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The submarine broke surface nearly twenty yards from the shoreline of the island at exactly the time coded 020, which was 02.30. The day earlier had been painfully boring and uneventful. George and I had stayed in the room for most of the day while Lydia and the other two had given us a wide berth. We chatted away and also took the opportunity to discuss the whole situation again and decided on secret plans, which we later agreed that it would be unavoidable to take Steve into confidence in some of them.
It had been a great relief when Steve walked in at 01.45 to inform us it was time to go. There were nine of us; four old, queer-looking guys were the sub crew. Two of them handled the sub while the other two were engineers cum assistants. The snooty way the four men looked and acted, I had no doubt in my mind that they were interested in nothing else but their fees only, and would be as anxious as any right-thinking person to leave the island as soon as they could. The rest were Steve, Captain, George, Lydia, and I.
Captain would probably be about the same age and as tall as Steve. He was broad-shouldered, powerfully built, and tough-looking. His close-cut dark hair was flecked with grey, and his features were regular. His skin was nicely tanned by the sun, his eyes blue and steady, his mouth firm and somewhat humorous, but he had a habit of keeping his face in a frown all the time, leaving his handsome face with ugly folds on his forehead. He was always in a hurry, and he hardly hears all the instructions given to him before he goes ahead to carry them out. According to the plan, he was a reserved substitute but would go back with the sub's crew unless something happened to any of the three men before we berthed. However, he would be in constant touch with Steve from the mainland.
Lydia's presence had caused a slight sensation when we were embarking on the sub. All the men, except Steve, Captain, and the colonel, had been astonished to see her in attendance in the meeting the previous evening, and they were more surprised when they saw her waiting to board the submarine. I reckoned Steve and the colonel must have decided to keep their men guessing.
The trip took about thirty minutes, and that was nearly eighteen minutes more than what it would have taken if we hadn't had to trail cautiously along the secret route. Although the submarine was quite small, it was comfortable enough for the nine of us. The atmosphere in the small tub as we navigated was tense and apprehensive. To kill some time, I took the plans and began to read through them again. And as I read on, I felt the whole business was absolutely a risky undertaking, but I had an unwavering conviction that we would eventually succeed. Lydia sat at a corner and just stared into space, while George kept on dusting the .45 automatic in his hand with a small piece of cloth, as if the gun had refused to be cleaned.
Steve and Captain whispered over the electronic graphic display and nodded each time they made any observation. The two sad-looking engineers kept to themselves, saying nothing to anyone, and perhaps discussing with themselves by reading their own facial expressions, while the other two members of the crew kept busy with the uphill task of maneuvering the sub through the secret route, which, I believe, was even more demanding than raiding the villa. They had to be certain to be on the right track. Any mistake, no matter how small, could unceremoniously bring the operation to an abrupt end. As I watched them, I thought what a bunch they really were, and I was glad that we wouldn't need to make the return trip with the sub.
We found the shore quiet and deserted as we cautiously swam out of the water following Captain's lead. The whole area was in complete darkness as the half-moon was lazily lurking behind the thick clouds, and in spite of the diving suit, the cool breeze still gave us some cold snap. There were so many pebbles and sharp stones on the sandy beach with tall grasses gradually encroaching that I wondered if the residents of the island ever came down there. There was no perimeter fencing enclosing the buildings and the lawns. They were all left open from one end of the island to the other. However, according to the colonel, the security was watertight, but then, that was something left to be seen, I thought, as we took off our diving suits.
Captain took the four diving suits and returned them to the submarine. We figured if we left them on the beach and someone found them while we were in the villa, it would mean an early giveaway. Shortly after he entered the sub, it submerged, but they had instructions to remain still under the water until Steve gave them the nod to leave. We all lay down on the stony sand while Steve brought out a movement detector, which could pick up any movement toward the shore from a distance of about one hundred and fifty yards. The detector struck two or three movements, but they were either moving away or around a particular area and as we both watched the black dots on the screen of the palm-size detector, we agreed it must be security men on patrol.
After ten minutes or so, we were satisfied that no one had noticed us on the island, and Steve had immediately put a call through to Captain and asked them to go but warned them to be careful. After another five minutes, he stood up and beckoned to the three of us that it was time to move on. He briefly explained before we proceeded that it was a stroke of luck that we have not been spotted yet and admonished that we must adhere strictly to the plans and also do everything possible to ensure that we do not push our luck too far.
