Bloody Passage (1999)

by Jack Higgins

  "How are you?" he said.

  "Fine--crippled, but fine. Where's Nino?"

  "Pumping some fuel in the engine room. He'll be along."

  I pointed to the horizon. "Did I see land out there?"

  "Malta." He tapped the chart. "We should make Capo Passero by early evening if we can maintain speed and the weather doesn't get any worse. I've been pushing her as hard as she'll go."

  He took a flask of brandy from the chart table drawer and passed it to me. I took a long swallow and it seemed to explode somewhere deep inside. Probably didn't mix too well with morphine.

  I said, "I think we should have a talk, all of us together, to decide what happens at Capo Passero."

  "Okay," he said. "She should be all right on automatic pilot for a while. Let's go."

  As we went out on deck Nino climbed up from the engine room and Barzini called him to join us as we went below. We sat round the table and Simone brought fresh coffee from the galley.

  I said, "All right, Aldo, so we get to Capo Passero. What happens then? You tell me."

  "You want your sister. Stavrou wants his stepson. We make a deal."

  "But it isn't that simple," I said. "Not anymore. We know now that Stavrou needs his stepson dead. It means a fortune to him. It also means he doesn't want inconvenient witnesses around. Langley was supposed to see to that for him, only he slipped up."

  "But Stavrou doesn't know that," Simone put in. "Let's say he comes on the radio like he said he would the moment we're sighted. He'll expect to hear from Langley that Wyatt's dead. That the rest of you have been disposed of."

  "So what are you getting at?"

  "It's simple. Instead of Langley, he gets you. You tell him Langley was killed during the prison break."

  "I see," I said. "He'll have to go through the whole charade as he originally spelled it out."

  "That's right. You'll have to have Wyatt on deck as we go in and Stavrou will have Hannah waiting up on the high terrace. You'll go up to the villa, make the exchange."

  Barzini shook his head and slammed a hand against the table. "But it isn't meant to be that way. He never intended it to be that way. He wants Wyatt, but he needs him dead. That means he's got to shut our mouths too and money ain't enough, not to a guy like him."

  I said to Simone, "What did you think would happen? Originally, I mean?"

  "He had to play rough to get you," she said. "I accepted that, but as for the rest," she shrugged. "He sold me the same bill of goods he sold you. Getting Stephen Wyatt out of Ras Kanai was a sacred duty in loving memory of his wife."

  "The bastard," Nino said.

  "There is one thing in our favor," I said. "The fact that Stavrou doesn't realize how much we know."

  "Just a minute," Simone said. "Wouldn't it occur to him that Wyatt would have said rather a lot?"

  "That's easy," I shrugged. "I tell him on the radio that Wyatt's badly wounded from the prison break, delirious. No reason he shouldn't accept that."

  "So he'll expect you to take Wyatt up to the villa and hand him over in exchange for Hannah and your money."

  "Exactly."

  "And you'll be ready for anything he tries?"

  "Crazy." Barzini slammed his fist against the table. "It doesn't even begin to face the real problem, which is the girl. What happens to her? She's up on the high terrace, right? With that old cow of a woman breathing down her neck. We take Wyatt up there for a confrontation then start a shooting war." He shook his head. "The girl is the first to go."

  He was right of course. There was no way round that--no way at all--and then Nino said almost casually, "What we need is someone on the inside."

  Simone said, "But that isn't possible. There's no other way up to the villa from the beach except the road."

  "Sure there is," Nino said. "There's the cliff."

  There was a kind of stunned silence and we all stared at him. "You think you could climb that cliff?" I said incredulously.

  "Nothing to it. A goat could get up there. You give me a decent gun, I'll climb up to the high terrace and shoot that old bitch before she has time to lay a glove on your sister."

  Barzini clapped an arm about his shoulders and hugged him. "As a Barzini I'm proud of you. When we get back to Palermo I'll buy off the Mafia. This I swear even if you have to marry that damn girl. I don't care what it costs."

  It was Simone who put a damper on things. "All very well," she said. "But what about Wyatt? Is he capable of going through with all that? Will he want to?"

