Bloody Passage - Jack Higgins [46]
When we broke surface, it was already being hauled over the rail by Nino and Angelo. Ibrahim was standing beside Simone, the glass in his right hand containing enough whiskey to make Mohammed himself spin in his grave.
I went up the ladder behind Langley and unbuckled my aqualung. Ibrahim said, "This is really tremendous."
I said, "Would you like to take one with you, lieutenant? I'm sure the museum authorities in Tripoli would be more than interested. Naturally we'll be in touch with them ourselves before very long to give them a progress report."
"What a wonderful idea," he said, and then the thing misfired slightly. "However, I'll be staying on this section of the coast for the next two days before returning to Tripoli. Perhaps I could pick up the amphora on my way back?"
"But of course," I said.
He turned and kissed Simone's hand again. "Signorina--a delight to be repeated in the not too distant future, I assure you. Gentlemen."
He went back over the rail, Nino and Angelo cast off and the launch moved away. No one spoke until it had negotiated the passage between the Sisters and turned out to sea.
Barzini moved to my shoulder. "What do you think?"
"It worked like a charm," I said. "That's what I think, so now we can get down to more important matters."
I turned, toweling my head and on shore, Zingari's old Ford truck drew up in front of the store.
9
Cape of Fear
The green and fertile landscape of Libya which stretches between the desert and the sea is not unlike southern Italy with olive groves, plantations, vineyards and fields of flowers, but not the Cape Fear section of the coast. There, there was nothing--a place God must have surely forgotten. A hell hole of desert and salt flats and furnace heat.
Langley and Angelo were in the back of the truck and I sat beside Zingari who was obviously as worried as ever. He had provided each of us with a striped cotton burnous of the type worn by many Arabs locally and had begged me to keep the hood up.
We followed the dirt road for several miles, paralleling the single line railway track which, according to Zingari, was only used by the military. Finally, it left the road, looping away into a wilderness of jagged ridges and defiles no more than a mile or two from the sea.
After a while, Zingari pulled off the road and drove up into a narrow, rocky valley. He switched off the engine. "Now we walk," he said and got out.
We followed him to the end of the valley and along a defile with a few thorn bushes on its rim and he whispered, "Very quiet now and great care. We are close to the prison. Very close."
I eased up under a thorn bush with my binoculars and found myself looking down at the main gates of the prison which were no more than a hundred yards away.
A file of wretched looking convicts in leg irons shuffled past on the far side of the road under armed guard, each man carrying a pick or a shovel. There was a sudden shrill whistle from not too far away and a railway engine came round the bend pulling several boxcars.
It had been a long time since I'd seen a steam engine and I examined it closely. It pulled up in front of the main prison gates which opened and a file of soldiers moved out to meet it. At the same time, the passengers on the train got out and waited beside it. There were a few convicts in chains, but the majority were soldiers.
Everyone was searched meticulously and at the same time another squad searched the train. Finally the passengers passed through the main gates on foot and the train followed, passing through into the compound. The gates were closed and all was still again.
"What about the women?" I asked Zingari.
He pointed to a judas in the main gate. "They pass through there in single file. I'll have forty-three tonight."
"Forty-four with