The Mafia Emblem

by Michael Hillier

  52-

  The Alfa Romeo skidded to a halt. The front passenger door swung open and Donna leaned out.

  “Here come the cavalry,” she called cheerfully. “Well – get in! Don’t stand there gawping. We’ve gotta get a move on.”

  Obediently Ben helped Papa into the back while Francesca ran round to the other side to get into the front passenger seat. As Ben climbed in he saw the first gangster struggle out of the door of the damaged Mercedes and start to scramble over the fallen masonry. It was at that moment that he realised that the arch carrying the stone carved shield with the carving of the Wolf of Hades had collapsed into the roadway and the emblem had shattered.

  “OK, buster, let’s go,” shouted Donna gaily as she let out the clutch. With a squeal of protesting rubber the little car shot off down the road. The half-closed door nearly clouted the furiously gesticulating gangster.

  “Boy, you seem to have made a mess of his hundred thousand-dollar motor,” said Donna as she glanced through the gate. She turned to wink at Francesca. “Huh! Men drivers!”

  “It was the first time I’d ever driven a big Mercedes.”

  Francesca laughed. “Probably the last time.”

  Ben detected an air of infectious gaiety in the car. “I don’t think we’re in the clear yet. They’ll soon be able to back the car out of the gateway.”

  “You’re right,” said Donna. “It ain’t gonna hold ‘em up for long.”

  Francesca pulled a face. “And there’s a Ferrari in the garage. I’ve seen it.”

  “In that case we’d better get a move on. Hang on, folks.” Donna put her foot down harder and the little car surged forward.

  Ben reminded them: “The guide books say that the Amalfi Drive is one of the most spectacular roads in Europe. Be careful. It has more than eleven hundred hairpin bends in forty miles of road. That should be enough to keep even Donna quiet.”

  He watched in awe as she hurled the little car around the curves with apparent aplomb. She never seemed to hesitate, clearly unworried by the fact that the surface had been made greasy by the damp wind. Often they were in a four-wheel drift only a few inches from the low concrete wall which was all that prevented them from plunging over the sheer cliff edge with a drop of two hundred feet to the sea. The sight made Ben gulp and Francesca had gone absolutely silent.

  Fortunately there was no traffic around this early in the morning as they rushed into short black tunnels through the rocky headlands where the road was scarcely wide enough to allow two cars to squeeze past each other. They soared over viaducts, through deep cuttings and round bend after corner after hairpin bend with never more than a hundred yards of straight road between them.

  Francesca clung tenaciously to the front dashboard. Papa had shrunk down into the corner of the back seat where he sat with an ashen grey face and his eyes closed. Ben tried to stop himself being flung about the car as it slewed and slithered and gyrated round the succession of corners. Whenever possible he took a look behind for signs of pursuit. Only Donna seemed cheerfully unconcerned as she kept up a bantering conversation with him.

  “Lucky there ain’t no cars out today. These Itiys are fair-weather drivers. Begging your pardon, of course.” She nodded to Francesca as she casually corrected a tail drift coming out of a bend with a bit of opposite lock.

  They dived into their fifth tunnel. This one had a bend in it so they couldn’t see to the far end. Donna switched on the lights. “Ben, are you keeping a look-out behind?”

  “I can’t see a lot just at the moment,” Ben reminded her.

  “That Ferrari will make mincemeat of this road once it gets moving. We’ve gotta find somewhere to get off as soon as possible.”

  They screamed round the bend and into the daylight again. She tossed a map over her shoulder. “See if you can find anywhere.”

  Ben struggled to open the map as he clung to the arm-rest. After a while he found the appropriate bit. “I don’t think there are many side roads along this way.”

  “I know somewhere,” said Francesca unexpectedly.

  “What’s that? Come on – give, girl.”

  “Oh, there is a small villa called La Procida which belongs to some people I know – the Pomorelli. It is down a little narrow lane. We could hide there while the Ferrari went past. Then we could return to Amalfi.”

  “Is it out of sight of the road?”

  “Yes, but it is very difficult to find unless you know exactly where the turning is. It is just round a corner.”

