Blood Fever

by Charlie Higson

  He walked along the perimeter of the dam, hearing nothing but his shoes clicking on the concrete, the sound bouncing back off the surrounding cliffs.

  He saw someone ahead, standing in the shadows between two spotlights. He squinted but couldn’t make out who it was.

  ‘Hello?’ he called out tentatively, and the figure stepped forward into the light.

  It was Peter Haight.

  ‘Peter?’ said Cooper-ffrench. ‘Have you found him? Is he here?’

  Haight shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not, but what on earth are you doing here, old man?’

  Cooper-ffrench cleared his throat. ‘One of Ugo’s chaps came down from the palazzo, he said Bond had been seen up here and that I should hurry.’

  ‘That’s pretty well the message I was given as well,’ said Haight. ‘But sad to report there’s no sign of him.’

  ‘This is very worrying,’ said Cooper-ffrench.

  ‘What do you think we should do?’ said Haight, lighting a cigarette. ‘Should we wait?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Cooper-ffrench guardedly. He didn’t trust Haight. He never had. ‘Have you had a good look around?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Haight. ‘Although it’s too dark to see properly. But, listen, old chap, there’s something I need to talk to you about.’

  ‘Oh, yes?’ said Cooper-ffrench.

  ‘Yes.’ Haight blew out a lungful of smoke, and then took out a small flask from his breast pocket. ‘Would you like some brandy? Might keep us awake.’

  ‘Not for me, thank you,’ said Cooper-ffrench. ‘It’s a little late and I’m a martyr to indigestion. So, what did you want to say?’

  Haight took a sip of brandy. ‘I’ve been finding out a bit about our host, the great Count Ugo Carnifex,’ he said. ‘And I think he might be up to no good.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ said Cooper-ffrench.

  ‘Do you know anything about an organization called the Millenaria?’ said Haight.

  Cooper-ffrench hesitated. ‘I’ve heard of them,’ he said at last.

  ‘Well, from what I can gather, this is their headquarters and Carnifex is in charge,’ said Haight. ‘The place is crawling with crooks.’

  For a while Cooper-ffrench said nothing. Maybe he’d been wrong about Haight, but he still didn’t trust him.

  ‘How do you know this?’ he asked.

  ‘Been talking to some of the locals,’ said Haight.

  ‘You knew none of this before?’

  ‘How could I have known?’ said Haight with a frown.

  ‘Well, it’s only that…’ Cooper-ffrench decided to show his hand. ‘I have seen one of these chaps before.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Haight, wide-eyed and attentive.

  ‘As you know I am a keen amateur archaeologist,’ said Cooper-ffrench.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, for some time I have been trying to locate a shrine to the Roman god, Mithras, somewhere in Eton. It’s mentioned in various historical records but has been lost for centuries. I believe it was built on the site of an earlier Celtic shrine to the goddess Tamesis, after whom the river Thames is named.’

  ‘I don’t follow you, John,’ said Haight. ‘Where’s this leading?’

  ‘I’ll get to the point in a minute,’ said Cooper-ffrench. ‘You see, I have always thought that if I could find this shrine it would be an important discovery. My research led me to a building in Eton that appeared to be unoccupied. I visited it on a number of occasions but failed to gain entry. Then one afternoon I found the door open and went in to find a rather alarming man there. A Scotsman whose cheeks were badly scarred and who has the letter M tattooed on each hand. M for Millenaria.’

  ‘Good God!’ exclaimed Haight. ‘I’ve seen him here in the palazzo. You saw that man in Eton?’

  ‘The very same,’ said Cooper-ffrench. ‘It’s strange, is it not?’

  ‘But why have you never said anything to me before?’ said Haight.

  Cooper-ffrench blushed and coughed. ‘I must confess I had my suspicions about you, Peter,’ he said. ‘I thought perhaps you might be involved in some way.’

  ‘Me?’ Haight looked incredulous and then laughed. ‘Involved with criminals and secret Italian societies? How on earth did you come to that conclusion?’

  ‘Well, it seems ridiculous now,’ Cooper-ffrench muttered. ‘And I must say it’s a load off my mind talking to you. Perhaps I will have a small nip of brandy.’

