Passage by Night - Jack Higgins [39]
Manning switched on the engine and held out his hand. 'My thanks, Bayo.'
'We have a proverb, senor. Have patience and you will see your enemy's funeral procession. Go with God.'
The Cuban turned and disappeared into the alley and Manning drove away quickly.
The wrought iron gates of the hacienda stood open and the lamp suspended from the archway above swayed in the wind, a pool of light constantly reaching out into the darkness and retreating again.
The sentry stepped out of his wooden box, raising a hand to halt them. Manning slowed, but kept on moving. 'Urgent dispatch for Colonel Rojas,' he called and the sentry waved and stepped back into his box.
The gardens were a riot of colour and palm trees lifted their heads above the wall and gently nodded in the cool breeze, leaves etched against the night sky. The drive curved suddenly and Manning braked to a halt at the front door.
They went up the steps and entered a wide hall, cool and pleasant and very quiet. They could hear voices from a door to the left and someone was singing a popular guaracha.
Fidel has arrived,
Fidel has arrived,
Now we Cubans are freed
From the jaws of the tyrant.
When Orlov opened the door, two men were sitting at a table in the centre of the room, tunics unbuttoned, playing chess. A third sat on the edge of a bunk and strummed a guitar.
'On your feet!' Manning said in Spanish.
They stood up slowly, hands clasped behind their necks. Two of them were only boys, but the guitar player was older, with a cold, hard, face.
'Where's Motilina?' Manning demanded.
No one replied and he moved forward quickly and rammed the barrel of his submachine gun into the stomach of the boy on the end.
'Where is he?'
'Don't tell him anything,' the guitar player said. 'They won't get far.'
Orlov transferred his machine gun to his left hand, took a step forward and punched the man in the face. He staggered back, blood spurting from his nose.
The boy said hurriedly, 'In the kitchen. It's at the other end of the corridor past the stairs.'
'Any servants?'
The boy shook his head. 'They have the night off.'
'A young girl called earlier. What happened to her?'
'She's with the colonel. He said he wasn't to be disturbed.'
'Did you get all that?' Manning asked Orlov.
The Russian nodded. 'Most of it. You go after the girl. I'll see to these three.'
Manning moved quickly along the hall past the stairs that curved up to the second floor and entered a narrow corridor. Light showed under a door at the far end. He stood outside, listening for a moment, and then gently turned the handle. Motilina was frying eggs at the stove, his back to the door. As he turned, reaching for a loaf of bread, he saw Manning and a frown appeared on his face.
'Who are you? What do you want?'
In the same moment, Manning moved forward, reversed his gun and drove the butt into the side of the Cuban's neck. He gave a terrible groan and collapsed against the table, sliding down to the floor where he lay quite still.
Manning wiped sweat from his face and moved outside. Somewhere close at hand, he could hear the murmur of voices. He moved along the corridor, turned a corner and paused at another door. For a moment, there was silence and then someone cried out in pain and Rojas laughed. Manning opened the door and went inside.
The room was pleasantly furnished, the floor covered by a heavy Indian carpet, and the French windows stood open to the night, their curtains lifting in the slight breeze.
Anna was lying across a divan by the stone fireplace and Rojas sprawled across her, his hands moving over the young body. She moaned and Rojas chuckled again. Manning moved silently across the thick carpet and tapped him on the shoulder. As Rojas turned in surprise, he jerked him away from her and drove his fist into the fleshy mouth with all his force.
Rojas staggered back against the divan and Anna scrambled to her feet and