The Mafia Emblem

by Michael Hillier

  - 39 -

  When Ben was in sight of the road he paused to brush the worst of the dirt and dust from his clothes. He could see that Francesca was sitting on a part of the broken parapet across the other side of the road, swinging her legs idly as she looked down at the sea far below her. Donna was leaning against the side of the car which was parked in a rough gravel lay-by on the near side of the road. She appeared to be manicuring her nails.

  They were obviously avoiding speaking to each other. Ben was disappointed that the two of them didn’t seem to get on. He supposed it was because they were such different characters. He shrugged his shoulders and made his way painfully down the last, steep part of the ravine.

  The women heard him coming. Francesca rose and sauntered back across the road as Ben returned to the car. She looked cool and self-contained in her light green dress. It was Donna who looked over-dressed and pink and uncomfortable in the breathless midday heat. She raised an enquiring eyebrow.

  “Well,” said Ben, “the place looks nearly as impregnable as Fort Knox, unless you’ve got a couple of attack helicopters up your sleeve. The Vitelli certainly know how to look after themselves.”

  Donna leaned back again. “What are you planning to do then, cowboy? Ride up and bust down the gate?”

  “No,” said Francesca. “I will go. Signor Vitelli will see me. He thinks I am to be his daughter-in-law. He will talk to his son’s future wife.”

  “Are you joking?” asked Donna. “Look what he did to your brother. A guy like that doesn’t bother about being polite to ladies.”

  “But there is supposed to be friendship between our two families. I do not think he would openly do me any harm.”

  “Who said anything about being open? You disappear through that gateway on your own, my girl, and who’s to know whether you will ever be seen again.”

  “Well,” said Francesca. “If I do not come out again within two hours you may ring the police.”

  Ben shook his head. “I don’t think that would work. I think the police would be very careful about charging somebody as important as Mancino Vitelli. They would accept anything he told them. And I don’t think Donna and I would be able to wield much influence.”

  “That’s right,” said Donna. “All old man Vitelli has to do is tell them that we’re nuts and he hasn’t seen you for a week and they’ll leave him alone and concentrate on sending us on our way.”

  “I agree with Donna, Francesca. You probably won’t even get as far as Vitelli himself. He knows that your appearance will mean trouble and he’ll probably put one of his henchmen on to you. I’m not absolutely sure, but I think I saw that gangster with the knife who I told you about. He was crossing the courtyard from what looks like a guardhouse by the gate to the separate left wing of the house. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was a small factory or a laboratory or something like that. But I don’t like the idea of you going in there on your own with that character around. I don’t know what might happen if that bloke got hold of you.”

  “But I tell you that they will not think of me in that way.” Francesca was adamant. “I have been to the Villa Rafallo before. The people there will know me.”

  “Even if you did get in to see him,” said Donna, “what could you do? Old Vitelli isn’t going to admit to you that he had your brother bumped off and then say he’s sorry. He’ll deny it, won’t he?”

  “That’s right, Francesca,” Ben agreed. “We’re going to have to squeeze Vitelli hard to get anything out of him. We need to surprise him and we need to find something that will let us put some pressure on him. You can’t do all that on your own.”

  “Is there no other way in except through the front gates?”

  Ben grinned wryly. “I think I could see a helicopter landing-pad. But we’re not exactly the US marines, are we?”

  “Don’t look at me,” said Donna as Francesca turned to her. “Joseph Carter’s alimony doesn’t stretch that far.”

  “How about a boat?”

  “It looks as if there might be a small cove where boats could come in to land,” said Ben. “But the path comes right up beside the gatehouse and I can’t believe that it won’t be fenced off somewhere. Everything else is so secure.”

  “Then that only leaves the gate.” Francesca tossed her head rebelliously. “If they will not let me in, I do not see how you are going to reach Mancino Vitelli. As you say, the place is so well protected that there is no other way in except to persuade them to open the front gate to us.”

