Bloody Passage - Jack Higgins [72]
"And what happens to Wyatt?" I said. "Over the side with sixty pounds of chain around his ankles?"
"You know, I'm beginning to despair of you." Langley leaned against the bulkhead casually. "I mean, he has to be identified, doesn't he, by competent witnesses so a Sicilian coroner can certify that Stephen Wyatt is beyond any shadow of a doubt legally deceased? Badly wounded while escaping from prison in Libya--died on the voyage back. Rather good that, don't you think?"
"And the rest of us?"
"It was carnage, old stick. Absolute bloodbath. A miracle any of us escaped with our lives."
"Just you and Angelo?"
"I should imagine so."
"Why bother?" I said. "I mean at thirty thousand dollars he comes expensive. Much cheaper to dump him too."
Angelo delivered a punch to my right kidney very expertly indeed. The pain was exquisite and I went down on one knee, fighting to control it. He raised a boot and Langley said sharply, "Leave it! Let's get this over with. I'm tired of conversation. Everyone on deck."
Wyatt shuffled out of the aft cabin leaning on Simone's shoulder. He looked at me questioningly as I hauled myself up by the table. "I'm sorry," I croaked. "Looks like the other team made it after all."
"Never mind," he said. "Morning soon and I'll wake up. Cell seventy-three, landing D."
Langley stepped back and said to Angelo, "Right, you first and stop the engines when you get up there." He nodded to Barzini, "You help Wyatt--all right? Then you, old stick, and nothing heroic, please, I do like to keep things tidy."
It was difficult for Barzini in the narrow companionway, especially when the engines stopped and Palmyra started to wallow, rolling heavily. Wyatt faltered and Langley shouted, "Go on, get moving, for God's sake!" They reached the deck safely and he waved his gun at me. "Now you."
I brushed past Simone as I moved forward, her fingers touched me quite deliberately--or did they? I couldn't be sure, but at least I went up the companion-way prepared for action, in spite of the terrible ache in my back.
It was raining hard, a cold wind lifting the waves into whitecaps and the deck seemed to be heaving in several directions at once. Angelo leaned against the wheelhouse covering Wyatt, who had slumped to the deck, and Barzini, who stood over him.
Langley waited until I had stepped out of the companionway before coming up followed by Simone. He kept his distance, cautious to the end. "Well now, how would you like it, old stick?" he said cheerfully.
Simone screamed, "Now, Oliver!" and grabbed his arms from behind.
But he already had a foot out to stamp in my chest as I jumped at him, sending me staggering back against the main hatch cover.
What really spoiled things was Angelo and all that Green Beret training because without a second's hesitation he clubbed Barzini over the back of the head with the Uzi. As Barzini went down, Wyatt grabbed Angelo's legs, trying to bring him over, and Angelo shot him in the body at close quarters.
Simone was still hanging on like a wild cat. Langley loosed off a shot into the deck then managed to get an elbow free and rammed it into her face, sending her flying. It was enough and as he swung to face me, the gun coming up, I took a very graceful header over the port rail.
I hit the water awkwardly and didn't have time to take in much air, but kept on going, turning to pass under the hull. The keel scraped my back painfully. For a moment I seemed to stop right there, lungs bursting, but I kicked and struggled for all I was worth and finally surfaced on the starboard side of Palmyra.
"Any sign of him?" I heard Langley call.
"He's had it," Angelo replied. "Must have done."
There was the sound of a slap. "You bloody bitch!" Langley said. "Couldn't stand to see him go when it came to the crunch, could you? I'll teach you." There was another heavy slap and Simone cried out.
I was bitterly cold and the pain in my back was excruciating, but hate has its own kind of strength and of one thing I was certain. I was going to