Алистер Маклин - The Lonely Sea

At midnight that night the 149 was lying offshore three miles north of Civitavecchia. Both Ravallo and Stella were very quiet – had been ever since I had told them. On the whole, they seemed relieved.

Only Stella was to go ashore. She was to contact the local Partisan group – who had already been warned by Starr, by parachute drop the previous night, to prepare for a German sortie tonight – and radio back as soon as possible. I had expected Ravallo to protest violently when Starr’s radio instructions to that effect had come through a couple of hours ago – but he had said nothing.

His easy acceptance of the orders confirmed me in my suspicions. I guessed this suited him perfectly. I suspected he had contacted the enemy before leaving Anzio. How, I didn’t know – but the place was reported to be swarming with spies. Ravallo certainly hadn’t had a chance to communicate with anyone ashore since embarking on the 149. Wilson and Passière had seen to that.

Stella went ashore and Hillyard rowed the dinghy back. Three hours later the radio room receiver started crackling. Ravallo and I stood just inside the radio room door, waiting.

Suddenly Passière’s expression changed. He looked startled, apprehensive. He listened intently, jabbed furiously three or four times at the transmitting key, then leapt to his feet, tearing his headphones off. His hands were shaking.

‘They’ve got her!’ he burst out. ‘They’ve got Stella! Just after the code-sign and acknowledgement came MMR, MMR’ (the Special Service codesign for danger). ‘Then something about an armoured car. Then – finish.’ He cut down his right arm in a gesture of finality.

I felt sick inside. The best laid plans of mice and men…There had been a slip-up somewhere. Stella – captured! Why hadn’t the Partisans been there?

I flung a glance at Ravallo. His face was expressionless. I wondered savagely how he ought to look. Was that the way Judas had looked? Was Nicky Ravallo paid in pieces of silver?

I wrenched myself back into the present. I knew then what I would have to do. I also knew what it would mean for me – court martial. Just then I didn’t care.

Swiftly I turned to Ravallo.

‘Do you know where she went, Nicky?’ I demanded.

‘Sure I do.’ He had divined my intentions immediately and was into the boat before me.

Hillyard rowed us ashore. We jumped out on the pebbly shore and raced up the beach. Halfway up I stopped short and called softly.

‘Nicky!’

He turned round.

‘Dammit, Scotty, there’s no time –’

He broke off short. His eyes didn’t have to be very good to see the dull gleam of the .45 in my hand.

He remained motionless.

‘What is this?’ he asked slowly.

‘This,’ I said, ‘is as far as I go. Incidentally, that was a marvellous piece of acting. Congratulations.’

He was a trier, I had to admit. The anger, the impatience, the puzzlement – they were perfectly done.

‘Stay where you are!’ I said sharply. He had taken a step forward.

‘The only explanation you are entitled to is why you are still alive. I’ll tell you.

‘Renegades, Ravallo, aren’t always monsters. I liked you, Ravallo – in your own idiom, I thought you were one helluva good guy. Secondly, war is no reason for inhumanity. You know that. And I think it inhuman to ask a man to spy on his own country.’

‘What are you trying to tell me?’ His voice was almost a whisper.

‘Save it, Ravallo. I could have had you taken back to Naples,’ I went on. ‘You know what that means. Court martial – and the firing squad. Or you could have been dropped over the side. I drew the line at that also. So,’ I added, ‘you’re getting what you never gave Stella, Ravallo – a chance. Among your own people,’ I finished bitterly.

‘You betrayed yourself a year ago, Ravallo. I didn’t get it till yesterday. Remember Passero? Remember the rowing boats the Germans used that night to try to board us? Remember the visit you paid to the empty radio room? Remember the fast launches that Stella said the Germans had in Passero? Remember, Ravallo, remember?’

I flung the words at him, hammered them at him. They had no effect. He seemed dazed, showed no reaction at all. The man was a superb actor.

‘How were the Germans tipped off, Ravallo?’ I went on relentlessly. ‘Why didn’t they send their fast launches after us? I’ll tell you, Ravallo. Because they knew they hadn’t a hope in hell of catching us. They knew that a sneak attack was their only hope. They knew that because you told them, Ravallo. And only you could have told them. Only you of all suspects fulfilled the four essential conditions – you knew the speed of the 149, you knew our destination that night, you knew how to use and had access to a transmitter – the I49’s.’

There was no answer to this and Ravallo knew it. There could be no defence – only denial. He said nothing for a long time. His head was bent. The moon, almost full, had broken through the cloud, and I was in a hurry to be gone.

He lifted his head slowly and looked at me.

‘Got it all buttoned up, haven’t you, Mac?’

‘I have indeed. I wish to God I hadn’t. You gave yourself away again today.

‘Starr had it narrowed down to you two – you and Stella. He guessed it was you – rather, I did. He had fixed it so as to give you a chance to sell Stella down the river. You thought her usefulness was over. So you sold her down the river. You didn’t know that base weren’t briefed on this mission, Ravallo, did you? Only you, Stella, Starr and I knew. And once, Ravallo, I could have sworn you loved that girl.’ I looked at him, trying hard to hate him. ‘You know,’ I said, ‘I couldn’t have done that to a dog.’

His face was expressionless.

‘So you threw her to the wolves? Is that it, Mac?’

Why hadn’t the Partisans looked after her, I thought to myself. They had plenty of warning. Illogically, I felt guilty as hell and knew for the first time the salt taste of self-loathing. But I didn’t show it – I knew that.

‘I had my orders. Besides, Nicky,’ I added ironically, ‘we should never have succeeded without your invaluable cooperation. Goodbye.’

He called after me. ‘Mac!’

I turned round.

‘Don’t forget, Mac, I’ll be looking you up one of these days.’

One of these days. Well, that was it.

I had arrived in London at 6.00 a.m. and gone straight to bed. For hours I had lain awake, trying to figure the whole thing out.

It was a mess and it was fantastic. Why hadn’t the Allied authorities seized him after the war? He was obviously a prosperous man now. He had much to lose – I marvelled at his nerve in seeking me out.

What did he want, I wondered. Just to gloat? No, whatever he was, Ravallo had never been small-minded. Revenge – it could only be that. But how? A fusillade of shots in the lounge of the Savoy? Ridiculous – just too fantastic. Besides, Nicky was a smart boy. About midday I gave the whole thing up and fell into a troubled sleep.

7.00 p.m. The lounge at the Savoy was full, but I saw him almost at once. It wasn’t difficult. He was the only man in the place wearing a lounge suit. He was over by the far wall and, characteristically, had managed to obtain – and retain – a table for himself.

There was no change in Ravallo that I could see. Still the same vital, dark haired, laughing d’Artagnan – and he was laughing now. Laughing – the smile on the face of the tiger.

He leapt from his table and came swiftly towards me, hand outstretched, his white teeth shining in a great grin of welcome.

‘Mac, you old son of a gun!’ he shouted cheerfully. ‘Man, oh man, but it’s good to see you again!’