Bloody Passage (v5) by Jack Higgins Read Free Book Online Page B

napkin. "All right, go to Palermo and see this man. Justin can fly you up there in the Cessna in the morning."
    "I want Barzini and probably two others. I'm hoping he'll be able to provide specialists. That kind of thing comes expensive."
    "How much?"
    "That depends how rich he is these days." I shrugged. "Sixty, maybe seventy-five thousand dollars for the team. This is a knife-edge proposition, remember. One step and we all go down."
    "I will honor any agreement you make," he said calmly. "Justin will have my personal draft for twenty-five thousand dollars in his pocket as a down payment. Will that satisfy this Barzini?"
    "I should think so." I stood up. "I don't want Langley getting into my hair. Is that understood?"
    "Perfectly." He raised his glass and smiled beautifully. "Goodnight to you, Major Grant."
    I left them to it and moved back through the garden toward my own room. It started to rain, a fine spray blowing in on the wind, but enough to freshen the heavy atmosphere and to perfume the night with the scent of flowers.
    I lay on the divan by the open french windows gazing out into the night and smoked a cigarette. After a while, I must have dozed because I came awake suddenly and was instantly aware of two things. That it was raining very heavily indeed and that my sister was playing the piano somewhere not too far away.
    It was a Bach Prelude, scintillating, ice-cold stuff, perfectly played and perfectly in keeping with the circumstances. 1 found an old raincoat in the wardrobe, draped it over my shoulders and went out on the terrace.
    Sheet lightning flickered far out to sea, thunder rumbled menacingly overhead and the rain increased into a solid drenching downpour as I moved through the garden, following the sound of the piano.
    I mounted to the high terrace and approached the library where I had first seen her, but she was not there. I moved on, climbing steps to another terrace, conscious of the murmur of voices.
    Shutters stood partially open to the night, a white gauze curtain billowed in the wind. When I peered inside, Dimitri Stavrou was seated on the edge of a large four-poster bed. Simone was standing in front of him and his hands were busy. I could see her face reflected in the mirror on the far wall and she looked about as wretched as any human being could. In other circumstances I might have felt sorry for her, but Hannah was my only consideration now.
    I moved on through the rain, following the sound of music and mounted some marble steps to another broad terrace protected by a striped canvas sun awning from which rain dropped steadily. French windows stood open to the night, and inside Hannah sat at a grand piano.
    I approached cautiously. There seemed to be no one else around and I was filled with a sudden wild hope that I might grab her and be out of there before Stavrou and his friends realized what had hit them.
    And then thunder rumbled menacingly in the distance again, only it was deep down in the dog's throat this time, and the Doberman stood up beside the piano stool, stiff-legged, and eyed me coldly.
    Hannah turned to stare out into the rain toward me. "Is anyone there?" she called.
    Frau Kubel stepped into view and saw me at once. A hand disappeared inside her white apron and reappeared clutching an automatic with a six-inch silencer on the end. To my horror, she pointed it at the back of Hannah's skull and stared fixedly toward me, not saying a word, the same grim expression on her face.
    My blood ran cold and I hastily raised both hands, palms toward her. She lowered the automatic, but still held it against her thigh, gazing toward me.
    A hand tugged at my sleeve, I turned and found Langley at my elbow. "Very naughty, old stick," he whispered cheerfully. "I mean, there could have been a very nasty accident there."
    "You go to hell," I said and I brushed past him and moved back through the garden to my room.
    I stripped off my wet clothes and lay on the bed thinking about things, thoroughly