  “All the better,” said Ben. “What do you think, Donna?”

  “I’d say it’s worth a try,” she replied. “How far is it?”

  “I’m not sure. I think perhaps five kilometres. But I will know better when we get near.”

  They rounded a bend and crossed a ravine. The road wound alongside a precipitous cliff as they approached another headland. From here they had a good view back along the way they had come. It was then that Ben caught his first glimpse of the low red Ferrari. It was about a mile behind them and even at this distance he could tell that it was travelling fast.

  “I’ve just seen the opposition,” he announced. “I don’t know whether we’ll be able to go another five kilometres before they catch us – the speed they’re going.”

  “That ain’t all, chum.” Donna indicated out to sea and all their eyes followed her pointing finger. Coming towards them at an oblique angle and half-shrouded in the low cloud was a helicopter.

  It came straight for them until it was about fifty yards away. Then it banked and followed parallel to the road but a little behind them.

  “What are they doing?” asked Donna. “Have they got any weapons?”

  Ben had quite a good view of the occupants as the helicopter pitched forward to come closer. He was almost sure he could see the damaged features of Dino on the man sitting beside the pilot. In the back was one of the big gangsters. There was a slight figure seated next to him. Ben guessed this was probably Sylvia.

  “They don’t seem to be intending to fire at us at present,” he reported. “They seem happy just to sit and watch us until the Ferrari catches up. They’re probably reporting our progress to the car on a mobile.”

  Francesca pointed back. “That will not be long now.” The red car had almost halved the distance between them.

  “Hang on!” cried Donna. “I’ll go into overdrive.”

  With a violent squeal of tyres she flung the car into the next bend and they had to brace themselves to prevent being thrown across the vehicle.

  “I nearly lost my stomach that time,” said Francesca.

  “I always wanted a couple of laps with a racing driver,” said Ben.

  Donna laughed as she accelerated out of the hairpin, seeming to move forwards and sideways at the same time. The next second there was a violent buffeting and a roaring sound.

  “My God! What was that?”

  The helicopter swung low overhead, banked and headed away across the bay.

  “Phew!” Donna exhaled. “I thought the engine had blown or something.”

  Ben scratched his chin. “I wonder where they’re going? Is there somewhere they can land ahead to cut us off?”

  “There is a viewpoint at Il Practice,” said Francesca. “The helicopter could land on the car park if there are no sightseers.”

  “There won’t be any today. How far is that?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps three kilometres - perhaps less.”

  “Does it come before your friends’ house?”

  “No. That is just around by the other side of this bay. There – you can see the roof by that little inlet.”

  When Ben looked where she was pointing, he could make out a couple of buildings projecting from the side of a narrow ravine which appeared to lead down to the sea. It didn’t look very hopeful. It was probably a dead end from which there would be no escape. But anything which might confuse the Vitelli would be a relief.

  “I think we might just about make
it,” said Donna, checking in the rear-view mirror. “Warn me when we’re coming to the turning. And we might all have to be ready to move quickly when we get there.”

  They roared down a short straight and through a small clutch of houses clinging to the steep hillside above a little sandy cove. There was no sign of life. They were probably all empty holiday homes. Then the car started to climb the hill on the other side, winding round nearly vertical cliffs which overhung the road in places. There was a sheer drop below them. Ben looked back just in time to see the Ferrari come round the corner across the other side of the bay and begin the descent to the village. The next second it was blotted from sight as they squealed round a bend and into a steep gulley. When they came out the other side the red car was out of sight.

  “I think the villa is just around the next bend,” called Francesca. “Go carefully. It is here! Just here! Look!”

  “Whoops,” yelled Donna as she braked hard. She flung the car over the small hump which Francesca was pointing at and they rushed down a dirt track which appeared to be pointing straight at the sea.

  “Careful! Be careful!” yelled Francesca, but she was too late.

  At the last minute Donna realised that the track only ran a scant fifty yards before it ended in a small level parking area. Beyond that there was only a small parapet wall to stop them from going straight over the precipice.