"In a winery?" I asked blankly.
He nodded. "The latex is just the first step. That has to be made into a morphine base, which in turn is made into diacetylmorphine. And that is called heroin by those without a degree in chemistry."
"Is it difficult - making the stuff?"
"You need a pulveriser - some types of wine press might do vacuum pumps, a drying room - but the real difficulty is acetic acid. Know what that is?"
I shook my head.
"It smells like vinegar. Processing diacetyl-morphine creates a tremendous amount of acetic acid. Two problems - one, the smell while you're making it, and two, getting rid of it."
"But not in Sicily?"
He turned to Bonello. "What do you think?"
Bonello took his time answering, "The smell would certainly be disguised in a winery. Many have a vinegary smell. Not as strong, of course-"
"But enough for a cover?" Kaufman persisted.
Bonello agreed. "And as for getting rid of it - as you said, every cellar in Alcamo is a chemical plant. The smells from the drains are notorious. Besides," a slow smile spread over his face, "you might even disguise it as wine vinegar and export it in tankers - if you had the transport of course."
They stared at each other. Despite aching with fatigue I shared their excitement. I said, "That's why the chemistry lesson? You think Jack and I will be taken somewhere - if we smell vinegar we'll be at the head of the Pipeline. Is that it?"
Kaufman enjoyed his moment of triumph. Another piece of the jigsaw. His excitement buoyed us all up for a while - stopped us worrying about Maria and took my mind off what might happen to me tomorrow night. I listened to their technical discussion on heroin but after half an hour of it I had to admit defeat - I was just too tired to absorb any more.
Kaufman poured himself more coffee. "You bring those photographs?" he asked Bonello. He waited for an answering nod, then asked, "And is this film crowd all organised?"
Bonello nodded again. I wondered what they were talking about, and might have asked had not Kaufman suggested I turn in. I guessed he was getting rid of me but I was beyond caring. My jaw throbbed painfully and my eyes were gummy with tiredness. "What about Jack?" I asked.
"Enrico will look after him."
I said my goodnights and dragged my aching body back to the tiny cabin. Undressing was painful - blisters had appeared down the entire length of my left arm. I swore, rolled onto the bunk, and pulled a sheet over me. And I was about to switch off the light when there was a tap at the door, and Lucia came in.
A bath-towel covered her nakedness. She wore it like a sarong, knotted beneath her arms and reaching down to her knees. She leant against the door for a moment, looking at me with her wide grey eyes. Then she said, "Tonight was to have been our honeymoon night."
I remembered the huge bed back at the Verdala, and Lucia's expression when we were shown into that bedroom. Fleeting apprehension. But there was nothing apprehensive about her now, she came into my arms as if she had spent her life there. "I was looking forward to it," she whispered, "I wanted you to know that. I still am - but not now, like this - when I feel bruised and tired and-"
I kissed her, stifling her words, holding her close. But a moment later she was gone, a fleeting vision at the door. I think she was crying but I'm not sure. I wondered about following her, comforting her, perhaps making love after all. But the weight of my limbs drew me down onto that bunk like a magnet. She was right. I wanted her, but not there - like that. Not when we were tired and bruised. But soon - if I lived long enough.
I slept so soundly that Alexis had difficulty waking me the next morning. The coffee was scalding hot. It burned the fur off my tongue and almost warmed the icy emptiness deep inside me. Almost, but not quite. I sat staring into space. Something nagged at the back of my mind. A thought which had come to me during the night? It lay too deeply buried in my sub-conscious to uncover, but it was there, nagging away in some dark recess. The effort of searching for it left me feeling keyed up, as if I was on the verge of a discovery. It was eight o'clock. I shuddered at the thought of what might happen to me in twelve hours time.
My arm was sore, but at least my lip was less swollen. Speech would be easier. I washed and dressed - then went up on deck.
It was Saatchi and Saatchi's Mediterranean again. Calm, turquoise waters beneath a cloudless sky, the sun already warm with the promise of a hot day. We were running parallel to the shore, about two miles out. I've never been to the French Riviera so I've no comparison, but Bonello was right about his spectacular coastline.
