of them was whistling. There was at least one other man, from the sound of the footsteps. A few seconds ticked past, while we stood frozen. Then we saw a light, broken into grotesque shadows by the surrounding wine racks, but growing steadily brighter.
John dropped to the floor, dragging me with him. They passed not five feet from us. If they had looked to one side, they would have seen us. There were two of them. I recognized two of the men I had seen working near the garage. The light from the electric torch was so bright I hid my eyes.
Oh, well, I may as well be honest. I hid my eyes in the style of an ostrich, hoping they wouldn’t see me if I couldn’t see them. I have never felt more exposed and helpless.
But they went by without breaking stride, and turned into the next aisle. The light receded along with the sound of their footsteps.
John yanked me to my feet. He didn’t need to tell me to hurry. We had about a minute and a half before the alarm would be raised.
I was ready to run, I didn’t care where to. As soon as we got out of the wine cellar, John pulled me to a stop.
‘Wait, let’s not go riding off in all directions. Give me some idea of our options from here.’
‘The main stairs are that way,’ I said, pointing. ‘They come up in the service wing, near the butler’s pantry.’
‘That’s the way our friends came, most probably. They will be returning that way. There must be some other exit. Preferably out into the great out-of-doors.’
I tried to remember. It was hard; my heart was making so much noise I couldn’t hear myself think.
‘Wait. Yes, there is another door. This way.’
You never realize that time is subjective until you are in a spot like the one we were in. At every second I expected to hear howls and shouts and the sounds of pursuit, but actually we had covered quite a bit of ground before my ears caught the echo of thundering footsteps. They were muffled by distance and by the walls we had put between ourselves and our pursuers, but I heard them. I was listening for them.
I went even faster after that. It was a wonder we didn’t brain ourselves against a wall, but there was some light, from windows, since we were now on the upper level of the cellars. It is even more of a wonder that I remembered the way. However, I have an excellent sense of direction, and one’s senses work amazingly well when the alternative to failure is imminent execution. We ended up right where I hoped we would, at the bottom of a flight of rough stone stairs that ended in a heavy door.
We had to risk lighting a match or we would never have gotten that door open. The old lock wasn’t very formidable, but it was reinforced by the usual bars, bolts, and chains. When we had disengaged the extra impediments, the door still refused to budge.
I could have picked the lock if I had had time, steady hands, and the necessary tools. I had none of the above. So I lighted another match and looked around; and sure enough, there was the key hanging on a nail. My grandmother always did that with her keys. It was an unexpectedly homey touch.
The door creaked hideously, but fortunately there was nobody around to hear. It opened onto a weedy patch of ground enclosed by plastered walls. There was a gate in the wall directly opposite.
John closed the door behind us.
‘Not that it matters,’ he muttered. ‘They will know we came this way if they see the chains unfastened. Where are we?’
‘Damned if I know.’
The courtyard was about ten feet by fifteen. John walked out into the middle of it, put his hands on his hips, threw his head back, and contemplated the heavens. The moonlight silvered his hair and cast dramatic shadows across his body; he looked like one of the younger, more ineffectual saints addressing the Almighty. I stayed in the shelter of the house. I felt safer there.
‘Well?’ I said, after a while.
‘Sssh.’ He came back to me. ‘We’re behind the villa – ’
‘I could have told you that.’
‘It faces west,’ John went on imperturbably. ‘We want the road to Rome, which is that way.’ He pointed.
‘That may be what we want, but what we need is to put some distance between us and the villa. There can’t be many ways out of those cellars, and it won’t take long to check them. Bruno could come bursting through that door any second. Let’s get out of here.’
‘You have a point. Excelsior!’
The gate led into another courtyard. Every acre of ground seemed to be walled, and I began to get an acute sense of claustrophobia. Finally, however, we came upon a familiar building – the garage.
‘Hey,’ I said, catching John’s arm. ‘What about – ’
He wasn’t actually reading my mind; we were both thinking the obvious things at the same time.
‘No use, I don’t have the keys to any of the cars. Antonio sleeps upstairs; by the time I could get one of them started he’d hear me. Besides, if we steal a car, all they have to do is call the local constable in Tivoli and tell him – ’
‘One reason is enough,’ I snapped. ‘
Another gate and another courtyard brought us to the shelter of a stone wall, where we collapsed to catch our breath.
‘The gardens begin here,’ I said softly. ‘Plenty of cover in all that fancy landscaping. We should be all right now.’
Squatting on all fours like a nervous rabbit, John suddenly stiffened and lifted his head.
‘Look.’
Atop the hill the villa loomed up against the stars. It should have been a dark and shapely silhouette. But as we watched, lights sprang up in window after window, like a fireworks display. I was still staring in dismay at this lovely but ominous spectacle when a light went on right next to me, as if one of the trees had sprouted light bulbs instead of leaves. I transferred my horrified glance to John. I could even see the drops of sweat on his forehead, and the dark pupils of his dilated eyes. The pupils started to shrink.
‘We should be all right now,’ John repeated bitterly. ‘Damn it! Some bright soul has turned on the garden illumination.’
PIETRO HAD BOASTED that the night lights of the garden made them as bright as day. He hadn’t exaggerated by much. There were patches of shadow, but the lights made our job of getting out of the gardens about a thousand percent harder.
A cute little dangling lantern was practically on top of us. We moved away from it into the concealment of a giant rhododendron, and sat there musing aloud.
‘How many of them are there?’ I asked. ‘The bad guys, I mean.’
‘I know what you mean. Not many of the servants are in on the plot, but that doesn’t matter. They will all be looking for us, you can bank on that. The Boss will have concocted some plausible story to explain why we must be apprehended. And,’ he added, ‘don’t get your hopes up. Some of them will be armed. We won’t know which ones until they shoot at us. What’s the quickest way out of here? I haven’t explored the grounds as thoroughly as you have.’
I closed my eyes and tried to remember. I think better with my eyes closed. The plan of the gardens was fairly clear in my mind.
‘The quickest way isn’t the safest,’ I said, after a while. ‘But if we cross the English garden and pass the Fountain of the Turtles, we’ll be in the rose garden. After that it isn’t far to the wall . . .’
My voice trailed off in dismay as I remembered that wall. It was twelve feet high, with barbed wire on top.
‘We’ll worry about the wall when we come to it,’ John said. ‘The way my adrenaline is pumping, I could
