Bloody Passage - Jack Higgins [51]
In the end it was Barzini who came over and squatted beside me. "Not so good, Oliver," he said.
I nodded wearily. "Not so good, Aldo."
10
Simone Alone
Inside the cab of the old truck it was hot and uncomfortable and stank of diesel fumes. Zingari was an indifferent driver and they bounced along over the dirt road to a chorus of protest from the women in the rear. Someone banged on the partition and made a suggestion in Italian, using language as foul as it was possible to imagine.
He turned to Simone, his pale, rat-like face shining with sweat in the subdued light of the dashboard. "They are a bad lot back there. Straight from the gutter."
"They seem to serve your purpose," she said.
He shrugged. "The world is as it is, signorina. I didn't make the rules."
She struggled to contain her anger, aware of the contempt she felt for this foul little man. "I wonder how it would be if they decided to turn?" she said. "Got their hands on you."
He glanced at her, startled, the face yellow with fear, and forced a smile. "Hardly likely, signorina. They have nowhere to go. This is--how do the Americans say it?--the end of the line."
For me, too? she wondered. The thought chilled her clear to the bone and instinctively, she put a hand on the top of her thigh, feeling the knife that Barzini had taped into position there. How could she use it? How could she possibly use such a weapon?
She became aware that Zingari was glancing sideways at her and when she looked down saw that the skirt of the mini dress was stretched taut, exposing the nylon thighs. She tried to pull it down, but found it impossible.
Zingari's tongue flickered across his lips; he was sweating harder than ever, the smell sour and offensive in that confined space. She challenged him with her gaze and he tried another of those weak smiles.
"You are too beautiful, signorina. Compared to the pigs in the rear, you will shine out like a torch in the darkness."
"And what do you suggest I do about it?"
"There's an old burnous behind your seat. Try that."
She pulled it out and unfolded it across her knees. It was typical of the kind of thing worn by Arabs of both sexes. An ankle-length mantle with a pointed hood in blue and white stripes.
Zingari slipped a hand under the mantle and squeezed her thigh. He smiled ingratiatingly. "Cover up those lovely legs, eh, signorina? Keep you out of trouble?"
Her handbag was on the floor beside her left ankle. She reached down, took out the Ceska and held it in her lap, the ugly, bulbous silencer pointing straight at him. "Touch me again," she said calmly. "Just once more ..."
He withdrew his hand hurriedly, the truck swerved from one side of the road to the other. There was another chorus of screams from inside.
"Signorina, please. I would not offend you for the world."
He was shaking like a leaf and the smell of his sweat seemed to sharpen, grow even more pungent. She leaned into the corner, her face to the window, holding the Ceska concealed in a fold of the burnous. The fine rain blowing in off the sea carried salt with it and she thought of Grant and no one else. Wondered where he was now and what was happening to him.
The moon appeared through the clouds and for an instant she saw the sea and beyond it, at the end of a great spur of rock, the fortress of Ras Kanai. Cape of Fear. It was well named. As it disappeared from view, she hugged herself tightly, suddenly terrified.
The women in the first truck were already getting out as they arrived. The floodlighting over the main gate was turned on illuminating the whole scene. A small gate to one side stood open and two or three soldiers in camouflaged uniforms stood outside. An enormous black-bearded man with sergeant's stripes on his sleeve stood a yard or two in front of them, hands on hips, a cigarette in his mouth, looking the women over.
"That's Husseini, the senior n.c.o.," Zingari said to Simone. "Don't fall into his hands, signorina. You'll never be the same again.