I'll drive you to a doctor."
"It doesn't matter," I said. I didn't want to be driving anywhere with Metcalfe.
"Nonsense!" he said. "Who is your doctor?"
It made a bit of a difference if he would take us to a doctor of our choice. I looked at Francesca who said, "I know a good doctor."
Metcalfe clapped his hands together. "Fine. Let's get cracking."
So he drove us through the town and Francesca pointed out a doctor's rooms. Metcalfe pulled up and said, "You two go in; I'll wait for you here and give you a lift to Palmerini's yard."
That was another facer. Apparently Metcalfe didn't mind us knowing that he knew our whereabouts. There was something queer in the air and I didn't like it.
As soon as we got into the doctor's waiting-room Francesca said, "Is that Metcalfe? He seems a nice man."
"He is," I said. "But don't get in his way
or you'll get run over." I winced as my back gave a particularly nasty throb. "What the hell do we do now?"
"Nothing has cha nged," said Francesca practically. "We knew they would be coming. Now they are here."That was true. I said, "I'm sorry I hit your husband."
"I'm not," she said simply. "The only thing I'm sorry for is that you got hurt doing it. And that it might cause trouble for you."
"It won't," I said grimly. "Not while he's in Torloni's hands. And that's another thing I don't understand -- why should Metcalfe and Torloni be interested in getting me out of trouble? It doesn't make sense."
The doctor was ready for us then and he looked at my back. He said that I had torn a ligament and proceeded to truss me up .like a chicken. He also bound up my hand, which was a bit damaged where the knuckles had been scraped on Estrenoli's teeth. When we came out Metcalfe waved at us from the car, and called, "I'll take you down to the yard."
There didn't seem to be much point in refusing under the circumstances so we climbed into the car. As we were pulling away I said casually, "How did you know we were in Palmerini's yard?"
"I knew you were cruising in these waters so I asked the Port Captain if you'd shown up yet," said Metcalfe airily, "He told me all about you."
It was logical enough, and if I hadn't known better I might have believed him. He said, "I hear you're having trouble with your keel."
That was cutting a bit near the bone. I said, "Yes, I tried an experimental method of fastening but it doesn't seem to be working out. I might have to take the keel off and refasten it."
"Make a good job of it," he said. "It would be a pity if it dropped off when you're off-shore. You'd capsize immediately."
This was an uncomfortable conversation; it was reasonable small boat shop-talk, but with Metcalfe you never knew. To my relief he switched to something else. "What did you do to your face? Been in another brawl lately?"
"I fell off a mountain," I said lightly.
He made a sucking sound with his lips in commiseration. "You want to take more care of yourself, Hal, my boy. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."
This was too much. "Why the sudden solicitude?" I asked acidly.
He turned in surprise. "I don't like seeing my friends get bashed about, especially you. You're quite a handsome feller, you know." He turned to Francesca. "Isn't he?"
"I think so," she said.
I was surprised at that. "I'll survive," I said, as Metcalfe drew up at the gate of the boatyard. "I'm getting to be an expert at it."
Francesca and I got out of the car, and Metcalfe said, "Not going to show me your new keel fastening, Hal?"
I grinned. "Hell, I'm a professional designer; I never show my mistakes to anyone." If he could play fast and loose in a hinting conversation, so could I.
He smiled. "Very wise of you. I'll be seeing you around, I suppose?"
I stepped up to the car out of earshot of Francesca. "What will happen to Estrenoli?"
"Nothing much. Guido will take him to a good, safe doctor and have him fixed up, then he'll dump him in Rome after throwing a hell of a scare into him. It's my guess that Estrenoli's not very brave and our Guido is a very scary character when he wants to be. There'll be no more trouble."
I stepped back from the car, relieved. I had been afraid that Estrenoli would be dumped at the bottom of the bay in a concrete overcoat, and I didn't want anyone's life on my conscience, not even his. I said, "Thanks. Yes, I'll be seeing you around. One can scarcely avoid it -- in a town as small as this, can one?"
He put the car into gear and moved forward slowly, grinning from the side window. "You're a good chap, Hal; don't let anybody put one over on you."
Then he was gone and I was left wondering what the hell it was all about.
IV
The atmosphere in the shed was tense. As we walked through the yard I noticed that there were many more people about than usual; those would be Francesca's friends. When we got into the shed Piero strode up and said, "What happened at the club?" His voice was shaking with emotion.
"Nothing happened," I said. "Nothing serious." I saw a stranger in the background, a little man with bright, watchful eyes. "Who the devil's that?"
Piero turned. "That's Cariaceti, the jeweller -- never mind him. What happened at the club? You went in and so did Madame; then this Metcalfe and Torloni went in; then you and Madame came out with Metcalfe. What is happening?"
I said, "Take it easy; everything is all right.-We bumped into Estrenoli and he got flattened."
