Bloody Passage - Jack Higgins [69]
"Did he say anything?"
She shook her head. "Not a word. For most of the time he was conscious he just didn't seem to be able to take in what was happening. He's in the aft cabin."
"Okay," I said. "This is what I want you to do. Go back and stay with him. You use the other bunk. I don't want him left alone with Langley on any account. I'll join you later."
"But I don't understand," she said. "Why should Justin cause trouble now? It doesn't make sense."
"Sense or not, he's up to something. I've never been more certain of anything in my whole life, so you watch him."
She went out and I unlocked the automatic pilot and took the wheel again and sat back thinking about it all. What could Langley be up to? It was a puzzle certainly. Possibly Stephen Wyatt could provide some answers.
The door banged open and Barzini entered. "I'll take over. You get some sleep."
"I've told Simone to stay with Wyatt. I think I'll bunk in with her."
"You expecting trouble?"
"From Langley?" I shrugged. "God knows, but I don't trust that character an inch. Better to be safe than sorry. You watch yourself, too, understand?"
He took a .38 Smith and Wesson from his pocket and laid it to hand on the chart table. "I got a friend. No need to worry about me, so off you go."
When I went down into the saloon Langley was stretched out on one of the bench seats smoking a cigarette. He glanced up and smiled. "Looking for me, old stick?"
For a moment I was tempted to have it out with him, but have what out, that was the trouble. I could see his bland smile now. The simulated bewilderment.
"Not particularly," I said and I opened the door to the aft cabin and went inside.
I bolted it behind me. Simone was in one bunk, a blanket draped round her shoulders, and Wyatt was in the other. She wasn't sleeping, but Wyatt was dead to the world, the bruised face tired and full of strain.
I took off my ammunition belt and placed it with the two Sturma grenades on top of the locker. Then I took off my boots and climbed into the bunk beside Simone pulling the blanket over both of us.
She snuggled into me, my arm about her. "This is nice."
What she didn't see was the Stechkin ready in my left hand under the blanket. Not that it mattered, for after a while she began to breathe slowly and steadily and I knew she was asleep.
One moment I was asleep and then awake, everything crystal clear and sharp. Simone was still dead to the world, her back toward me, but when I turned, Wyatt was lying on his side watching me. His left arm hung down to the floor and he was holding one of the stick grenades. He was still very pale and the bruising on his face looked ghastly, but a lot of the strain had gone. He seemed himself again, if I can put it that way, although that was obviously only an impression.
I said, "A nasty little toy if it's handled the wrong way."
He glanced down at the Sturma and frowned as if surprised to find it there. Then he put it down on top of the locker. "Who are you?"
There was a knock at the door and Barzini called, "Open up in there. It's coffee time. You having an orgy or something?"
As I got up to open the door, Simone awakened and stretched her arms. Barzini entered with a coffee pot in one hand and several cups in the other. "We're fresh out of cream," he said. "You'll have to drink it black and like it."
It was certainly strong enough and had the effect of a shot in the arm. "Where's Langley?" I said.
"Took over the wheel twenty minutes ago. Winds four to five with rain squalls. Bit of a sea running, but nothing to write home about."
Wyatt was sitting up, drinking his coffee, eyes watchful. I said, "How do you feel now?"
He came straight to the point. "Who in the hell are you? What is all this?"
"My name's Grant," I said. "This is Aldo Barzini and Simone Delmas. Your father sent us to get you out."
A look of complete astonishment appeared on his face. "My father?"
"Dimitri Stavrou."
"Oh, him." He leaned back against the bulkhead and laughed weakly. "So that's it? So it is just a dream after all." He looked me straight