The Golden Keel / The Vivero Letter. Desmond Bagley
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Название: The Golden Keel / The Vivero Letter
Автор: Desmond Bagley
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Приключения: прочее
isbn: 9780007347643
isbn:
As we were going back to the caravan I said, ‘It looks as though I’ll have to be ready to jump Coertze – he could be dangerous. You’d better tell Piero the story so that he can be prepared if anything happens.’
She stopped. ‘I thought Coertze was your friend. I thought you were on his side.’
‘I’m on nobody’s side,’ I said shortly. ‘And I don’t condone murder.’
We walked the rest of the way in silence.
For the rest of the afternoon until it became dark Francesca was busy cooking in the caravan. As the light faded the rest of us began to make our preparations. We put the picks and shovels in the boot of the car, together with some torches. Piero had provided a Tilley pressure lamp together with half a gallon of paraffin – that would be a lot better than torches once we got into the tunnel. He also hauled a wheelbarrow out of the caravan, and said, ‘I thought we could use this for taking the rock away; we must not leave loose rock at the entrance of the tunnel.’
I was pleased about that; it was something I had forgotten.
Coertze examined the picks with a professional air, but found no fault. To me, a pick is a pick and a spade is a bloody shovel, but I suppose that even pick-and-shovelling has its more erudite technicalities. As I was helping Piero put the wheelbarrow into the boot my foot turned on a stone and I was thrown heavily against Coertze.
‘Sorry,’ I said.
‘Don’t be sorry, be more careful,’ he grunted.
We got the wheelbarrow settled – although the top of the boot wouldn’t close – and I said to Coertze in a low voice, ‘I’d like to talk to you … over there.’
We wandered a short distance from the rest of the party where we were hidden in the gathering darkness. ‘What is it?’ asked Coertze.
I tapped the hard bulge under the breast of his jacket, and said, ‘I think that’s a gun.’
‘It is a gun,’ he said.
‘Who are you thinking of shooting?’
‘Anyone who gets between me and the gold.’
‘Now listen carefully,’ I said in a hard voice. ‘You’re not going to shoot anyone, because you’re going to give that gun to me. If you don’t, you can get the gold yourself. I didn’t come to Italy to kill anybody; I’m not a murderer.’
Coertze said, ‘Klein man, if you want this gun you’ll have to take it from me.’
‘O.K. You can force us all up to the mine at pistol point. But it’s dark and you’ll get a rock thrown at your head as soon as you turn your back – and I’d just as soon be the one who throws it. And if you get the gold out – at pistol point – what are you going to do besides sit on it? You can’t get it to the coast without Francesca’s men and you can’t get it out of Italy without me.’
I had him cornered in the same old stalemate that had been griping him since we left South Africa. He was foxed and he knew it.
He said, ‘How do we know the Contessa’s partisans aren’t hiding in these damned hills waiting to jump us as soon as the tunnel is opened?’
‘Because they don’t know where we are,’ I said. ‘The only instruction that the truck drivers had was to go to Varsi. Anyway, they wouldn’t try to jump us; we have the Contessa as hostage.’
He hesitated, and I said, ‘Now, give me the gun.’
Slowly he put his hand inside his jacket and pulled out the gun. It was too dark to see his eyes but I knew they were filled with hate. He held the gun pointed at me and I am sure he was tempted to shoot – but he relaxed and put it into my outstretched hand.
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