  Haight passed him the flask and he took a quick drink. The two of them walked to the parapet and looked down at the palazzo and the aqueduct below.

  ‘Have you told anyone else of your suspicions?’ Haight asked casually.

  ‘No.’ Cooper-ffrench shook his head vigorously. ‘I mean, what if my fears proved to be unfounded? I didn’t want to cause a fuss and risk a scandal at the school. But I knew you visited Sardinia regularly, and I knew the Millenaria had their base here, so I thought I’d better come along and keep an eye on you.’

  Haight looked at Cooper-ffrench. So that was why he kept turning up like a bad penny. The poor fool. He had no idea what he had stumbled into.

  He put his arm around Cooper-ffrench’s shoulders.

  ‘First thing tomorrow we take the boys and leave this place,’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ said Cooper-ffrench. ‘There is evil here. We ought to say something to the authorities.’

  ‘Indeed we must,’ said Haight.

  ‘And what about young James Bond?’ said Cooper-ffrench. ‘Where the devil is he?’

  ‘Don’t you worry about a thing,’ said Haight. ‘Let me sort everything out.’ So saying, he put a hand between Cooper-ffrench’s shoulder blades and gave him a short, quick shove.

  Cooper-ffrench had only time to shout ‘Haight!’ before he was over the wall and falling.

  Haight watched him to the bottom. It seemed to take an awfully long time.

  ‘The penny drops,’ he said and tossed the flask of brandy after him.

  21

  Sadism Before Supper

  James had been put into an empty tool room deep in one of the mining tunnels beneath the palazzo. The steel door was locked shut and the light had been switched off from outside. The room was pitch dark and smelt of damp.

  He had no idea what time it was. It might be the middle of the night or the sun might be blazing in the sky.

  He had slept a little, a deep, sluggish sleep filled with confusing dreams, and when he’d woken he was painfully stiff and felt as if his whole body had been trampled on by elephants. On top of the bruising his face and hands had received in the boxing match, there were the other injuries he had got from being chased across the rooftops, not to mention the lump on his head from when he’d been attacked at Victor’s.

  He knew that it was pointless trying to escape. All he could focus on was thinking of a story, something he could say to keep Mauro’s friend Stefano out of danger. He felt partially responsible for Mauro’s death; he couldn’t bear it if Stefano suffered a similar fate because of him.

  His one hope of getting away was Cooper-ffrench. Surely the master would sound the alarm and come looking for him.

  He couldn’t believe he had been so stupid as to trust Peter Haight.

  It all seemed so obvious now.

  It was Haight who had organised this trip to Sardinia, at the hottest time of the year, so that under the guise of attending Ugo’s carnival he could deliver the stolen paintings. James remembered the rolled canvases in Haight’s bag, the bag that never left his side. He had the perfect cover to smuggle stolen art out of the country – a harmless schoolteacher on a trip with his pupils.

  Haight had quizzed the boys about their families’ art collections. He knew the exact location of all the pieces. He knew when the families would be away from home. He knew about the Goodenoughs’ yacht and the statuette of the siren it contained. His concern for Mark had nothing to do with feeling sorry for him: he just felt guilty about what had happened. All the other thefts had bee
n quick and simple and no one had been hurt. This one had gone wrong and people had died.

  The light was switched on from outside. James jumped, startled, and, despite the fact that the bulb only cast a feeble orange glow, he blinked and shielded his eyes from its glare.

  He heard the grinding of a key turning in the lock and the door creaked open.

  Count Ugo came in with Smiler.

  Smiler wiped some dust from the top of a packing crate and sat down.

  Ugo took one look at the unclean conditions, turned up his nose and decided to stand.

  ‘James Bond,’ he said, ‘in my time I have had to deal with soldiers, bandits, pirates and murderers of all kinds. A mere schoolboy is not going to cause me any difficulties. Now, I wish for you only to answer me some questions and then we can close this matter.’

  ‘And let me go?’ said James. ‘After all, I am a mere schoolboy.’

