James Chase - Mission to Siena

Felix didn’t say anything.

“We have rather lost sight of Micklem, haven’t we?” Alsconi said, after a pause. “Did he say why he was in the garden?”

“Carlos was a little rough with him. He hasn’t yet recovered consciousness.”

“Not too rough, I hope? He represents a very valuable investment.”

“I’ve asked Englemann to have a look at him. He’ll be all right.”

“So he asked Pedoni about the Tortoise ward?” Alsconi went on.

“Yes. He also mentioned Genga and Vaga to Pedoni.”

“Did he? Now how-did he get on to that? Have you any ideas?”

“Crantor says Micklem was a close friend of Guido Ferenci.”

“Ah! So that’s it. You should have told me before. That would explain why Micklem has been making inquiries. He is a persistent busybody. He has too much money and too little to do. Never mind, we have him now, and we can turn that to our profit. I will see him at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning. In the meantime you must find out where he is staying and who his companions are. The police are certain to visit us, but can handle that.” He ran his fingers through the cat’s fur. “Crantor appears to be quite a discovery, doesn’t he?” he went on. “I like the way he handled the Ferenci affair. A ruthless man: a man after my own heart.” His deep-set black eyes rested on Felix’s face.

“You must be ruthless too, Felix. Up to now you have had an easy, comfortable time here. Don’t let it soften you. You have known hardship; you have an impressive reputation. Don’t let the two years you have spent here spoil that reputation.”

“If you’re not satisfied with my work,” Felix said, stung to reckless anger, “say so.”

Alsconi smiled at him.

“That is not my method, Felix. You should know that by now. I expect the people I employ to give me their best; if they don’t I get rid of them.” He waved his hand towards the door in a gesture of dimissal. “Bring Micklem to me at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning.”

Felix went out of the room. He took with him a sick feeling of fear.

The dull, throbbing ache in his head jogged Don back to consciousness. He half opened his eyes and shut them again as the hard, bright light from an overhead lamp dazzled him.

He lay still for some minutes, then his mind began to function again. He remembered the swift rush of the negro towards him and his own body swerve. He remembered punching at the negro’s throat as the great hands reached for him and the professional way the negro had shifted to avoid the punch. Then something that felt like a hammer had smashed against the side of his head and the ground on which he had been standing seemed to split open and he dropped into darkness.

He touched his aching head and felt dried, hard blood just above his right ear. He thought it was a wonder the negro hadn’t broken his skull.

He made an effort and forced open his eyes. He blinked around in the hard light. He seemed to be in some sort of cave: the walls were of rock and they were damp. He found himself lying on a concrete floor on which was a thin covering of straw. When he moved he heard a rattle of a chain and looking down, he saw he was chained by the ankle to the wall.

He rested his back against the wall and waited until the pain in his head receded.

What had happened to Harry? he wondered. He had told him to remain on the wall, and Hairy would obey orders. By now he was certain to have gone for help. But how would he make himself understood to the Italian police? Would he think of telephoning Dicks? If he had already done so, the police might be on their way to look for him. Did the gang know that Harry had been with him? That was an important point. If they did, they must realize that sooner or later the police would raid the building. He looked around the cave again. The single hard light in the roof of the cave shone down on him, but the rest of the cave was in heavy shadow. Was he under the house or had they moved him to another hideout?

He looked at his watch and was surprised to see it was half-past ten: presumably half-past ten in the morning. Although the blow he had received from the negro had been a violent one, Don was sure it alone would not have kept him unconscious for so long. He pushed back his right sleeve. On his forearm he could just make out the tiny scar from a hypodermic needle and he grimaced.

He now turned his attention to the band around his ankle that was fastened to a chain that was stapled into the face of the rock. The band around his ankle was of steel. It fitted tightly and was fastened by a snap-lock that didn’t look to Don particularly complicated. He was an expert on locks and he was sure that if he could find a piece of wire, the lock wouldn’t present any difficulties. There was time for that, he decided. Even if he was free of the chain, it didn’t mean he could get out of the cave.

He was suddenly aware of a light that seemed to be far off, coming towards him, out of the shadows of the cave and it was only then that he realized that across the far side of the cave was the mouth of a tunnel. It was only by the length of time it took Carlos, the negro, to come into the cave that Don could judge how long the tunnel was. He guessed it must be at least a hundred and fifty yards long.

The negro came into the light and looked down at him: his thick lips peeled off his teeth in a jeering grin.

“How are you, bud?” he said. “You and me are going for a little walk. Take it easy. Don’t start anything you can’t finish.”

Don looked beyond Carlos to the mouth of the tunnel. He caught sight of two of the wolf-hounds standing in the shadows watching him.

Carlos looked over his shoulder and grinned.

“Those dawgs are cute,” he said. “They’ll have your throat out in a flash if you start something. They’re real smart.

They’ll walk along as quietly as a couple of lambs, but start something and see the trouble you’ll be in.”

He came over and kneeling beside Don, he unlocked the band around his ankle. Don could have taken him in a ju-jitsu hold, but the dogs were too much of a handicap.

“Come on, bud,” Carlos said. “Doc wants to look you over, then the boss wants to talk to you.”

Don got to his feet. He felt shaky and he realized he was in no condition to start anything even if the dogs weren’t there to guard him.

“Maybe you and I can get together without the dogs to help you,” he said. “I have an idea for all your size you can hand it out a lot better than you can take it.”

Carlos laughed, showing pink gums.

“Don’t kid yourself, bud,” he said. “You ain’t got nothing I couldn’t take.” He snapped his fingers at the dogs who moved into the cave, looking at Don. “Come on; straight ahead.”

Don walked into the tunnel, the dogs at his heels. Carlos sent the beam of his powerful flashlamp ahead so Don could see where he was going.

“Turn left ahead, bud,” Carlos said and directed the beam of his light on to a narrow opening that had been hacked out of the rock.

Don found himself on a narrow ramp that led steeply upwards. He climbed the ramp and came to a steel door.

“Shove it open, bud,” Carlos said.

Don pushed against the door that swung inwards. He came out into a narrow, brightly lit corridor, the walls painted a glistening white.

A door faced him; another- door was a few yards down the corridor.

“In there bud,” Carlos said, reaching over Don’s shoulder and pushing open the first door. “Go ahead and tidy yourself up. I’ll wait here for you.”

Don entered the luxuriously equipped bathroom. He first attended to the broken skin on his forehead, then, using the electric shaver, he shaved himself smooth again. Stripping off his clothes, he took a shower, and twenty minutes later he stepped out of the bathroom, feeling and looking a lot better, to find Carlos lolling against the opposite wall, smoking.