Marie de Brissac arrived safely on the terrace. This time, Blake left the rope hanging and did as Dillon had suggested, tying the end securely to one of the massive legs of the old bed. There was silence for a moment, and Blake said, “What now?”
“Give me your Uzi, then get the hell down the rope and start for the jetty with the girls.”
“And you?”
“I’ll lay down a suitable field of fire, then I’ll be down that rope myself doing my celebrated imitation of Tarzan of the Apes.” He shoved a fresh clip into his own Uzi and stood there, one in each hand. “Go on, Blake, get moving.”
Blake couldn’t think of a damn thing to say, turned, took the rope in both hands, and went down backwards, and Dillon crossed the room, leaned out, and watched him go, for the rain had stopped, the clouds clearing enough to expose a full moon. In its light, he could see Blake descending and the two women looking up.
Levy called, “Hey, Dillon, listen to me.”
“Why, it’s my old chum Judas or Colonel Dan Levy or whatever you call yourself. Ready to surrender, are you?”
Levy seemed to crack then, rage erupting as he called, “We’ll rush him now.”
Dillon took a deep breath and stepped into the corridor. Raphael had appeared at the far end, his M16 ready, David Braun behind him. Moshe had moved into the open at the other end. Dillon fired the Uzis in sustained bursts, left- and right-handed, pushing Raphael back against Braun and slamming Moshe against the wall, four or five bullets in him.
The Uzis emptied, Dillon dropped them to the floor, ran for that jagged hole, got a grip on the rope, and started down, knot by knot.
As Moshe fell backwards, kicking in death, Levy looked down at that bloodstained body and something happened to him. It was as if it confirmed the fact that he had lost, everything he had worked for down the sewer, and all because of Dillon.
He erupted then, crying, “Dillon, you bastard! Face me!”
He went up the corridor on the run, spraying the walls with his M16, and paused in the entrance of the room, confronted by the gaping hole, the rope. The shock seemed to make him speechless for the moment. Aaron, coming up behind, pushed him to one side and went to the hole and peered out.
Levy pulled himself together and crossed the room in two quick strides. “Can you see them?”
David Braun entered the room and stood just inside the door, the Armalite in his hands, as Aaron said, “Down there on the other side of the garden. The two women and the other man are making for the beach.”
“Stand back,” Levy said and raised his M16. “I can still get that bitch.”
“No, Colonel, enough is enough.” David Braun held the Armalite to his shoulder. “Just put your rifles down and let her go.”
“Why, David, this is a surprise.”
Levy put the M16 down on the table, at the same time putting both hands in his pockets, the right one finding the butt of the Beretta. As he turned, he fired twice. Braun was thrown back in the corridor, dropping the Armalite, and lay there groaning. Levy picked up the M16.
“Come on,” he said to Aaron. “We’re going after them,” and as he walked past Braun, he finished him with a headshot.
Running through the ornamental garden, Dillon pulled out one of the signal flares and pulled the string. The small rocket curved up into the air, exploding into a scarlet bloom, clear not only to the Cretan Lover but the entire fishing fleet.
Aleko switched on and the engines rumbled into life. “Everybody ready? We’re going in.”
As Blake and the two women reached the jetty, Dillon ran down the path behind them, the Cretan Lover roaring in out of the darkness.
As Dillon joined them, Hannah reached for his arm. “Thank God.”
“Yes, I must live right,” Dillon laughed excitedly and crushed her in his arms. “We did it, girl dear, we beat that son of a bitch.”
The Cretan Lover came to almost a dead stop, drifting against the jetty, engines throbbing. Yanni and Dimitri were over the side in an instant, helping the two women, Ferguson and Stavros reaching for them, and Aleko looked out of the wheelhouse.