Shortly after we left the shore, we crouched behind a thicket among some tall grasses and remained as still as a pole for a little while, that seemed like hours to me, before he brought out a small piece of paper from his pocket, and when he unfolded it, we saw it was a schematic of the island. With the sharp beam of his pen-size flashlight, he pointed out where we were, our route to the villa, and where we might possibly encounter the first security guards. George asked a question, and he quickly explained. I looked at his face as he asked the question before Steve snapped off the light, and noticed his expression was not good at all. I guess he was anticipating what Legion would do to his kids if we failed to deliver the diamonds. There was nothing I could do under the circumstances, so I just wished he would stop getting worked up about it.
However, Lydia had informed Legion before we left the station that we were joining them to raid the island and he had said, like the nut he was, that he doesn't give a damn if we raided the presidential villa, that all he wanted was the diamonds. I felt anger boiling up inside me while she related the message exactly as Legion had said it, with a mirthless grin on her lips, and I could barely manage to keep my burning rage under control as I longed to have my fingers around his fat throat.
No one else asked any other questions or made observations, so we had to move on. After covering a distance of about seventy-six yards from the sea, I saw the top of the villa and wondered if there were guards watching from there, but doubted it. They would be certain that all the security gadgets mounted on and under the water surrounding the island should be enough to warn them of any intruder. However, I didn't kid myself that the situation was "normal"; I knew in the back of my mind that as the night went on, the security was surely going to be intensified.
We stiffened and immediately took cover among the thickets as we heard a sound just a few yards ahead. I left the others, waving them to keep still, as I moved forward. I went down on my belly with a hunting knife in hand and my eyes alert for snakes or any other creeping animal in the grass. When I got to the spot I believed the sound came from, I carefully parted the grass—and saw his boot. The way he kept it told me he must be lying down. I must have stepped hard on the grass because he startled and instantly called out to his colleague who was somewhere ahead, obviously defecating as a nasty smell hung in the air.
"Was that you, Charlie?"
"Of course, it's me. Who else could it be?" Charlie returned harshly. "For God's sake," he went on, "you've been jumpy all night at the sway of every blade of grass in this goddamn field, and this is not your first night out here, is it?"
"No," the man answered tersely, "but something in the air tells me that this night isn't going to be good at all."
"It sure won't," I said to myself with a sardonic grin on my lips.
"You're crazy," Charlie countered. "Which night has ever been good out here when the rest of the world is having a good sleep?"
"You may be right about that," his companion agreed, "but it seems this night is going to be dreadfully bad. I can feel it even in my bones."
"Dreadful, you said," Charlie returned. "Wait till you hear the terrible nightmare I had two nights ago when I was off-duty. I bet you'll jump out of your skin," he mocked.
"What was the nightmare?" his companion asked seriously.
Charlie laughed but broke off suddenly as he groaned in pain.
"This damned old cook!" he spat bitterly. "I think it's about time someone did something about him before he poisons us all."
"What was the nightmare all about?" the man repeated, ignoring Charlie's pains and bitter complaints.
"Oh, the nightmare!" he exclaimed, laughing contemptuously, obviously hurt by his companion's lack of sympathy toward his plight.
"It was the old bitch," I heard him say after some moments' hesitation, still laughing. Then I thought I had heard enough of their trash as I tucked the hunting knife into its sheath and decided it was time to take action. I brought out a small piece of cloth and a small plastic bottle containing some chloroform from the fanny pack I strapped around my waist and carefully poured some of the chemical on the cloth, replaced the cap, and put it back into the bag. Without further hesitation, I moved forward with incredible speed, seized him by the neck, and before he could open his mouth to make any sound, I had the cloth over it and his nose. Though he was strong and tough, I matched his strength perfectly well as I held him down between my thighs, and in seconds, he lost consciousness.
Charlie was still telling his nightmare long after the man had passed out, and I was glad that he hadn't heard the struggle.
"Did you hear what I said?" he asked, still laughing and making a mockery of his companion. "The old bitch kept hovering over the villa and—" He broke off suddenly, and I stiffened but quickly made a brief grunt as I grind my shoe against the grass to have him reassured that his companion was still there. It worked as he resumed his story but without the same enthusiasm, then he broke off again almost immediately. I brought out my gun, got up on all fours and began to crawl toward him. "I will shoot this damn bastard if I have to," I said to myself.
He stood up with his rifle at the ready and his eyes searching about, like a squirrel cornered by a snake, while his pants were still down. He called out quietly to his companion in fear and apprehension as I remained still, watching him. He called out again, but only silence greeted him. He raised his rifle and was fully alert, but before he could take two steps, I was behind him with my gun held to his head.
