Bloody Passage - Jack Higgins [57]
When she was finished, I said, "All right, we'll go in as arranged, looking like some duty detail--Langley up front in case his Arabic is needed, Simone in the center." I put a hand on her arm. "If anyone's around to see it will look as if you're in custody, although from the sound of it, I'd say the garrison's likely to be occupied in other matters tonight."
We went down the series of stone steps that led to the courtyard, moved into the temporary shelter of the parked truck and took up position. Then I simply gave a whispered command and we struck off across the square, Langley leading.
The rain hammered down, bouncing from the cobbles. We didn't see a soul, although the sentry on the wall above the main gate must have seen us unless he was sheltering from the downpour. Just in case, I gave Simone the occasional rough push on the way across to make it look good.
Langley opened the gate and we moved through the garden and up the steps to the veranda. The shutters were closed and Langley leaned down and peered through the slats.
He turned and said with a grin, "He would appear to be occupied."
I looked for myself. Masmoudi was sitting stripped to the waist and drinking a glass of champagne. The woman who lay stretched out on the divan beside him, one knee raised, was down to her underwear.
I nodded to Barzini, who waited, a hand on the door knob. It opened to his touch, he moved in quickly, covering Masmoudi with his assault rifle and the rest of us crowded in after him.
Masmoudi didn't even blink. He sat there, the glass of champagne in his hand, looking us over and then he smiled at Simone. "So there you are, little flower." He spoke to her in French. "I said you had depths."
"Let's stick to Italian," I told him. "That way we'll all stay happy."
The woman on the divan opened her mouth as if to scream and Langley jammed a hand over it. "You mustn't do that," he said. "Very naughty."
She was probably no more than twenty-seven or eight but had definitely seen better days. Simone said, "Was she all you could get?"
Masmoudi sighed. "One has to do the best one can. It's not often that one like you comes our way out here in the wilderness, little flower. I should have known it was too good to be true."
She seemed amused. "You could have looked a little harder."
"Ah, but you see, I thought you'd run off with one of my men. I decided that must be the real reason you'd come in with the usual rabble. I intended to parade every man in the place in the morning and keep them out there on the square until I got to the bottom of the matter."
The woman on the divan groaned. Langley pulled her up by the hair and dragged her across to a closet. "Now be a good girl and shut up," he said cheerfully. "If you don't I'll cut your throat."
He shoved her inside the closet, closed the door then walked back to the table and helped himself to a glass of champagne. "Life really is full of pleasant surprises," he said. "This is good. Very, very good."
"But hardly the reason for such enterprise," Masmoudi said. "To what do I owe this rather dubious pleasure?"
"You have a prisoner here," I told him. "A young American named Wyatt."
He showed no particular reaction. "So?"
"We want him."
"Ah, I see now. And if I comply? What then?"
"We drive out through that gate with you along for insurance. Not far. Just a few miles up the coast."
"And what happens there?"
"We head out to sea, back where we came from, and you can do what you damn well please."
"With a bullet in the head?"
"No percentage in it. What would be the point?"
"It sounds plausible enough when you put it like that." He reached for his shirt. "What happens if I refuse?"
Nino took an ivory Madonna from his pocket. When he pressed the feet, a wicked-looking stiletto jumped into view. "Ingenious," Masmoudi said. "But then the Italians have always been culturally inclined, even in matters of violence."
"First the right ear, then the left," Nino said. "Do we understand each other?"
"Perfectly."
Masmoudi reached for the