Dive in the Sun (18 page)

‘Which way do we go in?’

She raised herself with an effort and pointed. ‘That is the
side
where the kitchen is. The room where your friend is lies next to that archway.’

‘Right, this is what I want done.’ Their heads crowded together expectantly. ‘Steve, get round to the rear of the house, that’ll put you between it and the lodge where the guards are. Take one grenade with you, in case we’re rushed!’ He turned to the girl. ‘George and I’ll come in with you at the front. Can the sentry see us from his position?’

‘No. But we are too soon yet! The other two are still there!’ Her eyes flashed with alarm.

‘Maybe they’ll be with your father, eh?’ He smiled calmly. ‘O.K., Steve, you get going!’ Duncan slid away over the flower bed and vanished.

She gripped his sleeve with sudden alarm. ‘What are you doing? You said you would wait until they had gone to the ship!’

‘
You
said that!’

She shook his arm, her voice frightened and angry. ‘But, but it will be dangerous! They are too many for you!’

Curtis handed the remaining grenade to Taylor, and took the pistol in exchange. ‘Come on!’

She still clung to him, pulling him down. ‘You cannot do this, he will fight you! It will be a disaster!’

He dragged her to her feet. ‘Who? Heinz? If he’s sensible, he’ll do as he’s told! As
you
tell him!’ He let the words sink in.

‘You swine! You … You …!’ She stood trembling with frustration and fury, but Curtis waved the pistol towards the house.

‘Remember what I said earlier, and there’s your father to think of now!’

The gravel sounded terribly loud as they crossed the drive and passed along the side of the house.

They reached a long french window, and Curtis pulled the girl to his side. ‘What’s this?’ he whispered.

‘The library.’ She sounded lifeless and beaten.

From behind the drawn curtains they could hear the sound of voices and the soft purr of an Italian orchestra.

‘Good, listening to the radio. Your father?’

She again nodded.

‘Who’s the other one? The German?’

‘Yes.’ It was only a whisper.

They moved on to the deep porch, and Curtis saw her hand rest hesitatingly on the door handle. He turned to Taylor. ‘Keep close, and watch out for the other chap!’

Taylor showed his teeth. ‘Right!’

The air which fanned their faces as the door opened was warm and scented with flowers, and Curtis glanced quickly from the dim hall-light to the long passage which curved away from the far end. All was quiet, and very still.

She crossed the dark floor to a pair of wide doors, her small feet making no sound. She paused and looked at Curtis’s face imploringly. ‘Please?’

But Curtis looked past her and moved the gun sharply. His heart seemed to have stopped, and he could feel Taylor’s body crowding behind him in the doorway.

Taylor’s unshaven face was drawn and wary, his grubby hand clutching the grenade in front of him like some kind of offering.

‘Open!’ Curtis hissed the words between his teeth.

The doors opened wide to reveal the soft lighted room, with its deep chairs and rows of leather-bound books, but Curtis had eyes only for the plump, unsmiling man who lay back in his chair, his fingers pressed together, his brow creased in a frown of concentration. He saw, too, the gleaming white uniform of the officer he had seen on the beach. In that split second he saw it all, and when they turned to look at the girl, Curtis thrust her to one side, the gun steady in his fist.

‘Tell them to stay where they are, and keep still!’ The words were harsh and without feeling, the impact of his voice and his sudden appearance making the two men freeze into positions of shocked dismay.

‘My father understands.’ She spoke hoarsely, and then continued in German. The young officer half rose from his chair, his expression slowly changing to one of fury.

Curtis smiled unpleasantly. ‘Tell him to be sensible. I’d hate to dirty that uniform!’

The mayor gripped the arms of his chair and levered himself forward, his face pale but surprisingly calm. ‘If you have harmed my daughter in any way I shall see that you suffer for it!’ His dark eyes flashed defiantly, and Curtis shrugged his shoulders and pointed to the girl.

‘She is well. See for yourself. Now,’ his tone became sharper, ‘where is the police officer?’

She ran to her father’s side and dropped to her knees, while the German stared stonily at her and then back to Curtis. The mayor ran his fingers over her hair, as if to reassure himself, but said nothing.

‘Tell him, Papa!’ She looked up at her father, her eyes grave. ‘It will be for the best!’ She said something in German, her voice soft and pleading, but the lieutenant still stared in front of him with dulled eyes.

