He hadn't changed. Exactly as I remembered him. Except for the gun in his hand. He stepped into the hall and jerked his head towards the room, "Walk slowly," he said, "and Mr Green remember that another gun is pointing at your wife's head."
"You prize bastard," I said as I walked. I passed within a yard of him. I could have touched him, struck him, launched an attack - a real hero would have - instead I turned into the room and saw Maria. She sat at a table, chalk white, rigid with tension, terrified eyes casting a mute appeal to Jack to do as he was told. A useless appeal. He was across the room as soon as he saw her, ignoring Wilson's shouted warning, oblivious of the gun Douglas levelled at Maria. But nobody pulled a trigger. Jack swept her into his arms. She clung to him then, sobbing uncontrollably, whimpering with fear or released tension. I wanted to go to her too, just to rest my hand on her shoulder, just to tell her everything would work out. But how the hell could I do that?
"For Christ's sake!" Douglas snarled. "Shut her up."
It was my first close look at him. Douglas had changed. He looked twenty years older. The spoiled little rich boy had grown into a raddled old man.
Suddenly someone brushed past me to wrench Jack and Maria apart. A big man, shirt-sleeved, bull-necked, broad-shouldered, moving quick as light. A back-handed slap across Maria's face sent her staggering backwards. Jack roared but the man chopped him so fast that I doubt Jack even saw the blows - two, three, even four stiff arm jabs into the throat as the man's knee came up. Jack buckled and was half way to the floor by the time I leapt forward. Maria screamed. Douglas had his gun at her head. And I hesitated just long enough to be hit in the face. The room turned over. Weston had his gun in my neck. Then the man in front of me sank his fist into my stomach.
"We haven't got time for games," he shouted furiously when I straightened up. "You should be grateful for that." He looked beyond me to Weston, "Get on with it. Every minute is crucial."
"Okay, Fiore," Weston said as the man left the room.
So that was Serracino. Even in my dazed state I recognised a psychopath, a sadist - inflicting pain gave him real pleasure, and all three of us had been hurt. Jack coughed and spluttered to his feet, then helped Maria into a chair, her movements hampered by the rope around her ankles. I fought back my nausea and turned to find that Wilson had backed off and was a couple of yards away. "This place is surrounded-" I began.
"By mines," he interrupted with a smile. "Every yard of ground beyond the edge of the terrace is mined. We control it from over there." He jerked his head. For the first time I spared a glance for the rest of the room. Corrao had followed us in from the hall and now sat at some kind of console which housed three video screens and a radio-transmitter, beyond which was another box which presumably activated the minefield. All three of the television screens showed pictures of the grounds. I even saw Henderson down by the front gates amidst the blaze from the arc lamps. The sophistication of their defences sickened me when I remembered Kaufman's plan to rush the place with stun-grenades. None of his men stood a chance in that minefield - but then he already had one dead and another crippled to prove that.
"Twenty-five minutes left," Douglas said from his side of the room, his gun still pointing at Maria.
Weston turned to me. "This is what you are going to do. Go back out to Kaufman and tell him to withdraw his men to the other side of the olive grove. That's almost a thousand yards. We want them there by eleven o'clock - all of his men, and their bloody searchlights." He smiled grimly, "No lone sniper left to take a shot at us when we lift off in the helicopter."
I don't know what surprised me the most. Finally I blurted out, "So you know Kaufman too?"
"Bonello was stubborn, but after three hours with Fiore ..." he shrugged. "The word's out. We've alerted most of the Pipeline by radio. And we'll be away ourselves in a minute."
"But we'll take that list," Douglas smirked, "as you've been kind enough to bring it."
"An exchange," I parried, "I'll take Jack and Maria-"
"Don't be a bloody fool. They stay here until we lift off. Then they'd better move - this whole place will be ablaze within minutes."
Petrol! Suddenly the smell made sense. That was the plan. To set a torch to the villa as they left. But even as I grappled with that thought another one struck me. "But what about the minefield? How will they get past the minefield-"
Weston shot Douglas a quick glance. "We'll switch it off. If Kaufman pulls back."
