Bloody Passage - Jack Higgins [63]
"I'd been thinking about that one myself," I said. "Let's say the train stopped in the tunnel, time enough to get off, no more than that. If it came out at the other end with someone working the machine gun, they'd continue to follow. All the time in the world then to get Wyatt down to the beach."
"Heh," Nino said. "That makes a hell of a lot of sense to me."
"Except for the guy on the machine gun." Barzini prodded me in the shoulder angrily. "Naturally you see yourself in that heroic position. What's wrong with you? You got a death wish or something?"
"Not particularly," I said. "It's simple enough. I stay with the train for another couple of miles, probably until the river crossing, then jump for it. If I do it right, they'll still follow the train. I'll be in Gela inside the hour."
"And if you're not?"
"You put to sea. You carry on with the job. You get Wyatt back and exchange him for Hannah. Then you see she gets back to London safely, that's all I ask."
"On your own you don't stand a chance," Barzini said. "If you stay, I stay."
"Now who's talking like a crazy man? You've seen the state Wyatt's in. He wouldn't make fifty yards on his own. Getting him half a mile over rough country to that beach is going to take all of you."
"He's right," Nino said. "Face facts, Uncle Aldo."
Barzini knew it, but didn't like it. He turned away, stamping his feet angrily. I said to Nino, "Tell Langley and Simone. Make sure they know exactly what we're doing. When the time comes everybody's going to have to move fast."
He slung his rifle over his shoulder and worked his way along the bars to the entrance to the boxcar. Barzini jerked a thumb at Talif. "What about him? How can you guarantee he'll keep this thing rolling with no one to watch him?" He brightened suddenly. "On the other hand, it's the rails that take it where it's going. You only need the driver to turn it on and off."
The look of dismay on Talif's face was something to see, for I suppose he imagined a bullet in the head might be next on the agenda. "Effendi--please. I give my word. I swear on my mother's grave."
"No need," I said. "I prefer a business arrangement. Much more sensible."
In the past, I had always carried a little mad money with me on such assignments, just in case anything went drastically wrong and I'd seen no reason to alter the habit on this occasion, there being no difficulty in fulfilling my requirements in Palermo. I opened a canvas purse at the back of my webbing belt, took out a small leather bag and poured the contents into Talif's hand.
"The trouble with paper money is that it changes from country to country," I said. "But this kind of thing is welcomed everywhere. Gold pieces, my friend. English sovereigns. Fifty of them."
His eyes widened, the mouth opened in awe. For a long moment he stared down at them and then he quickly poured them back into the leather bag, tied it and stowed it carefully away in his tunic pocket.
"All right, effendi, I do it, but there is one thing more you must do for me."
"And what would that be?"
"Beat me, effendi." He pointed to his face. "Knock hell out of me so Colonel Masmoudi can see I didn't have any choice."
Barzini laughed harshly, "You know something, he's got a point."
Talif turned to him, smiling eagerly, and Barzini punched him in the mouth, grabbed him by the shirt front and punched him again. A third blow drove him to his knees and Barzini moved back.
Talif looked up, blood pouring from his smashed nose and lips. He touched his face gingerly with his fingertips and actually smiled as he stood up. "Excellent, effendi. Exactly what I wanted."
"A pleasure to do business with you," Barzini said, and at that moment Langley cried out a warning and there was a burst of firing.
I went up over the tender and found him on top of the boxcar. There was the road again, fifty or sixty yards away to the right. The two Landrovers emerged from an olive grove where they had presumably been waiting and drove on a parallel course, their machine guns working furiously.
They were scoring plenty