The Golden Keel / The Vivero Letter

by Desmond Bagley

  I checked the fuel tanks and the water tanks and then went on deck to help the Palmerini boys with the standing rigging. After we had been working for some time, Francesca brought us coffee. I accepted it with thanks, and she said quietly, ‘It’s getting late.’

  I looked at my watch; it was two o’clock. ‘My God!’ I said. ‘Only an hour before the deadline. Heard anything from Piero?’

  She shook her head. ‘How long will it be before you are finished?’ she asked, looking round the deck.

  ‘It looks worse than it is,’ I said. ‘I reckon we’ll be nearly two hours, though.’

  ‘Then we fight,’ she said with finality.

  ‘It looks like it.’ I thought of Coertze’s plan. ‘It shouldn’t come to much, though.’

  ‘I’ll stay with Piero,’ she said. ‘I’ll let you know if anything happens.’

  I watched her go, then went to Walker. ‘Never mind the running rigging,’ I said. ‘We’ll fix that at sea. Just reeve the halyards through the sheaves and lash them down. We haven’t much time now.’

  If we worked hard before, we worked harder then—but it was no use. Francesca came running down from the office. ‘Hal, Hal, Piero wants you.’

  I dropped everything and ran up the yard, calling for Coertze as I went. Piero was talking on the telephone when I arrived. After a minute he hung up and said, ‘It’s started.’ Coertze sat on at the desk upon which was spread the map. ‘Who was that?’

  Piero laid his finger on the map. ‘These men. We have two men following.’

  ‘Not the four we’re tackling straight away?’ I asked.

  ‘No, I haven’t heard of them.’ He crossed to the window and spoke a few words to a man outside. I looked at my watch—it was half past two.

  We sat in silence and listened to the minutes tick away. The atmosphere was oppressive and reminded me of the time during the war when we expected a German attack but didn’t know just when or where it was going to come.

  Suddenly the telephone rang and we all started.

  Piero picked it up and as he listened his lips tightened. He put the telephone down and said, ‘Torloni has got more men. They are gathering in the Piazza Cavour—there are two lorry loads.’

  ‘Where the hell did they come from?’ I demanded.

  ‘From Spezia; he has called in another gang.’

  My brain went into high gear. Why had Torloni done that? He didn’t need so many men against four of us—unless he knew of our partisan allies—and it was quite evident that he did. He was going to overrun us by force of numbers.

  ‘How many extra men?’ asked Coertze.

  Piero shrugged. ‘At least thirty, I was told.’

  Coertze cursed. His plan was falling to pieces—the enemy was concentrating and our own forces were divided.

  I said to Piero, ‘Can you get in touch with your men?’

  He nodded. ‘One watches—the other is near a telephone.’

  I looked at Coertze. ‘You’d better bring them in.’

  He shook his head violently. ‘No, the plan is still good. We can still engage them here and attack them in the rear.’

  ‘How many men have we got altogether?’

  Coertze said, ‘Twenty-five Italians and the four of us.’

  ‘And they’ve got forty-three at least. Those are bad odds.’

  Francesca said to Piero, ‘The men we have are those who can fight. There are others who cannot fight but who can watch. It is a pity that the fighters have to be watchers, too. Why not get some of the old men to do the watching so that you can collect the fighters together?’

  Piero’s hand went to the phone but stopped as Coertze abruptly said, ‘No!’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘It’s a good idea, but it’s too late. We can’t start changing plans now. And I want that phone free—I want to know what is happening to our mobile force.’

  We waited while the leaden minutes dragged by. Coertze suddenly said, ‘Where’s Walker?’

  ‘Working on the boat,’ I said. ‘He’s of more use down there.’

  Coertze snorted. ‘That’s God’s truth. He’ll be no use in a brawl.’

  The telephone shrilled and Piero scooped it up in one quick movement. He listened intently, then began to give quick instructions. I looked at Coertze and said, ‘Four down.’

  ‘…and thirty-nine to go,’ he finished glumly.

  Piero put down the phone. ‘That was the mobile force—they are going to the Piazza Cavour.’

