'What do you want?' he asked softly. 'I didn't call you.'
Menotto's fat, swarthy face was pale, and sweat glistened on his forehead. His dark curls lay limp; his wide, dark eyes were frightened.
'They've got Jacopo,' he stammered.
Alsconi selected a cube of ice and placed it in the glass.
'Who has got Jacopo?' he asked, moving to his chair. He sat down.
'The people at the villa. I went down there to take over. I saw one of them carry Jacopo into the house,' Menotto said.
'About ten minutes later, two cars arrived. In them were six men, Italians. They didn't look as if they were from the police.'
Alsconi drank half the whisky, then he put down the glass and scratched the side of his nose.
'I see,' he said. 'I see.'
Menotto watched him fearfully as he stared blankly at the opposite wall.
Alsconi realized immediately that this was his end in Siena. He realized too that he had made a final mistake in sending Jacopo to watch the villa. Willie would never have been caught; he had been a professional. Jacopo was nothing better than an amateur and he would talk. He knew too much. He knew where Micklem was. He knew of Alsconi's activities.
He was the proof the police wanted: yes, a fatal mistake.
Alsconi looked at Menotto.
'You and I will leave here in half an hour,' he said. 'Bring the car to the side entrance. You will find in my office five wooden boxes. Put them in the car. There is a handbag in my bedroom, ready packed, put that in the car too. Pack a bag for yourself. We shall not be coming back.'
'Yes, signore' Menotto said and went quickly from the room.
Alsconi got to his feet and carrying his half-empty glass to the liquor cabinet, he poured more whisky into the glass.
He had made preparations for this situation more than a year ago. He had rented a villa in Palermo, and in the villa he had installed a strong-room that now held the bulk of his fortune. He would fly down there that night. His yacht was ready in the harbour. The money would be transferred to the yacht and he would sail for some out-of- the-way port in North Africa. It was as simple as that. Then he remembered Crantor, and he frowned. Grantor was bringing with him fifteen thousand pounds sterling in five-pound notes, and Alsconi was short of English currency.
Crantor was coming by air-taxi. He would take off from a field near Rye where no prying customs official would inquire into the luggage he was carrying. He would land on a disused American Air Force landing strip forty miles from Siena.
Alsconi decided he would have to meet the aircraft. He was certainly not going to make a present of fifteen thousand pounds to Crantor. The obvious thing to do was to take the air-taxi and land somewhere in Palermo under the cover of darkness. But the air-taxi presented difficulties. There was room for only one passenger. Crantor would have to take Alsconi's car and drive to Palermo. Menotto? Alsconi shook his head. He couldn't trust Menotto out of his sight. It was a pity for Menotto was a first-class cook, but he
would have to be wiped out. It would be fatal to let him fall into the hands of the police.
It would also be fatal to let Englemann and Carlos be caught by the police. Englemann would talk. Alsconi scratched the side of his nose. He was fond of Carlos, and yet the huge negro was too conspicuous. He couldn't keep him with him any longer. Carlos would be instantly recognized wherever he was, and his recognition would lead the police to Alsconi. No, Carlos would have to go too.
Alsconi prided himself on being able to make quick and ruthless decisions. Felix and Lorelli must be wiped out.
Englemann and Carlos must go with them. Micklem, of course, must also die. It was convenient that the five of them were underground. They could be wiped out without difficulty.
He left the room. Moving quickly for a man of his bulk, he made his way to the boiler-room at the rear of the house. In the boiler-room were the fuse boxes that controlled the whole of the elaborate electrical system of the underground quarters. He snapped down the four switches that would put the control room out of operation, then he returned to the lounge. He went to the casement windows and looked out.
Menotto was loading the Cadillac with the five wooden boxes he had taken from Alsconi's office.
Alsconi walked over to his desk and picked up the telephone receiver.
'Yes, boss?' Carlos said instantly.
'Connect me with Felix,' Alsconi said. 'He's with Miss Lorelli I believe. When I have talked to him, I want to talk to you.'
'Yes, boss,' Carlos said. 'Hold on a moment.'
It took a few seconds before Felix's voice came on the line.
'Ah, Felix,' Alsconi said. 'I had planned to talk to you tomorrow, but events appear to be moving faster than I had anticipated.'
Felix said in a hard, loud voice, 'What's the idea? Carlos says the current has been cut off on your orders. I want to talk to you. I have something to tell you.'
'Nothing you have to tell me would interest me now,' Alsconi said. 'I have very little time. I am about to leave here for good1. Jacopo has been stupid enough to get himself caught. I don't have to tell you what that will mean: You will not be coming with me. Since in the past your services have been satisfactory, I will waste a few moments