The others had started breakfast, though without much enthusiasm. The atmosphere in the salon was strained enough for me to wonder if I had interrupted an argument. It had that tense, edgy feel about it. Bonello said good morning, but with an unsmiling frown on his face - and Lucia looked washed-out and ill. She was staring at a slice of toast when I came in. She glanced up, hesitated, then kissed me - but without a word of greeting. And Jack looked like death - gaunt and drawn and decidedly shaky. He managed a brave grin, but the bleak look stayed on his face and he avoided my eye. Only Kaufman was eating a cooked breakfast and even he was playing with it. "Want something to eat?" he asked.
"Just coffee," I helped myself.
Kaufman had the air of a man who had stopped in the middle of his work rather than someone starting the day - and Bonello looked too tired to have seen much of his bunk. Neither had shaved and I wondered if they had worked through the night. Kaufman interpreted my look. "Sorry about waking you, but we've plenty to talk about - and Jack was getting anxious."
I went cold. "What's happened? You've heard something about Maria?"
Kaufman shook his head, but the atmosphere still puzzled me. I looked at Jack. "Did you get any sleep - any at all?"
He bit his lip and avoided my eye. "Something's happened all right," he said bitterly. "Kaufman's been telling us his plan - that's what has happened."
"Can you think of a better one?" Kaufman demanded angrily. "It will work I tell you-"
"Tell him," Jack jerked his head at me. "He's the poor sod you're condemning to death."
It went deadly quiet. The engines vibrated the deck enough to tingle my feet through the soles of the sandals - but not enough to cause the shiver which ran down my spine.
Kaufman pushed his plate away and reached for his cigarettes. "Cut it out, Jack. The waiting is getting you down. I always said it was the worst-"
"Oh for Christ's sake! Get on with it."
I sat down slowly, on the bench next to Lucia. They all avoided my eye now, not only Jack. I took a cigarette from Kaufman's packet. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting," I said, "perhaps we had better get started."
But the steward arrived at that moment to collect the breakfast things. Kaufman told him to leave the coffee, then watched while the rest of the stuff was loaded onto a tray. Some of the tension faded, but not much.
As the man closed the door Bonello started to spread maps over the table and Kaufman cleared his throat. "Hardest thing about these jobs is deploying the troops," he said.
"Troops," Jack sneered, "I told you before, there can be no question-"
"Will you listen!" Kaufman snapped. "An expression that's all. Shut up for a while - let Sam judge for himself."
They swapped angry stares until Jack lapsed into silence. Kaufman sighed and looked at me. "The trouble with a place like Alcamo is that newcomers stand out like a hand of sore thumbs. The locals suspect all strangers. Part of the mentality, right Enrico?"
Bonello nodded. "It was the first thing to worry us."
Kaufman continued. "For the past five weeks a film company has been working in the hills around Alcamo. Location shots for a spaghetti western - the place is supposed to be Mexico. Enrico found out about it in London. The point is people have become accustomed to seeing this film crowd around the place - dressed as Mexican soldiers, cowboys, that sort of thing. And technicians of course. Camera men, sound engineers - all rushi
ng about in jeeps loaded with equipment."
He paused to look at his watch. "At eleven this morning a charter flight arrives from Rome with more men and equipment. Except these are our men and our equipment. We can put forty armed men on the ground without exciting local suspicion. Better than that the kind of surveillance stuff we need - parabolic mikes, radio gear, all that garbage can be used openly." He gave me a quick look of satisfaction. "Make you feel better? Didn't I say we'd have an army of people looking after you?"
I said it was a bit much to call forty men an army, but Kaufman was already turning to Bonello. "Those four undercover men how long they been in the area?"
"Over six months. Marius has been there nearly a year."