  ‘Why not?’ said Ugo. ‘As I say, you do not worry me. You may have some childish fantasy of alerting the police and sending in the army to rescue this girl. But it must remain a fantasy. I have great power on this island. All men are greedy. It doesn’t take a great deal to bribe a policeman; I give them money, they leave me alone. The army are just the same. We are all Sardinians first and Italians second. They have more loyalty to me than to Mussolini. I offer these people hope. This is a poor country, but I will make it rich.’

  ‘By stealing paintings?’ said James.

  Ugo laughed. ‘When the Emperor Napoleon conquered Europe, he took all of its riches for himself. He emptied the museums and art galleries and put their contents on show in Paris for the glory of his empire. Well, that is what I am doing also. My followers are everywhere. In all the places that were once part of the Roman Empire. In Spain, in France, in North Africa, the Middle East, Germany and, of course, in Britain. And from all these places they bring me treasure. Most of it, I ransom back to its owners, but the Italian art I keep. An emperor must behave like an emperor and he must look like an emperor. He must be surrounded by the finest things. I will become a new Caesar, a new Napoleon. One day I will show my full majesty to the world. For now, though, I work underground, tunnelling beneath the surface of society.’

  ‘Like a rat,’ said James. ‘In a sewer.’

  ‘We have wasted time,’ said Ugo. ‘I am very busy. How did you find out about Amy Goodenough? Who took you to her? Who helped you?’

  ‘No one,’ said James.

  ‘You may think that someone will be coming to set you free,’ said Ugo softly. ‘But that is not the case. Signor Delacroix has gone home and Signor Cooper-ffrench has had an unfortunate accident. It appears that the spirit of the carnival took hold of him. He became drunk last night and fell off my dam. Very sad. Now, tell me who helped you.’

  James felt a cold, sick sensation in his stomach.

  ‘Nobody helped me,’ he said. He had to stick to that line at all costs. He had to buy as much time as possible for Stefano to get away, or he would go the same way as Cooper-ffrench.

  Ugo smiled and ran a hand through the bristly stubble of his white hair. ‘I will get this information,’ he said. ‘I have a way. I am going to take you hunting. Do you like hunting?’

  James shrugged.

  ‘Never mind,’ said the Count. ‘It doesn’t matter. Because in this hunt you are not going to be the hunter, you are going to be the prey.’ He smiled. ‘But it will not be a very fair hunt, I’m afraid.’

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ said James. ‘I know how you like to cheat.’

  ‘I am going to tie you to the ground,’ said Ugo. ‘As bait. But what animal is going to hunt you down? Hmm? Do you know?’

  ‘No,’ said James sullenly.

  ‘It is the deadliest animal in the world,’ said Ugo. ‘Do you know what that is? Are you thinking of maybe a tiger? No. Not the tiger. A few men are killed each year by tigers, but not that many; the same with lions. What about crocodiles? Again, no: only a handful of victims. Maybe snakes? It is true that there are some truly deadly snakes in the world, but not in Sardinia. A spider, perhaps? No. The creatures that are going to attack you are the worst of all. They kill millions of people every year.’

  Ugo went to the door and his guard opened it. ‘Think about it, James, think about what this creature might be, and maybe later you will feel more like talking. In some ways, though, I hope that you do not tell me straight away,’ he said. ‘Because I am going to enjoy seeing you suffer. My life here is sometimes boring. A little sadism before supper will give me an appetite. Come, Smiler.’

  The two men left and James was once more alone.

  He put his hand in his pocket and felt something. He pulled it out. It was the silver ring that Jana had given him. He looked at it, turning it in his battered fingers.

  There was something not quite right about it, but before he could work out what it was, the light was switched off and he sat there in the dark, fondling the ring and brooding.

  Some time later – it could have been an hour, it could have been two hours, James had no way of knowing – he had another visitor.

  It was Zoltan the Magyar, who had brought him some food.

  ‘James!’ he said, tossing him some bread and a hunk of cold pork. ‘Always getting into trouble. What are we going to do with you?’

  James said nothing and ate the food greedily while Zoltan watched with some amusement. ‘Ugo does not know I am here,’ he said. ‘So we shall keep this as our little secret.’

  ‘What do you want with me?’ said James. ‘And don’t bother lying. I know who you are.’