  The phone rang again under his hand and he picked it up. I said to Francesca, ‘Go down to the boat and tell Walker to work like hell. You’d better stay down there, too.’

  As she left the office, Piero said, ‘Torloni has left the Piazza Cavour—two cars and two trucks. We had only two men there and they have already lost one truck. The other truck and the cars are coming straight here.’

  Coertze thumped the table. ‘Dammit, where did that other truck go?’

  I said sardonically, ‘I wouldn’t worry about it. Things can’t help but get better from now on; they can’t get any worse, and we’ve nowhere to go but up.’

  I left the office and stood in the darkness. Giuseppi said, ‘What is happening, signor?’

  ‘Torloni and his men will be here within minutes. Tell the others to be prepared.’

  After a few moments Coertze joined me. ‘The telephone line’s been cut,’ he said.

  ‘That tops it,’ I said. ‘Now we don’t know what’s going on at all.’

  ‘I hope our friends outside use their brains and concentrate into one bunch; if they don’t, we’re sunk,’ he said grimly.

  Piero joined us. ‘Will Palmerini’s sons fight?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, if they are attacked.’

  ‘You’d better go down and tell the old man to lie low. I wouldn’t want him to get hurt.’

  Piero went away and Coertze settled down to watch. The street was empty and there was no sound. We waited a long time and nothing happened at all. I thought that perhaps Torloni was disconcerted by finding his watchmen missing—that might put him off his stroke. And if he had a roll-call and discovered a total of eight men missing it was bound to make him uneasy.

  I looked at my watch—three-fifteen. If Torloni would only hold off we might get the boat launched and away and the men dispersed. I prayed he would hold off at least another half-hour.

  He didn’t.

  Coertze said suddenly, ‘Something’s coming.’

  I heard an engine changing gear and the noise was suddenly loud. Headlights flashed from the left, approaching rapidly, and the engine roared. I saw it was a lorry being driven fast, and when it was abreast of the yard, it swerved and made for the gate.

  I blessed Francesca’s intuition and shouted in Italian, ‘To the gates!’

  The lorry smashed into the gates and there was a loud cracking and snapping of wood, overlaid by the crash as the lorry hit the car amidships and came to a jolting halt. We didn’t wait for Torloni’s men to recover but piled in immediately. I scrambled over the ruined car and got on to the bonnet of the lorry, whirling round to the passenger side. The man in the passenger seat was shaking his head groggily; he had smashed it against the windscreen, unready for such a fierce impact. I hit him with my fist and he slumped down to the floor of the cab.

  The driver was frantically trying to restart his stalled engine and I saw Coertze haul him out bodily and toss him away into the darkness. Then things got confused. Someone from the back of the lorry booted me on the head and I slipped from the running-board conscious of a wave of our men going in to the attack. When I had recovered my wits it was all over.

  Coertze dragged me from under the lorry and said, ‘Are you all right?’

  I rubbed my sore head. ‘I’m O.K. What happened?’

  ‘They didn’t know what hit them—or they didn’t know what they hit. The smash shook them up too much to be of any use; we drove them from the lorry and they ran for it.’

  ‘How many of them were the
re?’

  ‘They were jammed in the back of the lorry like sardines. I suppose they thought they could smash in the gates, drive into the yard and get out in comfort. They didn’t get the chance.’ He looked at the gateway. ‘They won’t be coming that way again.’

  The gateway, from being our weakest point had become our strongest. The tangled mess of the lorry and the car completely blocked the entrance, making it impassable.

  Piero came up and said, ‘We have three prisoners.’

  ‘Tie them up and stick them with the others,’ I said. One commodity which is never in short supply in a boatyard is rope. Torloni was now missing eleven men—a quarter of his force. Perhaps that would make him think twice before attacking again.

  I said to Coertze, ‘Are you sure they can’t attack us from the sides?’

  ‘Positive. We’re blocked in with buildings on both sides. He has to make a frontal attack. But, hell, I wish I knew where that other lorry went.’

  The telephone began to ring shrilly.

  I said, ‘I thought you said the wire had been cut.’

