“I wish I’d caught him,” Cherry said darkly. “I’d have given him something to remember me by.”
Harry hoisted Jacopo up and slung him over bis broad shoulder. “I bet you would, but I want this bird to talk. Come on.
Let’s get back and bring him round. Maybe he’ll be able to tell us how we can get in to Mr Micklem.”
“If he doesn’t, he’ll be sorry,” Cherry said, who was obviously thirsting for blood.
Harry marched off to the villa where Marian was standing on the steps watching for him. Her eyes grew wide when she saw the unconscious body hanging over his shoulder, and Cherry, his sword flashing in the dying rays of the sun, marching behind.
“I’ve got him,” Harry said a little unnecessarily as he came up the veranda steps. He dumped Jacopo down on the boards. “A bucket of water might fit the bill, Cherry.”
“I’ll get it,” Cherry said, and hurried off.
“Will he be all right, Harry?” Marian asked, looking down at Jacopo’s slack, white face.
“Right as ninepence, miss,” Harry said cheerfully. “I only just squeezed him a bit. Scared the life out of him, but no real damage done.”
Cherry came back with a bucket of water and without waiting for instructions, emptied the bucket over Jacopo’s head and shoulders.
Seconds later, spluttering and gasping, Jacopo was sitting up, his back resting against the veranda rail.
Harry knelt beside him.
“Listen, Joe,” he said in a slow distinct tone, “can you understand English?”
Jacopo nodded, his eyes bulging.
“Right,” Harry said. “I want to know how we can get to Mr Micklem. I have an idea you can tell me.” He brought up his fist and touched Jacopo’s nose with it. “You can either tell me willingly or I can force it out of you. That’s up to you, but you’ll tell me sooner or later, don’t make any mistake about that.”
Jacopo looked into the cold, grey eyes and what he saw there made him shudder.
“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, signore” he said hurriedly.
“That’s the boy,” Harry said approvingly. He unfastened the cord around Jacopo’s ankles and then caught hold of his sopping shirt front and hauled him to his feet. “Come on inside and tell me all about it.” He led him into the lounge.
“Perhaps you’ll take down what he’s going to say, miss?” he went on to Marian as he shoved Jacopo on to a straightback chair. “I know where Mr Micklem is,” he went on to Jacopo. “I’ve talked to him within the past half-hour on the telephone, so be careful what you say. The first lie you tell me I’ll punch you in the right eye. Understand?”
Cringing back, Jacopo said he understood.
Alsconi was mixing himself a whisky and soda when Menotto came in through the casement windows.
Alsconi paused, the ice tongs in his hand while he stared at Menotto.
“What do you want?” he asked softly. “I didn’t call you.”
Menotto’s fat, swarthy face was pale, and sweat glistened on his forehead. His dark curls lay limp; his wide, dark eyes were frightened.
“They’ve got Jacopo,” he stammered.
Alsconi selected a cube of ice and placed it in the glass.
“Who has got Jacopo?” he asked, moving to his chair. He sat down.
“The people at the villa. I went down there to take over. I saw one of them carry Jacopo into the house,” Menotto said.
“About ten minutes later, two cars arrived. In them were six men, Italians. They didn’t look as if they were from the police.”
Alsconi drank half the whisky, then he put down the glass and scratched the side of his nose.
“I see,” he said. “I see.”
Menotto watched him fearfully as he stared blankly at the opposite wall.
Alsconi realized immediately that this was his end in Siena. He realized too that he had made a final mistake in sending Jacopo to watch the villa. Willie would never have been caught; he had been a professional. Jacopo was nothing better than an amateur and he would talk. He knew too much. He knew where Micklem was. He knew of Alsconi’s activities.
He was the proof the police wanted: yes, a fatal mistake.
Alsconi looked at Menotto.
“You and I will leave here in half an hour,” he said. “Bring the car to the side entrance. You will find in my office five wooden boxes. Put them in the car. There is a handbag in my bedroom, ready packed, put that in the car too. Pack a bag for yourself. We shall not be coming back.”