"Estrenoli?" said Piero in surprise, and looked at Francesca who nodded in confirmation. "Where is he now?" he demanded fiercely.
"Torloni's got him," I said.
That was too much for Piero. He sat on a trestle and gazed at the floor. "Torloni?" he said blankly. "What would Torloni want with Estrenoli?"
"Damned if I know," I said. "This whole thing is one of Metcalfe's devious plays; All I know is that I had a bust-up with Estrenoli and Metcalfe has removed him from circulation for a while -- and don't ask me why."
He looked up. "It is said that you were very friendly with Metcalfe to-day." His voice was heavy with suspicion.
"Why not? There's nothing to be gained by antagonising him. If you want to know what happened, ask Francesca -- she was there."
"Hal is right," said Francesca. "His treatment of Metcalfe was correct. He was given much provocation and refused to be annoyed by it. Besides," she said with a slight smile, "Metcalfe would seem to be a difficult man to hate."
"It is not difficult to hate Torloni," growled Piero. "And Metcalfe is his friend."
This wasn't getting us anywhere, so I said, "Where are Coertze and Walker?"
"In the town," said Piero. "We know where they are."
"I think they had better come in" I said. "Things may start to move fast -- we'd better decide what to do next."
He silently got up and went outside. I walked over to the little jeweller. "Signor Cariaceti," I said. "I understand that you have come here to look at some gems."
"That is so," he said. "But I do not wish to remain here long."
I went back to Francesca. "You'd belter turn Cariaceti loose among the jewels," I said. "There may not be much time."
She went to talk to Cariaceti and I looked moodily at the keel, still lacking nearly two tons of weight. Things were at a low ebb and I felt pretty desperate. It would take eight more days working at high pressure to finish the keel, another day to fasten it in position and another to replace the glass-fibre cladding and to launch Sanford.
Ten days! Would Metcalfe and Torloni wait that long?
After a little while Francesca came back. "Cariaceti is amazed," she said. "He is the happiest man I have ever seen."
"I'm glad someone is happy," I said gloomily. "This whole thing is on the point of falling to pieces."
She put her hand on my arm. "Don't blame yourself," she said. "No one could have done more than you."
I sat on the trestle. "I suppose things could be worse," I said. "Walker could get stinking drunk just when we need him, Coertze could run amok like a mad bull and I could fall and break a few bones."
She took my bandaged hand in hers. "I have never said this to any man," she said. "But you are a man I could admire very much."
I looked at her hand on mine. "Only admire?" I asked gently.
I looked up to see her face colouring. She took her hand away quickly and turned from me. "Sometimes you make me very annoyed, Mr. Halloran."
I stood up. "It was' Hal' not very long ago. I told you that my friends called me Hal."
"I am your friend," she said slowly.
"Francesca, I would like you to be more than my friend," I said.
She was suddenly very still and I put my hand on her waist. I said, "I think I love you, Francesca."
She turned quickly, laughing through tears. "You only think so, Hal. Oh, you English are so cold and wary. I know that I love you."
Something seemed to give at t
he pit of my stomach and the whole dark shed suddenly seemed brighter. I said, "Yes, I love you; but I didn't know how to say it properly -- I didn't know what you would say when I told you."
"I say 'bravo.'"
"We'll have a good life," I said. "The Cape is a wonderful place -- and there is the whole world besides."
She saddened quickly. "I don't know, Hal; I don't know. I am still a married woman; I can't marry you."
"Italy isn't the world," I said softly. "In most other countries divorce is not dishonourable. The men who made the laws for divorce were wise men; they would never tie anyone to a man like Estrenoli for life."
She shook her head. "Here in Italy and in the eyes of my Church, divorce is a sin."
"Then Italy and your Church are wrong. I say it; even Piero says it."
She said slowly, "What is going to happen to my husband?"
"I don't know," I said. "Metcalfe tells me that he will be taken back to Rome -- under escort."
"That is all? Torloni will not kill him?"
"I don't think so. Metcalfe said not -- and I believe Metcalfe. He may be a scoundrel, but I've never caught him out in a black lie yet."
She nodded. "I believe him, too." She was silent for a while, then she said, "When I know that Eduardo is safe, then I will come away with you, to South Africa or any other place. I will get a foreign divorce and I will marry you, but Eduardo must be alive and well. I could not have that thing on my conscience."
I said, "I will see to it. I will see Metcalfe." I looked at the keel. "But I must also see this thing through. I have set my hand to it and there are others to consider -- Coertze, Walker, Piero, all your men -- I can't stop now. It isn't just the gold, you know."
"I know," she said. "You must have been hurt by someone to start a thing like this. It is not your natural way."
I said, "I had a wife who was killed by a drunkard like Walker."
"I know so little of your past life," he said in wonder. "I have so much to learn. Your wife -- you loved her very much." It was not a question, it was a statement.
Bagley, Desmond - The Golden Keel Page 18