"Take it real easy or else I will blow off the top of your head," I snarled. "The old bitch sent me to you," I went on with a hint of sarcasm in my voice, "and she asked me to smear your brains over your face if you start to roughhouse. Now, be a good boy and drop that gun," I said audaciously with more than a threat in my voice, and as he did so, I gave a sharp blow at the back of his neck, and he slumped down on his knees. I picked up his rifle and called out to the others.
Steve and Lydia quickly bound and gagged his companion and had him hidden among the grasses while George stood over the man as he began to recover from the blow. I searched them and found their walkie-talkies, and it had me worried a little because some fellow in the villa might put a call to them and would certainly get some ideas if neither of them responded. The others got the message too and realized the urgency our task then demanded, but there was nothing anyone could do about it; we just had to move on with our cautious pace and hope that some luck would be on our side.
However, Steve was not particularly pleased that I had been the first to take those initiatives and was going to squabble about it, when George quelled him down as he brought Charlie over. George further pleaded that it was necessary for someone to take the lead and that Steve should give me the chance to. He reluctantly agreed after a brief hesitation, warning that if I ruined the operation, I would be sorry I did. I wasn't bothered with his cheap threat. It seemed to be what they were best at, I thought, and I wouldn't be surprised if Charlie's companion, even as he was bound, began to threaten me. Moreover, I was certain that none of us would leave the island alive if the operation did get ruined.
I suddenly pulled Charlie away from George's grip, held him tightly by the collar of his camouflage uniform, and shook him violently.
"I'm after the diamonds," I said without mincing words, "and you are going to take me to where I can find them, do you understand?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," he returned indignantly, unmoved by my sudden outburst.
"This guy wants to get tough with us," I said. "I guess we have to get tough with him too." I took a grenade from my bag and before others could stop me, I pulled out the safety pin that held the striker lever in place, inserted the top into his mouth, and pushed it further in, with a mirthless grin on my lips, I warned him to hold the lever tight up against the body of the grenade with his lips or otherwise, he would have the striker set off and his head blown out.
"Give me some tape!" I barked at George. He handed it to me in seconds, and I strapped the adhesive tape round his head, sealing the grenade to his mouth.
"How do we get to the diamonds?" I repeated. His eyes were wide with horror as he struggled, perhaps with the intention to speak but couldn't.
And just then, Steve moved forward with fury blazing in his eyes, but George held him back.
It wasn't a live grenade. Though George knew, since I had asked him to get it for me before we left the station, Steve and Lydia didn't. And the more they didn't know about it, the better the effect of the action, I thought surreptitiously as I pulled out my gun and knife again.
"We have a schematic of the building, don't we?" I asked Steve with my face empty of any hint of remorse as he stared balefully at me with a look that would curdle milk, but I kept my posture.
"You know you shouldn't have inserted that into his mouth," he said bitterly. "Now, tell me how you expect him to talk?" he asked, still angry. I knew arguing with him wouldn't get us anywhere, so I didn't.
"We have a schematic of the buildings, don't we?" I repeated. "We have wasted enough time already, and if someone in there tried to reach these punks, then the operation would be as good as over even before it began," I stated.
He brought out the schematic from his small backpack, shoved it at me, and took some steps back. I picked it up from the ground as George moved forward and asked me in a whisper, if it wouldn't be wiser to remove the object from Charlie's mouth, but I refused, insisting that it was better that way. Then he brought out his pocket-flash, turned it on, and swung the bright beam on the schematic. Lydia stood glued to the spot where she was, the hesitant expression on her face left her looking completely placid, and I reckoned my actions, to her, had been so fast and unanticipated that she was as shocked as Steve had been when I took the safety pin off the grenade. But I was beyond caring, and if she dared to make one false move, I thought, as I watched her from the corner of my eyes, I won't hesitate to take her down first.
"Now listen!" I said to Charlie. "Just nod your damn head when I'm right, and if you try any trick with me, I will blow off your head with this gun before that grenade does. Do you understand?" I bawled out to him. He shook his head, and I gave him a light jab on the shoulder with my hunting knife.
"Do you understand?" I repeated, and he nodded. "That's better!" I said and showed him the schematic while Steve, whom George had effortlessly persuaded to avoid unnecessary delays and setbacks, explained it in details, with emphasis on outlined areas.
He agreed it was the schematic of the villa. He said he didn't know where the diamonds were kept, but he nodded when Steve pointed out the underground laboratory.
"Do you know anyone who could tell us where we might find it?" I asked. He nodded and with a pen and paper, he wrote down, "The chief porter."
"Where do we find him?"
He pointed to a very tiny area on the schematic, and from Steve's explanation, it was one of the three rooms on the last floor of the annex building.