  The cabin door creaked and we turned to find Stephen Wyatt on his feet, leaning in the doorway. He smiled crookedly. "Don't worry about him, Miss Delmas. He wouldn't miss it for anything on top of this earth."

  It was still raining as we moved in toward the great cliffs below the villa at Capo Passero. Simone was below with Wyatt, Barzini and I were in the wheel-house, and Nino crouched on the floor out of sight. He wore a wetsuit and aqualung and had a canvas waterproof bag attached to his waist containing climbing boots and a pistol. He had a pair of binoculars out and was busy examining the cliff through a hole Barzini had kicked through a panel for him.

  "Like I said, nothing to it," he said. "There's a cleft running all the way up on this side of the point just by the entrance to that bay. I'll go up that way and work my way round to the terrace."

  "How long will it take you?"

  He had another look through the binoculars. "No more than half an hour. Mind you, I'd better get started, just in case."

  "Okay, good luck," I said.

  "Go with God," Barzini whispered.

  We were perhaps fifty or sixty yards out from the entrance to the bay and Aldo slowed down and swung the wheel, turning Palmyra momentarily broadside to the cliffs. Nino pulled down his mask, slid across the deck under the rail and dropped into the sea, going under the surface instantly.

  As we turned again toward the entrance to the horseshoe bay, the radio crackled and a voice said, "Come in, Palmyra! Come in!" It wasn't Stavrou's.

  I picked up the hand mike and flipped the switch. "This is Palmyra."

  "Is that you, Mr. Langley?" I recognized the voice then. It was Gatano.

  I said, "Langley is dead."

  There was a startled exclamation and then Stavrou's voice broke in. "Grant, is that you? What happened?"

  "Langley bought it on the way out at Ras Kanai. So did Nino and Angelo Carter."

  There was a long pause before he spoke again, his voice harsh and remote. "And my stepson?"

  "He's not too good. He was in a bad enough way when we picked him up, then he stopped a bullet. Hasn't been able to say anything that made much sense."

  We passed in through the entrance to the bay. The Cessna was still moored to its buoys. He said, "Put Simone on. I want to talk to her."

  I looked up at the high terrace. "I don't see my sister, Stavrou."

  "You will," he said. "As soon as I see my stepson."

  I went below and got Simone and told her what he wanted on the way back. She picked up the mike and said, "Dimitri?"

  "What about Justin?"

  "Killed," she said. "So were Nino and Angelo, but Dimitri--your son. He's very ill. He needs to get to a hospital as soon as possible."

  "I'll take care of that," he said. "First let me see him on deck."

  I went below to get Wyatt. He was very pale now, the skin stretched tightly on his face like wrinkled parchment. He wore an old reefer jacket over his prison pajamas.

  "How's it going?" he said.

  I told him on the way up the companionway and when we went on deck, Barzini came out of the wheelhouse with a folding canvas chair so that he could sit down.

  I went back to the radio and picked up the mike. "Satisfied, Stavrou?"

  There was a lengthy pause and then he said, "Perfectly."

  "And my sister?"

  "Look up, sir."

  I focussed the binoculars and she jumped into view up there on the top terrace at the iron railings. She was smiling an
d fondling the Doberman's ears and Frau Kubel was standing close by in the same black bombazine dress.

  I picked up the mike, "All right, what now?"

  "I'll send the Landrover down. You can all come up and we'll make the exchange. I'll have some really excellent champagne waiting for you. You're a man after my own heart, Major Grant, but then, I had complete confidence in you from the beginning."

  I put the mike down and turned to Barzini. "All right, Aldo, take her in and let's get ready."

  By the time the Landrover reached the jetty we were ready and waiting, Barzini and I standing on either side of Wyatt, who sat in the canvas chair. We each had an Uzi slung from our right shoulder and I had a Smith and Wesson sticking out of my hip pocket.

  The moment the Landrover braked to a halt, Bonetti and Moro jumped out covering us with Sterling sub-machine guns. Gatano got from behind the wheel and came forward.

  "What is this?" I demanded.

  "No guns!" he said. "Mr. Stavrou's orders."

