“Take care, my dear,” Ferguson called.
She raised an arm as
She went past the bar and the shop, and started up the path past the Sugar Mill Restaurant to the car park where the taxis waited. Algaro and Guerra had watched the departure from the shadows and now they followed her.
“What shall we do?” Guerra whispered.
“She’s bound to go home sooner or later,” Algaro said. “The best place to deal with her, all nice and quiet and we don’t even need to follow her.”
Jenny got into her jeep and started the engine and they waited until she was driving away before moving toward their own vehicle.
There were still a few people in the bar when she went in and Mary was helping one of the waitresses to clear the tables. She came to the end of the bar and Billy joined them.
“They got off all right then?” Billy asked.
“That’s right.”
“Are we going to be told what they’re up to, Miss Jenny? Everyone is sure acting mighty mysterious.”
“Maybe one of these days, Billy, but not right now.”
She yawned, feeling very tired, and Mary said, “Don’t you hold her up with any damn fool questions, she needs her sleep.” She turned to Jenny. “Mr. Dillon asked us to spend the night with you and that’s what we’re going to do.”
“All right,” Jenny said. “I’ll go on up to the house.”
“Maybe you should wait for us, Miss Jenny,” Billy told her. “It will only take us five minutes to close.”
She opened her purse and took out the Belgian semi-automatic. “I’ve got this, Billy, and I know how to use it. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you soon.”
She’d parked the jeep right outside at the bottom of the steps and she slid behind the wheel, turned on the engine and drove away, so tired that for a moment she forgot to switch on the lights. The streets were reasonably quiet now as she drove out toward Gallows Point and she was at the house in five minutes. She parked in the driveway, went up the steps, found her key and unlocked the front door. She switched on the porch light, then went in.
God, but she was tired, more tired than she had ever been, and she mounted the stairs wearily, opened her bedroom door and switched on the light. It was hot, very hot in spite of the ceiling fan, and she crossed to the French windows leading to the balcony and opened them. There were a few heavy spots of rain and then a sudden rush, the kind of thing that happened at night at that time of year. She stood there for a moment enjoying the coolness, then turned and found Algaro and Guerra standing just inside the room.
It was as if she was dreaming, but that terrible face told her otherwise, the cropped hair, the scar from the eye to the mouth. He laughed suddenly and said to Guerra in Spanish, “This could prove interesting.”
And Jenny, in spite of her tiredness, surprised even herself by darting forward and around them to the door, almost made it, and it was Guerra who caught her right wrist and swung her around. Algaro struck her heavily across the face, then hurled her back on the bed. She tried to pull the gun from her purse. He took it from her, turned her on her face, pulling her left arm up, twisted and applied some special kind of leverage. The pain was terrible and she cried out.
“You like that, eh?” Algaro was enjoying himself and tossed the gun across the room. “Let’s try some more.”
And this time, the pain was the worst thing she’d ever known and she screamed at the top of her voice. He turned her over, slapped her heavily again and took a flick knife from his pocket. When he jumped the blade she saw that it was razor sharp. He grabbed a handful of her hair.
“Now I’m going to ask you some questions.” He stroked the blade across her cheek and pricked it gently with the needle point so that blood came. “If you refuse to answer, I’ll slit your nose and that’s just for starters.”
She was only human and terrified out of her mind. “Anything,” she pleaded.
“Right. Where would we find the wreck of U180?”
“Thunder Point,” she gasped.
“And where would that be?”
“It’s on the chart. About ten or twelve miles south of St. John. That’s all I know.”
“Dillon, the Brigadier and Carney, we saw them leave from the dock at Caneel Bay. They’ve gone to Thunder Point to dive on the U-boat, is that right?” She hesitated and he slapped her again. “Is that right?”
“Yes,” she said. “They’re diving at first light.”
He patted her face, closed the knife and turned to Guerra. “Lock the door.”
Guerra seemed bewildered. “Why?”
“I said lock the door, idiot.” Algaro walked past him and swung it shut, turning the key. He turned and his smile was the cruellest thing Jenny had ever seen in her life. “You did say you’d do anything?” and he started to take his jacket off.
She screamed again, totally hysterical now, jumped to her feet, turned and ran headlong through the open French windows on to the balcony in total panic, hit the railings and went over, plunging down through the heavy rain to the garden below.
Guerra knelt beside her in the rain and felt for a pulse. He shook his head. “She looks dead to me.”
“Right, leave her there,” Algaro said. “That way it looks like an accident. Now let’s get out of here.”
The sound of their jeep’s engine faded into the night and Jenny lay there, rain falling on her face. It was only five minutes later that Billy and Mary Jones turned into the drive in their jeep and found her at once, lying half across a path, half on grass. “My God.” Mary dropped to her knees and touched Jenny’s face. “She’s cold as ice.”
“Looks like she fell from the balcony,” Billy said.
At that moment Jenny groaned and moved her head slightly. Mary said, “Thank God, she’s alive. You carry her inside and I’ll phone for the doctor,” and she ran up the steps into the house.
14
Algaro spoke to Santiago from a public telephone on the waterfront. Santiago listened intently to what he had to say. “So, the girl is dead? That’s unfortunate.”
“No sweat,” Algaro told him. “Just an accident, that’s how it will look. What happens now?”
“Stay where you are and phone me back in five minutes.”
Santiago put the phone down and turned to Serra. “Thunder Point, about ten or twelve miles south of St. John.”
“We’ll have a look on the chart, Senor.” Santiago followed him along to the bridge and Serra switched on the light over the chart table. “Ah, yes, here we are.”
Santiago had a look, frowning slightly. “Dillon and company are on their way there now. They intend to dive at first light. Is there any way we could beat them to it if we left now?”
“I doubt it, Senor, and that’s open sea out there. They’d see the
“I take your point,” Santiago said, “and, as we learned the other day, they’re armed.” He examined the chart again and nodded. “No, I think we’ll let them do all the work for us. If they succeed, it will make them feel good. They’ll sail back to St. John happy, maybe even slightly off-guard because they will think they have won the game.”
