The Golden Keel / The Vivero Letter (22 page)

Read The Golden Keel / The Vivero Letter Online

Authors: Desmond Bagley

Tags: #fiction

Torloni’s man shook his head but they pressed round him clamouring in drunken voices for him to drink. Suddenly the bottle came down sharply and I heard the thud even from across the street.

‘God,’ I said. ‘I hope they haven’t killed him.’

Piero said, ‘It will be all right; they know the thickness of a man’s skull.’

The drunken men were suddenly miraculously sober and came across the street at a run carrying the limp figure of Torloni’s man. Simultaneously others appeared from the left and the right, also bearing unconscious bodies. A car came up the street and swerved through the gateway.

‘That’s four,’ said Coertze with satisfaction. ‘Take them into the shed.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Put them in that half-finished shed.’ I didn’t want them to get a glimpse of anything that might do us damage later. ‘Tie them up and gag them; let two men watch them.’

Piero issued orders in rapid Italian and the men were carried away. We were surrounded by a group of Italians babbling of how easy it was until Piero shouted for silence. ‘Are you veterans or are you green recruits?’ he bawled. ‘By God, if the Count could see you now he’d have you all shot.’

There was an abashed silence at this, and Piero said, ‘Keep a watch outside. Giuseppi, go to the office and stay with the telephone; if it rings, call me. You others, watch and keep quiet.’

A car hooted outside the gate and I started nervously. Piero took a quick look outside. ‘It is all right; it is Palmerini. Let him in.’

Palmerini’s little Fiat came through the gateway and disgorged Palmerini and his three sons in a welter of arms and legs. He came up to me and said, ‘I am told you are in
a hurry to get your boat ready for sea. That will be extra for the overtime, you understand.’

I grinned. Palmerini was running true to form. ‘How long will it take?’

‘With the lights—four hours, if you help, too.’

That would be three-fifteen—just too late. We would probably have to fight, after all. I said, ‘We may be interrupted, Signor Palmerini.’

‘That is all right, but any damage must be paid for,’ he answered.

Evidently he knew the score, so I said, ‘You will be amply recompensed. Shall we begin?’

He turned and began to berate his sons. ‘What are you waiting for, you lazy oafs; didn’t you hear the signor? The good God should be ashamed for giving me sons so strong in the arm but weak in the head.’ He chased them down to the shed and I began to feel happier about everything.

As the lights sprang up at the seaward end of the shed Francesca looked at the gate and said thoughtfully, ‘If I was Torloni and I wanted to come in here quickly I would drive right through the gate in a car.’

‘You mean ram it?’

‘Yes, the gate is very weak.’

Coertze said jovially. ‘
Reg,
we can soon stop that. We’ve captured one of his cars; I’ll park it across the gateway behind the gate. If he tries that trick he’ll run into something heavier than he bargains for.’

‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ I said. ‘I’ve got to help Palmerini.’ I ran down to the shed and heard the car revving up behind me.

Palmerini met me at the door of the shed. He was outraged. ‘Signor, you cannot put this boat into the water. There is no paint, no copper, nothing on the bottom. She will be destroyed in our Mediterranean water—the worms will eat her up entirely.’

I said, ‘We have no time; she must go into the water as she is.’

His professional ethics were rubbed raw. ‘I do not know whether I should permit it,’ he grumbled. ‘No boat has ever left my yard in such a condition. If anyone hears of it they will say, “Palmerini is an old fool; Palmerini is losing his mind—he is getting senile in his old age.”’

In my impatience to get on with the job I suspected he wasn’t far off the truth. I said, ‘No one will know, Signor Palmerini. I will tell no one.’

We walked across to
Sanford.
Palmerini was still grumbling under his breath about the iniquity of leaving a ship’s bottom unprotected against the small beasts of the sea. He looked at the keel and rapped it with his knuckles. ‘And this, signor. Whoever heard of a brass keel?’

‘I told you I was experimenting,’ I said.

He cocked his head on one side and his walnut face looked at me impishly. ‘Ah, signor, never has there been such a yacht as this in the Mediterranean. Not even the famous
Argo
was like this boat, and not even the Golden Fleece was so valuable.’ He laughed. ‘I’ll see if my lazy sons are getting things ready.’

He went off into the lighted area in front of the shed, cackling like a maniac. I suppose no one could do anything in his yard without his knowing exactly what was going on. He was a great leg-puller, this Palmerini.

