Bloody Passage (v5)

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Book: Read Bloody Passage (v5) for Free Online
Authors: Jack Higgins
raised defensively, something close to amusement on his face.
    "Oh, no," I said. "Not today. I'm saving you until later, you bastard," and I turned and staggered down the steps into the garden, suddenly very tired.

3
The High Terrace
    T he bathroom was a trifle too baroque for my taste. Water gushed from a golden lion's mouth into a black marble tub--that sort of thing, but it was good and hot and there was plenty of it. I lay there for an hour or more, soaking away the stink of the Hole and thinking about things.
    My immediate impulse was to try and get Hannah out of there by any means possible, but that was easier said than done. Stavrou had granted me an apparent freedom of movement, but what that meant in actuality was something else again.
    By the time I'd shaved, I was beginning to feel almost human. I put on a robe and went into the bedroom, towelling my hair. There was a Sicilian peasant woman in a crisp white overall laying clothes out on the bed who actually curtseyed on the way out.
    Underwear, slacks, shirt, shoes--everything fitted perfectly which was impressive enough until I remembered Simone. Such minor details must have been easy enough for her to provide. I thought of her briefly as I dressed and with some bitterness, but only for a moment. There were, after all, more important things to think about.
    When I went out on the terrace, there was a drinks trolley that even included a couple of bottles of Irish gin. Stavrou, or Simone, obviously thought of everything. Even more interesting was the fat manilla folder on the ironwork table, so I sat down and started to explore the contents with the aid of a large gin and tonic.
    The prison itself was at a place called Ras Kanai and had quite a history. The Italians had built it originally as a military fortress in colonial times. During the war the Germans had had it and then the British. Since independence, the place appeared to have been well stocked with opponents of the government of Colonel Quadhafi or those who were suspected of falling into that category.
    I was halfway through when the outer door of the bedroom opened and Langley appeared followed by a small man in a shabby white-linen suit. He had tiny anxious eyes, a pale, translucent skin that seemed perpetually damp and the merest whisper of a moustache.
    Langley said, "And this little worm is one Benito Zingari, who may or may not be of use to you."
    Zingari bobbed his head, fingering an old straw hat nervously in both hands. Langley said, "Ah, well, if nobody's going to offer me a drink, I'd better try elsewhere."
    "Why don't you do just that?"
    He smiled amicably and went out. I lit a cigarette and looked Zingari over. He smiled nervously and started to sweat.
    I said, "They tell me you run a bar in Zabia."
    "That's right, signor." His English was really very good indeed.
    "What else do you do?"
    "A little of this--a little of that." He shrugged. "A man must make out the best way he can."
    "Cigarette smuggling?" I said. "Heroin? Women?"
    He didn't reply, but there was an edge to him and a kind of cunning in his eyes. It was as if we understood each other and that fact in itself gave him confidence.
    "All right," I said. "Help yourself to a drink and let's talk. Have you read this file?"
    "I don't need to, signor."
    "Okay, tell me about it."
    "The prison is about fifteen miles away from Zabia, signor, on the coast high above the cliffs. Ras Kanai, they call it. Cape of Fear. It was originally an Italian fortress."
    "Yes, I know all that," I said impatiently. "How many prisoners does it hold?"
    "Five hundred."
    "And guards?"
    "Since Quadhafi's time it has been guarded by the military. Usually around six hundred troops under the command of Colonel Masmoudi." He shook his head. "A very bad man, signor. He has been known to beat prisoners to death personally."
    I thought about it for a while and it didn't look good. The ratio of guards to prisoners, for example, was better than one for one, which was

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