Bloody Passage. Jack Higgins

lay on the divan by the open French windows gazing out into the night and smoked a cigarette. After a while, I must have dozed because I came awake suddenly and was instantly aware of two things. That it was raining very heavily indeed and that my sister was playing the piano somewhere not too far away.

      It was a Bach Prelude, scintillating, ice-cold stuff, perfectly played and perfectly in keeping with the circumstances. I found an old raincoat in the wardrobe, draped it over my shoulders and went out on the terrace.

      Sheet lightning flickered far out to sea, thun-der rumbled menacingly overhead and the rain increased into a solid drenching downpour as I moved through the garden, following the sound of the piano.

      I mounted to the high terrace and approached the library where I had first seen her, but she was not there. I moved on, climbing steps to another terrace, conscious of the murmur of voices.

      Shutters stood partially open to the night, a white gauze curtain billowed in the wind. When I peered inside, Dimitri Stavrou was seated on the edge of a large four-poster bed. Simone was standing in front of him and his hands were busy. I could see her face reflected in the mirror on the far wall and she looked about as wretched as any human being could. In other circumstances I might have felt sorry for her, but Hannah was my only consideration now.

      I moved on through the rain, following the sound of music and mounted some marble steps to another broad terrace protected by a striped canvas sun awning from which rain dropped steadily. French windows stood open to the night, and inside Hannah sat at a grand piano.

      I approached cautiously. There seemed to be no one else around and I was filled with a sudden wild hope that I might grab her and be out of there before Stavrou and his friends realized what had hit them.

      And then thunder rumbled menacingly in the distance again, only it was deep down in the dog’s throat this time, and the Doberman stood up beside the piano stool, stiff-legged, and eyed me coldly.

      Hannah turned to stare out into the rain toward me. ‘Is anyone there?’ she called.

      Frau Kubel stepped into view and saw me at once. A hand disappeared inside her white apron and reappeared clutching an automatic with a six-inch silencer on the end. To my horror, she pointed it at the back of Hannah’s skull and stared fixedly toward me, not saying a word, the same grim expression on her face.

      My blood ran cold and I hastily raised both hands, palms toward her. She lowered the automatic, but still held it against her thigh, gazing toward me.

      A hand tugged at my sleeve, I turned and found Langley at my elbow. ‘Very naughty, old stick,’ he whispered cheerfully. ‘I mean, there could have been a very nasty accident there.’

      ‘You go to hell,’ I said and I brushed past him and moved back through the garden to my room.

      I stripped off my wet clothes and lay on the bed thinking about things, thoroughly angry with myself for being so stupid. I didn’t hear her enter, but when lightning flickered out to sea, it pulled Simone out of the darkness by the window. I didn’t say a word; simply stood up and walked toward her. Her dress was soaked and clung to her body like a second skin. I started to unbutton it.

      ‘What were his orders?’ I said. ‘Anything I wanted? Anything to keep me happy?’

      ‘Damn you to hell!’ She struck me across the face, struggling in my grasp. ‘Justin came and told him what happened a little while ago. She could have been killed. Your sister could have been killed. He means it, you fool. Every word of it. Don’t you understand that?’