“Yes, signore” Menotto said and went quickly from the room.
Alsconi got to his feet and carrying his half-empty glass to the liquor cabinet, he poured more whisky into the glass.
He had made preparations for this situation more than a year ago. He had rented a villa in Palermo, and in the villa he had installed a strong-room that now held the bulk of his fortune. He would fly down there that night. His yacht was ready in the harbour. The money would be transferred to the yacht and he would sail for some out-of-the-way port in North Africa. It was as simple as that. Then he remembered Crantor, and he frowned. Grantor was bringing with him fifteen thousand pounds sterling in five-pound notes, and Alsconi was short of English currency.
Crantor was coming by air-taxi. He would take off from a field near Rye where no prying customs official would inquire into the luggage he was carrying. He would land on a disused American Air Force landing strip forty miles from Siena.
Alsconi decided he would have to meet the aircraft. He was certainly not going to make a present of fifteen thousand pounds to Crantor. The obvious thing to do was to take the air-taxi and land somewhere in Palermo under the cover of darkness. But the air-taxi presented difficulties. There was room for only one passenger. Crantor would have to take Alsconi’s car and drive to Palermo. Menotto? Alsconi shook his head. He couldn’t trust Menotto out of his sight. It was a pity for Menotto was a first-class cook, but he
would have to be wiped out. It would be fatal to let him fall into the hands of the police.
It would also be fatal to let Englemann and Carlos be caught by the police. Englemann would talk. Alsconi scratched the side of his nose. He was fond of Carlos, and yet the huge negro was too conspicuous. He couldn’t keep him with him any longer. Carlos would be instantly recognized wherever he was, and his recognition would lead the police to Alsconi. No, Carlos would have to go too.
Alsconi prided himself on being able to make quick and ruthless decisions. Felix and Lorelli must be wiped out.
Englemann and Carlos must go with them. Micklem, of course, must also die. It was convenient that the five of them were underground. They could be wiped out without difficulty.
He left the room. Moving quickly for a man of his bulk, he made his way to the boiler-room at the rear of the house. In the boiler-room were the fuse boxes that controlled the whole of the elaborate electrical system of the underground quarters. He snapped down the four switches that would put the control room out of operation, then he returned to the lounge. He went to the casement windows and looked out.
Menotto was loading the Cadillac with the five wooden boxes he had taken from Alsconi’s office.
Alsconi walked over to his desk and picked up the telephone receiver.
“Yes, boss?” Carlos said instantly.
“Connect me with Felix,” Alsconi said. “He’s with Miss Lorelli I believe. When I have talked to him, I want to talk to you.”
“Yes, boss,” Carlos said. “Hold on a moment.”
It took a few seconds before Felix’s voice came on the line.
“Ah, Felix,” Alsconi said. “I had planned to talk to you tomorrow, but events appear to be moving faster than I had anticipated.”
Felix said in a hard, loud voice, “What’s the idea? Carlos says the current has been cut off on your orders. I want to talk to you. I have something to tell you.”
“Nothing you have to tell me would interest me now,” Alsconi said. “I have very little tim
e. I am about to leave here for good1. Jacopo has been stupid enough to get himself caught. I don’t have to tell you what that will mean: You will not be coming with me. Since in the past your services have been satisfactory, I will waste a few moments to tell you why you will remain where you are. In your room and in Lorelli’s room are hidden microphones: they are connected to tape recorders. Every now and then I check on your conversations. Lorelli’s treachery and your attitude to her made interesting listening. Had you dealt with her as ruthlessly as you dealt with Willie, you wouldn’t be in the position you are in now. But there it is. I warned you I should hold you responsible for her. You must now pay for your lapse. You have had a good run for your money. I am about to open the vents that will drain the lake into your quarters. People who act like rats must expect to die like rats.” He replaced the receiver as Felix began to shout wildly at him.
Menotto came in.
“The car is ready, sir,” he said.
“Ah, yes,” Alsconi said.
There seemed no point in taking Menotto with him now. It would be easier to get rid of him here than out in the open.
“Move a little to your right, Menotto,” he said.
