Bloody Passage - Jack Higgins [33]
"And the assault on the prison?" Stavrou said. "What takes place there?"
"I presume Langley has told you about Angelo Carter?" Stavrou nodded and I carried on, "He gains access to the prison as indicated. Once inside his one aim is to get to the north wall and dispose of the two sentries there."
"That seems one hell of a tall order to me."
"But not to Carter. He was a Green Beret. He has a light line with him which he drops down. I'll be waiting on the rocks at the base of the cliff with Nino Barzini. We attach a climbing rope to the line, which Carter hauls up. Then Nino, who's an expert in these matters, climbs it, drops a body line to me and he and Carter haul me up between them."
"All right, supposing all that works."
"Carter changes, then we cross quite openly to the Commandant's house, passing ourselves off as soldiers. Colonel Masmoudi has a weakness for the ladies which means he tends to be very fully occupied on a Friday night. We shouldn't have too much trouble in overpowering him."
"Then what happens?"
"He does as he's told like a good boy and has your stepson brought to his house. Then we all leave by the front gate nice and quietly in Masmoudi's car. Drive straight to Gela and embark. At that time of night the tunny boats are out in force about ten miles off shore. One or two nets draped from our mast is all we need and we'll be lost in the crowd."
There was a lengthy silence while Stavrou looked at the map. I helped myself to Zibibbo. Finally, he turned to Barzini. "What do you think?"
"I'm going, aren't I?" Barzini pointed out.
"I don't know." Stavrou shook his head. "There are too many ifs."
"You're right," Barzini said cheerfully. "The plain truth is that if everything falls right for us, we can't fail, but if even one single item goes wrong then the whole house of cards comes tumbling down."
Stavrou nodded, looking at the map. "Justin has a point to make."
"And what might that be?" I said.
Langley grinned. "You're not going to like this, old stick, but it's a fact. Imagine you're walking across the courtyard of the prison wearing Libyan uniforms, making straight for Masmoudi's house."
"So what?"
"What happens when the sergeant of the guard or an officer, or even just a stray soldier calls out good night or asks you what you're doing?"
"Simple," Barzini said. "I'd say I'm on a special detail for the colonel."
"Oh, I see," Langley said. "I didn't realize you spoke Arabic."
There was a heavy silence and I said, "That's what's called not seeing the wood for the trees."
"You mean you don't speak Arabic either, old stick?" Langley said. "Never mind. I do."
Which was what the whole damned thing had been leading up to, of course. I saw it all now, just as I saw with equal certainty, that he was right.
"Okay," I said. "Welcome aboard." I turned to Stavrou. "Happy now?"
He smiled delightedly. "That's what I like about you, sir. You're a sport."
"Who's hot and thirsty and badly in need of a shower," I said. "Which is exactly what I'm now going to have," and I left them there and moved up through the garden to my room.
I took my time over the shower, going over the whole thing in my mind Stavrou was right--there were too many ifs, but I couldn't help that any more than I could help the business with Langley. He was right there also. The inability to make some sort of response in Arabic if required was just the sort of detail on which the whole thing could fail. Most Libyans spoke Italian, that was true, a relic of Mussolini's dreams of Empire, but not among themselves.
So, Langley would have to go, as Stavrou had obviously intended all along, to keep a watching brief. I didn't like the idea, but it was something we'd have to put up with.
I pulled on a bathrobe and went out into the living room towelling my hair. Simone was sitting on the terrace