‘I already have a network of spies, criminals, revolutionaries, people who can spread lies and terror, but with you men here I can create something truly extraordinary. All I require is that you put in a certain sum of money each, to show your commitment and to create a war chest on which we can build our empire.’
‘It is certainly an interesting idea,’ said a man with a heavy German accent. ‘But I hardly think you have the manpower to take on a real army and fight a war.’
‘I do not need to fight a war,’ said Ugo. ‘I will let others do that for me. After all, how did the ancient Romans defeat you Germans?’
‘What has that to do with anything?’
‘How did Caesar conquer Gaul?’ Ugo went on, ignoring the German. ‘I will tell you. He made sure that the different tribes were so busy fighting each other they would not be able to fight him. Well, nothing has changed in Europe in the last two thousand years. The tribes have simply got bigger. The English hate the Germans, the Germans hate the Russians, the Russians hate the Italians, the Italians hate the French and the French hate everyone.’
There was scattered laughter around the table.
‘And where did all this hatred and rivalry lead?’ said Ugo. ‘To the Great War. To millions of young men blown to pieces in the mud.’ He walked slowly round the table, looking into the faces of each man. ‘During that time the opportunities for criminal activity were immense,’ he said. ‘Many men like us got rich while the authorities were looking the other way, busy fighting the war. Our first aim will always be to push Europe into another war, to turn one country against another. For where there is chaos we can prosper –’
‘If what you say is true,’ interrupted a Turkish man at the far end of the table, ‘then what makes you think that you can unite us all? We are from many different countries, after all.’
‘No,’ said Ugo. ‘We are all the same. We are criminals. We do not care about borders and boundaries and nationalities. We are already united in crime. We will work together, from within, undermining society, overthrowing governments even, if we so desire. We can become the most powerful force in Europe, a secret underground empire of criminals.’
As James watched Ugo pacing the room, he caught sight of something he hadn’t seen before. A statue of Mithras, but not just any statue – it was the one from the garden at Casa Polipo. As he was wondering how it had got here, a terrible realisation was slowly dawning on James.
He was in a very perilous position.
He had blindly stumbled up here, and now, not 20 feet away from him, was the most dangerous collection of individuals in Europe.
He had seen enough. He had to get away, and get away fast while Ugo and the men were still inside the temple.
If he was caught…
Well, that didn’t bear thinking about.
He turned round and groped his way back out between the statues on to the ledge, where he paused for a moment to breathe in some fresh air. He stood up, ran along to the end and jumped across to the equestrian statue, just managing to catch hold of Ugo’s outstretched arm. Then he scrambled down and set off back towards the steps at a run.
If he could just get back to the funicular railway he could maybe walk down the tracks to the valley. With luck he might even be able to hitch a ride on the roof again.
With luck…
You idiot, James.
You’ve been a complete bloody fool.
Don’t think about that, now, just keep moving.
He entered one of the dark alleyways, his heart pounding.
Suddenly his head was yanked back and he grunted as someone pulled him into a doorway from behind, their hand across his mouth.
He lashed out with an elbow and the grip was released. He spun round, fists raised, ready to fight for his life.
It was a boy. And James recognised him. It was Mauro’s friend Stefano. The village boy who worked in Ugo’s kitchens. He put a finger to his lips and pulled James further into the shadows of the doorway, a panicked look in his eyes.
Two of Ugo’s guards marched past, their black boots clicking on the cobbled ground.
‘Thank you,’ James whispered when they’d gone past. ‘Grazie.’
‘I see you before. I follow you,’ said Stefano. ‘You come with me now.’
‘OK,’ said James, grateful for the help.
Just when he had been at his most desperate, this unexpected saviour had come to his rescue. He was flooded with relief.
Stefano led him through a gate and down a long, twisting, unlit passageway. At the end of it was a neglected courtyard with a large, half-dead shrub growing in it. Hidden in the darkness behind the shrub was a small hole in the wall.
‘Come,’ said Stefano and he disappeared into the hole. James went through after him and found himself on the roof of a building on the level below.
‘Where are we going?’ James asked, but the Sardinian boy moved off along the roof without saying anything and jumped on to the next building. James had no choice but to follow.
Stefano led James from one roof to another until they were at the edge of the palazzo, directly above the railway track, then he scrambled down a waste pipe and beckoned James to do the same.
Stefano had obviously done this before.
Once they were both safely on the track, Stefano looked both ways to make sure no train was coming and put his ear to the rails to make doubly sure.
‘Is OK,’ he said, and smiled, though there was enough moonlight for James to see that he looked very strained.
Keeping close to the rocks on their left they began to clamber down the railway. It was tough going. The track ran at an angle of almost 45 degrees and was not designed to be walked on.
After several long minutes they came to the tunnel that went through the great jutting outcrop of rock. James was just about to enter it when Stefano took hold of his sleeve.
‘No,’ he said. ‘This way.’
‘You’re the boss,’ said James and watched as Stefano climbed around the rock away from the track and the tunnel.
Once more James followed him, but to his surprise found that Stefano was climbing up rather than down.
