Bloody Passage (v5)

by Jack Higgins

  The fire was roaring. Nino shoveling away, covered in sweat, but we were still doing no more than fifteen miles an hour. I said to Talif, "How close do we go to Gela?"

  "Half a mile, effendi. No more. There is a tunnel there. Maybe a fifteen-mile run from here."

  "Fifteen miles?" Barzini said. "You must be crazy. It's not half that."

  "As the crow flies, effendi, but the line loops inland for some distance. It was the easiest way to lay track when the Italians built it."

  "So it gets us there what does it matter?" Nino said. "Half an hour ago we were dead men." He laughed out loud and tossed a piece of coal out into the night. "Do you suppose Lazarus felt like this?"

  "Don't look now," Barzini said, "but I think someone just threw another spadeful of earth on the lid of your coffin."

  I turned to look where he pointed. At that place a road ran parallel to the track perhaps fifty yards away. Three Landrovers followed each other in echelon, each with a light machine gun mounted on a tripod. Masmoudi was in the front one with Husseini and three soldiers, clear in the moonlight.

  The machine guns in the two rear Landrovers opened up. As Langley replied, Masmoudi's Landrover picked up speed and forged ahead, disappearing into the night at sixty or seventy miles an hour.

  The two remaining Landrovers kept on firing and Langley replied with the RPD. They were scoring hits only occasionally for the road kept swinging away because of the terrain. After a few minutes we ran into an area of low hills studded with olive groves and lost them altogether.

  "Do we meet the road again?" I asked Talif.

  "Five or six miles from here, effendi."

  "And how long does it stay with us?"

  "A mile or two--no more. We come together again about five miles after that close to the Gela tunnel. The road stays with the railway then, except for the section through the cut as far as the river crossing. That's two miles further on."

  I said to Barzini, "I'd better warn Langley," and I scrambled up over the tender to the top of the boxcar.

  He was reloading as I joined him. "How's it going, old stick?"

  I filled him in on the situation ahead. He seemed completely unconcerned and lit a cigarette. "Lovely night for it."

  Crazy it may sound, but he was right. The sky was clear and bright, stars everywhere and the moon seemed bigger than I'd ever known it before, bathing the countryside in its hard, white light. The hills were like silhouettes cut out of black paper, the valleys and defiles between them very dark. We were picking up speed now and I left him and worked my way back over the tender to the cab.

  I said, "So far so good. Things might warm up in another five or ten minutes, but the crunch is going to come when we reach the Gela tunnel."

  Barzini stuck one of his Egyptian cheroots between his teeth. "If we simply stop the train and get off they'll see us. We won't last long on foot. Half a mile to the beach. They're certain to run us down."

  "I'd been thinking about that one myself," I said. "Let's say the train stopped in the tunnel, time enough to get off, no more than that. If it came out at the other end with someone working the machine gun, they'd continue to follow. All the time in the world then to get Wyatt down to the beach."

  "Heh," Nino said. "That makes a hell of a lot of sense to me."

  "Except for the guy on the machine gun." Barzini prodded me in the shoulder angrily. "Naturally you see yourself in that heroic position. What's wrong with you? You got a death wish or something?"

  "Not particularly," I said. "It's simple enough. I stay with the train for another couple of miles, probably until the river crossing, then jump for it. If I do it right, they'll still follow the train. I'll be in Gela inside the hour."

  "And if you're not?"

  "You put to sea. You carry on with the job. You get Wyatt back and exchange him for Hannah. Then you see she gets back to London safely, that's all I ask."

  "On your own you don't stand a chance," Barzini said. "If you stay, I stay."

  "Now who's talking like a crazy man? You've seen the state Wyatt's in. He wouldn't make fifty yards on his own. Getting him half a mile over rough country to that beach is going to take all of you."

  "He's right," Nino said. "Face facts, Uncle Aldo."

  Barzini knew it, but didn't like it. He turned away, stamping his feet angrily. I said to Nino, "Tell Langley and Simone. Make sure they know exactly what we're doing. When the time comes everybody's going to have to move fast."

