Jack Higgins - Thunder Point

“We’ve had too many for comfort,” Ferguson told him.

Dillon took the Belgian semi-automatic from his pocket. “Take this.”

“That bad?” Billy inquired.

“That bad.”

“Then this is better.” Billy took a Colt.45 automatic from under the counter.

“Fine.” Dillon slipped the Belgian semi-automatic back in his pocket. “Take care. We’ll see you in the morning.”

In the kitchen Mary was working hard at the stove. “What you doing now, girl?”

“I’ve got to go up to Caneel, Mary, Bob Carney is taking the Brigadier and Mr. Dillon on a special dive. I want to see them off.”

“You should be in bed.”

“I know. I’ll go soon.”

She went out through the bar and hurried down the steps. Algaro said, “There she is. Let’s get after her.”

But Jenny started to run, catching Ferguson, Dillon and Carney at Mongoose Junction. Algaro and Guerra watched as their quarry got into her jeep, Carney at her side, and followed Dillon and Ferguson out of the car park.

“All right,” Algaro said. “Let’s get after them,” and they ran toward their own vehicle.

At the cottage, Dillon got the olive-green army holdall, took everything out, the Semtex and fuses, the AK, and the Walther and its silencer. Ferguson came in as he was finishing, wearing cord slacks, suede desert boots and a heavy sweater.

“Are we going to war again?” he asked.

Dillon stowed everything back in the holdall. “I hope not. Carney and I are going to have enough on our plate just making the dive, but you know where everything is if you need it.”

“You think you can pull it off?”

“We’ll see.” Dillon found his tracksuit top. “I’m sorry about Lane, Brigadier.”

“So am I.”

Ferguson looked bleak. “But our turn will come, Dillon, I promise you. Now let’s get on with it.”

As they made for the door, Dillon paused and opened the bar cupboard. He took out half a bottle of brandy and dropped it into the holdall. “Purely medicinal,” he said and held the door open. “It’s going to be bloody cold down there at that time of the morning.”

Carney had brought the Sea Raider in to the end of the dock at Caneel. Jenny was sitting on a bench looking down at the boat as he checked the air tanks. A three-piece band was playing in the bar, music and laughter drifting over the water on the night air. Ferguson and Dillon walked along the front, passed the Beach Terrace Restaurant and came along the dock. Ferguson stepped on board and Dillon passed him the holdall.

He turned to Jenny. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she said.

“Not long now,” Dillon told her. “As some poet put it, ‘all doubts resolved, all passion spent.’ ”

“And then what will you do?” she asked.

Dillon kissed her briefly on the cheek. “Jesus, girl, will you give a man a chance to draw breath?”

He took the Belgian semi-automatic out of his pocket. “Put that in your purse and don’t tell me you don’t know what to do with it. Just pull the slider, point and fire.”

She took it reluctantly. “You think this is necessary?”

“You never can tell. Santiago has been ahead of us too many times. When you get back to the bar you’ll find that Billy and Mary intend to spend the night with you.”

“You think of everything, don’t you?”

“I try to. It would take a good man to mess with Billy.”

He stepped on board and Carney looked down at them from the flying bridge. “Cast off for us, Jenny.”

He switched on the engines, she untied the stern line and handed it to Dillon, went and did the same with the other. The boat drifted out, then started to turn away.

“Take care, my dear,” Ferguson called.

She raised an arm as Sea Raider moved out to sea. Dillon looked back at her, standing there under the light at the end of the dock, and then she turned and walked away.

She went past the bar and the shop, and started up the path past the Sugar Mill Restaurant to the car park where the taxis waited. Algaro and Guerra had watched the departure from the shadows and now they followed her.

“What shall we do?” Guerra whispered.

“She’s bound to go home sooner or later,” Algaro said. “The best place to deal with her, all nice and quiet and we don’t even need to follow her.”

Jenny got into her jeep and started the engine and they waited until she was driving away before moving toward their own vehicle.

There were still a few people in the bar when she went in and Mary was helping one of the waitresses to clear the tables. She came to the end of the bar and Billy joined them.

“They got off all right then?” Billy asked.

“That’s right.”

“Are we going to be told what they’re up to, Miss Jenny? Everyone is sure acting mighty mysterious.”

“Maybe one of these days, Billy, but not right now.”

She yawned, feeling very tired, and Mary said, “Don’t you hold her up with any damn fool questions, she needs her sleep.” She turned to Jenny. “Mr. Dillon asked us to spend the night with you and that’s what we’re going to do.”

“All right,” Jenny said. “I’ll go on up to the house.”

“Maybe you should wait for us, Miss Jenny,” Billy told her. “It will only take us five minutes to close.”

She opened her purse and took out the Belgian semi-automatic. “I’ve got this, Billy, and I know how to use it. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you soon.”

She’d parked the jeep right outside at the bottom of the steps and she slid behind the wheel, turned on the engine and drove away, so tired that for a moment she forgot to switch on the lights. The streets were reasonably quiet now as she drove out toward Gallows Point and she was at the house in five minutes. She parked in the driveway, went up the steps, found her key and unlocked the front door. She switched on the porch light, then went in.

God, but she was tired, more tired than she had ever been, and she mounted the stairs wearily, opened her bedroom door and switched on the light. It was hot, very hot in spite of the ceiling fan, and she crossed to the French windows leading to the balcony and opened them. There were a few heavy spots of rain and then a sudden rush, the kind of thing that happened at night at that time of year. She stood there for a moment enjoying the coolness, then turned and found Algaro and Guerra standing just inside the room.

It was as if she was dreaming, but that terrible face told her otherwise, the cropped hair, the scar from the eye to the mouth. He laughed suddenly and said to Guerra in Spanish, “This could prove interesting.”

And Jenny, in spite of her tiredness, surprised even herself by darting forward and around them to the door, almost made it, and it was Guerra who caught her right wrist and swung her around. Algaro struck her heavily across the face, then hurled her back on the bed. She tried to pull the gun from her purse. He took it from her, turned her on her face, pulling her left arm up, twisted and applied some special kind of leverage. The pain was terrible and she cried out.

“You like that, eh?” Algaro was enjoying himself and tossed the gun across the room. “Let’s try some more.”

And this time, the pain was the worst thing she’d ever known and she screamed at the top of her voice. He turned her over, slapped her heavily again and took a flick knife from his pocket. When he jumped the blade she saw that it was razor sharp. He grabbed a handful of her hair.

“Now I’m going to ask you some questions.” He stroked the blade across her cheek and pricked it gently with the needle point so that blood came. “If you refuse to answer, I’ll slit your nose and that’s just for starters.”