He was lying - as plain as day he was lying. "What if Kaufman stays put?"
"Then we shall kill our hostages and take our chances."
They would kill Jack and Maria anyway - one way or the other, I felt sure of it. But I wondered what Kaufman was thinking. If the radio was working he was listening to every word. What would he do? Immobilise the helicopter where it stood? But good God, if he did that ...
"The case," Douglas was saying, "we'll take the case now."
It was hard not to panic. "It's locked," I said quickly. "And locked to my wrist. I didn't bring the keys. Kaufman's still got them. You only gave me ten minutes ..."
Nobody believed me - it was clear from their faces. Wilson raised his revolver until it was level with my eyes.
"I forgot the bloody keys I tell you. For God's sake ..."
"Then you'll come back," Weston decided. "You'll deliver the message to Kaufman and come back - and Sam, bring the keys this time, there's a good chap, otherwise your friends-"
I tried one last gambit. "Send Maria. It makes no difference to you. She can tell Kaufman-"
But he shook his head. "She's served us well. Why part with a lucky mascot?"
Every avenue was covered. Every line of escape, every hope, every possible plan. I was at my wits end. There seemed nothing left - nothing! I glanced at Douglas, his gun only inches from Maria's head. Wilson's gun was pointing at me. He sensed my desperation because he said, "Maria will be dead before you get half way here."
"Let Jack untie her," I said. "If she's to run out of here ..."
"It's almost ten forty," Douglas interrupted.
"Untie her, Jack," I said, watching Weston's eyes. I don't know what I thought, but if Wilson was trying to read my mind he stood no chance, it was a mess of discarded ideas, one thought racing in pursuit of another, nothing which could be described as a plan. Meanwhile our eyes locked in a battle of wills. I heard a slight scuffle behind me, then Jack said', "Right, Sam."
"It is ten forty," Douglas said.
"Walk," Weston jerked his gun. "You've got twenty minutes to save their lives."
I threw Jack a quick look. "I'll be back," I promised. Serracino appeared in the doorway, wearing a jacket and carrying a suitcase. "Put this in the helicopter on the way past," he ordered. He was so in control, they all were, so sure, so confident.
I carried the case down the hall. The lights died as I reached the door. Then I stood at the top of the steps, squinting into the shafts of light which flooded up the drive. I think I expected them to shoot me then ... in the back as I started down the steps ... I don't know why exactly, but that's what I thought. But no shots were fired. I reached the helicopter, needlessly ducking my head - the pilot stretched a hand for the case. The cockpit was small, a squeeze for four passengers I thought, but I supposed they would manage. Then I skirted the swimming pool and crossed to the edge of the terrace. I wondered if Corrao had switched that bloody minefield off. I knew I had let Jack and Maria down. I told myself that bitterly, angrily ashamed of myself. But what else could I have done? One wrong move and Maria would have been killed there and then. That bastard Douglas would have shot her for sure...but I should have done something!
I passed the statues - almost stumbled over the dead Mexican raised my right arm to shield my eyes from the glare. Then I was at the gates and Henderson was pulling me behind the wall, out of sight of the house.
Kaufman pounced on me. "Great, Sam, you did great," he was saying as he unlocked the chain on my wrist. "You did marvels in
there-"
"They'll kill them both! You stupid bastard, don't you realise that?"
"Easy boy," Kaufman handed the briefcase to the man who looked like Jack, who rushed away with it. "Just catch your breath," Kaufman said. He turned away to shout at Henderson, "Okay, start now. Make it look good."
Henderson called some of the Mexicans over to a jeep.
Kaufman sounded like a bloody doctor - no, that's wrong, more like a fighter's manager when the poor dumb boxer reels back to his corner at the end of a rough round. But gradually what he was saying got through to me. I thought he was mad at first. Why not, his other plans had failed. Some of the remaining Mexicans were working furiously behind the wall, either side of the big gates, burying something beneath the pillars, but burying what escaped me. Anyway I was too busy concentrating on Kaufman. "I'll go through it again," he said, and he did. I stopped arguing then. What he said made sense, - if it worked right - if it didn't I would be dead ... so would Jack and Maria.
