1954 - Mission to Venice (14 page)

Grumbling, Brun went after him.

Some twenty minutes crawled by before the seven men began to descend the slope that led to the foot of the hill. As soon as they were out of sight, Don and Harry, crouching low, slid over the ridge and made for the road.

They could see Busso sitting on the bank, his back to them, smoking a cigarette.

“I’ll take him, boss,” Harry muttered. “You stay behind the bush down there. When I’m ready I’ll raise my hand. I’ll have to rush him for the last few yards. May be if you threw a stone, you’d distract his attention.”

Don nodded. That made sense. He was still feeling groggy and he knew Harry was much more capable in a rough house than he was.

“As soon as you reach him, I’ll come down.”

Harry grinned.

“I won’t need any help. You fix the cars, boss.”

Again Don nodded.

They continued down the slope until they reached the bush Harry had indicated. Busso had got to his feet and was wandering up and down the road. From time to time he looked up towards the hill, scowling. Looking back, Don could see the seven men halfway up the hill; they were taking it very slowly, and he could hear Busso cursing them. Then, shrugging his fat shoulders, Busso went back to the bank and sat down again.

Harry nudged Don.

“Here I go,” he whispered, slipped off his rucksack and began to crawl quickly down the bank, keeping the odd shrubs that dotted the bank between himself and Busso.

Don watched him, marvelling at Harry’s speed and silence.

Harry paused behind the last scrap of cover. Busso’s broad back was within ten yards of him. He looked back over his shoulder at Don and raised his hand.

Don had already located a big flint stone. He half rose and threw the stone with all his strength at Busso’s head. The stone whizzed through the air, and Busso, hearing it, half started up. The stone caught him between the shoulders.

He gave a startled grunt and staggered forward.

Harry was up and moving while the stone was in mid-air.

He jumped the remaining yards, dropped on Busso, bringing him sprawling into the dust.

Don saw Harry’s fist rise and fall, then Busso went limp.

Harry stood up and grinned.

“Nothing to it, boss,” he said and ran over to one of the cars, lifted the bonnet and removed the distributor head.

Don caught up Harry’s rucksack and came tumbling down into the road.

“Well take the other car, Harry.” He bent and snatched up Busso’s big black hat. “Come on; get in!”

He put on the hat, slid under the driving wheel and started the engine. Harry opened the off-side door and got in. Very far away there came a faint shout, and Harry looked back up the hill.

Two of the men who had reached the top of the hill were waving to the others who were not high up enough to see the road.

“They’ve spotted us,” Harry said as Don made a U-turn and sent the car shooting down the road towards the farmhouse.

“They haven’t a hope of catching us,” Don said. “Keep out of sight, Harry. With any luck they’ll think I’m Busso come back to report.”

“Good show!” Harry said and sat down on the floorboards.

Don drove swiftly down the road. It was a three to four mile stretch to the farmhouse, and he reckoned it would take the men well over an hour, even if they ran most of the way, to get off the hill and get back to the farmhouse. He had that much in hand to put Natzka, the pilot and Maria out of action and get the hover plane going. It would be nip and tuck, he thought grimly, but it could be done.

“Running through the farm gates in another minute,” he said to Harry and braked sharply. He slid down in the driver’s seat, jerked the big hat lower over his face and swung through the white gateposts.

The car bumped over the uneven road. Not far off stood the hover plane. There was no one in it nor by it. Don was tempted to stop the car and make a dash for it, but he knew he had to immobilize those left in the house first.

Harry had taken out his automatic and rested it on his knee. His hand lay on the car door handle, ready to press it down and jump out.

“No one about,” Don muttered, and one hand on the steering wheel and his right hand holding his automatic out of sight, he pulled up outside the farmhouse door.

Don had hoped that Natzka might have come to the door and he could have surprised him, but he quickly realized that he would have to make the first move.

“You keep out of sight, Harry,” he said softly. “I’ll tackle this. If I put my foot wrong, you’ll be there to pull me out.”

“Let me go, boss,” Harry said urgently.

“No; do what I tell you!”

Don opened the car door, crossed the patch of garden in three long strides, turned the handle of the front door and pushed.

The door swung inwards.

Don found himself looking into a small hall. Facing him was a flight of steep stairs. There was a door on his left which he assumed led into the main room. He hadn’t time to have more than one fleeting glimpse of the hall for he saw the pilot of the hover plane coming down the stairs.

The pilot stopped short, his mouth opening, his eyes popping.

“Make a sound and I’ll blow your head off!” Don said softly showing his gun. The pilot raised his hands above his head, his face draining white.

“Come down,” Don said.

Slowly, as if he were walking on eggshells, the pilot descended the stairs until he was within a few feet of Don.

“Turn around!”

Reluctantly the man turned his back on Don who ran his hand over him. When he found he wasn’t carrying a gun, he stepped back.

“Where are the others?”

The pilot indicated a door at the end of the passage.

“Go ahead, and don’t try any tricks.”

The pilot walked down the passage, turned the handle of the door and entered a big roughly-furnished room. Don stepped quickly up to him and gave him a violent shove that sent him flying into the room to land on hands and knees near where Carl Natzka was sitting.

“Don’t move!” Don rapped out.

“Why, if it isn’t Mr. Micklem,” Maria said.

She was seated by the window, knitting with scarlet and white wool. She smiled at him, her knitting needles continuing to fly, her eyes bright with excitement.

Natzka had been studying a large scale map which was spread over his knees. At the sight of Don, his face paled and his mouth tightened. The map slid off his knees on to the floor.