"Who else stays in the other two rooms?" Steve asked, and he shook his head.
"Who else stays in the rooms?" Steve repeated, barking the words at him, and he wrote that they were senior officers.
"Be specific!" Steve urged, and he wrote that that was all he knew.
"It's okay. We'll soon find out," I said to calm the situation.
The villa consisted of three buildings. The main one was a two-story edifice with more than twelve magnificent, luxurious rooms. A conference hall, an indoor swimming pool, a communication room, and an underground laboratory cum mini factory. The annex, which, according to Steve, housed the senior staff and the administrative offices, was also a two-story building connected to the main one on its last floor. The third one was a one-story building, completely detached from the other two but just some twenty-five yards or so away. It was mostly the living quarters for the junior staff and guards, and part of the ground floor was used as storehouses for their machines and equipment.
The whole major operation in the villa took place in the laboratory, and that, I believed, would make it easier for us to destroy both the plates and the damn place in less time. However, we also noted that it would be a lot easier and safer to move into the main building through the annex.
"I think we've had enough," I said to Steve, who wasn't quite satisfied with Charlie's revelations. "Don't worry about him," I reassured, as I saw a worried frown knitted his brow, "I will feed him with his own guts, if he's played any trick on us. Tie his hands," I said to George. "He's coming with us."
"You can't take him along; he'll be in the way," Lydia put in quickly.
"Well, my dear girl," I exclaimed, "I can't agree more, but we can't leave both of them out here; that might give them an incentive to try something tricky, and moreover, he could save us some time by guiding us inside of the building," I stated, and snapped at George to be fast with it. "You bring him along," I told Lydia after George had bound his hands, "and don't let him out of your sight." She answered in a faint murmur with a sudden hiss a rattlesnake might envy as she snatched him out of George's hand.
Thirty yards walk to the villa brought us to the well-cut high box hedges of flowering plants, which screened the immaculately kept lawns and also demarcated it from the rest of the grounds. From there, we had the door of the main building in view, which was some twenty yards away. Though there were no guards around, we knew that an attempt to go in through the main building would be sheer suicidal, so we had to skirt along the hedge for another thirty-five yards to reach a spot where we could have a clear view of the front of the annex building. It was difficult to move fast enough on the stony grounds; however, we managed to make a good pace as the hedge provided us with enough cover.
We came to an abrupt stop as we got to a shallow ditch, which ran along the hedge for about ten yards or so, and crouched down in it, as it was completely dried. Through the thicket, we saw two guards lurking in the shadows with two Alsatians that looked as deadly as they were meant to be. The two men stood chatting away in a corner, just a yard or two from the doorsteps of the annex building. Though their voices were barely above a whisper, it wasn't too difficult to make out what they were saying as the night had become deeply quiet.
"You shouldn't have left her for this crazy, dumb-ass job," the one with a flat nose said. Although the security light wasn't much where they stood, his flat nose was too obvious to go unnoticed, even at such a distance. Suddenly his dog barked and started forward, giving him a startling jolt. He gave it a hard kick as he cursed, and the dog sat quietly again, staring in our direction. The second dog took a cue from the treatment meted out on the other and remained mute but kept staring too. I was sure the men were either reckless or simply fed up with their job; otherwise, they ought to have reasoned that the dog couldn't have been agitated about nothing.
"What the hell is wrong with that dog?" the other man said, ignoring his comment. "Last week, he snapped the rope off my hands and chased after a goddamned squirrel. I think it's about time someone let him know what his job really is."
"If I were you," the flat nose went on, ignoring his complaint too, "I'd do anything to be with her."
"That is, if I were you, you mean?" his companion countered rhetorically. "Well, you don't know a thing. That little bitch was a good riddance."
"Or rather, you were a good riddance," the flat nose taunted, smiling mirthlessly.
"One of these evil days," the man glared, "I'm going to seal up those wide lips of yours with a broken bottle and nothing—" He broke off and stiffened. I stiffened too and for a split second, I thought he had spotted us, but soon relaxed as I saw a man come out in the open through the strong-looking double doors.
He was tall, square-shouldered, and completely dressed in white. His automatic pistol hung down loosely from the holster around his waist. He looked extremely tough, and he carried his shoulders as if he owned the whole world.
"Hey!" he shouted to the two guards. "You lousy bastards, you were supposed to walk this wing, weren't you?" he asked pointing, and went on as the men gave no answer "Now, move it and don't sit your bloody ass there talking trash," he said, scowling as the men took their dogs and left at once.