“To the right, signoreV Menotto asked blankly.
“Yes: you know your right from your left, don’t you?”
“Yes, signore” Menotto said and moved a few steps to his right so that he was now in direct line with the hidden gun in the desk.
“Thank you,” Alsconi said. “That will do perfectly.”
His long, immaculately manicured finger rested for a brief moment on the ivory button on his desk, then smiling at the puzzled-faced Menotto, he pressed on the button.
Felix flung down the telephone receiver. His handsome face was chalk-white and there was naked panic in his eyes.
“He’s wiping us out!” he said hoarsely. “He’s letting the water in. He’s going to drown us!”
Lorelli screamed. She darted to the door, flung it open and ran out into the corridor. Felix followed her. While she began to pound on the steel door at the end of the corridor with her fists, Felix ran the other way to the end room that was used as a store-room. He found there a four-foot crowbar which he grabbed up and running back along the corridor he shoved Lorelli out of his way and began to pound on the steel door with the butt of the bar. “Look!” Lorelli cried.
“It’s coming in now!” Felix paused to look over his shoulder. Through a six-inch vent on either side of the corridor came a trickle of water.
Cursing, Felix renewed his onslaught on the door. The clanging noise he made was heard by Carlos who had come out of the control room, his great black eyes rolling, and was standing undecided, looking up and down the corridor for a way of escape. The noise was also heard by Don and Englemann as they faced each other and Englemann’s lined face tightened at the sound.
“Someone appears to be knocking,” Don said mildly. “Don’t let me stop you if you want to see who it is.” Englemann said, “Sit down in that chair.” Don moved over to the chair indicated and sat down. He watched Englemann circle around him until he reached the door that led into the corridor. Then he saw water in the far comer of the room, seeping across the floor.
“Does that mean anything to you, doctor?” he asked and pointed to the rapidly increasing puddle of water.
Englemann stared, his face turning yellow, then he threw open the door and stepped into the corridor.
Don slid from his chair, picked up the .25 and holding it down by his side, he moved into the corridor. Out there, there was an inch of water on the floor. Englemann leaned against the wall, his face ghastly. Carlos was fumbling at the bolts of the door at the end of the corridor. Don took all this in with one quick glance, then he stepped back into Englemann’s bedroom and closed the door. Water was coming in rapidly through the two vents in the wall and it now covered the whole surface of the floor. Don splashed across to the telephone, lifted the receiver and heard with relief the dialling tone. He dialled the number of the Trioni villa.
“Marian?” he said when he heard Marian’s voice on the line. “Has Giuseppe arrived yet?”
The urgent note in his voice warned her not to waste time asking questions. “Yes, with five others.”
“Tell Harry to come up here right away,” Don went on. “Tell him to cancel all other arrangements we made. There are five of us down here and water’s coming in fast. If we’re not out quickly, we’re not going to get out.”
“I’ll tell him.”
Don heard the note of alarm in her voice.
“Keep the line open,” he said. “I may be back. I want to find out what’s happening.”
“Yes,” Marian said.
He laid down the receiver. The water was now above his ankles and rising fast. He crossed the room and looked out into the corridor.
Carlos had opened the steel door. Felix and Lorelli had come through into his section of the corridor and so had the water. It was up to their knees and rising fast.
“Get that door shut!” Don exclaimed and waded out into the corridor. “Here, you! Give me a hand1 with it.”
The four of them stared at him blankly. Then Carlos went with him to the door he had just opened and together they tried to force the door shut against the inrush of water. It was only when Felix joined them that their combined efforts succeeded. When they had shut and bolted the door, the rise of water slackened a little.
“What’s happening?” Don demanded. “We’re all in this work together. Where’s the water coming from?”
“It’s tapped in from the lake,” Felix said. “There’s no way of stopping it now the valves are open.”
“My men are on their way here now,” Don said. “They’ll be here in ten minutes.”
“They won’t get to us,” Felix said. “If they turn on the current now to open the doors, the whole place will be electrified and we’ll be cooked.”