  ‘I could help you, James,’ said Zoltan.

  ‘I don’t want your help.’

  ‘You are strong,’ said Zoltan. ‘But Ugo will break you. Why not let me help?’

  ‘Why would you want to?’ said James. ‘What’s in it for you?’

  ‘I want Amy back,’ said Zoltan. ‘You know where she is. In a way we both want the same thing.’

  ‘No, we don’t,’ said James. ‘I want to free her, and you want to sell her.’

  ‘That is not all I want,’ said Zoltan.

  ‘She told me,’ said James. ‘She told me you’re trying to ransom her. What more could you want with her?’

  ‘That is a good question,’ said Zoltan. ‘One that I have been asking myself from the start. In a way I feel there is a strange bond between us. Maybe because she nearly killed me. Our fates are joined. I don’t think now that I do want to sell her. I want to keep her with me.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘I wish I knew the answer to that,’ said Zoltan. ‘She is too young and I am too old to think about marriage, and beside she hates me. I killed her father. That is not a good way to win a girl’s heart.’

  ‘No,’ said James. ‘I don’t know much about these things, but I would have thought some flowers or chocolates would have gone down better.’

  Zoltan laughed, then spoke quietly. ‘I don’t want her to be hurt, James.’

  ‘So, if you got her back, what would you do with her?’ said James.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Zoltan. ‘She was my prize. But everything good I have ever had Ugo has taken. He talks of being a new Roman emperor. He is not. He is just a thief. A gangster.’

  ‘Like you,’ said James.

  ‘At least I know that is what I am,’ said Zoltan. ‘And do not pretend to be something more.’

  ‘An honest thief?’ said James. ‘I didn’t know there was such a thing.’

  Zoltan smiled at him. ‘I never finished telling you about Ugo, did I?’ he said. ‘What happened to him in the war.’

  ‘No,’ said James. ‘You left him standing naked in a shower, facing a German soldier.’

  ‘Not a German,’ said Zoltan. ‘A Hungarian.’

  ‘Of course,’ said James. ‘I wondered how you knew so much about that day. It was you, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Zoltan. ‘It was me. That was how I met Ugo.’ Zoltan sat down and wiped his face
. He was dripping with sweat and his pale eyes were yellow and feverish. He took a long deep breath and James heard it rattling in his chest.

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘Before anyone could shoot,’ said Zoltan, ‘I saw an extraordinary thing. Some bullets from our fight had smashed a hole in the floor. And through this hole I saw the glint of gold.

  ‘Hidden beneath those showers were all the treasures from the palazzo. The owners had stored all their valuables there when war broke out. In our excitement we forgot that we were enemies. We climbed down and gazed at a fortune. Ugo’s brother Guido was a religious man and said we should not touch it. Ten minutes later Guido was dead. With Ugo’s knife planted in his back. Carnifex had killed his own brother, the man who had saved his life. And why? For gold. All for gold.

  ‘Ugo and I worked hard. We dragged the treasure from the cellar and buried it in the woods. Then we swore an oath never to tell anyone about it and arranged to return when the war was over. I had had enough of fighting, though. I made my way down through Albania into Greece, where I started my glorious career as a pirate and a smuggler.’

  ‘And was the treasure still there when you came back?’ asked James.

  Zoltan laughed. ‘What do you think?’ he said. ‘Ugo is now a rich man and I just have my boat and the clothes I am wearing.’

  ‘He beat you to it,’ said James.

  ‘Yes. He sold most of it. Those pieces that were easy to dispose of, the silver and the gold. Other pieces he graciously gave to me to sell for him. I knew many men around the Mediterranean who asked no questions. I split the profits with Ugo, always on the promise that there would be bigger, more valuable items the next time.

  ‘But, while I stayed a smuggler, living from one day to the next, spending my money as soon as I had it, Ugo was more clever. He wanted a palazzo like the one we had looted. He kept his money and went into mining.’

  James saw a glimmer of hope pierce the gloom of his depression. Perhaps there still was someone who could help him. Someone unlikely, but a potential ally nevertheless.

  This wounded Hungarian pirate.

  ‘You’re not interested in his plans, are you?’ said James. ‘For the Millenaria?’