The guards' departure provided a good opportunity for us to do something, but we had to wait until they were completely out of sight. However, Charlie did something stupid. He heaved himself out of the ditch and hit his head against the hedge. The man stiffened. He stared toward us, and immediately his gun jumped into his hand. He looked up for the two guards, but luckily for us, they were gone. I presumed they had hastened up their pace into the shadows of the building as soon as they had gone out of his sight. I saw his face was tensed and his brow knitted as he walked slowly down the lawn with his gun still pointed in our direction, uncertain of the danger ahead, and I could hear him cursing under his breath as he looked over his shoulder again for the two guards.
I drew out my hunting knife in one hand, and in the other, I felt the cold butt of my automatic. "This creep is in for a real show," I said grimly to myself through clenched teeth. When he got close enough, I unfastened the fanny pack around my waist and threw it some six yards away. He turned immediately in that direction leveling his gun down.
"Who goes there?" he asked in a husky but unsteady voice.
I charged out of the bush, and before he knew what it was, I hit him hard on the wrist with the butt of my gun. His gun fell, and I went straight for his neck, having anticipated that he might want to scream. We both crashed down, but he was strong enough to throw me off easily. However, I still had my gun in hand and as he meant to stand up, I clubbed the back of his neck with the butt. He fell down and snuffed out. George came out dragging Charlie who was already bleeding by the side of his ear.
"That serves you right," I said as I gave him a hard look. "Next time you get dumb enough to try such an act, I'll smear your brains over your face. Please, get my bag," I said to Steve as I pointed to the door the man had left open and asked Lydia to help me with his inapt body.
The door led into a long broad corridor with light shining overhead and doors on either side. There was no life except vases of flowers kept beside some of the doors. They must have felt completely safe with all the security outside that they didn't bother to put men in the corridors. I tried to open the first door on the right and found it was locked. George came over and in seconds, had it unlocked. There was nothing in the room that should give any serious concern; only shelves, containing old files, records, and several piles of papers. I shoved the man across the floor and as he began to come around, we had him firmly gagged, bound, and tied to one of the shelves at the end of the room.
"No one will bother to look for him here," I said as I stood up.
"That's if he is not so important," Steve remarked with surprising seriousness.
"Of course, he's not so important," I stated flatly, irritated that he didn't even try to be subtle about it. However, George decided to ask Charlie. He wrote out that he was one of the senior security officers and George had to urge him to be more specific. He had to keep a pen and pad handy for Charlie's use since I had his mouth sealed up tightly.
"Forget it," I said impatiently to George, "we may have to wipe out half of the senior security officers here before the operation is over, and we've wasted enough time already."
Shortly afterward, we walked down the corridor and on the left was the staircase. We hesitated at the foot, looking up the stairs. Just then, we heard voices coming from the end of the corridor. Guns jumped into hands, but we decided to avoid trouble, so we took the stairs two at a time. The flight brought us to the last floor, and we moved over to the third door on the right that Charlie had indicated; it stood ajar.
"Keep your eyes open," I said to the rest of the gang as I slid into the room. The chief porter wasn't there; he was in the bathroom and happily humming away to himself. I wandered around and found nothing that might interest me. I stuck my head out of the door and beckoned the others in. The room was small but neatly kept, and the bed occupied most of the space. There were one upright chair, a center table, a drink cabinet, an inbuilt closet, which was left open, and a chestnut dresser that stood by the side of the bed.
Suddenly, the man stopped humming, and I reckoned he probably guessed he had some company. We waited patiently with our eyes fixed on the bathroom door. Minutes later, he appeared in a bathrobe. He could be any age between forty-six and forty-eight. He was tall, skinny, with bent shoulders. He had black hair, a straight face, and eyes that looked like brown pebbles. He was almost not surprised to see us, until he noticed Charlie on the floor with Lydia pointing her gun on his chest.
"What the hell are you all doing here?" he asked, still staring at Charlie as fear roved in his pebble eyes.
"Put some clothes on and sit down," I told him quietly, ignoring his question. "We don't have time to waste." He didn't make a move; he just stood where he was glaring at us, so I went to the opened wardrobe and brought out a pair of pants and a shirt.
"Put those on," I said as I shoved them at him. "I told you, we haven't time to waste."
"Will you all get out of my room!" he barked, ignoring what I said, with anger and desperation taking the fear off his face. Steve went for him as he meant to walk out of the room. He swung his fist at Steve, but he was seconds late, and before he knew it, he was already heading for the floor, but George quickly caught him before he crashed. Steve snatched him out of George's hands and dragged him into the bathroom, picking up his clothes as he did so.