"So they've got good local knowledge," Kaufman turned back to me. "The leader of the film unit meets up with the undercover men at noon. Enrico will join them. That gives us eight hours to pinpoint the place-"
"Maria will be there," Jack interrupted furiously. "It's too dangerous. If these people even suspect-"
"We're trying to locate the place, that's all! We'll be lucky to come up with a dozen possibles-"
"We daren't mount a search!" Jack gripped the metal rail at the edge of the table so hard that it came loose of its fixings. "You said so yourself last night. It's too dangerous. Stick to what we're supposed to do. Sam and I will go to this meeting-"
"Then what?" Kaufman challenged, and when there was no answer he repeated what he had told me in London - about how these things really work - about the man with the Ferrari and us climbing into the back seat. I had heard it before and it would never be my favourite story, but it put ten years on Jack. His feeling of utter hopelessness was reflected in his face. "God keep her safe," he whispered, shaking his head.
"Who knows this film crew idea?" I asked.
Bonello answered. "Six people outside of ourselves. The Italian Ambassador in London, two government officials in Rome, the president of the film company - also in Rome, and the director and producer - both in Sicily."
"What about the real film crew? What will they say when your mob turns up?"
He smiled. "The charter flight bringing our people in will take the real crew out. Filming has been transferred to Italy." He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. "Everyone gets a bonus from the Italian government. Don't worry, they'll be very happy."
"I'm glad someone is," I said, looking at Kaufman. "So what happens then? If your men start this afternoon they've got damn all time. Besides, what are they looking for? Corrao could take us anywhere."
"Some places are more likely than others. That farm Darmanin went to for instance - a farm next to a garage."
"A garage could be a barn. Most farms have a barn."
"And a big house in the background - a villa, with swimming pools-"
"We don't know where Darmanin was taken," Bonello said, pouring himself more coffee. "And even around Alcamo there are many large properties. Fifty, sixty-"
"So find one next to a winery," Kaufman pointed his finger at Bonello and looked down it like the barrel of a gun. "Find that and I'll find you Maria."
"I don't like it," Jack muttered.
"You can't be sure-" I began.
"Who's sure?" Kaufman asked. "Are you sure? Am I? Christ, we've got to start somewhere." He shook his head, "Don't worry, nothing much depends on it - it would just save time, that's all, if we knew where we were heading before they take you there." He stood up and crossed to the door. I thought he was leaving for a moment, but instead he opened a cupboard and dipped inside. When he turned round he was holding the wine-coloured briefcase I had seen him with at the airport in Malta. "The list, Sam," he announced, bringing it to the table, "Or at least a disguised list."
"Disguised? You promised the lot - everything you had on the Pipeline."
"It is the lot - but the pages are numbered to give the appearance that every second and third one is missing. It reads one, four, seven and so on. This way it looks like you're only delivering a third of what you know."
I sucked my sore lip while I thought about it.
He said, "Your first job is to trade that list for Maria's release-"
"Trade it! How the hell can I do that? They'll take it by force-"
"So what have they got? Pages one, four, seven-"
"You mean I bluff them?"
"You ran casinos, didn't you? You're quite some poker player. So you negotiate. Tell them that if they want the rest of the list they'll have to release Maria. Jack will bring her back to the Miranda, she stays on board, Jack collects the rest of the list from the safe and returns to your cosy little meeting. That way they get the whole list, Maria is removed from danger and you start talking-"
Jack almost exploded with temper. "But there is no more list. What happens-"
"We know that but they don't," Kaufman said grimly.
"They'll never agree to it."
"Why not? They've still got Sam. If you don't return they'll kill him."
"You bastard!" Jack lunged across the table but Kaufman was too quick. He ducked away as Bonello sprang across to hold Jack down in his seat.
"Sam's got another ace," Kaufman added hurriedly. He looked at me. "Say you've left another copy of the list in London. Unless you contact your associates every two hours your organisation will take over-"
"They'll never fall for that!" Jack roared. "You know bloody well they won't-"
"They'll play for time," Kaufman lashed back angrily. "That's what they'll do. They want to find out how much Sam knows. They've heard the rumours - they need to know what sort of organisation he's got-"
"They'll find out from him," Jack snapped, pointing to me. "They'll nail the poor devil to the floor finding out."