‘He is in the room upstairs,
signore
. The one at the top of the stairway.’

Curtis hesitated. It had been easy so far, and he knew the danger of resting on his laurels. His eyes darted around the room, but he could see no further weapons.

‘All right, George,’ he said mildly, ‘christen the Jerry.’

Taylor frowned uneasily, and then his dirty face split into a grin. ‘I gotcher, Skipper!’ And he walked briskly across the room towards the bookcase. As he passed behind the German’s chair, he suddenly raised the grenade and brought it down viciously on the man’s skull. The girl choked back a cry, and sat with her hands wrapped across her open mouth, her eyes on Curtis’s face.

Taylor watched the man slump to the floor, and wiped the grenade on his sleeve.

‘Well done, George!’ To the two pairs of eyes across the room he said, ‘He will be safer there. He might have been tempted.’

He beckoned the girl. ‘We’ll pay a visit upstairs.’

She kept away from him as they mounted the soft stair carpet. Curtis, his eyes watchful, halted in front of the bedroom door. He looked at her with tired gravity, suddenly realizing that he hadn’t really seen her before in the light.

She was very beautiful, and with her eyes black with anger and fear she possessed the perfection of a wild animal. He shut his mind, and thought of Jervis. It was impossible to believe that he was somewhere on the floor below.

His fingers gripped the door handle. ‘Wait here. Don’t move.’ He opened the door slightly and peered through the brightly fit crack into the soft-scented bedroom.

The Italian officer sat pensively on the edge of the bed, slowly pulling on his boots. His jacket hung open, and on his shining mane of greased hair he was wearing a hair-net. He whistled softly, and stood up to look at himself in the mirror.

Curtis remembered the limping, battered British sergeant on the beach, and felt the pity drain out of him.

He stepped across the carpet and rammed the gun into his spine. Their eyes met in the dressing table mirror. The blue ones hard and uncompromising; the others popping out with sheer terror.

They left the room together, the Italian not even noticing the girl, and walking with exaggerated eagerness to show he was willing to co-operate.

Once inside the library again, Curtis tossed the Italian’s small automatic to Taylor. ‘They’re all yours, George!’ He grinned, but the sweat was pouring down his spine in a steady stream, while his stomach felt as if it was full of lead. ‘So far, so good. Now for Ian!’

He walked to the door, but the girl held up her hand. ‘I will go first, as I said I would.’

‘I thought you had perhaps changed your mind?’

‘We do not all break our promises,
Capitano
!’ She spat the words at him.

They stood in the silence of the hall, she slim and defiant, and Curtis beginning to feel the first reaction of exhaustion.

He cursed inwardly. No time for that now. This is going to be the worst bit of all.

She brushed past him and walked confidently into the passage. Curtis waited a few seconds, then looked slowly around the curve of the wall.

Immediately, he saw the sentry. A young boy in German
uniform
, his small eyes fixed on the approaching girl. A shaft of light poured through an open door beside him, and Curtis licked his lips worriedly. It would be a close thing, he thought, and measured the distance along the passage.

She halted, and Curtis watched her hips move provocatively, as she casually leaned against the doorpost. She spoke loudly to someone inside the room, her voice filled with scorn, yet the words making Curtis raise his pistol and point wildly at the sentry.

‘Hey, Englishman! Wake up! I have brought a friend, but do nothing yet! I will tell you when to do something!’ She laughed, and Curtis saw the soldier’s thin face split into a foolish grin.

Curtis breathed out slowly. What a chance the girl was taking, he thought, as he watched the wavering snout of the man’s Schmeisser.

She turned lazily away from the room, so that she faced Curtis, her hands pressed against the wall behind her. Her breasts moved quickly beneath the soft green dress, and Curtis could well imagine the effect she was having on the sentry.

The man faltered, and for a brief instant Curtis felt almost sorry for him. The oldest trick in the world, he reflected.

Then, as the sentry’s gun wavered, she reached forward and flung her arms around his neck. The next few seconds were filled with terror and hate, as Curtis jumped along the passage in a few bounds and pulled the man’s steel helmet backwards from his head. The thick leather chinstrap bit into the soldier’s throat, and he dropped his gun with a clatter, as he scrabbled furiously with clawing fingers to save himself.