  He slung his rifle over his shoulder and worked his way along the bars to the entrance to the boxcar. Barzini jerked a thumb at Talif. "What about him? How can you guarantee he'll keep this thing rolling with no one to watch him?" He brightened suddenly. "On the other hand, it's the rails that take it where it's going. You only need the driver to turn it on and off."

  The look of dismay on Talif's face was something to see, for I suppose he imagined a bullet in the head might be next on the agenda. "Effendi--please. I give my word. I swear on my mother's grave."

  "No need," I said. "I prefer a business arrangement. Much more sensible."

  In the past, I had always carried a little mad money with me on such assignments, just in case anything went drastically wrong and I'd seen no reason to alter the habit on this occasion, there being no difficulty in fulfilling my requirements in Palermo. I opened a canvas purse at the back of my webbing belt, took out a small leather bag and poured the contents into Talif's hand.

  "The trouble with paper money is that it changes from country to country," I said. "But this kind of thing is welcomed everywhere. Gold pieces, my friend. English sovereigns. Fifty of them."

  His eyes widened, the mouth opened in awe. For a long moment he stared down at them and then he quickly poured them back into the leather bag, tied it and stowed it carefully away in his tunic pocket.

  "All right, effendi, I do it, but there is one thing more you must do for me."

  "And what would that be?"

  "Beat me, effendi." He pointed to his face. "Knock hell out of me so Colonel Masmoudi can see I didn't have any choice."

  Barzini laughed harshly, "You know something, he's got a point."

  Talif turned to him, smiling eagerly, and Barzini punched him in the mouth, grabbed him by the shirt front and punched him again. A third blow drove him to his knees and Barzini moved back.

  Talif looked up, blood pouring from his smashed nose and lips. He touched his face gingerly with his fingertips and actually smiled as he stood up. "Excellent, effendi. Exactly what I wanted."

  "A pleasure to do business with you," Barzini said, and at that moment Langley cried out a warning and there was a burst of firing.

  I went up over the tender and found him on top of the boxcar. There was the road again, fifty or sixty yards away to the right. The two Landrovers emerged from an olive grove where they had presumably been waiting and drove on a parallel course, their machine guns working furiously.

  They were scoring plenty of hits on the boxcars but nothing serious and Langley was giving it to them good and hot in return. He ran out of ammunition and I yanked off the empty and shoved on another hundred round drum for him as the Landrovers disappeared into a fold in the ground.

  "Now you see them, now you don't," he shouted. "I used to be great at this sort of thing in the amusement arcades on the front at Brighton. Nino tells me you intend to go out trailing clouds of glory?"

  "I always fancied it," I said. "Like Beau Geste and his Viking funeral."

  The Landrovers emerged into an open stretch of road again and commenced firing, bullets plowing into the top of the boxcar in front of us. Langley answered in a continuous burst that seemed to go on for ever and suddenly, the rear Landrover veered sharply off the road and plowed through an olive grove, coming to rest against a stone wall.

  The other vanished from sight as the road disappeared behind a series of low hills and Langley laughed out loud and patted the RPD. "One down, one to go."

  "Two to go," I said. "You're fo
rgetting the lead Landrover--the one with Masmoudi and Husseini in it."

  He looked mildly surprised, "You know, you've got a point there, old stick. What do you think they're up to?"

  "Something nasty, I've no doubt. Maybe they intend to try and block the track at some suitable point up ahead. If they do, I'm keeping my fingers crossed it's after the Gela tunnel. That's our big strength. Masmoudi doesn't know where we intend to get off."

  "I'll keep my eyes skinned," he said cheerfully. "I'd like to cut a notch for Masmoudi before we go."

  I left him and climbed down the side of the boxcar, using the bars and slipped inside. Wyatt still lay with his head in Simone's lap and Nino crouched beside them.

  "How is he?" I asked.

  "Not so good," Nino answered. "I tell you something. Getting him down to the beach is going to be one hell of a job."

  "I didn't say it would be easy." I dropped to one knee beside Simone. "You know what to do when we reach the tunnel?"