I called him back, and said, ‘Signor Palmerini, if all goes well I will come back and buy your boatyard if you are willing to sell. I will give you a good price.’

He chuckled. ‘Do you think I would sell my yard to a man who would send a boat out without paint on her bottom? I was teasing you, my boy, because you always look so serious.’

I smiled. ‘Very well, but there is a lead keel I have no use for. I’m sure you can use it.’ At the current price of
lead the old keel was worth nearly fifteen hundred pounds.

He nodded judiciously. ‘I can use it,’ he said. ‘It will just about pay for tonight’s overtime.’ He cackled again and went off to crack the whip over his sons.

Walker was still sullen and pale and when I began to drive him he became even more sulky, but I ignored that and drove him all the more in my efforts to get
Sanford
ready for sea. Presently we were joined by Coertze and Francesca and the work went more quickly.

Francesca said, ‘I’ve left Piero in charge up there. He knows what to do; besides, he knows nothing about boats.’

‘Neither do you,’ I said.

‘No, but I can learn.’

I said, ‘I think you should leave now. It might get a bit dangerous round here before long.’

‘No,’ she said, stubbornly, ‘I’m staying.’

‘You’re going.’

She faced me. ‘And just how will you make me go?’

She had me there and she knew it. I hesitated, and she said, ‘Not only am I staying, but I’m coming with you in
Sanford.

‘We’ll see about that later,’ I said. ‘At the moment I’ve no time to argue.’

We pulled
Sanford
out of the shed and one of Palmerini’s sons ran the little crane alongside. He picked up the mast and hoisted it high above the boat, gently lowering it between the mast partners. I was below, making sure that the heel of the mast was correctly bedded on the butt plate. Old Palmerini came below and said, ‘I’ll see to the wedges. If you are in the hurry you say you are, you had better see that your engine is fit to run.’

So I went aft and had a look at the engine. When
Sanford
had been taken from the water I had checked the engine twice a week, turning her over a few revolutions to circulate
the oil. Now, she started immediately, running sweetly, and I knew with satisfaction that once we were in the water we could get away at a rate of knots.

I checked the fuel tanks and the water tanks and then went on deck to help the Palmerini boys with the standing rigging. After we had been working for some time, Francesca brought us coffee. I accepted it with thanks, and she said quietly, ‘It’s getting late.’

I looked at my watch; it was two o’clock. ‘My God!’ I said. ‘Only an hour before the deadline. Heard anything from Piero?’

She shook her head. ‘How long will it be before you are finished?’ she asked, looking round the deck.

‘It looks worse than it is,’ I said. ‘I reckon we’ll be nearly two hours, though.’

‘Then we fight,’ she said with finality.

‘It looks like it.’ I thought of Coertze’s plan. ‘It shouldn’t come to much, though.’

‘I’ll stay with Piero,’ she said. ‘I’ll let you know if anything happens.’

I watched her go, then went to Walker. ‘Never mind the running rigging,’ I said. ‘We’ll fix that at sea. Just reeve the halyards through the sheaves and lash them down. We haven’t much time now.’

If we worked hard before, we worked harder then—but it was no use. Francesca came running down from the office. ‘Hal, Hal, Piero wants you.’

I dropped everything and ran up the yard, calling for Coertze as I went. Piero was talking on the telephone when I arrived. After a minute he hung up and said, ‘It’s started.’ Coertze sat on at the desk upon which was spread the map. ‘Who was that?’

Piero laid his finger on the map. ‘These men. We have two men following.’

‘Not the four we’re tackling straight away?’ I asked.

‘No, I haven’t heard of them.’ He crossed to the window and spoke a few words to a man outside. I looked at my watch—it was half past two.

We sat in silence and listened to the minutes tick away. The atmosphere was oppressive and reminded me of the time during the war when we expected a German attack but didn’t know just when or where it was going to come.

Suddenly the telephone rang and we all started.

Piero picked it up and as he listened his lips tightened. He put the telephone down and said, ‘Torloni has got more men. They are gathering in the Piazza Cavour—there are two lorry loads.’

‘Where the hell did
they
come from?’ I demanded.

‘From Spezia; he has called in another gang.’

My brain went into high gear. Why had Torloni done that? He didn’t need so many men against four of us—unless he knew of our partisan allies—and it was quite evident that he did. He was going to overrun us by force of numbers.