A few minutes later, Steve shoved him out of the bathroom after he had forced the clothes on him. He looked like a wounded tiger as he held the back of his neck where Steve had hit him. I went to the cabinet, took a glass, and mixed a drink.
"Take this," I said as I gave the glass to him, "and please sit down," I added. "We don't want any more trouble than we've already had."
He took the glass, hesitated for a moment, then sat down and gulped the drink in one swig as if his life depended on it.
"Can you fix me another?" he asked, stretching out the glass with his left hand while the other remained at the back of his neck. I was surprised, but I didn't let it stop me. I quickly took the glass and made for the cabinet.
"Don't give him anymore of it," Steve objected. "You might get him drunk and—"
"You son of a bitch!" the porter snapped as he stood up to face Steve while his eyes blazed with fury.
"Cut it out," I said as I got in between the two men. "Please sit down," I said to the porter. "He won't get drunk, I assure you," I said to Steve with a jeering grin on my lips. I gave the drink to him as he sat staring away at Lydia who sat at the foot of the bed, extremely indifferent to what was going on in the room, with her gun still pointed at Charlie, who was sitting on the carpeted floor in between George's stretched out legs as he sat on the only upright chair in the room and looked on. I wouldn't be surprised to hear the reverberation of the shot in the tiny room at the slightest provocation by Charlie. I shrugged my shoulders; it would be everybody's funeral, I thought as I watched her too.
I took my attention off Lydia and concentrated on the porter again as he sipped at his drink and gently rubbed the back of his neck. I could see from the look on his face that I had already won his friendship, so I decided it would be wise and helpful to continue to go soft on him.
"I'm sorry, we shouldn't have treated you roughly," I began apologetically, "we just wanted to—"
"What do you want?" he interrupted curtly. That was biting, but at that moment, I felt it was only reasonable to take it in stride, and moreover, the soft talk was already wearing out my patience. So I gave it to him point-blank and watched his reactions.
"The diamonds," I said and kept my face deadpan.
"For God's sake, why haven't you said that before?" he asked in an impatient outburst. The change of expression on his face and lack of guile in his voice made even Charlie turn sharply to stare at him in spite of his uncertain situation. George stood up instantly as if the man's words had shot him up from the chair and Lydia couldn't help taking her eyes off Charlie too.
"Do you know where they are?" I asked, almost in a whisper.
"I don't know," he answered rather shortly, "but I can tell you someone who does."
"Who?" I asked quietly with concealed skepticism, and the thought that it was too easy to be true.
"Get me another drink first," he requested, stretching out the glass. I hesitated but eventually took it, and in one quick stride, I was at the cabinet. It was his damn drink anyway, and he could as well have it all if he so wished, I thought. I mixed the drink as fast as I could, and even Steve who had moved round the room had instantly held the cabinet open.
"He might be drunk, you know?" Steve whispered, but I ignored his comment and handed the drink to the man, and he took it with steady hands. I waited for him to have a sip or two, and then asked him again who the person was and where we could find him.
"He's one of the snooty nephews to the chief, a damned son of a bitch!" he snorted contemptuously. "He's the project coordinator or whatever that means. He's called PC around here, and he decides which of the safes to keep the diamonds in. His room is on the left almost at the end of the corridor on this same floor, but you won't find him there now," he stated as he took more sips of his drink.
"Where do we find him then?" I said, getting a bit impatient with him.
"He's where you can never get to, even if I told you," he returned and a mirthless grin broke out on his lips.
"Where?" I asked curtly, getting bored and frustrated. He raised his head up, stared at me briefly still grinning, and then went on sipping his drink.
"What's the time now?" he asked abruptly as he took the glass from his lips.
"Fifteen minutes gone past three," I answered promptly.
"He'll be up in forty-five minutes' time," he said and looked up again. "I guess you already knew there's an underground laboratory or whatever," he said with a wave of his hand, and I nodded in response.
"Well, he's down there with the chief and other supervising officers, and they should be through at four. There was a serious problem five days ago," he went on to explain as he saw the questions on our faces, "so the old nut had been keeping them up late, and since I had to run some stint for him, that included me too."
Forty-five minutes was sometime to wait, I thought, but then, there was nothing we could do about that. I asked him if he had any more duties, and he said he had retired for the day. Then I told him we would have to put up with him until that time, and he said we were already his guests.
"What about the guy who stays in the other room?" I asked after a long silence.
"The poor bastard had a heart attack a week ago," he answered. "And we were told he had been taken to the mainland for treatment, but that was just some talk; he could still be here and as stone dead as a doornail," he stated bitterly.
"Are we going to find him alone?" I asked suddenly after another brief silence, not knowing exactly why I had asked the question, and he grinned slyly.