"Sam, it will work," he insisted. "What else can they do? You heard them - they're leaving on the dot of eleven. They've got to leave then by the sound of it."
The man who looked like Jack arrived back with the briefcase. He carried it carefully, but then so did I when he handed it to me. "It's fixed," was all he said grimly to Kaufman.
Henderson ran over. "We've finished at the gates. It's five to eleven."
Behind him one of the jeeps lurched into gear and trundled past us to bounce down the track towards the olive grove.
Kaufman was saying, "Okay, give it a minute. I want Sam cutting it as fine as possible when he goes back."
The last arc lamp was dismantled. Suddenly the night seemed very dark. The headlights of the remaining jeeps sliced through the blackness as they backed up and prepared to depart. Mexicans clambered aboard. Kaufman was still giving me last-minute instructions as we walked back to the gates. Then he slapped me across the shoulder and scrambled up into the nearest vehicle. "You can do it, Sam. You can do it!Good luck."
And then I was alone...standing there, watching their red-tail lights bounce down the hill, the noise of their engines already fading. I turned to face the house. A single lantern shone above the front door. Navigation lights glowed red and green on the helicopter. The cockpit was unlit but the pilot was still aboard because he revved his engines impatiently. There was no light on the swimming pool, I told myself that at least there was no light on the swimming pool - we had a chance whilst that remained in darkness. Some chance.
My watch showed two minutes to eleven. I shouted and waved my left hand, gripping the case tightly in my right. "Weston! They've gone. Weston - can you hear me? Okay to come back now?"
For answer the helicopter flashed its lights.
I shouted again, "I'm coming up now. Switch those blasted mines off for God's sake!"
Then I drew a deep breath and started to walk. It seemed twice as far as before. Strangely the case felt less heavy though, which was odd because I would have expected a bomb to weigh more than a radio transmitter. Kaufman's chuckle echoed in my ears, "Two can play with radio detonated bombs." I repeated his instructions under my breath. And I prayed. I prayed for Maria, I prayed for Jack, and I prayed for me. The statues loomed out of the darkness. I passed them, my eyes straight ahead. The white paved edge of the terrace showed twenty yards away. The noise from the helicopter was deafening, engine howling, wind screaming as the rotors gathered momentum. I reached the edge of the terrace. Then the front door opened and Jack and Maria stood framed in the entrance, exactly as Kaufman had forecast. "They'll use Jack and Maria as a screen when they come out," he had said. "They won't trust me not leaving a sniper."
I ducked away from the rotor blades and skirted the swimming pool. "Water is the best shield there is against a bullet," Kaufman had said. "Water deflects a modern high velocity bullet better than anything I know. Hit the bottom of that pool Sam and stay there." There had seemed no point in saying I couldn't swim - even Kaufman could not have coped with that.
Jack and Maria were already half way down the steps. I clambered over the low diving board. Serracino was behind Jack. Douglas and Wilson were further back, only partially shielded by Maria. I glimpsed a gun in Douglas's hand. Suddenly a huge flash of flame filled the entire lobby. Corrao ran out and started down the steps. Black smoke billowed from the door behind him. They were all out now, moving cautiously to the bottom step, using Jack and Maria as a screen.
Kaufman had promised a diversion - when, where, how? Weston was armed too, I saw that now - he would shoot Jack as soon as he reached the helicopter. Douglas would shoot Maria, then me, once he got the case. I had my back to the pool, the open door of the helicopter less than two yards to my left. The noise was deafening - the screaming slip-stream of wind tore at Maria's hair as she crossed towards me. I held the case up high for Douglas to see. God, where was Kaufman's bloody diversion? Suddenly Serracino shoved Jack aside and made a run for the helicopter - he was there, climbing on board, almost in. Weston was close behind, his gun arm swivelling towards me. Douglas grabbed the case and swung it aboard the machine, using the same hand to pull himself in after it, his gun hand already turning back for Maria. He was going to shoot! Weston's gun was on me. Then Corrao jogged everyone as he heaved himself upwards. "JUMP!" I screamed, dragging Maria over the edge of the pool, "Jack, jump!"
