again as a weapon, but they were too close now, rolling and grappling over the tiled floor, clawing and gouging at each other. Azziz tried to bring his knee up into Levy’s groin, but missed, striking his thigh instead. Sensation was returning to Levy’s numbed arm. He thrust upwards, getting the heel of his hand beneath the boy’s chin, forcing his head upwards, at the same time clutching the wrist of the gun hand; he could feel Azziz’s teeth grating under the pressure. The boy clubbed wildly with the handcuff, pounding Levy on the neck and shoulders and twisting desperately to free his upthrust chin. When he did so he snapped down, trying to bite Levy’s fingers. The Israeli rolled away to avoid the teeth, and his grip momentarily loosened on Azziz’s wrist. Levy found himself trapped against the bottom step, his shoulder caught beneath its lip. The boy had secured his hold upon the gun and was bringing the barrel around towards him. Levy slashed out with a chopping motion that knocked the gun against the step. And with unthinking ferocity he used his foot again, stamping down on the tightly clenched hand. He heard the crunch as Azziz’s fingers splintered between his heel and the metal of the automatic. The boy screamed. The gun clattered back against the marble and Levy grabbed it, rolling farther away and then swivelling back to point it at the Arab.
“Fool!” he gasped. “You stupid bloody little fool.”
Azziz was crouched doubled over, trying not to cry, his crushed hand pressed against his stomach. “You’ve broken it,” he groaned. “You’ve broken my hand.”
“Let me see.”
Azziz stayed bent over.
“I said let me see!”
Azziz reluctantly extended his right hand, the wrist supported in the palm of his left. The index finger was bent awkwardly, broken, and the one alongside was already swelling, blackly discoloured.
“You can’t leave me like this,” said the boy.
“I’ve got to,” said Levy.
They were all nervous and excited, laughing too easily and too loudly; only Leiberwitz showed any control, remaining with her in the main living room after Levy had gone. Karen knew he wanted her to make some request, like being allowed into the garden, so that he would have the pleasure of refusing her. Instead, Karen got up from the table and started to walk towards the stairs. “Where are you going?” said the bearded Israeli.
“To my room.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“Please may I go to my room?” she said with weary disdain.
Leiberwitz considered for a moment, for effect, then said, “OK.”
Karen sat slump-shouldered on the bed, staring down at the floor. It seemed inconceivable that soon, in hours or maybe days, she would be reunited with Richard; be kissed by him, having to pretend she wanted him.
She wouldn’t pretend, she decided; couldn’t pretend. She’d tell him as soon as they met. Apologize for the hurt. Beg his forgiveness even. But she wouldn’t pretend. Maybe he wouldn’t be too surprised, not for long anyway. There had been too many arguments over the last few months for him not to know she was fed up. Inevitable that they would separate. Peculiar though the circumstances might be, what had happened was just bringing it all to a head. She looked up at movement from the doorway.
“I know his wife,” said Leiberwitz. “I know Rebecca.”
“I suppose you would.”
“I’m godfather, to Yatzik.”
“He’s told me about Rebecca. And the children,” said Karen.
“He’s sacrificed the right to expect to be in charge.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I want you to know what you’ve cost him.”
“But he is still in charge, isn’t he?”
“Here maybe,” said Leiberwitz. “He might not be later.”
Four miles away, in the Grand Hotel du Cours in the town of Sisteron, Deaken looked angrily at Swart and said, “They’re moving, for Christ’s sake! The freighter’s gone and now they’ve got lorries at the villa. How much longer are we going to wait?”
“Soon now,” soothed the South African, unhappy at the way they were using the man.
Mitri came with his customary discreet quietness into the stateroom to give Azziz the message that had been relayed from the Hydra Star. The Arab scanned it, then looked up at Grearson and Marinetti. “They’ve received instructions,” he said. “They’ve got to go to Toulon. A berth has been scheduled for them there.”
“They won’t do anything until they’re sure the boy’s OK,” said Marinetti. “They’re the best trained group of guys I’ve come across.”
Grearson turned at the sound of the departing tender.
“Carole and the other girls talked about spending a couple of days ashore shopping,” said Azziz. “I thought it best to get them out of the way.”
Grearson hoped Carole wouldn’t be gone too long; after this was over, he wanted to relax.
35
Kahane was facing the door and saw him first, starting up with concern, then the others turned and Greening said, “What happened?”
On the way back to Sisteron the cut over Levy’s eye had begun to bleed again and he had completed the journey with a handkerchief over the wound.
“He made a break,” said Levy.
“So you needed help there too?” said Leibenwitz.
“He’s where he should be, waiting to be freed,” said Levy, irritated by the constant challenging. Azziz had started to cry when he had realized that he was to be left alone without help, the defiance going at last. Levy couldn’t shake off the feeling of sickness at abandoning him. His only concern was to hurry now, so that the boy could be released.
“Everything’s ready,” said Kahane. “Lorries gassed up… everything.”
“Where’s the woman?”
“She’s safe and untouched,” said Leiberwitz. He paused and then said, “No one else wanted to.”
Levy moved forward, instantly aware of Leiberwitz tensing, wanting a physical confrontation. He stopped, fighting for control. Leiberwitz smiled, as aware as everyone else in the room of the retreat.
“She’s necessary for what is to happen,” said Levy.
“We know how necessary she is,” sneered Leiberwitz.
It was a childlike exchange but he was losing ground. Levy realized, and there was already sufficient disarray among them. “The freighter is coming into Toulon,” he announced.
There was a stir among the group, breaking the tension between Levy and Leiberwitz.
Levy went on, “We only want the small arms, rifles, the rockets and the launchers. According to Underberg, the Marriv is at berth thirty-eight. There’ll be people there waiting. Underberg’s people. The guns are coming into berth twenty.”
The attention upon him now was absolute and Levy decided they were back under control-everyone except Leiberwitz.
“Will there be any resistance?” asked Greening.
Levy shook his head. “That’s why the boy’s been moved; and why only the girl is going to know where he is. Azziz has been warned that you don’t know anything… that it would be pointless putting up a fight, because only his son will suffer.”
“You know,” said Leiberwitz. “Aren’t you coming to the docks?”
“Not immediately,” said Levy. “But I’m coming. 1 don’t want anything to start until I get there.”
“So who decided you wouldn’t break under pressure?”
“Haven’t we other people to fight?” said Levy. There was so much more to do and already he felt very