‘Wait,’ he called after him as loud as he dare. ‘Where are we going?’
‘I show you,’ said Stefano.
James decided not to look down as he scaled the rock. The climbing was easy and the moon bright enough to show him the handholds and footholds, but he was still very aware that the bottom of the mountain was many hundreds of feet below.
Higher up, the rock face levelled out and they came to some wooden scaffolding that had been built against the outer wall of the palazzo. Stefano didn’t wait; he pulled himself up the scaffolding like a monkey, with James hot on his heels.
At the top of the scaffolding they stepped off on to a rough concrete roof. They were in an unfinished part of the palazzo that stood on top of the outcrop of rock. Builders’ tools lay everywhere among untidy sacks of lime and sand, mattocks, sledgehammers, pickaxes and trowels.
Now what?
This didn’t look to James like a way out.
Stefano took him to the opposite edge of the roof and they looked over.
There was a wall below them with two windows in it, one above the other, and past them was a long, giddy drop down into darkness.
‘I don’t understand,’ said James. ‘What do you want me to do? Why have you brought me here?’
‘You listen,’ said Stefano.
‘I’m listening,’ said James.
‘Something is happen,’ said Stefano. ‘Something bad.’
‘What?’ said James, trying to imagine where this was leading.
‘I work here,’ said Stefano. ‘Ugo pays me. I say nothing about what I know. I need money. But today I hear men talking. They think we don’t listen because we are only servants, but we know everything.’
‘I still don’t understand,’ said James. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Mauro is dead,’ said Stefa
no, simply.
‘What?’ Stefano’s words hit James like a physical blow. He was stunned. ‘How did it happen?’
‘One of Ugo’s men,’ said Stefano miserably. ‘Ugo could not forgive Mauro for spitting on his floor. But also because of what Mauro say to Ugo.’
‘What do you mean?’ said James. ‘Are you telling me that Ugo had him killed?’
‘Sì. They kill him. Mauro told me you are his friend. You must avenge his death. I cannot. I not strong. I am afraid. But you are strong. You fight the boy today. Mauro tell me you are brave. I see you come up here to the palazzo –’
‘This is stupid.’ James interrupted, his mind spinning. ‘I can’t fight Ugo.’
‘No. You cannot fight him. But you can hurt him. There is a girl.’ As he spoke, Stefano grabbed a length of discarded rope and tied one end around a half-built stone column.
‘What do you mean?’ said James. ‘What girl?’
‘The man called Zoltan bring her here,’ Stefano said, and he began to tie the other end of the rope around James’s waist. ‘Ugo has her. English girl.’
He took James back to the edge of the roof. ‘You go down,’ he said. ‘You go to second window. Here you will find the girl. I wait.’
‘This doesn’t make any sense,’ said James. ‘Who is this girl?’
‘She is prisoner,’ said Stefano. ‘You talk to her. You tell someone.’
‘Please,’ said James. ‘This is crazy –’
‘Go quickly,’ said Stefano. ‘Is not safe here. Go.’
James was confused and alarmed, but Stefano was so insistent that he knew he had to do what he asked. After all, Stefano was his only hope of getting away from here.
He threw a loop of rope over the edge, pulled it taut, then lay on his belly and lowered himself over the side backwards until he was able to get his feet against the wall and walk down it. His fingers were bruised and sore from the fight and the rope burnt as it slipped through them, but he tried to ignore the pain.
He came to the first window. It was dark and the shutters were closed. He stood on the ledge and rested, looking up. He had come about 12 feet; the next window was roughly the same distance again.
It struck him that getting down was relatively easy. Climbing back up again was going to be much harder work.
Best not to think about that.
He carried on, playing out the rope slowly and feeling his way down the wall with his feet.
In a minute he had arrived at the second window.
He settled on to the ledge, undid the knot at his waist, shortened the rope and retied it so that there was no slack above him.
The room wasn’t lit, but the shutters were open. He couldn’t climb in, though, because there was a single vertical bar in the narrow opening. He peered past it. It was too dark to see anything, but he sensed a movement.
‘Hello?’ he said, feeling very foolish. ‘Hello? Is there anybody there?’
Nothing. The sound of crickets chirruping on the hillside.
‘Hello…?’
Still nothing.
He was about to give up and go when he heard a rustle.
‘Hello?’ he repeated, and after a while a voice answered him, quiet and unsure.
‘Hello?’ It was an English voice. A female voice. ‘Where are you?’
‘I’m at the window,’ said James and in a moment he saw the face of a girl looming out of the darkness.
19
Déjà vu
She had short, untidy hair cut raggedly into uneven clumps, pale, freckled skin and big eyes that were shining in the dark. She looked at James as if she couldn’t believe he was actually there and put her hand out through the gap next to the bar. James held it for a moment.
‘You’re real,’ she said.
‘I think so,’ said James.
‘I thought I was dreaming,’ said the girl. ‘Who are you?’
‘The name’s Bond, James Bond. Who are you?’
‘I’m Amy Goodenough.’
James was so surprised he nearly fell off his perch.
