‘He was wrong, wasn’t he? The others are here?’
‘Somewhere about.’
I nodded. ‘Hoffer is dead. Barbaccia caught up with him at last. Go now-what happens has nothing to do with you.’
He faded into the bushes as a rifle cracked, the un-mistakable thud of an A.K., and a bullet chipped a piece out of the Greek statue’s head. As I went to one knee, someone dropped back out of sight behind the retaining wall up there in the Moorish roof garden.
I called softly, ‘It’s me, Sean-Stacey. I’m coming up.’ –
There was no reply, but the floodlights which dotted the garden were dowsed suddenly. I don’t know whose bright idea that was, but it suited me perfectly. I moved out at once through the welcome darkness, scrambled over the low wall of the ground floor terrace and went into the lounge through the open french window.
The hall was a place of shadows dimly lit by a single lamp, but I had to keep moving for speed in attack is the only hope of success against odds.
I went up the stairs like a wraith, close to the wall, moved along the corridor past my own room and went up to the second floor.
There was no sound. I paused in the shadows by the golden door and thought about it for a moment. The next door along the landing was faced with leather and opened to my touch. From the look of it, it had been Hoffer’s and the usual sliding glass doors opened to the terrace on the other side.
I went back into the corridor, flattened myself against the wall and said softly, ‘Rosa-are you there?’
Her voice was clear and sharp. ‘Run, Stacey! Run!’ There was the sound of a blow and three bullets splin-tered the door.
I went through Hoffer’s room on tip-toe, moved along the terrace and peered in. Rosa was lying on the floor wearing a housecoat. Ciccio was over by the door with his back to me. He was bare-footed, wore pants and a singlet and held a gun in his right hand.
Rosa started to get up as Ciccio opened the door cautiously. I stepped into the room, shot him through the hand as he started to turn. He yelled, the gun jump-ing out on to the landing and disappearing over the edge.
Rosa had been weeping and her face was badly bruised, and her right shoulder-I noticed that as the housecoat slid down to her waist, exposing the upper part of her body, her naked breasts. She covered herself mechanically, an expression of wonder on her face.
‘Stacey-Stacey, it is you. They said you were dead.’
She flung her arms about my neck and held on tight. I didn’t take my eyes off Ciccio for a moment.
‘No, I’m not dead,’ I said. ‘But Hoffer is-Mafia justice.’
‘Thank God,’ she said fiercely. ‘I wanted to warn you, Stacey, last night after I left your room. I wanted to go back. You were right-I was afraid. Afraid for many reasons, but Hoffer was suspicious. He beat me, then gave me to this-this animal.’
Ciccio stepped back and I took her forward through the shadows to where light filtered in from the landing. The bruises on her face were worse than I had realised and something moved like fire in my belly.
‘He’s had his way with you?’
She didn’t attempt to pretend. Her head went back and there was still pride there. ‘He has my marks on him also.’
I turned and at the sight of my face Ciccio went back quickly, still clutching his bloody hand. ‘Please, sig-nore.’ He forced a fake man-to-man smile. ‘This woman is a whore from the back streets of Palermo. Everyone knows what she was before Signore Hoffer took her in.’
He smiled again eagerly, his back to the stairs, and rage boiled like lava inside me. ‘You find it funny? You like a joke? Then laugh this off.’
I kicked him in the crutch with all my strength. He screamed as he doubled over and my right knee lifted into his face sending him back down the stairs. He rolled over twice and crashed to the floor below. He lay there for a moment and then incredibly, got to his feet and lurched out of sight dangling what looked like a broken arm.