  "Yes. Nino told me." She put a hand on my arm. "Has it got to be this way, Oliver?"

  "Can you suggest anything better?" Her eyes dropped and I patted her cheek. "See you in church. Keep smiling."

  She looked up. "Is that a promise?"

  But I didn't reply to that one, mainly because there didn't really seem to be much point. I worked my way along the bars to the tender and joined Barzini on the footplate.

  There was a quick burst of firing from Langley and I turned to see the remaining Landrover appear briefly in a gap between two hills. It didn't bother to reply and disappeared a moment later. This performance was repeated three or four times over the next couple of miles. It was somehow uncanny, the Landrover appearing and disappearing in the hard white light of the moon without a sound except for the sullen chatter of Langley's machine gun, the rattle of the train.

  "What are they playing at?" Barzini demanded. "Why don't they fire?"

  "Keeping us under observation, is my guess," I said. "They've got a radio aerial on that thing, which means they're probably giving Masmoudi a blow-by-blow account every step of the way."

  "And where in the hell is Masmoudi?"

  "Somewhere up ahead, waiting for us." I turned to Talif. "Where would be a good place?"

  "To block the line, effendi? That's easy. There is a way station at Al Haifa on the other side of the river. There are points there and a loop so that we can be taken off the main line if something is coming the other way."

  "I see," I said. "So he's no need to block the line, just throw the points and we'll be turned into that loop without being able to do a damn thing about it."

  Barzini chuckled and slapped me on the back. "And the only thing wrong with that from Masmoudi's point of view, is that we'll be long gone."

  "Gela tunnel very soon now, effendi," Talif said. "Other side of the next cut."

  We dropped into a defile between high banks, came out of the other side at the top of a long incline and below, perhaps quarter of a mile away, was the entrance to the tunnel. There were olive groves on the left dropping down to the sea, clear in the moonlight. Langley loosed off a quick burst and I turned and saw the Landrover appear briefly on a clear section of road.

  It disappeared and Talif was already applying the brakes as we coasted over the final section of track into the dark mouth of the tunnel. Once inside, he braked hard and we ground to a halt.

  Steam seemed to be everywhere. Barzini jumped from the footplate and ran to the entrance of the boxcar to help Nino and Simone with Wyatt. Langley came down across the tender in a shower of coal. He said something before he jumped down to join the others but I couldn't hear it because of the hissing of the steam.

  Barzini called, "Okay, we're clear!" I tapped Talif on the shoulder and we started to move again.

  I opened the gate to the fire box and started to shovel coal and Talif pulled on the cord above his head and sounded the whistle, a banshee wail rebounding from one wall to the other.

  "Good, effendi?" he shouted above the noise of the train.

  "Very good!" I said.

  I could see the other end of the tunnel now. I pushed in some more coal, kicked the door shut and threw down the shovel. As we coasted out into the fresh night air, Talif sounded the whistle again and it echoed far away across the valley.

  "Thomas Wolfe would have approved of you," I said.

  "Effendi?" He looked completely bewildered.

  At that moment the Landrover appeared on a stretch of road to our right. I turned to scramble across the tender to reach the machine gun, too late, for it was already firing.

  As I went over the top of the boxcar, the Landrover disappeared from view again and Langley turned from the RPD and grinned. "Ah, there you are, old stick."

  "What in the hell are you doing here?" I demanded.

  "Couldn't very well leave you to all those tedious heroics on your own," he said. "Two pairs of hands are better than one and all that sort of rubbish. Or it could just be that I've grown to care for you."

  "What about Wyatt?"

  "Barzini and Nino can manage him between them. I'd only have got in the way." He grinned and stuck a cigarette in his mouth. "Aren't you glad I'm on your side?"

  It stank, of course, because whatever else he was there for, it wasn't for the good of my health, of that I was certain. If I'd had any sense, I'd have shot the bastard out of hand there and then, but there was a chance that we might still need each other so, for the moment, I decided to go along with the idea while making damn sure that I never turned my back on him.

  The engine started to labor as we moved into the cut Talif had spoken of. It was very steep, the banks towering above us on each side.