  ‘Piero said it had.’

  We ran to the office and Coertze grabbed the phone. He listened for a second, then said, ‘It’s Torloni!’

  ‘I’ll speak to him,’ I said, and took the phone. I held my hand over the mouthpiece. ‘I’ve got an idea—get old Palmerini up here.’ Then I said into the phone, ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Is that Halloran?’ The English was good, if strongly tinged with an American accent.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Halloran, why don’t you be reasonable? You know you haven’t a chance.’

  I said, ‘This phone call of yours is proof that we have a chance. You wouldn’t be speaking to me if you thought you could get what you want otherwise. Now, if you have a proposition, make it; if you haven’t, shut up.’

  His voice was softly ugly. ‘You’ll be sorry you spoke to me like that. Oh, I know all about the Estrenoli woman’s old soldiers, but you haven’t got enough of them. Now if you cut me in for half I’ll be friendly.’

  ‘Go to hell!’

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll crush you and I’ll like doing it.’

  ‘Make one more attack and the police will be here.’ I might as well try to pull a bluff.

  He thought that one over, then said silkily, ‘And how will you call them with no telephone?’

  ‘I’ve made my arrangements,’ I said. ‘You’ve already run into some of them.’ I rubbed it in. ‘A lot of your men are mysteriously missing, aren’t they?’

  I could almost hear his brain click to a decision. ‘You won’t send for the police,’ he said with finality. ‘You want the police as little as I do. Halloran, I did you a favour once; I got rid of Estrenoli, didn’t I? You could return the favour.’

  ‘The favour was for Metcalfe, not me,’ I said, and hung up on him. He wouldn’t like that.

  Coertze said, ‘What did he want?’

  ‘A half-share—or so he said.’

  ‘I’ll see him in hell first,’ he said bluntly.

  ‘Where’s Palmerini?’

  ‘Coming up. I sent Giuseppi for him.’

  Just then Palmerini came into the office. I said, ‘First, how’s the boat getting on?’

  ‘Give me fifteen minutes—just fifteen minutes, that’s all.’

  ‘I may not be able to,’ I said. ‘You’ve got some portable floodlights you use for working at night. Take two men and bring them up here quickly.’

  I turned to Coertze. ‘We want to be able to see what’s happening. They’ll have to come over the wall this time, and once they’re over it won’t be easy for them to get back. That means that the next attack will be final—make or break. Now here’s what we do.’

  I outlined what I wanted to do with the lights and Coertze nodded appreciatively. It took a mere five minutes to set them up and we used the Fiat and a truck to give added light by their headlamps. We placed the men and settled down to wait for the impending attack.

  It wasn’t long in coming. There were odd scraping noises from the wall and Coertze said, ‘They’re coming over.’

  ‘Wait,’ I breathed.

  There were several thumps which could only be made by men dropping heavily to the ground. I yelled, ‘Luce!’ and the lights blazed out.

  It was like a frozen tableau. Several of the enemy were on our side of the wall, squinting forward at the light pouring on to them. Several others were caught lowering themselves, their head turned to see what was happening.

  What they must have seen cannot have been reassuring—a blaze of blinding light behind which was impenetrable darkness heavy with menace, while they themselves were in the open and easily spotted—not a very comfortable thought for men supposedly making a surprise attack.

  They hesitated uncertainly and in that moment we hit them on both flanks simultaneously, Piero leading from the right and Coertze from the left. I stayed with a small reserve of three men, ready to jump in if either flank party had bitten off more than it could chew.

  I saw upraised clubs and the flash of knives and three of Torloni’s men went down in the first ten seconds. We had caught them off balance and the flank attacks quickly rolled them up into the centre and there was a confused mob of shouting, fighting men. But more of the enemy were coming over the wall fast, and I was just going to move my little group into battle when I heard more shouting.

  It came from behind me.

  ‘Come on,’ I yelled and ran down the yard towards Sanford. Now we knew what had happened to that other lorryload of men. They had come in from the seaward side and Torloni was attacking us front and rear.