  He took the Uzis and the Smith and Wesson from my pocket and put them in the cab. Which left me with the Stechkin stuck into my belt at the small of my back under my shirt. Barzini had a revolver in the same place and even Simone had a Beretta automatic tucked into the waistband of her slacks under her sweater.

  With Moro and Bonetti helping, we manhandled Wyatt into the back of the Landrover still sitting in the canvas chair. He looked really terrible now, his eyes bright and feverish. Once on the brief journey up to the villa I saw him put a hand inside his coat and when he took it out there was blood on the fingers.

  We drove in through the entrance to the courtyard and received our first surprise, for Stavrou was standing at the bottom of the steps leading up to the garden, leaning on his canes.

  As I got out I looked up and saw Hannah clearly, standing by the railings at the far end of the high terrace, the dog beside her. Frau Kubel was some distance away, leaning over the rail, looking down at what was taking place in the courtyard. There was no sign of Nino.

  We lifted Wyatt down in the canvas chair and Barzini and I carried him forward. He kept his chin on his chest and muttered as we put him down, "Get back, you two. I want to talk to him alone. I'll keep it going for as long as I can."

  Stavrou tapped his way toward him as Barzini and I moved back to the truck, a genial smile on his face. "Why, Stephen, my boy," he said, "it's good to see you."

  Gatano moved to join them and stood on the other side of the chair holding a Sterling. Wyatt raised his head slowly and I saw the dreadful pain on his face, and realized beyond any doubt that he was holding on to the final threads of life with all his strength. And I saw something more--Nino appearing round a buttress, halfway up the wall beneath the far end of the terrace.

  Stavrou said something to Wyatt, I don't know what, and Wyatt gave a sudden agonized cry and turned to glance at me over his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Grant, there isn't time."

  His hand came out of the right-hand pocket of his reefer coat and he was holding a Sturma stick grenade. There was a moment of total stillness and then, as Stavrou tried to turn, dropping one of his canes, the grenade exploded with devastating effect, taking out Gatano as well.

  Barzini had his revolver already in his hand, but it wasn't necessary, for Moro and Bonetti, stunned by what had happened, could only stand and stare at the butcher's shop the courtyard had become.

  As for me, I ran for the steps, too late, for high on the terrace, Frau Kubel had turned and was running toward Hannah, gun in hand, and Nino was still just below the overhang.

  And then a rather large miracle occurred, for as the old woman paused ten feet away from her target and took careful aim, the Doberman leapt for her throat. She screamed once and they went back together over the rail falling through space, passing from sight to the rocks below.

  I kept on going, taking the steps two at a time and arrived on the terrace as Nino scrambled over the rail at the other end. Hannah turned toward me, a hand outstretched.

  "Who is it? What's happening?"

  "Hannah," I said. "It's me--Oliver."

  A look of complete bewilderment appeared on her face and she moved forward, her hands reaching out to touch. And then she smiled.

  "Oliver," she said. "What kept you?"

  For the first time since childhood I felt like weeping, so intense was the emotion of the moment, but I contented myself with putting my arms around her and holding her as if I'd never let her go.

  15

  Endpiece

  We left again in Palmyra within the hour and sailed into Palermo harbor at dawn the following day. I wanted Hannah away from there and back home without delay, so Barzini pulled strings and got us seats on the flight to London that same afternoon.

  He took us out to the airport at Punta Raise himself in the yellow Alfa--me, Hannah, and Simone. Nino stayed home, the streets of Palermo still unsafe for him until his uncle had the chance to arrange matters. We had an emotional farewell.

  "It was a great climb," I said.

  "I know, like the English say, a piece of cake." And then he laughed. "Only in the end it turned out to be a bigger slice than I thought."

  At the airport, Barzini and I left the girls talking and moved out on the terrace for a final word. "Well, it was very interesting," he said.

  "You can say that again. What do you think the authorities will make of it?"

  "Simple enough. With an explosion like that, I'd say they'll assume some of Stavrou's old Mafia pals caught up with him."

  "And Moro and Bonetti?"

  "They'll button up. No percentage for them in shooting their mouths off." He lit one of his vile Egyptian cheroots. "Yes, it was quite like old times."

  "Only we're not as young as we were."