  "Over the hill and only two more miles to the river crossing," Talif shouted.

  There was a dull thud on the roof of the cab. I leaned out on the footplate and saw Colonel Masmoudi dropping in on Langley from the top of the cut.

  I turned to go up over the tender to Langley's assistance and Sergeant Husseini swung down from the roof of the cab through the other entrance and kicked me in the face. I should have gone straight out backwards and finished up under the wheels, but the instinctive response of the trained soldier had me already turning so that his boot only grazed my right cheek.

  It was almost enough, for I did swing out into space for a moment, although I managed to grab one of the hand rails. I pulled myself in again in time to see Talif struggling in the sergeant's grip. He didn't stand a chance and Husseini simply threw him away from him. Talif grabbed for a rail, missed, and disappeared with a terrible cry.

  Husseini was at the controls now, wrenching at the brake lever. I pulled out the Stechkin machine pistol awkwardly with my left hand because I was still hanging on to the grab rail with my right. Some instinct made him turn, eyes burning in that dark face, but by then it was too late. I shot him once in the right shoulder, the high velocity bullet turning him round in a circle. My second shot shattered his spine, driving him headfirst into darkness.

  As I scrambled up across the tender, the machine gun went over with a crash. Langley and Masmoudi rolled from one side of the roof to the other, tearing at each other's throats like a couple of mad dogs, in imminent danger of falling over the edge to the track at any moment.

  It was difficult to get a clear shot as they twisted and turned in the shadows, but in any event I had other things on my mind. The train came out of the cutting and breasted the hill and below, at the end of a two mile gradient was the bridge over the river.

  Something else was unpleasantly clear also--the three soldiers in camouflaged uniforms working their way along the line of boxcars, obviously the rest of the crew of the lead Landrover.

  I fired several shots to keep their heads down, but without much effect, for the train was picking up speed now on the slope, swaying like a crazy thing.

  There was really only one sensible thing to do under the circumstances so I eased myself down between the tender and the boxcar and got to work on the c
oupling hook and chain. The retaining pin came out with surprising ease, but we all stayed together for the present, which was only to be expected on the downhill run.

  I scrambled back over the tender to the cab, got a hand to the brake lever and turned. Langley and Masmoudi were on their feet now and face to face, and none of your nasty karate either. They squared up to each other like gentlemen, swapping punch for punch, but I suppose that was only to be expected when Eton met Sandhurst.

  I fired a shot into the air and as Langley turned his head, yelled, "Jump for it! Your only chance!" Then I pulled down the brake lever.

  He had the sense to obey me without question, leaping high into the air, landing in the tender's coal bunker as the gap widened and the rest of the train drew away rapidly downhill, Masmoudi standing at the edge of the boxcar, his men working their way towards him. And then he did a strange thing. He put his heels together and saluted.

  "My God!" I said. "More English than the bloody English themselves. Branded clean to the bone; That's Sandhurst for you."

  Langley picked up an assault rifle from the floor of the cab and took careful aim. I knocked up the barrel as he fired and the bullet soared into space.

  "You'd shoot anything rather than nothing, wouldn't you?"

  "Peck's bad boy, that's me," he replied amiably.

  The engine had ground to a halt and the rest of the train plus Masmoudi and his men was quarter of a mile away down the grade now and moving fast. I fiddled around with the controls which were simple enough and finally got the wheels to turn again, but in the opposite direction this time.

  We started to climb back up the grade and I told Langley to stand on top of the tender and keep his eyes peeled for the other Landrover, just in case it decided to reappear.

  We went over the hill and started the long run down to the tunnel through the cut. I hadn't bothered reholstering the Stechkin, but held it in my right hand against my thigh. I didn't trust him, not for one single moment. Certainly if the idea was to put me out of the way for good and all, the present situation was made to order.

  I positioned myself carefully, one eye on the controls, the other on him and as we neared the mouth of the tunnel, I hooked open the fire-box gate with one foot so that the flickering flames illuminated both the cab and general area of the tender. I think he knew what I was up to for there was a slight, amused smile on his mouth.