“Jerry’s late,” the tail man said, speaking over his shoulder to Setti.
Setti got up from the table, stretched his massive limbs and came to the window.
“He’ll be here,” he said. “Jerry’s a good boy. He has a long way to come.” He looked over at Myra. “Turn that damn thing off. I can’t hear myself speak.”
Without looking up from her magazine, Myra reached out and turned off the radiogram.
Setti and the tall man stood by the window, listening. I listened too. I thought I could hear the faint throb of a motor boat engine somewhere out to sea.
“Here he comes now,” the tail man said. “Harry’s down there, isn’t he?”
“He damn well better be,” Setti growled. He moved away from the window and walked out of the room. A moment later, he came out on to the terrace.
I began to sweat. I knew if I was found here my life wouldn’t be worth a dime. They’d cut my throat and bury me at sea. My hiding-place wasn’t any too safe. If any one of them came over to the orange tree they couldn’t fail to see me. It was too late to move now. I lay flat, holding my breath and squeezing myself against the terrace wall.
Setti sat down at one of the tables, about fifty feet from me. The tall man came out and stood looking out to sea.
“Here he comes,” he said.
Myra came out and joined him. He pointed out into the darkness.
“Do you see him?”
“I see him,” she said. She put her hands on top of the wall and leaned forward. She was so close to me I could smell her perfume.
The red harbour light flicked off and then came on again.
There was a long pause. Setti lit a cigar. Myra and the tall man continued to stare down at the harbour. I lay so still that a lizard, mistaking me for part of the scenery, ran lightly across my bare back.
Then I heard the sounds of someone running up the steps. A man appeared, wearing a red singlet, black trousers and rope-soled shoes. He was youngish, good-looking in a flashy tough way, and he grinned widely at Myra as he came on to the terrace.
“Hi, there,” he said.
Myra’s boredom vanished. She gave him a dazzling smile.
“Hi, Jerry!”
He crossed over to where Setti was sitting and dumped on the table an oilskin-wrapped parcel.
“Hi, boss. Here it is.”
Setti leaned back and smiled at him.
“Fine. Sit down, kid. Here, Jake, get him a drink.”
Jake went into the lounge. Myra came over and Jerry took her hand.
,
“May I kiss your daughter, boss?” he asked, grinning at Setti.
“Go ahead,” Setti said, shrugging his sholders. “If she wants it, why should I worry? Have any trouble coming over?’
“Not a thing.”
Myra and he kissed, then he pulled her on to his lap and put his arms around her.
“This is a good place for a run,” he went on, “but how are you going to get the stuff into Nice, boss?”
“Carlo’s fixed that,” Setti said. “Now, there’s a smart boy.”
Jerry’s face hardened.
“He could be too smart,” He looked at Myra. “Have you been seeing anything of him lately, babe?”
Myra’s eyes opened wide, innocently.
“Carlo? Don’t be crazy! Why should I want an ape like him around when I’ve got you?”
“I guess that’s right,” Jerry said, frowning. He didn’t seem convinced. “Well, watch out, baby. You keep clear of him.”
Setti sat back, smiling and listening.
“You’re jealous,” Myra said, and touched Jerry’s face. “You don’t have to be.”
Jerry patted her flank, then looked over at Setti.
“What’s Carlo fixed then?”
“He’s got a newspaper man to run the stuff into Nice: Ed Dawson of the Western Telegram,” Setti said, grinning from ear to ear.
“Dawson!” Jerry sat forward. “I know that punk! I’ve seen him around in Rome. Is he doing it?”
“That’s the idea. Carlo’s got him where he wants him. We can’t go wrong with a guy like Dawson acting as carrier. Smartest thing Carlo’s ever done.”
“Well, for the love of mike! Yeah, that sure is smart.”
Jake came out with a whisky and soda and gave it to Jerry.
“Come on in, kid. I’ve got the dough for you,” Setti said, getting to his feet. “Are you going to stay for a while?”
“I don’t have to get back until to-morrow night.”
Myra got off Jerry’s lap and slid her arm though his.
“Never mind about the money now, honey,” she said. “Let’s go to my room. I want to talk to you.”
Jerry looked over at Setti.
“Is that okay with you, boss?”
Setti smiled.
“Sure. Myra’s a big girl now. She does what she likes. The dough’s all ready for you when you want it. When’s the next run?”
“Three weeks from to-night. It’s all fixed.”
Carrying his drink, Jerry followed Myra into the villa. Jake stared after them, frowning.
“Carlo’s going to stick a knife into that guy one of these days,” he said.
Setti laughed.
“Forget it! Let Myra have her fun. If she wants two boy friends, let her have them.” He tossed what remained of his cigar over the terrace. “Put the stuff in the safe, Jake. Carlo doesn’t want it until Thursday. You take it to Rome on Wednesday night… understand?”
Jake grunted. He picked up the oilskin package and the two men went into the villa.
As soon as they were out of sight, I got to my feet. Here was the way out for me. If the package failed to get into Carlo’s hands by Thursday, then I wouldn’t have to take it to Nice. There was only one way to handle this. I had to get back to Sorrento fast and alert Grandi.
I went down the steps towards the harbour, being careful to move silently. I reached the last few steps. I could see the red light on the harbour wall, and I paused in the shadows, looking for the man they had called Harry.
There was no sign of him. I hesitated. Where was he? I didn’t dare slide into the water until I knew just where he was. My eyes searched the dark shadows. I looked along both arms of the harbour. There was still no sign of him.
Then suddenly I became aware of soft breathing behind me. A cold creepy chill snaked up my back. I half-turned when a muscular, hairy arm hooked under my chin and slammed against my throat, and a hard, bony knee drove into my spine.
PART TWELVE
I
In the brief second before the arm tightened on my throat, cutting the air from my lungs, I realized this man, probably the one who they called Harry, was as strong, if not stronger, than I was. Already I was fighting for breath, and my lungs felt as if they were bursting. I couldn’t get at him, for he was bending me back, his knees grinding into my spine. There was only one way out of a hold like this: I let myself go limp. My legs buckled and I collapsed on my knees. As I did so I managed to arch my back and bring him forward.
I heard him give a muffled curse, and his grip on my throat tightened viciously. I made a desperate effort to heave him over my head, but he was too heavy. Instead, my heave unbalanced us both. My feet slipped on the wet steps and together we rolled into the sea.
The shock of landing in the water loosened his hold. I caught hold of his wrist and peeled his arm off my throat, then I twisted around so that I faced him and drove my hand under his chin, sending him over on his back. I broke free of him and rose to the surface gasping.
My one fear was that he would shout for help. Whatever happened those in the villa mustn’t know I had been up there.
He bobbed up within three yards of me. I saw him before he could shake the water out of his eyes. I dived under him, caught hold of one of his feet and dragged him down.