“They’ll get to us all right,” Don said.
The water was rising fast now. It was nearly up to his waist. He reached out and caught hold of Lorelli who was having trouble keeping upright.
“Can we get to the stairs that lead to Alsconi’s room?” he asked Carlos.
The big negro, his face grey, his eyes rolling, nodded. “Well, come on then,” Don said impatiently. “That’s the way they’ll break in, and up there we’ll be out of the water.”
Pushing Lorelli ahead of him, he struggled down the passage to the steel door that shut off the stairs. Carlos and Felix followed him, but Englemann remained, leaning against the wall, as if stunned by fear.
“You’d better bring your pal along,” Don said to Felix as he tried to open the door.
“To hell with him,” Felix snarled.
“Give me a hand with this,” Don said to Carlos, but although they both put forth their utmost strength, the weight of water against the door held it fast. “Let’s have the crowbar.” Felix handed it to him.
While Carlos strained on the door, Don managed to get the claws of the crowbar between the door and the post. Felix joined him and they levered the door back. As the water flowed past him into the short passage to the stairs, the strain against the door lessened, and they managed to force it right back.
Carlos and Felix made a dive for the stairs as a sudden rush of water came down the corridor, lifting Lorelli off her feet.
She screamed. Don, nearly knocked off his feet, made a grab at her and missed. He saw her go under and then reappear further down the corridor.
Englemann had been knocked down by the rush of water. He came spluttering to the surface. The water was now only three feet from the ceiling of the passage, and was rising fast.
Don went into a racing dive towards Lorelli. He had to swim past Englemann whose groping hands caught hold of Don’s coat and dragged him down.
Don closed with him. For a long moment Englemann fought desperately, his hands clutching at Don’s throat. Then Don broke his hold and threw him off and turning, went after Lorelli
. He reached her side as Englemann came to the surface, his face livid with fear. Lorelli screamed as Englemann clutched hold of her. Don hit him in the face, pulled Lorelli clear of him and shouted to her, “Don’t struggle. Let me handle you.”
By now they were only a few inches from the ceiling.
“Catch hold of my coat,” he went on, and swam with quick, powerful strokes to the open doorway, towing her behind him. He got her through the doorway, then turning, he pushed her ahead of him until they reached the bottom of the stairs. He hesitated, wondering if he should go back for Englemann, then seeing the water had already reached the ceiling of the corridor, decided against it. He got Lorelli on to the steps while the water swirled around them, then half-carrying her, half-pushing her, he got her up the steps to the small landing above where Carlos and Felix were.
Felix was examining the steel door.
“We’re not going to get this damn thing open,” he said. “It fits too tight.”
Don joined him. One look at the door showed him Felix was right.
“Only if the electric current’s on, and if it’s turned on now, we’ll probably be electrocuted.”
“We’ll take it in turns to signal,” Don said. “We’ve got to let my chaps know where we are.”
He picked up the crowbar and began tapping on the door.
Then suddenly the lights went out and they were left in black, suffocating darkness.
“It’s a wonder that didn’t happen before,” Don said. “The last of the fuses must have blown.”
He continued his tapping.
“The water’s rising,” Lorelli said suddenly. “It’s round my feet.”
Carlos crowded up on to the top step, pushing Felix back.
“Get out of my way,” he snarled.
Felix, suddenly knee-deep in water, panicked. He grabbed hold of Carlos and tried to get back to his original position.
Don heard Carlos grunt, then there was the sound of a heavy blow and a groan, followed by a splash.
Lorelli screamed again.
Don reached out into the darkness with groping fingers. He touched Carlos’s sleeve. Snarling in panic, the great negro turned on him, his hands grabbing Don’s coat front. He swept Don off his feet. Don hooked his leg around Carlos’s thigh and caught hold of his neck with both hands. Carlos hit him a sledgehammer blow in the body. Don’s fingers slid down the great throat until they reached the artery, then he squeezed with all the strength in his hands. He got another punch that sickened him, then Carlos lost his balance, and together they fell off the steps and rolled into the water.
Mission to Siena Page 18