‘How many extra men?’ asked Coertze.

Piero shrugged. ‘At least thirty, I was told.’

Coertze cursed. His plan was falling to pieces—the enemy was concentrating and our own forces were divided.

I said to Piero, ‘Can you get in touch with your men?’

He nodded. ‘One watches—the other is near a telephone.’

I looked at Coertze. ‘You’d better bring them in.’

He shook his head violently. ‘No, the plan is still good. We can still engage them here and attack them in the rear.’

‘How many men have we got altogether?’

Coertze said, ‘Twenty-five Italians and the four of us.’

‘And they’ve got forty-three at least. Those are bad odds.’

Francesca said to Piero, ‘The men we have are those who can fight. There are others who cannot fight but who can watch. It is a pity that the fighters have to be watchers, too. Why not get some of the old men to do the watching so that you can collect the fighters together?’

Piero’s hand went to the phone but stopped as Coertze abruptly said, ‘No!’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘It’s a good idea, but it’s too late. We can’t start changing plans now. And I want that phone free—I want to know what is happening to our mobile force.’

We waited while the leaden minutes dragged by. Coertze suddenly said, ‘Where’s Walker?’

‘Working on the boat,’ I said. ‘He’s of more use down there.’

Coertze snorted. ‘That’s God’s truth. He’ll be no use in a brawl.’

The telephone shrilled and Piero scooped it up in one quick movement. He listened intently, then began to give quick instructions. I looked at Coertze and said, ‘Four down.’

‘…and thirty-nine to go,’ he finished glumly.

Piero put down the phone. ‘That was the mobile force—they are going to the Piazza Cavour.’

The phone rang again under his hand and he picked it up. I said to Francesca, ‘Go down to the boat and tell Walker to work like hell. You’d better stay down there, too.’

As she left the office, Piero said, ‘Torloni has left the Piazza Cavour—two cars and two trucks. We had only two men there and they have already lost one truck. The other truck and the cars are coming straight here.’

Coertze thumped the table. ‘Dammit, where did that other truck go?’

I said sardonically, ‘I wouldn’t worry about it. Things can’t help but get better from now on; they can’t get any worse, and we’ve nowhere to go but up.’

I left the office and stood in the darkness. Giuseppi said, ‘What is happening, signor?’

‘Torloni and his men will be here within minutes. Tell the others to be prepared.’

After a few moments Coertze joined me. ‘The telephone line’s been cut,’ he said.

‘That tops it,’ I said. ‘Now we don’t know what’s going on at all.’

‘I hope our friends outside use their brains and concentrate into one bunch; if they don’t, we’re sunk,’ he said grimly.

Piero joined us. ‘Will Palmerini’s sons fight?’ I asked.

‘Yes, if they are attacked.’

‘You’d better go down and tell the old man to lie low. I wouldn’t want him to get hurt.’

Piero went away and Coertze settled down to watch. The street was empty and there was no sound. We waited a long time and nothing happened at all. I thought that perhaps Torloni was disconcerted by finding his watchmen missing—that might put him off his stroke. And if he had a roll-call and discovered a total of eight men missing it was bound to make him uneasy.

I looked at my watch—three-fifteen. If Torloni would only hold off we might get the boat launched and away and the men dispersed. I prayed he would hold off at least another half-hour.

He didn’t.

Coertze said suddenly, ‘Something’s coming.’

I heard an engine changing gear and the noise was suddenly loud. Headlights flashed from the left, approaching rapidly, and the engine roared. I saw it was a lorry being driven fast, and when it was abreast of the yard, it swerved and made for the gate.

I blessed Francesca’s intuition and shouted in Italian, ‘To the gates!’

The lorry smashed into the gates and there was a loud cracking and snapping of wood, overlaid by the crash as the lorry hit the car amidships and came to a jolting halt. We didn’t wait for Torloni’s men to recover but piled in immediately. I scrambled over the ruined car and got on to the bonnet of the lorry, whirling round to the passenger side. The man in the passenger seat was shaking his head groggily; he had smashed it against the windscreen, unready for such a fierce impact. I hit him with my fist and he slumped down to the floor of the cab.

The driver was frantically trying to restart his stalled engine and I saw Coertze haul him out bodily and toss him away into the darkness. Then things got confused. Someone from the back of the lorry booted me on the head and I slipped from the running-board conscious of a wave of our men going in to the attack. When I had recovered my wits it was all over.

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