James Chase - Mission to Siena

“If that happens,” Harry said grimly, “we’re coming in after you, even if we have to pull the joint apart, brick by brick.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Harry, it’ll be a bigger job than you think. The entrance to where I am now is in the big front room with the casement windows leading to the terrace. The door is on the left-hand side as you enter the casement windows.

It wants finding. The police missed it.”

“We’ll find it,” Harry said. “I told Giuseppe to bring some dynamite with him. We’ll get to you somehow.”

“Give me a chance to get to you first. If I don’t show up by two-fifteen, the ball is in your court. I’d better get under cover now, Harry.”

“Okay, sir, and good luck,” Harry said. “We’ll be right with you.”

Don replaced the receiver. He got to his feet and crossed to the door.

Englemann said from behind him: “Don’t move, Mr Micklem, or I’ll have to shoot you.”

Don stood motionless.

“Drop that gun,” Englemann went on.

Don let the gun slide through his fingers. It fell on the carpet with a little thud. Then slowly, he looked over his shoulder. Part of the bookcase had swung inwards and Englemann stood in the lighted opening, a .38 in his hand.

As Harry put down the receiver, Marian came hurrying into the lounge.

“That was Mr Micklem,” Harry said and grinned when he saw Marian’s face light up.

“I thought from the way you were shouting it must be,” Marian said. “Is he all right, Harry? Where is he?”

“He’s fine, miss, but he’s still down there. He’s managed to get hold of a gun, and he thinks he’ll be able to break out. He says he’s going to have a go at half-past one tonight.” He looked at his watch. “It’s just on six-thirty. Giuseppe should be here any moment now. We’re to be in the grounds, ready to help him when he breaks out.”

The sound of his excited voice brought Cherry into the room. He was told the news. Harry went on to give them a full account of his conversation with Don.

“If this man Willie was watching the villa,” Marian said, “it’s possible he or another of the gang is still watching us.”

Harry thumped his forehead with his fist.

“You’re right, miss. I should have thought of that. I’ll see if I can spot anyone.”

“Be careful, Harry,” Marian said anxiously. “We’d better wait until Giuseppe comes…”

Harry grinned.

“Don’t worry about me. If he’s there, I’ll find him before he finds me. We don’t want him reporting back that we’ve got reinforcements.”

Cherry said, “I’m coming with you.”

“This isn’t your line,” Harry said patiently. “You stay here with Miss Rigby. I can handle this.”

Cherry’s fat face turned obstinate.

“I intend to walk down to the gates,” he said. “He may try to make a bolt for it if he sees you. I shall be in the position to head him off.”

“You’ll probably be in the position to collect a thick ear,” Harry said. “These blokes are tough. Better leave him to me.”

“I shall have my sword stick,” Cherry said. “I can more than look after myself.”

He marched out before Harry could argue further, put on his black felt hat, picked up the walking-stick that concealed the thin-bladed sword and set off down the drive.

Harry shook his head.

“Obstinate old goat,” he said, “but he’s got lots of guts. I’ll get off.” He opened a drawer in the desk and took out Don’s Beretta. “Here you are, miss, just in case Willie or his pals head this way. Shoot him in the leg if you spot him, but don’t shut your eyes when you pull the trigger.”

“I don’t want it. You must have it, Harry.”

“Not for me,” Harry said. “I can get along all right with these,” and he clenched his big knuckly fists, grinning.

Unaware what was in store for him, Jacopo sat in a thicket, seventy-five yards or so from the villa. The evening sun was comfortably warm, the apple he was eating was sweet and crisp, and he was contented in mind and body. Jacopo liked nothing better. than to sit in the shade and relax. He was the least important member of the organization, and he was proud of it. He had no ambition, no thirst for money, women or cars as Willie had. All he wanted was a life of peace and to do as little work as possible. He was one of a dozen men Alsconi employed merely to shadow people. His job was to sit by the hour in cafes, hotel lobbies or in cars, waiting for one of Alsconi’s victims to show himself. It was the job Jacopo was born to do, and apart from his ability to sit and do nothing for hours and not to raise suspicion, he had no other money-making talents.

He watched Cherry come out of the house and stride down the drive towards the gates and wondered casually where he was going. His instructions were to watch the villa. He was only to report to Felix if the police arrived. He imagined Cherry was going for an evening stroll. He wasn’t given the chance of seeing Harry steal out of the villa for Harry left by the rear exit and melted into the shrubs like a ghost.

During the war, Harry had served in a Commando unit, and he hadn’t forgotten his training. One of his specialities had been the knifing of German sentries. Many a time he and other members of his unit had been landed on the sand dunes of France. Harry had gone forward alone, moving soundlessly, until he had located the sentry. He had reached the unsuspecting man and had driven his knife into his neck and the sentry had died without knowing who had struck the blow.

Jacopo wouldn’t have relaxed as he munched his apple if he had known that Harry was moving silently in his direction.

As it was, he flicked the core of the apple away and turned his thoughts to Willie. He wondered what information Willie had that he was so excited about. Jacopo wrinkled his nose in disgust. He had no time for Willie: all the man could think of was money, women and cars.

Jacopo’s one interest in life was singing. He had a natural tenor voice, and if he hadn’t been so hopelessly lazy he might have become a second-rate tenor in some third-rate opera company. He hummed a snatch of La donna i mobile under his breath which was a mistake for Harry was within forty yards of him. Harry hadn’t seen him, but his shaip ears caught the hummed tune and his blunt-featured, pugnacious face lit up with a grin.

Jacopo felt in his pocket for another apple. He wished now he had thought of bringing a bottle of wine along with him.

It would be another two hours before Menotto relieved him. Menotto was another of Alsconi’s watchers. He and Jacopo got on well together. They were both lazy, both unambitious and both disliked violence. He found the apple, rubbed it on his sleeve and looked at it with a contented expression on his thin, swarthy face.

As he was about to bite into it, Harry who was by now within three yards of him seemed to Jacopo to rise out of the ground and drop on him.

Jacopo nearly died of fright as Harry’s hands closed around his throat. He felt steel-like fingers that bruised his flesh tighten unbearably on each side of his neck. He had one brief, horrible moment as he realized he was being killed, then a red light flashed before his terrified eyes and he plunged down into darkness.

Harry got to his feet. Cupping his mouth with his hands, he bawled at the top of his voice, “Hey, Cherry!”

He then took from his pocket two lengths of cord he had purposely brought with him and set about tying Jacopo’s wrists and ankles together.

Puffing and panting, Cherry came lumbering up the drive, the sword drawn and flashing in the sun.

Harry waved to him.

“I’ve got him all right,” he said. “I didn’t want you to get sunstroke standing out in the open.”