"I wouldn't be surprised if a sister is waiting up to scrub his back in the bath," he stated, still grinning. "You know these young punks usually feel there's something out there they're missing," he continued, "so they just can't keep their sleazy hands off them."
"You mean there're women on the island?" I queried, a little surprised.
"Not exactly," he returned, "but those who would dare the old nut's wrath do take the risk from time to time. You know this island is a locked-up hole. Once you're in, it's for good," he said coldly.
"Why did you take the job then?" I asked, remembering the colonel had said the island was a point of no return and some of the workers knew that before accepting the job.
"What else was there to do?" he answered after he gave off a long hiss. "This job, as you called it, was a lifesaver."
"Don't be ridiculous," I said. "There's more than a million and one things better than this out there."
"That's easy for you to say," he returned, and swallowed hard, "but I bet you've no idea what is out there, and what I've been through."
"Well, you tell me," I said as I leaned against the door. There was no other way to kill all the time we had, and I thought it was also an open opportunity to warm up to him. He looked up at me, shrugged his shoulders, and went on.
"My wife and I had a small but very successful business until a crazy crisis broke out in the district, and in the twinkling of an eye, everything we had labored for went up in flames, and the damned insurance company had gone under two years earlier," he said with a bitter rush of emotion. He took a sip or two from his glass, shrugged his shoulders again, and continued.
"It had been extremely difficult running a family after that; not that we hadn't put a little away, but our two sons had just gained admission into the university. They were very bright kids, and it was our dreams come true. It would have killed my wife and I to see them denied the opportunity." He looked up at me again after a brief pause. I gave him my well, go on expression, knowing the amount of alcohol he had consumed had made him somewhat placid, but at the same time, left him talkative.
"The arrangement was that after three years, my family would be told I had died in an accident and they could draw on a special fund which covers education and other essential expenses for ten years. I've been with the company for nearly seven years, though we've only been out here for a little over seven months, and I hope my sons are in or even perhaps out of the university by now," he said with some sort of relief on his face. It was a dumb thing anyone could have done, no matter the benefits, I thought, but I didn't have to tell him that. There was no use stirring his emotions any more than they were.
"So, where have you been holed up before coming out here?" I asked, watching him closely.
"Germiston in Gauteng," he returned shortly, and then went on after a brief pause. "Their business used to be gun-running, narcotics, and counterfeits, and the operations had gone on steadily out there without a hitch until they started this crazy enzyme extraction thing and had to relocate to an isolated spot. The island had been a perfect hideout and safe place from prying eyes until you guys started poking your noses in." He gave off a knowing laugh to suggest he was only joking. "Well," he continued, "the security, we were told, had become watertight after you guys first came in here, and I wondered why you were crazy enough to keep coming when you knew you couldn't possibly leave. Even some of our people who had had enough of this creepy joint knew pretty well that an attempt by anyone to escape would have been sheer suicidal," he stated bitterly.
"You said no one can leave, but one of our men did," Steve put in.
"Did he?" he returned with sarcasm. "Well, you're here already. We'll see how far you get," he remarked with a solemn expression on his face.
"Don't tell me your wife also conceded to your accepting such a job?" I asked finally, after a brief silence, ignoring his last remark and hoping to steer the conversation away from the subject and at the same time get on a personal note with him.
"She passed on a few weeks before I started working for them," he answered quietly, his voice void of emotions. "The fire incident and the loss of our only means of a livelihood had devastated her," he went on, "and she went into further depression when I told her I was going to pick up a job that would keep me away for some time."
"I'm sorry to hear that," I said after a while, genuinely touched.
"It's all right," he said with a wave as he sipped at his drink. "I've taken all that in stride, and my sons have been especially strong."
"How are you sure your children are drawing on this fund?" George asked abruptly after he paused. That was perhaps the only thing he had said since we got to the porter's room, and such a question coming from him was not a surprise; I guessed he must have wondered if he could entrust the future of his own children into such hands.
"Well, I certainly can't bet on that now," the porter answered quietly again and went on. "For three years now, they have ceased bringing photographs and reports on my boys' progress for reasons best known to them. However, these nuts are loaded and the funds, I presumed, would be like a drop in the ocean. So I strongly believe they are paying."
The porter had surprisingly been very cooperative and had not only been free with useful information that might aid our mission but also had divulged some of his personal ordeals. It seemed to me that he was eager and would only be too happy to leave the island if the right opportunity presented itself. If that was so, I thought, that should make him want to be more helpful in any other way he could. However, it was too soon to trust him completely, and taking him along with us might present some complications to our escape plans. So I decided not to make him any promises, but I hoped that, as events unfolded, we might just be able to take him with us. I would be glad to see him reunited with his sons.