  “Well, there is another way,” he said softly. “But I don’t know whether I can still do it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Ben pulled a face. He found he couldn’t look at them. He turned to face the sea. “The only way in, other than the gate,” he said unhappily, “is to climb up the cliffs on the east side of the house. On that side they don’t have any way of seeing you until you get to the top.”

  “Then that is what we must do,” said Francesca.

  “But I haven’t climbed for two years. I haven’t been on a rock-face since –.”

  “Since what?”

  He sighed. “Since the day that Carlos died on the Brow of the Devil.”

  There was a long silence.

  At last he added, “And the cliffs here are difficult.”

  There was a pause before Francesca said, quietly but accusingly, “You are afraid.” There was so much contempt in her voice that Ben found it almost unbearable.

  “It isn’t only that,” he said lamely. “I don’t have any equipment. This climb would have to be made in the dark and on difficult surfaces. It would be important to have the right equipment.”

  “I know where there is climbing equipment,” said Francesca. “It is at the bottom of the wardrobe in Toni’s flat. I saw it was still there only two days ago when we found out about the break-in. Toni must have kept it there. I expect it is just as it was when you came back from the Brow of the Devil.”

  “But it’s not only the equipment. I couldn’t do that climb on my own. I would need practice - several days practice - to rebuild my technique.” Even as he spoke he felt the shame welling up inside him, and when he looked at Francesca there was a look of utter scorn on her face.

  “We cannot wait several days. It must be done now or not at all.” She flung her head back haughtily. “Very well. I shall climb by myself if you will not do it. I am not afraid. You can stand by the gate until I reach the top and I will open it for you to come in.”

  “Come and look at this,” said Ben. He crossed the road to the sea side and the women followed him. He put a foot on the low stone wall which was all that prevented vehicles from going over the cliff and falling on to the rocks two hundred feet below. He pointed over a lower headland which jutted out into the Mediterranean and across the inlet beyond to the sheer wall of rock below the Villa Rafallo.

  “That’s the cliff you’ve got to get up. It’s not an easy climb. Have you ever done any climbing?”

  “I have often talked to Toni. He knew how to climb. He has told me how to do it.”

  “But Toni wasn’t an expert climber, Francesca. He knew less about climbing than I do. He didn’t have the technique for a climb like that. He had only done a few short climbs himself before - before the accident on the Brow of the Devil.”

  She turned on him with her eyes blazing. “Don’t you say anything about Toni. He was brave - that is all that matters. He would not have been afraid to do this climb. Since he is dead I am now the only one left who can help the Cimbroni. Therefore I will do the climb.”

  Ben hung his head. It was useless trying to make her see reason when she was in this mood. Besides, he knew she was right. They could not wait several days. “No,” he said, so quietly that the others could hardly hear him. “I must do it.”

  Francesca leaned forward. “When will you do it?”

  “Tonight. There is no better time.”

  Donna linked her arm through his. “Now look, Ben, you d
on’t have to climb up that bloody cliff just to keep this little madam happy. As you said earlier, you can’t do it alone. Even I have enough knowledge of climbing to know you can’t do a climb like that without a buddy. One slip and it’d be feeding time for the gulls. I’m sure we can find some other way to get in to Fort Rafallo there.”

  He smiled weakly at her support. “They call my problem “bottling out” in England. I shouldn’t have left it so long before I tried to climb again. I should really have gone straight out on a new rock-face the next day.”

  “What exactly happened two years ago to make you feel so bad?” asked Donna.

  “Yes – tell us.” Francesca looked almost eager. “I want to know just how Carlos died. He was very important. Toni said he was the best of the Vitelli.”

  Ben’s thoughts were tugged unwillingly back to that day on the Brow of the Devil. He shuddered again as he thought about it.

  “I’m not very proud of the way I acted,” he said. “The problem was that I didn’t know enough to be able to save Carlos when he fell.