Десмонд Бэгли - The Golden Keel

I looked at my watch; it was two o’clock. ‘My God!’ I said. ‘Only an hour before the deadline. Heard anything from Piero?’

She shook her head. ‘How long will it be before you are finished?’ she asked, looking round the deck.

‘It looks worse than it is,’ I said. ‘I reckon we’ll be nearly two hours, though.’

‘Then we fight,’ she said with finality.

‘It looks like it.’ I thought of Coertze’s plan. ‘It shouldn’t come to much, though.’

‘I’ll stay with Piero,’ she said. ‘I’ll let you know if anything happens.’

I watched her go, then went to Walker. ‘Never mind the running rigging,’ I said. ‘We’ll fix that at sea. Just reeve the halyards through the sheaves and lash them down. We haven’t much time now.’

If we worked hard before, we worked harder then — but it was no use. Francesca came running down from the office. ‘Hal, Hal, Piero wants you.’

I dropped everything and ran up the yard, calling for Coertze as I went. Piero was talking on the telephone when I arrived. After a minute he hung up and said, ‘It’s started.’ Coertze sat on at the desk upon which was spread the map. ‘Who was that?’

Piero laid his finger on the map. ‘These men. We have two men following.’

‘Not the four we’re tackling straight away?’ I asked.

‘No, I haven’t heard of them.’ He crossed to the window and spoke a few words to a man outside. I looked at my watch — it was half past two.

We sat in silence and listened to the minutes tick away. The atmosphere was oppressive and reminded me of the time during the war when we expected a German attack but didn’t know just when or where it was going to come.

Suddenly the telephone rang and we all started.

Piero picked it up and as he listened his lips tightened. He put the telephone down and said, ‘Torloni has got more men. They are gathering in the Piazza Cavour — there are two lorry loads.’

‘Where the hell did they come from?’ I demanded.

‘From Spezia; he has called in another gang.’

My brain went into high gear. Why had Torloni done that? He didn’t need so many men against four of us — unless he knew of our partisan allies — and it was quite evident that he did. He was going to overrun us by force of numbers.

‘How many extra men?’ asked Coertze.

Piero shrugged. ‘At least thirty, I was told.’

Coertze cursed. His plan was falling to pieces — the enemy was concentrating and our own forces were divided.

I said to Piero, ‘Can you get in touch with your men?’

He nodded. ‘One watches — the other is near a telephone.’

I looked at Coertze. ‘You’d better bring them in.’

He shook his head violently. ‘No, the plan is still good. We can still engage them here and attack them in the rear.’

‘How many men have we got altogether?’

Coertze said, ‘Twenty-five Italians and the four of us.’

‘And they’ve got forty-three at least. Those are bad odds.’

Francesca said to Piero, ‘The men we have are those who can fight. There are others who cannot fight but who can watch. It is a pity that the fighters have to be watchers, too. Why not get some of the old men to do the watching so that you can collect the fighters together?’

Piero’s hand went to the phone but stopped as Coertze abruptly said, ‘No!’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘It’s a good idea, but it’s too late. We can’t start changing plans now. And I want that phone free — I want to know what is happening to our mobile force.’

We waited while the leaden minutes dragged by. Coertze suddenly said, ‘Where’s Walker?’

‘Working on the boat,’ I said. ‘He’s of more use down there.’

Coertze snorted. ‘That’s God’s truth. He’ll be no use in a brawl.’

The telephone shrilled and Piero scooped it up in one quick movement. He listened intently, then began to give quick instructions. I looked at Coertze and said, ‘Four down.’

‘...and thirty-nine to go,’ he finished glumly.

Piero put down the phone. ‘That was the mobile force — they are going to the Piazza Cavour.’

The phone rang again under his hand and he picked it up. I said to Francesca, ‘Go down to the boat and tell Walker to work like hell. You’d better stay down there, too.’

As she left the office, Piero said, ‘Torloni has left the Piazza Cavour — two cars and two trucks. We had only two men there and they have already lost one truck. The other truck and the cars are coming straight here.’

Coertze thumped the table. ‘Dammit, where did that other truck go?’

I said sardonically, ‘I wouldn’t worry about it. Things can’t help but get better from now on; they can’t get any worse, and we’ve nowhere to go but up.’

I left the office and stood in the darkness. Giuseppi said, ‘What is happening, signor?’

‘Torloni and his men will be here within minutes. Tell the others to be prepared.’

After a few moments Coertze joined me. ‘The telephone line’s been cut,’ he said.

‘That tops it,’ I said. ‘Now we don’t know what’s going on at all.’

‘I hope our friends outside use their brains and concentrate into one bunch; if they don’t, we’re sunk,’ he said grimly.

Piero joined us. ‘Will Palmerini’s sons fight?’ I asked.

‘Yes, if they are attacked.’

‘You’d better go down and tell the old man to lie low. I wouldn’t want him to get hurt.’

Piero went away and Coertze settled down to watch. The street was empty and there was no sound. We waited a long time and nothing happened at all. I thought that perhaps Torloni was disconcerted by finding his watchmen missing — that might put him off his stroke. And if he had a roll-call and discovered a total of eight men missing it was bound to make him uneasy.

I looked at my watch — three-fifteen. If Torloni would only hold off we might get the boat launched and away and the men dispersed. I prayed he would hold off at least another half-hour.

He didn’t.

Coertze said suddenly, ‘Something’s coming.’

I heard an engine changing gear and the noise was suddenly loud. Headlights flashed from the left, approaching rapidly, and the engine roared. I saw it was a lorry being driven fast, and when it was abreast of the yard, it swerved and made for the gate.

I blessed Francesca’s intuition and shouted in Italian, ‘To the gates!’

The lorry smashed into the gates and there was a loud cracking and snapping of wood, overlaid by the crash as the lorry hit the car amidships and came to a jolting halt. We didn’t wait for Torloni’s men to recover but piled in immediately. I scrambled over the ruined car and got on to the bonnet of the lorry, whirling round to the passenger side. The man in the passenger seat was shaking his head groggily; he had smashed it against the windscreen, unready for such a fierce impact. I hit him with my fist and he slumped down to the floor of the cab.

The driver was frantically trying to restart his stalled engine and I saw Coertze haul him out bodily and toss him away into the darkness. Then things got confused. Someone from the back of the lorry booted me on the head and I slipped from the running-board conscious of a wave of our men going in to the attack. When I had recovered my wits it was all over.

Coertze dragged me from under the lorry and said, ‘Are you all right?’

I rubbed my sore head. ‘I’m O.K. What happened?’

‘They didn’t know what hit them — or they didn’t know what they hit. The smash shook them up too much to be of any use; we drove them from the lorry and they ran for it.’

‘How many of them were there?’

‘They were jammed in the back of the lorry like sardines. I suppose they thought they could smash in the gates, drive into the yard and get out in comfort. They didn’t get the chance.’ He looked at the gateway. ‘They won’t be coming that way again.’