'It's a load of b u l l s h i t… '
'Your rudeness neither offends me nor helps Harrison.®
' I think we should be on our way, Archie.' Charlesworth too was standing. 'I'll see you later in the office, sir.'
When they were out in the sunshine and walking towards the car, Charlesworth saw that there were tears streaming down Archie Carpenter's face.
For several minutes Harrison had been watching the jumping needle of the fuel dial that bounced against the left corner of the display arc bringing him the knowledge that the tank was drying, emptying. He wondered how the boy would react to the idea that the car would soon be static and useless, considered whether he should alert him to the impending halt of their progress, or whether he should simply drive on till the engine coughed and died, barren of petrol. It depended what he wanted from it, whether it was a fight, or whether it was the easy way and safety, however temporary. Tell him now that they were about to stop on the hard shoulder and perhaps the boy wouldn't panic, would work at his options. Allow it to happen and the boy might crumble under a crisis, and that was dangerous because of the ready presence of the P38.
Same old question, Geoffrey, same old situation. To confront or to bend, and no middle road.
Same old answer, Geoffrey. Don't shake it, don't rock it.
Don't kick the bucket of muck in his face because that's the short way to pain, and the gun's close and armed.
'We won't be going much further, Giancarlo.'
Harrison's softly spoken words boomed in the quiet of the car.
Beside him the boy straightened from his low-slung sitting posture. The gun barrel dug at Harrison's ribs as if demanding explanation.
'We're almost out of petrol.'
The boy's head in its curled and tangled hair darted across Harrison's chest to study the dial. Harrison eased back in his seat, gave him more room, and heard his breathing speed and rise.
'There's not much more in the old girl, Giancarlo. Perhaps a few more kilometres.'
The boy lifted his head, and the hand that did not hold the gun scraped at his chin as if this were a way to summon inspiration and clarity of decision.
' It's not my fault, Giancarlo.'
'Silence,' the boy snapped back.
Just the breathing to mingle with the steady purr of the little engine, and time too for Harrison to think and consider. Behind their different walls the man and the boy entertained the same thoughts. What would a stoppage mean to the security of the journey? What risk would it offer Giancarlo of identification and subsequent pursuit? What possibility of escape would it present to his prisoner? And it's not only the boy with decisions to make, Geoffrey, it's you as well. He couldn't be as vigilant, could he, if they were stopped on the roadside, pulled into a toll gate, going in search of a petrol station ? Opportunities were going to loom, opportunities for flight, for a struggle.
Then he'll shoot.
Sure?
Can't be sure but likely.
Worth a try, whether he'll shoot or not?
Perhaps, if the opportunity's there.
That's the crawling way out, that's the gutless way.
For Christ's sake, it's not a bloody virility contest. It's my bloody life, it's my bloody stomach with the P38 stuck into it. It's my neck with the axe hanging over it. It's not gesture time. I said perhaps, that should bloody be enough.
You won't do it, you won't take him on, you won't fight.
Perhaps, but only if it presents itself.
'We take the Monte Cassino turn-off.' Giancarlo was out of his dream, breaking Harrison's debate.
High above them to the right of the autostrada perched the triumphant monastery. It loomed on the mountain top, a widow's shrine for women of many far countries whose men had staggered and fallen distant years back under the rain of shrapnel and explosive, and bullet swathes. The car plunged past the signs for the turn- off.
Giancarlo raised himself in his seat and pulled from a hip pocket a wad of notes and the autostrada toll ticket taken hundreds of kilometres back from a machine.
' I had not thought of the petrol,' he laughed with a quick nervousness. A drip of weakness before the tap was turned tighter. 'Arrison, you will not be silly. You will pay the ticket.
The gun will be at you all the time. You are not concerned with what will happen to me, you are concerned with what will happen to yourself. If you are silly then you are dead; whether I am too does not help you. You understand, 'Arrison?'
'Yes, Giancarlo.'
Harrison pulled the wheel hard to the right, felt the tyres bite beneath him, heard their squeal, and the pace of the autostrada diminished from his windscreen mirror. He had slowed the car as they wound on the tight bend towards the toll gate. Giancarlo reached back to the seat behind and grabbed at his light anorak, arranged it over his lower arm and his fist and the gun and again pressured the barrel into the softness at Harrison's waist.
'You don't speak.'
'What if he talks to me?' Harrison stammered, the tension exuding from the boy spread contagiously.
' I will talk to him, if it is necessary… If I fire the pistol from here I kill you, 'Arrison.'
' I know, Giancarlo.'
Perhaps, but only if it presents itself. You know the answer, Geoffrey. He pressed the brake as the cabins of the toll gate loomed in front of him. He stopped the car as the bonnet edged against the narrow barrier, carefully wound down the window and without looking passed the ticket and a banknote out into the cool dawn air.
'Grazie.'
The voice startled Harrison. Contact again with the real and the permanent life, contact with the clean and the familiar. His eyes followed his arm but there was no face in his vision, only a hand that was dark and hair- covered with a worn greasy palm that took his money, and was gone before snaking back with a fist full of coins. It had not presented itself. The gun gouged at his flesh, and the man would not even have seen their faces. The voice beside him was shrill.
'Una stazione de servizio, per benzina?'
'Cinquen cento metri..'
'Grazie.'
'Prego.'
The barrier was raised, Harrison edged the car into gear.
Shouldn't he have crashed the gears, stalled the engine, dropped the change in the roadway? Shouldn't he have done something?
But the gun was there, round and penetrating at the skin. All right for those who don't know, all right for those without experience. Let them come and sit here, let them find their own answers to cowardice. Within moments the lights of a petrol station shone at them in the half light, diffused with the growing sun.
'You follow my instructions exactly/
'Yes, Giancarlo.'
'Go to the far pumps.'
Where it was darkest, where the light was masked by the building, Harrison stopped. Giancarlo waited till the handbrake was applied, the gear in neutral, before his hand snaked out at speed to rip the keys from the ignition. He snapped open his door, thrust it shut behind him and jogged around the back of the car till he was at Harrison's door. He held his anorak across his waist, with an innocence that was above suspicion.
Harrison saw a man in the blue overalls of Agip stroll without urgency towards the car.
'Venti mila lire di benzina, per fa vore '
' S i. '
Would he look into the car, would the curiosity bred from the long night hours cause him to turn from the boy