"Not to begin with they won't," Kaufman flatly contradicted. Then he looked at me. "The first priority is to get Maria out. If you're convincing enough-"
"No chance," Jack said angrily.
"Sam?" Kaufman said, and everyone looked at me.
It took some thinking about. Especially when I remembered that cellar. But I would have some cards to play -I wouldn't be going in empty-handed. Doctoring the list sounded a clever idea, and if I could make them believe there was more to come - that was the crux of it. Which would they rather have? Maria, or the full list? After all, as Kaufman had said, they would still have me - and they could kill me.
It took me a long time to say it, but eventually I said, "I think you're wrong, Jack. I think they will release Maria - after all, she'll have served her purpose."
Kaufman sighed with relief, but Jack just stared at me. "Ask him what happens next," he said.
I looked at Kaufman but Bonello spoke first, "Don't rush it," he cautioned.
Kaufman nodded. "Let's go through the sequence of events," he said to me, "One - Corrao makes contact with you and Jack, then takes you to this meeting. Hopefully that will verify Maria's whereabouts. Two - you negotiate her release with Jack. Three - they both return to the Miranda. All right so far?"
I nodded.
"We'll be tailing you all the way," he said, "I'll explain how in a minute. Let's say they take you to this farmhouse. Maria and Jack come out-"
Jack groaned and beat the table with his clenched fist.
I looked at Kaufman. "Okay, I've got that. What happens then?"
He took a deep breath. "Fifty minutes after they leave - we storm the place." He saw the look on my face. "Sam, we'll get you out of there-"
"Dead!" Jack shouted. "He'll come out dead. They'll murder him first!"
"Will you shut up?" Kaufman snapped. He swung back to me.
"Sam, we've got forty highly trained men. Well equipped with stun grenades-"
"There must be another way," Jack said desperately, "there's got to be."
"Not if you want to see your wife alive," Kaufman said brutally.
I knew he was right. It was the only way. We spent the next half hour pretending to look for alternatives, but I was only half concentrating. My mind was sti
ll reeling under the shock of Kaufman's plan. I knew it would come back to that in the end ... and it did.
Kaufman was summing up an hour later. "Don't forget. You park the VW then go and sit in the Cafe Cordina. Then you wait. Whatever happens just sit there - understand? Don't ask questions, don't do a goddamn thing - just wait. Someone will make contact, and you'll do whatever they say."
My mouth was dry. I sipped coffee as I listened.
"You'll be under surveillance from the minute you step into the Piazza Ciullo. Them and us - we'll both be watching."
The coffee was cold.
"Any questions?" Bonello asked.
They were all looking at me. Lucia threaded a handkerchief in and out of her fingers. Kaufman massaged the bruise on his face. Bonello peered at me from behind the spiral of smoke rising from his cigarette.
"What about a gun?" I asked. "You agreed we would be armed."
Kaufman shrugged. "If you insist, but there's no point. You'll be searched long before you get near the Ferryman. A gun would be no protection. It might even add to your risk."
I thought it would be hard to do that - add to my risk - but I stayed quiet. Perhaps it made sense. After all, I had never fired a handgun in my life.
We all fell quiet for a while, then Jack cleared his throat. "I suppose there is a chance," he said grudgingly. "Maria might get clear." He continued to avoid my eye. I knew why. A chance for Maria, not much for me - that's what he meant. Even then Jack was afraid that I would pull out.
I reached over and patted his shoulder. "More than a chance, Jack. Maria is as good as back at The Dog's Home." I looked at Kaufman. "It's a good plan. I think it will work."
"I'm sure it will," he said with obvious relief.
I hoped he was right.
The atmosphere was a bit strained after that. We each reacted differently. The plan was made, a decision taken - perhaps we all knew that our lives would never be the same again. We tried to cope in different ways. Kaufman and I pretended it was a business deal. He kept reminding me of things to say. "Don't forget," he said, wagging his finger, "you called this meeting. They think you've got a list of names big enough to wrap them up for good. They believe that. They're afraid of you, Sam - don't forget that."
Ian St James Compendium - Volume 1 Page 75