“I once said you and I could be useful to each other,” Crantor said, staring at her. “You didn’t seem to think much of the idea then. You have until Monte Carlo to change your mind. I have fifteen thousand pounds in that bag. I think there is a fortune in lire in those boxes. We could make a new start in life together. Think about it.” He motioned with the gun.
“Get into the cockpit. I’m staying here.”
Don’s head and shoulders appeared out of the cockpit.
“I can’t see what I’m doing. Have you a flashlight?”
Crantor took his torch from his pocket and bent slightly to hand it to Don. Lorelli, with the quickness of a cat, gave him a hard, sudden push. Caught off balance, Crantor fell forward. He fired blindly as he fell. The bullet smashed against the steel floor and ricocheted out of the cockpit, narrowly missing Don. As Crantor crashed down into the cockpit, Don closed with him.
His left hand grabbed Crantor’s wrist, his right hand fastened on Crantor’s throat. He hammered Crantor’s gun hand on the floor of the cockpit. The gun went off again, then Crantor’s fingers opened and the gun slid into the darkness.
For a few seconds the two men fought like animals. Crantor broke Don’s hold on his throat and his fist thudded into Don’s face, sending him backwards.
Crantor made the mistake of reaching for the gun. Don threw himself on him and slammed a punch to Crantor’s jaw.
Crantor sagged. Don scrambled to his feet, and as Crantor heaved himself up to his knees, Don’s fist smashed against his jaw again, sending him backwards. His head struck the wall of the cockpit and he slumped face down on the steel floor.
Don groped for the flashlight, found it and turned it on. He bent over Crantor. Satisfied that he was unconscious, he picked up i Crantor’s gun and backed away.
“Are you all right?” Lorelli said breathlessly.
“He won’t bother us for a few minutes,” Don said. He turned the beam of the flashlight on Lorelli’s tense, white face.
“Nice work. It’s becoming quite a habit. That’s the second time you’ve pulled me out of a jam.” He handed the torch to her. “Hold this while I tie him up.”
She took the flashlight. Don put the gun on the deck and then tied Crantor’s wrists behind his back with his silk tie.
Lorelli reached out and picked up Crantor’s gun. As Don straightened, he found himself looking down the barrel. “Hey!
What’s the idea?” he said, startled.
“Get him off the boat and get off yourself,” she said in a fierce hard voice.
“You’re not taking the boat, are you?” “Yes. Hurry! Get him off!”
“Don’t rush your chances. I said I’d help you and I still will. Can you handle this boat?”
“Of course. I’ve handled it dozens of times before, and I don’t want your help.”
“You’ll want some money, won’t you?”
“Money?” She laughed. “I have all the money I want now. This is the chance I’ve been hoping for. Get him off the boat.
I want to get away.”
“Right-ho,” Don said and heaved Crantor up on to the deck, climbed on to the quay and pulled Crantor up after him. He laid Crantor out on the cobble stones, then squatting on his heels, he looked down at Lorelli.
“You’re sure you can handle this boat? You don’t want me to help you?”
She shook her head.
“It’s all right. I’ve done the Monte Carlo run before on my own.”
“Well, okay. Then there’s nothing I can do for you?”
Her face softened as she looked up at him.
“No, thanks. I can manage now. I’m going to make a new start. I don’t suppose we’ll meet again.”
“You never know. Watch out for police boats. He’ll give them a description of the boat when he comes to the surface.”
She smiled.
“I’ll be miles away by then. This is the fastest boat on the coast. They won’t catch me.” She swung the starting handle, and as the twin engines roared into life, she said, “Good-bye and thanks again.”
“So long and good luck,” Don shouted above the noise of the engines. He cast off the mooring rope.
The boat began to move. Then as Lorelli opened the throttle, the boat gathered way and went roaring out towards the open sea, leaving behind it a broad white wash of churned-up water.
She raised her hand and waved. Don waved back.
Then he lost sight of the boat as it raced away into the darkness of the night.
FB2 document info
Document ID: 95db607e-498b-480f-ba32-1129cad8bc24
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 10.5.2012
Created using: calibre 0.8.50, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6.6 software
Document authors :
James Hadley Chase
Document history:
1.1 - post-calibre editing, annotation (Namenlos)
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Mission to Siena Page 21