  Sanford was beseiged. A boat was drawn up on the hard and another boat full of men was just landing. There was a fight going on round Sanford with men trying to climb up on the deck and our working party valiantly trying to drive them off. I saw the small figure of old Palmerini; he had a rope with a block on the end of it which he whirled round his head like a medieval ball and chain. He whirled it once again and the block caught the attacker under the jaw and he toppled from the ladder he was climbing and fell senseless to the ground.

  Palmerini’s sons were battling desperately and I saw one go down. Then I saw Francesca wielding a boat-hook like a spear. She drove it at a boarder and the spike penetrated his thigh. He screamed shrilly and fell away, the boat-hook still sucking out of his leg. I saw the look of horror on Francesca’s face and then drove home my little attack.

  It was futile. We managed to relieve the beleaguered garrison on Sanford, but then we were outnumbered three to one and had to retreat up the yard. The attackers did not press us; they were so exultant at the capture of Sanford that they stayed with her and didn’t follow us. We were lucky in their stupidity.

  I looked around to see what was happening at the top of the yard. Coertze’s party was closer than I had hoped—he had been driven back, too, but he was not under attack and I wondered why. If both enemy groups now made a concerted effort we were lost.

  I said to Francesca, ‘Duck under those sacks and stay quiet—you may get away with it.’ Then I ran over to Coertze. ‘What’s happening?’

  He grinned and wiped some blood from his cheek. ‘Our outside boys concentrated and hit Torloni hard on the other side of the wall, all fifteen of them. He can’t retreat now—anyone who tries to go back over the wall gets clobbered. I’m just getting my breath back before I hit ‘em again.’

  I said, ‘They’ve got Sanford. They came in from the sea—we’re boxed in, too.’

  His chest heaved. ‘All right; we’ll hit ‘em down there.’

  I looked up the yard. ‘No,’ I said. ‘Look, there’s Torloni.’

  We could see him under the wall, yelling at his men, whipping them up for another attack. I said, ‘We attack up the yard—all of us—and we hope that the crowd at the back of us stay put for the time we need. We’re going to snatch Torloni himself. Where’s Piero?’

  ‘I am here.’
/>
  ‘Good! Tell your boys to attack when I give the signal. You stay with Coertze and me, and the three of us will make for Torloni.’

  I turned to find Francesca at my elbow. ‘I thought I told you to duck out of sight.’

  She shook her head stubbornly. Old Palmerini was behind her, so I said, ‘See that she stays here, old friend.’

  He nodded and put his arm round her. I said to Coertze, ‘Remember, we want Torloni—we don’t stop for anything else.’

  Then we attacked up the yard. The three of us, Coertze, Piero and I, made a flying wedge, evading anyone who tried to stop us. We didn’t fight, we just ran. Coertze had grasped the idea and was running as though he was on a rugby field making an effort for the final try.

  The goal line was Torloni and we were on him before he properly realized what was happening. He snarled and blue steel showed in his hand.

  ‘Spread out!’ I yelled, and we separated, coming at him from three sides. The gun in his hand flamed and Coertze staggered; then Piero and I jumped him. I raised my arm and hit him hard with the edge of my hand; I felt his collarbone break and he screamed and dropped the pistol.

  With Torloni’s scream a curious hush came over the yard. There was an uncertainty in his men as they looked back to see what was happening. I picked up the gun and held it to Torloni’s head. ‘Call off your dogs or I’ll blow your brains out,’ I said harshly.

  I was as close to murder then as I have ever been. Torloni saw the look in my eyes and whitened. ‘Stop,’ he croaked.

  ‘Louder,’ ordered Piero and squeezed his shoulder.

  He screamed again, then he shouted, ‘Stop fighting—stop fighting. Torloni says so.’

  His men were hirelings—they fought for pay and if the boss was captured they wouldn’t get paid. There is not much loyalty among mercenaries. There was an uncertain shuffling and a melting away of figures into the darkness.

  Coertze was sitting on the ground, his hand to his shoulder. Blood was oozing between his fingers. He took his hand away and looked at it with stupefied amazement. ‘The bastard shot me,’ he said blankly.