1954 - Mission to Venice by James Hadley Chase Read Free Book Online

row of lantern-shaped lamps.
    Then he saw her.
    She was looking towards him from across the piazza as she stood in a lighted shop doorway. She was still wearing her black working dress, and over her head she wore a long black shawl that half hid her face, but Don was sure it was the girl from the glass shop.
    He began to move slowly across the piazza towards her, elbowing his way through the crush. He paused once to look back at the man in the white hat who still sat at his table, half-hidden by his newspaper. He appeared to be taking no interest in Don’s movements.
    The short, thickset man had also seen the girl, and he moved around the arcade, taking the longer way round, but moving faster than Don as the arcade was less crowded. The girl waited a moment or so, then when Don was within forty yards or so of her, she turned and walked through the arch under the clock tower and into the Merceria.
    Don went after her.
    The short, thickset man sidled just behind him. As soon as Don had passed under the arch and out of sight, the man in the white hat got to his feet, paid the waiter and went towards the clock tower with long, twisting strides that took him quickly through the crowd.
    Don could see the girl ahead of him. She kept on, not looking back, and he made no attempt to overtake her. He decided if she wanted him to catch up with her, she would have waited for him. She kept on until she left the lighted shopping quarter and then she turned down a dimly lit Calle. Don followed her. Halfway down, he looked back over his shoulder, but the short, thickset man was far too great an expert in following people to be caught with his back against a light. He was waiting just out of sight, listening to Don’s retreating footfalls. The man in the white hat came up to him.
    “Get around to the back of them,” the short, thickset man muttered. “Quickly!”
    The man in the white hat ran down the Calle. His long legs covered the ground silently. He darted down the Calle that ran parallel to the one Don had just gone down. Seeing only the empty Calle stretching back to the lighted intersection and satisfied that no one was taking an interest in what he was doing, Don quickened his pace as the girl turned a corner. He also turned the comer, and a few yards ahead of him, he saw her waiting for him.
    “Excuse me, signore,” she said as Don came up to her. “You are il signor Micklem?”
    “That’s right,” Don said. “Who are you?”
    “I am Louisa Peccati,” she said breathlessly. “There is no one following you, signore?”
    Don remembered the man in the white hat.
    “I don’t think so,” he said cautiously “Those were Tregarth’s initials you showed me in the shop, weren’t they?”
    “Yes.” She looked fearfully up and down the dark Calle. “He is in very great danger. They are hunting for him. You must be very careful. . .”
    “Who are watching him?” Don asked sharply.
    She caught hold of his wrist.
    “Listen!”
    Don heard quick light footfalls coming down the adjacent Calle.
    “Someone’s coming!” she whispered.
    “It’s all right,” Don said quietly. “No one’s going to hurt you. Where’s Tregarth?”
    “Go to 39, Calle Mondello. . .” she began, then broke off as a thickset, short man came rapidly down the Calle towards them. Don felt the girl’s fingers tighten on his wrist and she crouched back. He also moved back, stepping slightly in front of her to give the approaching man room to pass. As the man came upon them, he paused abruptly.
    “Excuse me, signore,” he said and waved an unlighted cigarette at Don. “May I trouble you for a light?”
    “Sure,” Don said, anxious to get rid of the man. He groped in his pocket for his lighter.
    The short, thickset man stepped closer. Suddenly his right fist shot up with the speed of a striking snake and slammed with paralysing force into Don’s stomach.
    If Don hadn’t sensed the blow and tightened his stomach muscles at the moment of