Then Kaufman's land mines exploded under the front gates. The flash turned the night sky into daylight. I was falling backwards, Maria's hand still clasped in mine, both in mid-air. I glimpsed the shocked alarm on Weston's face as he twisted towards the explosion. Then my left arm went numb as I hit the water.
When I surfaced the helicopter was almost on top of me, skimming the pool, Douglas leaning out, his gun flashing as I went under again.
Jack came from nowhere to carry me spluttering to the surface. He kept shouting, "Sam, you're hit," but I was watching the helicopter. It was almost over the ridge. I saw the red navigation light quite clearly. Then the machine was surrounded by a ball of fire. For the tiniest fraction of a second its entire structure stood out like so many black lines in the centre of this huge orange glow. Then it blew apart, just as I sank beneath the surface.
Something was wrong with my left side. My arm was useless. Maria got her hands under my chin and dragged me kicking upwards. Jack was splashing wildly on the other side of me. I heard Maria crying, "Jack, your leg, your leg." Then I went under again.
We reached the side eventually. I clung onto the rail with my right hand. Jack was shouting, "Thank God, Maria, thank God!" and she was sounding hysterical about his leg. I swallowed a gallon of water. Every time I shouted I seemed to slip below the water line. I was like Jack, I think, needing to tell them it was all over and wanting to hear it from them simultaneously. We were all shouting at once, Maria was crying and laughing and kissing us both at the same time, nearly drowning me in the process. I remember shouting that I couldn't swim and all of us roaring with laughter as if that was the funniest joke we had heard in the whole of our lives.
The explosion stopped us laughing. Kaufman was coming through the gates - except the gates weren't there any more - his diversion had ripped them from the walls. Now they were chained to the front of the jeeps, sticking out like cow-catchers on old fashioned locomotives, but brushing the ground in front. The first driver-less vehicle, jammed into gear, with its steering locked, made twenty yards before being blown up. That was the noise we had heard. And by the time we were peering over the edge of the pool the Mexicans had advanced up the drive to clear the debris. Then came the second jeep, similarly equipped with a huge wrought iron gate bouncing along in front of it as it bucked and lurched towards the terrace. It almost made it too. Then came another explosion and the jeep was upended - but the leading edge of the gate had reached the terrace. They had breached the minefield!
Jack was out of the pool by now, reaching down for me, Maria shoving from behind. Jack's leg was a mess. Even as he stood ther
e blood pumped out from below his knee. I banged my arm on the way out, my left arm - the knock made me so sick and giddy that I damn near passed out. Then Jack was lifting me clear and stretching me out on the terrace - and a moment later Maria was trying to get me out of my sodden jacket. Behind her flames from the villa's shuttered windows licked up into the sky, but I was barely conscious of them - all I really saw was Maria. I kept asking her if she was all right, but she was crying and laughing and kissing me too much to answer.
The funny thing was that I wasn't in pain - even when they got my shirt off and wiped enough of the blood away to see the two bullet holes, one in my shoulder and another in my upper arm. I ached and felt dizzy and numb, and suddenly desperately tired, but the pain wasn't unbearable.
Suddenly there was a rush of running footsteps and Lucia arrived with Henderson and some of the Mexicans. I was made to sit up while a tourniquet was applied to my arm, then my head was in Lucia's lap and she was smothering me with her tears. "Serracino is dead," I was assuring her. "It's all over. The nightmare is over. You needn't be afraid any more." It brought a smile through her tears. "We won," I kept saying. "Lucia, we beat the bastards in the end. We won, didn't we?"
Behind her Kaufman was hugging Jack and beaming down on me. Henderson was shouting for a stretcher, while grinning from ear to ear and giving me thumbs up signals. Maria wrapped her arms round Jack's neck and Lucia kissed me.
"Will you look at that," Kaufman said from a long way away, "I ask you - is it any wonder they call him Winner Harris?"
END
The Killing Anniversary
Ian St James
Sixty Forty Publishing Ltd
www.sixtyfortybooks.com
Ian St James Compendium - Volume 1 Page 79