roof trusses were still in place, but the battens, tiles and joists had long since vanished. What was left were the four stone walls, a couple of windows and the original door. The windows were above his eye-line, and the door closed, so he was unable to see what was inside.
Bronson did a full circuit of the building before pausing beside the door, the only entrance to the ruined interior. He checked all around him, looking and listening, but the night was dark and silent, the only sound the distant lapping of waves against the shore. Lights twinkled all around, principally from the city of Venice itself in the north-east, and from the mainland, which extended in an arc around to the north, but none of the other islands at this end of the lagoon appeared to be inhabited.
He made a final check, then took hold of the ring that formed the handle of the old church door and very slowly turned it. There was a faint squeak as the old metal moved, and then he felt the door give slightly. He pushed gently against it, and the door swung inwards almost silently. Looking round again, he stepped through the opening into the ancient building.
Dotted here and there across the old stone floor were piles of stones and lumps of wood. Grass and other plants were starting to grow in the cracks between the paving slabs that composed the floor. There had clearly been no attempt made to restore the building. Whoever owned the island was apparently quite happy to let the place fall apart, and for nature to reclaim the site. And yet Bronson felt uneasy. Why had the entrance door opened so easily? It was almost as though the hinges were kept lubricated, and that the door itself was well used.
Then he heard a door opening and closing somewhere beyond the ruined building. Footsteps, of at least two people, sounded from outside, heading towards him, and Bronson knew that he didn’t have time to get out of the church.
He was trapped inside the building.
69
Before Angela could reply, the cellar lights clicked on and she was able to look at her prison for the first time. Seconds later, a guard strode down the stairs and walked across the stone floor to Marietta’s cell. He was carrying towels, two buckets of warm water and a pair of white robes.
‘It’s time,’ he ordered. ‘Get ready; and be quick about it. The first members have already arrived, and we don’t want to keep them waiting.’
He tossed a towel and a robe on to the bed, gave Marietta a malicious grin, and left her to wash. Next, he stood at the entrance to Angela’s cell. Stepping forward, he threw the robe and towel on to her bed, said something to her in Italian, then turned and left the cellar.
‘What did he say to me?’ Angela asked, once the cellar door had rumbled closed.
For a few moments, Marietta didn’t respond. Then she gave a heavy sigh. ‘He told you that the show was about to start,’ she replied, ‘and we’d both have starring roles. I think they’re going to kill us both.’
The girl’s voice sounded flat and resigned, as if she’d somehow managed to come to terms with the inevitability of her fate.
‘I know,’ Angela replied, her voice choked with emotion. ‘They told me we’d die together tonight.’
For a minute or so there was silence in the cellar, then Angela spoke again.
‘What are you going to do?’ she asked. ‘Will you cooperate with them?’
Marietta’s voice broke into sobs. ‘I’m going to do exactly what they tell me,’ she said finally, and Angela could hear her starting to wash in the adjacent cell. ‘What else can I do? If I don’t obey their instructions, that bastard guard will send a couple of his men down here to rape or beat me. If I do as I’m told, I’ll only get raped during the ceremony itself. And I’ve seen what happens down here, so I suggest you cooperate as well. In the end, it’ll make it easier for you.’
‘Dear God,’ Angela murmured, as the appalling inevitability of their situation hit home.
70
Bronson knew that if he tried to leave, they would certainly see him. He had to stay where he was.
He ran towards the door, his trainers making almost no sound on the stone floor, and flattened himself against the wall beside it. Pulling the Browning pistol out of the belt holster, he held it in a two-handed grip, the muzzle pointing down towards the floor. He clicked off the safety catch, and waited.
But the footsteps didn’t stop at the door. Instead, Bronson heard the two men – and he guessed from the snatches of conversation that there were only two of them – walk past the church and on – or so he guessed – to the wooden stable.
Easing the door open a crack, he peered out and crept forward to the corner of the wall where he could see the stable. Two shadowy figures were standing beside the door, both apparently looking down. One held a torch, the beam shining downwards to illuminate the padlock while the other man unlocked it. There was a faint metallic clicking, then they opened the door and stepped inside.
For a few moments, Bronson didn’t move. If Angela was in the stable, he would be able to tackle the two men with his Browning, get her into the boat, and return to Venice before anybody could stop him. But this seemed way too easy. No, wherever Angela was, she’d be in a much less accessible location.
On the other hand, whatever was in the shed was clearly of some importance, otherwise why would the door be kept locked?
He turned back, intending to walk around the opposite side of the ruins of the church, where he would be invisible to the men in the stable, but he’d only taken three or four paces when an unearthly howl tore through the night.
He froze instantly. It sounded like a huge dog, and for a brief, terrifying moment, Bronson thought that the island might be protected by attack dogs. If it was, the dogs would pick up his scent wherever he went and whatever he did. The Browning would dispose of them – he wasn’t worried about that – but the men in the house would know immediately that they had an intruder, and he would stand no chance against half a dozen armed men. He’d be lucky to get off the island alive, and there’d be no chance of finding and rescuing Angela.
Then he relaxed slightly. Guard dogs, or those trained to attack intruders, either worked silently or would bark or growl. The sound he had just heard was neither. It had been more like an animal in pain, and it had sounded close by. Bronson’s thoughts spun back to the wooden stable. There had definitely been something alive inside it.
And that was where the two men had gone.
Bronson ran swiftly around the old stone walls of the church, a moving shadow in the deeper blackness of the night. Before he’d covered more than a few feet, he heard the howl again, echoing from the stones around him, and filling the air with a sense of mournful and impending doom. He reached the end of the ruined building and crouched down beside a bush. The door of the stable was open and a dim glow came from the window that he’d tried to look through before.
Keeping well to one side of the building, Bronson made his way stealthily back towards where he’d left the boat, then circled around to approach the stable from behind. As he did so, the animal howled again, the sound dying away to a threatening growl. Then there was silence broken only by a faint whimpering noise. Bronson edged his way along the rear wall of the stable, turned the corner and stopped beside the window. For a few seconds he just listened, relying on his ears to warn him of the approach of anyone through the darkness. But apart from the noises emanating from the shed, the night was silent.
Slowly, carefully, Bronson looked through the small window. Inside, the walls were unadorned, just plain wood. The men were still out of sight, somewhere over to his left, but beside the door, which was wide open, he saw a long wooden table, a number of tins and packets placed on it, together with several metal bowls, a handful of forks and spoons, and a couple of metal jugs that possibly contained water. It was fairly obvious what he was looking at: the table was where they prepared food for the dog.
Bronson moved slowly, infinitesimally slowly, to the right, steadily bringing more and more of the interior of