‘Mark’s sister?’ he said.
‘You know who I am?’ she said, laughing with relief.
‘Yes,’ said James. ‘But what the hell are you doing here?’
Amy quickly told him everything, from her capture at sea to being brought to the mountains.
‘Zoltan obviously knew about the statuette,’ said James. ‘He knew where to find the Siren and what to expect.’
‘I know,’ said Amy. ‘He told me. He stole the piece for the Count.’
‘But how did Ugo know?’ said James.
‘He has people working for him everywhere,’ said Amy. ‘Even in England.’
‘Even in Eton,’ said James.
‘Exactly,’ said Amy. ‘There’s a man, posing as a master at your school. He tells Ugo everything he needs to know.’
‘Cooper-ffrench,’ said James. ‘I know him. He’s here.’ Now it was James’s turn to talk, as he explained, as quickly as he could, everything he knew.
‘It’s hopeless,’ said Amy, when he’d finished.
‘No,’ said James, and he squeezed her hand. ‘I’ll get you out of here.’
‘Now?’ There was a look of pitiful hope on her face and James had to look away.
‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘There are some tools up top. Maybe I can break this bar, or something. And there’s a boy who works here; he can help us.’
‘Stefano?’ said Amy.
‘Yes,’ said James. ‘So don’t give up.’
Two big tears squeezed out of Amy’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
‘I don’t believe this is happening,’ she said. ‘I prayed that someone would come.’
‘Hang on,’ James said, standing up. ‘I’ll be back.’
The first thing was to get on to the roof again.
He called up to Stefano, as loudly as he dared, but there was no answering shout. He obviously couldn’t hear him. James shook the rope. Nothing.
He sighed and spat on his hands. He had stripped off some of the skin climbing down, but he just had to forget about that and climb up as best he could.
He gripped the rope tightly, braced his legs against the wall and slowly walked up, hoisting himself hand over hand as he went. Twice his feet slipped and he crashed painfully against the wall, but he made it to the safety of the first window without falling off and rested on the ledge once again.
‘Stefano,’ he called out. ‘Where are you?’
Still nothing.
He wondered if he might be able to get inside the building here and find an easier way up. He fiddled with the shutters, slipping his penknife between them to lift the latch and eventually managed to rattle it loose. He folded them back and crawled inside, still tied to the rope.
The room was bare and empty and the door was locked from the other side. He couldn’t risk the noise it would make trying to force it open, so he reluctantly climbed back outside and set off once more up the wall.
His sheer angry determination eventually got him to the top, but when he got to the roof he discovered that Stefano had gone.
Damn it.
That scuppered things.
He was on his own now.
He sat down and, as he was untying the rope, he heard someone climbing the scaffolding. He quickly pulled the rope loose and went to look.
It wasn’t Stefano. It was two of Ugo’s guards.
For a moment he felt like giving up. He was so tired. So much had happened lately, he didn’t know if he could stand any more.
Nonsense.
It’s not just you now, there’s Amy as well.
Get a move on, you lazy idiot. Get away from there.
He ran across the roof and leapt over to the next building.
As he landed, he kept on running, all his tiredness forgotten.
He laughed. This was exactly the same situation he’d been in that night with the Danger Society back at Eton.
Only this time he ris
ked more than a beating. This time he was running for his life.
He sprinted to the edge of a flat roof and jumped down on to a wall. He had no idea where he was; he just had to get away from those two men.
Keeping his arms out for balance, he ran along the top of the wall.
To his left was a dark courtyard with some chicken coops in it. To his right was a dizzying drop down to the valley floor hundreds of feet below.
Don’t look down…
At the end of the wall there was a small tree growing. He climbed up through the branches and was able to get on to the next roof. This one was also flat, but it had a low wall around it and a covered area for seating. Steps led from here up towards a raised walkway. Keeping his body bent double, he hurried up the steps on tiptoe but froze when he reached the top.
The two guards were dashing along the walkway towards him.
Damn…
He turned and fled, racing as fast as he could and he soon came to another flight of steps, this time leading downward. He took them in one giant leap without thinking and, as he hit the bottom, he rolled over then sprang back on to his feet and carried on running. He heard an angry shout behind him and the sound of a body falling heavily. Evidently one of the guards had tried the same trick and not pulled it off. James thought with some satisfaction that the man was going to have a pair of very badly grazed knees.
But they were still after him. And he had lost all sense of direction.
This was no good. He had to get back on to the roofs where the heavier and less agile guards would be at a disadvantage and he might be able to get his bearings. He saw his chance and vaulted over the edge of the walkway on to a building below. He hared across the roof, pumping his arms, taking as long strides as he could. Then he was in a gulley between two buildings, then out on to a narrow flat section, then he jumped and was in the air. He landed with a sickening rib-cracking jolt on the edge of the next roof, face down, the lower half of his body hanging over the edge.
He struggled to his hands and knees and took a deep breath. His lungs hurt like hell. Come to that, his whole body hurt like hell. He wasn’t sure he could go on.
Just ignore it.
Blood Fever Page 19