James Chase - Mission to Siena

About a mile further on, Harry said, “It can’t be far off now, sir. Would it be an idea to leave the car and walk?”

Don nodded and pulled on to the grass verge. He turned off the lights and leaving the car, they started up the hill on foot. The road continued without a sign of any building, and after walking ten minutes, Harry said, “We couldn’t have passed it, could we? I didn’t think it was this far ahead.”

“It’s hard to judge from where you were. Let’s go on for another mile,” Don said. “I’m sure we haven’t passed any side road.”

A few minutes later, Harry said, “Here it is. Look, just ahead.”

In the bright light of the moon, they could see a narrow lane that made a T-joint with the main road. It went straight for a hundred yards or so, and then disappeared around a curve into a wood.

“No sign of a house. Looks as if we’ve still got some walking to do,” Don said and moved on, keeping to the grass verge to deaden the sound of his footfalls.

Harry followed him, and in single file they walked to the curve in the lane and into the wood.

It was almost pitch dark in the wood, but Don kept going, moving more slowly, just able to see the dim outlines of the tree trunks.

Ten minutes’ walking brought them out of the wood to the foot of a hill, and ahead of them, seeming to rise out of ground to confront them was a massive stone wall, some fifteen feet high that ran along the edge of the lane and out of sight into the darkness.

Clear of the trees, the bright moonlight lit up the wall as if it were daylight. Don paused. Some fifty yards further on he could see double iron-studded wooden gates set in a massive stone archway. The gates were closed.

“I bet this is the place,” he said. “Looks right out of the Middle ages, doesn’t it?”

Harry stared up at the high wall

“Can’t see much from here. Shall I give you a leg up, sir?”

“That’s the idea.” Don moved close to the wall. He put his foot in Harry’s hand and Harry heaved him up towards the top of the wall. Don’s clutching fingers got a grip, and another heave from Harry gave him a safer purchase. He hooked his leg over the wall and clung on, balancing himself, keeping low so as not to be seen against the skyline. He looked over the tops of the trees to where he could see a big Gothic-style building set in a wide expanse of closely cut lawn.

“Looks like an old palace,” he said and leaned down, offering his hand. “Catch hold. I can heave you up.”

Harry gripped his wrist and he pulled him up. After a moment’s struggle, Harry got his leg over the wall. He too stared across the garden at the building.

“It’s big enough, isn’t it? Shall we hop down and have a look-see?”

“I’m going, but you’re staying here,” Don said. “If I have to leave in a hurry, I’ll want you up here to heave me up and over.”

“How would it be if I went, sir?” Harry asked, hopefully. “I’m a bit more used to moving in the dark than you are.”

“That’s what you like to think,” Don said, grinning, and holding on to the wall, he lowered himself as far as he could, then dropped.

“Watch your step, sir,” Harry called softly.

Waving to him, Don set off towards the house. The first two hundred yards were easy as all he had to do was to follow a path through flowering shrubs that afforded plenty of cover, but when he came to the edge of the big lawn, he paused.

He looked to right and left, reluctant to cross such an expanse of ground without any cover. Anyone looking out of one of the windows couldn’t fail to see him cross in the hard light of the moon.

Keeping to the shrubbery, he went around in a half circle in the hope of finding cover on the far side of the house. He moved silently, and it was as well that he did, for suddenly ahead of him he saw a movement, and he hurriedly ducked down behind some bushes.

Out of the shrubbery, not thirty yards ahead of him, came a thick-set man, an automatic rifle under his ami, and walking at his side, a ferocious-looking wolf-hound.

Don felt the hairs on the nape of his neck prickle at the sight of the dog. The big brute was on a chain that encircled the man’s wrist. It slunk along, the moonlight accentuating the rolling muscles under its glossy coat.

Don remained motionless, watching these two as they walked quietly on, and until they had disappeared into the darkness.

He drew in a breath of relief, thinking that if he had taken the risk and had crossed the lawn, the dog would have been savaging him by now.

He looked again towards the house, reluctant to retreat, but baffled as to how he could get near it without being seen.

Refusing to give up, he started forward, moving this time much more cautiously and examining every yard of the ground before leaving cover to dart to another shrub. Moving in this way, it took him some minutes to get around to the east side of the house. Here the lawn narrowed, and the shrubs encroached. There was only forty yards or so of open ground to the house. Keeping behind a tree, he looked up at the house. On this side, all the windows were in darkness, but he couldn’t tell if someone was in a dark room, looking down on the lawn.

A wide, ornate terrace with a marble balustrade and wide marble steps leading to the garden ran the length of this side of the house. Don saw that he would not only have to cross the lawn, but would also have to run up the steps on which fell the light of the moon if he were to get close to the house.

It it were not for the wolf-hound, he would have gone ahead, but the thought of the dog made him decide against taking the risk.

The next step was to find out who owned the house. It shouldn’t be difficult. The great thing was not to show his hand before he was ready.

Crouching, he began to make his way through the shrubbery to where he had left Harry. He hadn’t gone more than thirty yards or so when looking back, he saw something that pulled him up short.

Standing on the edge of the lawn was a wolf-hound, looking directly at where Don crouched. The dog’s ears were pricked and its head was on one side as if it were listening.

Don remained motionless, his heart thumping. Had the dog heard him? The slight breeze was blowing from the dog to Don: it was unlikely the dog had picked up his scent.

He saw the dog lower its head and come forward slowly until it reached the middle of the lawn, then it stopped.

Don felt a trickle of sweat run down his face, but he was careful not to move. He and the dog remained motionless for at least a minute, and it seemed to Don to be an hour.

Then from out of the shadows around the house, the thick-set man with the automatic rifle under his arm appeared. He came out into the moonlight and paused, watching the dog.

The dog looked back at him and whined, took a couple of steps forward, then stopped to look back again.

“Come here!” the man shouted roughly. He spoke in Italian.

The dog hesitated, then turning it slunk towards the man who snapped on the chain to its collar.

Don watched the man walk away towards the west side of the house, the dog obediently slinking at his heels.

When they were out of sight, Don began to move again. He was now anxious to get out of these dangerous grounds, and he increased speed. He didn’t realize that as he moved from one shrub to another he had stepped on a concealed metal plate that touched off the alarm bell in the house.

He kept on, looking for the path along which he had come, but not finding it. He paused to check his position, knowing that the path had to be somewhere close by. It was then that he heard the alarm bell ringing. The sound came to him faintly, but it was unmistakably an alarm bell.

He straightened up and looked to right and left, guessing that somehow he had touched a hidden connection that had set off the alarm. Then he saw the gigantic negro coming across the lawn and he caught the glitter of a knife the negro held in his hand.