Curtis was only half aware of what he was doing. There was so much to see and understand. Jervis’s pink, wildly excited face danced to meet him, while over the soldier’s writhing shoulder the girl leaned weakly against the wall, her eyes closed.

‘Skipper! Oh, Skipper! You came back! You’re here!’ Jervis babbled incoherently.

The body gave a final gasp and slithered to the floor.

Curtis clapped his hand across the boy’s shoulder. ‘Good
to
see you, Ian,’ he muttered. ‘Now pick up that Schmeisser and let’s get organized!’

Jervis looked at the girl, his high spirits giving way to concern. He touched her arm gently, and she opened her eyes to stare at him, her expression dazed and bewildered.

‘Thanks!’ Jervis faltered, unsure of himself. ‘You were wonderful!’

Curtis glanced at them sharply, his mind already seething with the urgency of his scheme, and fully alive to the increasing danger. ‘Get the clothes off him!’ He jabbed his foot into the crumpled body at his feet.

Jervis tore his eyes from the girl and looked at the dead soldier’s empurpled face with sick revulsion. ‘What for, Skipper?’ he asked in a low voice. ‘Do we need the uniform?’

‘No. But I want it to look as if you killed the guard and escaped in his clothes. We’ll carry them down to the beach and bury ’em in the sand.’ He jerked his head impatiently. ‘Get your clothes off as well, and chuck them on the floor!’

Jervis coloured. ‘But what do I wear if——’

‘Just do as your told, Ian. I’ll have some other things ready for you by the time you’ve finished. Now for God’s sake get a move on!’

He gripped the girl’s elbow and guided her forcefully along the passage. He glanced back to see Jervis tearing with frantic haste at the soldier’s uniform, his face averted from what he was doing.

‘What are you doing? What is it that you are planning?’ She twisted in his grip, her voice bitter.

‘We’re leaving. I told you!’

Curtis pushed into the library, to where the two Italians and Taylor sat facing each other in uneasy stances of watchfulness.

‘Is ’e all right, Skipper? You found ’im?’

‘He’s fine, George. Now listen. Strip the uniform off the Jerry here, and take it along to Ian. Tell him to get it on immediately. It should be just his size.’

He watched as Taylor stooped over the unconscious officer, his eyes burning with sudden fatigue. ‘What time was our friend
due
to leave for the schooner?’ He directed the question to the girl without turning his head.

‘About eleven. I told you they were sailing at midnight.’

‘They still are.’

Curtis eyed the well-muscled body of the German stripped to his underclothes, as Taylor gathered up the white uniform and ran from the room. A tough customer, he thought. Just as well we laid him out for a bit.

The Italian police officer who, Curtis noticed, had removed his hair-net, was sitting bolt upright on the edge of his seat, his pop-eyes fixed on Curtis’s pistol. ‘Plis,
signore
,’ his words were slurred with fear, ‘what you do? I not soldier! I give no trouble!’

Curtis eyed him coldly. ‘You will leave for the ship as arranged, with one of my officers, d’you understand?’ The Italian nodded with pathetic eagerness. ‘Right, you behave yourself, and you might be allowed to live!’

The mayor had recovered his bland composure, outwardly at least, and frowned at Curtis’s last words.

‘What do you hope to do? You are playing a dangerous game!’

He eyed his daughter, his face suddenly grave. ‘What made you act as you did, Carla?’

She shrugged defiantly, her tanned, heart-shaped face controlled and calm. ‘I thought this officer would help you to go away from here.’ She spoke in careful English, the words directed as much at Curtis as her father. ‘You know what will happen if our government sues for peace. You have always known it!’ The mayor did not interrupt her, but his eyes were sad and he stared vacantly at his hands. ‘We would have been safe then. We could have waited in peace for a while!’

‘I understand,’ he said quietly, ‘but I do not think that this officer will permit such an arrangement.’ He lifted his eyebrows questioningly, and looked up at Curtis.

‘We are all going in the ship!’ Curtis stared at him, coldly angry. He ignored the gasp from the girl, and the flash of hatred in her eyes. ‘We will sail tonight at the time which has been arranged. I cannot leave you here, obviously, so you will
have
to keep us company. I must warn you again, that as I have no choice in what I am doing, you will be advised to do as I say, or I will not answer for the consequences!’