“How nice,” Maria went on. “I’ve been so worried about you. What’s happened to your head?”

“One of your brother’s pals threw a grenade at me,” Don said. “But like all your brother’s pals he was very inefficient and he didn’t do a great deal of damage.”

“Oh, darling,” Maria said, looking reproachfully at Natzka, “must you have grenades thrown at Mr. Micklem? After all, he is a friend of mine.”

“Be quiet!” Natzka said harshly. “I want to talk to you,” he went on to Don. “You can’t get out of the country. Every road is watched; the police are looking for you. There are special guards at all the frontier towns. Sooner or later you must be caught I’ll do a deal with you . . .”

“I’m not interested in any deal with you,” Don said curtly.

Where was Curizo? he was wondering and he moved sideways so his back wasn’t towards the door.

“I want that book, Micklem,” Natzka said. “I’ll buy it from you. . .”

“Really, Carl, that’s absurd,” Maria broke in. “Mr. Micklem is a millionaire. . .”

“You’re not having the book, so save your breath,” Don said.

“You okay, boss?” Harry called from down the passage.

“Yes. Curizo’s somewhere in the house. Find him and put him out of action, then come back here and hurry,” Don said without taking his eyes off Natzka.

The pilot remained on the floor. He stared uneasily at Don, and then looked at Natzka “Are you going to put us out of action, too, Mr. Micklem?” Maria asked. “How will you do that: knock us on the head?”

She was laughing at him.

“A length of rope is all that’s necessary,” Don said, smiling. “Your brother’s pals will be back to release you in a little while.”

“I am so relieved. I was frightened you were going to be as brutal as my brother,” she said. “I do apologize for Carl’s behaviour. The trouble with him is he values life so very highly. If he doesn’t get that silly little book back, he will be put against a wall and shot.” She paused in her knitting to study the pattern, then the needles began to fly again. “And so shall I. Carl doesn’t want to be killed. Of course, I don’t either, but I don’t approve of killing and hurting people just to save my own skin”

“Your sentiments do you credit, but they didn’t stop your brother murdering John Tregarth,” Don said quietly. “The situation isn’t perhaps so dramatic as you make it appear. You need not return and admit failure. You can drop out of sight.”

She laughed, and again he thought he had never seen a woman as beautiful as she.

“Where would we hide? They are patient and powerful. They don’t forget They would find us sooner or later as I am afraid they will find you, Don. I am quite sure you are very brave and your nerves are very steady, but I do assure you that if you don’t give up the book, sooner or later you will lose your life. It may take months, but one day you will meet with an accident – one of our famous engineered accidents. You can’t escape it.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Don said, smiling. “Break down and cry?”

She shook her head.

“I just happen to like you. I’d hate to think of you dead.”

“But since, according to you, you will be dead a long time before they catch up with me, I don’t see why you should be so anxious,” Don returned. “Sorry, but I’m not influenced by your argument.”

“I can but warn you, Don.”

Harry came in at this moment, carrying a coil of rope.

“I found Curizo upstairs,” he said. “He didn’t make any trouble.”

“Rope this guy,” Don said, pointing to the pilot.

“You can’t get away,” Natzka said. “I’ll give you your life in return for the book. I must have the book!”

“Don’t talk through the back of your neck!” Don said. “Of course we can get away. We’re using the hover plane.”

Natzka’s face went chalk white.

“You can’t handle it!”

“You forget, Carl, that Mr. Micklem is an expert pilot,” Maria said, and in spite of her smile, her face paled too. “I don’t think you have been very clever to give him such an easy opportunity to get away.”

“Be quiet!” Natzka exclaimed.

Harry completed roping the pilot, then crossed over to Natzka who suddenly jumped from his chair and caught at Harry’s throat. It was a move Harry had been expecting. He swept Nazka’s hands away with his left arm and then slammed a right-hand punch to Natzka’s jaw. Natzka’s eyes rolled back, he sagged at the knees and Harry shoved him back into the chair.

Maria caught her breath sharply as Harry hit her brother, and she turned away her head. Then she stiffened and looked out of the window.

“You should hurry, Don,” she said. “They’re coming down the road.”

Harry jumped to the window.

“They are, boss! They must have picked up a car on the road.”

He stepped behind Maria, dropped a loop of rope around her and fastened the rope to the back of the chair.

“I hope that’s not too tight, miss,” he said.

Harry was always courteous to the ladies.

She looked over her shoulder and gave him a dazzling smile.

“Don’t worry about me.” She looked at Don. “Goodbye. I hope you get away.”

Don hesitated. He wondered if he should take her with him, then he remembered how she had nearly tricked him into leaving Venice. It was too risky. He couldn’t trust her.

“Goodbye and good luck,” he said.

“Let’s go,” Harry said, and together they ran out of the room.

As they reached and climbed into the hover plane, they could see an open car with five men in it, speeding along the dusty road.

Don checked over the instrument panel, fired the starting cartridge and the overhead airscrew began to revolve.

Harry knelt at the open cabin door. As the car turned into the farm gateway, he raised his automatic and fired. The windshield of the car smashed and the car skidded to a standstill. The five men jumped out and scattered.

Harry felt the hover plane lift.

Busso, crouching behind the car, began to fire at the machine as it rose slowly in the air. A bullet zipped past Harry’s face; another smashed the clock on the panel. Harry sent a bullet so close to Busso that he ducked back under cover.

All the men were shooting now and the air hummed with bullets, but the hover plane was climbing and moving away.

“We’ve licked them,” Don said as he pushed forward the throttles, and the hover plane, gathering speed, climbed over the hills and out of range of the shooting.