  "So you feel that way, too?" He grinned. "Time to settle down, Oliver, with a good woman." He looked inside at Hannah and Simone. "Are you likely to be coming back this way?"

  "I don't think so. Not for a while anyway. I need a rest."

  "A pity. Still, I'll send her in to you."

  He went back to the two girls and after a moment or so of conversation, Simone came out on the terrace.

  "Well?" she said.

  "Are you all right for money?"

  "I have a bank account here. Enough for now. And Aldo's offered me a job, if I want one, doing the stage design at that beach club of his."

  "That's nice."

  I lit a cigarette. She said, "What will you do? Afterward, I mean?"

  "God knows."

  She reached out suddenly and touched my hand. "I'm sorry, Oliver."

  "What for?"

  "You know what I mean. The way things were at the beginning."

  "Never apologize for anything," I said. "It's a sign of weakness."

  "Damn you!" she said, and then they called our flight over the tannoy and that was very much that.

  As for Hannah, I decided to tell her the truth for once in my life, in every detail, and tossed in a few unpleasant facts about her brother while I was at it.

  She took it extremely well under the circumstances, which is more than I can say for my grandmother, who received me coldly in the beautiful Victorian drawing room of her house in St. John's Wood and demanded an accounting.

  When I was finished she said, "I don't think you should come here again, Oliver. Not for a while at any rate."

  "I know," I said. "I'm bad news."

  "Bad for Hannah," she replied calmly. "And that is all that concerns me."

  Which was fair enough. I stayed in London another two days, mainly to see my lawyer and make certain financial arrangements, then I caught a flight to Madrid where I hired a car and drove south.

  It was late afternoon when I arrived at the villa at Cape de Gata. Everything was exactly the same as I had left it on that day a thousand years ago when it had all started--except for one thing. The Alfa was parked in the courtyard.

  I had a quick look round the villa, but there was no one there, so I got back into
the hired car and drove down toward the marshes.

  I found her at the end of the causeway, sitting in front of her easel, painting. When I got out of the car she made no sign. It was, of course, a watercolor as usual, a view of the marsh and the sea and the evening sky beyond, that was very fine indeed.

  I said, "You get better all the time. That background wash is fantastic."

  She said, "It occurred to me that you wouldn't know where I'd left the Alfa. I thought I'd better return it."

  "Thanks," I said.

  I lit a cigarette and crouched down beside her. The sea was calm, the evening sky the color of brass. A sandpiper skimmed the water and fled like a departing spirit. It was all very peaceful. I wondered for how long.

  A Biography of Jack Higgins

  Jack Higgins is the pseudonym of Harry Patterson (b. 1929), the New York Times bestselling author of more than seventy thrillers, including The Eagle Has Landed and The Wolf at the Door. His books have sold more than 250 million copies worldwide.

  Born in Newcastle upon Tyne, England, Patterson grew up in Belfast, Northern Ireland. As a child, Patterson was a voracious reader and later credited his passion for reading with fueling his creative drive to be an author. His upbringing in Belfast also exposed him to the political and religious violence that characterized the city at the time. At seven years old, Patterson was caught in gunfire while riding a tram, and later was in a Belfast movie theater when it was bombed. Though he escaped from both attacks unharmed, the turmoil in Northern Ireland would later become a significant influence in his books, many of which prominently feature the Irish Republican Army. After attending grammar school and college in Leeds, England, Patterson joined the British Army and served two years in the Household Cavalry, from 1947 to 1949, stationed along the East German border. He was considered an expert sharpshooter.

  Following his military service, Patterson earned a degree in sociology from the London School of Economics, which led to teaching jobs at two English colleges. In 1959, while teaching at James Graham College, Patterson began writing novels, including some under the alias James Graham. As his popularity grew, Patterson left teaching to write full time. With the 1975 publication of the international blockbuster The Eagle Has Landed, which was later made into a movie of the same name starring Michael Caine, Patterson became a regular fixture on bestseller lists. His books draw heavily from history and include prominent figures--such as John Dillinger--and often center around significant events from such conflicts as World War II, the Korean War, and the Cuban Missile Crisis.