I checked my wrist watch. It was twelve minutes before four. I decided that the porter and I should check the room before the PC comes up. I told the others to join us when he had entered his room and that Charlie should be tied and locked up in the porter's bathroom; he had been a help, a burden, and a trouble altogether. All the while, Lydia had kept so calm that I wondered if her mind was really with us. Although, George seemed very pleased with her attitude as he quietly paid her compliments while helping himself to the porter's drinks, I really didn't care one way or the other; there was work to be done, and I reckoned there's no use wasting precious time bothering about her.
I was impressed with the porter's cautious moves, in spite of the drinks he had had, as we slid to the PC's door. Indeed, it was obvious that he wasn't only anxious but also desperate to get it done with. And as I squeezed the doorknob, I wished I had asked George to come along, since I didn't want any of them to know I could force locks too, but I needn't bother; the latch had already slid back and the door instantly opened. My heart skipped a beat as I stepped into the room. A young girl was lying on the sumptuous bed as naked as the back of my hand, and she stared directly at me. I reckoned she had not expected anyone else but her boyfriend to enter the room at that hour. Fear gripped her as the porter slid in and shoved the door shut behind him.
In just over ten seconds, I took in the details of the room. It was nearly twice the size of the porter's room and luxuriously furnished with a cream-colored sofa, an arm chair, and a glass table. On it was an ornamental green vase with artificial roses. There was also a gold plated, metal bookcase lined with books and files, and an upright chair by the side of the large bed. Finally, an occasional table, with a collection of Chinese jade and several framed photographs stood against the wall.
"Don't be afraid," I said in a mild and soothing voice after overcoming my initial shock of finding the girl naked. "Your boyfriend asked us to wait for him here, and we'll soon be gone," I tried to assure her as I saw that she was still terrified. I took her clothes from the upright chair where she had left them.
"Take these," I said, "and put them on." And as she did, her fear began to wane off. She was tall, blond, with a figure and pair of legs that would stop traffic. Her black eyes, full lips, round, pointed breasts, and a voluptuous sweep of hips would tempt even a bishop. She couldn't have been more than twenty-two and would have been extremely attractive but for her state of fear, which had cast a shadow over her beauty. I was sure by the look on her face, that she knew her boyfriend couldn't have asked us to come up and wait in his room as I had told her. So I brought out my gun and showed it to her before she did something stupid.
"You know what this is?" I asked, rather sheepishly, as I laid it on the chair, knowing I might scare her even the more if I pointed the muzzle at her, and she nodded hastily.
"Then behave yourself and you won't come to any harm," I admonished. "We shall have to gag you and tie your arms and legs together," I informed her after a brief pause. She flinched and drew back, but common sense probably told her it wasn't a wise idea to scream.
"Calm down," I went on soothingly. "No one is going to hurt you, and it's for your safety that they should find you tied up. If they come in here and found you loosed, then you would be in serious trouble. Do you understand?" I asked with a frown on my brow. She said nothing, but she had completely calmed down, and I signaled the porter to go ahead with the job. In few minutes, he had her gagged with her scarf, and her arms and legs fastened with a roll of adhesive tape he had found in the PC's closet.
"Is it too tight?" I asked, and she shook her head. "What about the arms and legs?" she responded in the same manner.
"Good girl," I said, smiling down at her. "In few minutes, it will be all over, and you'll be the heroine to tell the story."
I checked my watch again and noticed we had about three more minutes to wait if the porter's timing was accurate, but it wasn't to be; two men were already talking aloud out there in the corridor, and we both stiffened as we heard their voices. The porter quietly walked into the bathroom and I stood behind the door with my gun in hand, a little nervous as cold sweat ran down my back. The girl was in bed, under the bed cover and as I watched her, I wondered if the PC would come into the room with his colleague, but doubted it. I was almost certain he would know his girlfriend would be waiting up for him in the nude; but then, what if the girl was a sport for both men? I grinned mirthlessly at the thought. The roughhouse was bound to start sooner anyway.
"See you tomorrow," I heard as the two men parted.
"Don't do what you won't tell me," one of the men shouted.
"Grow up and go to bed," the other replied, and I smiled slyly to myself, wondering how the men would have felt if they knew the number of people listening to their bollocks.
Seconds later, the doorknob turned, and I held my breath and stood still. The door opened, but the man hesitated as he saw the frame of the girl under the cover. I realized we shouldn't have left her on the bed, but I just shrugged my shoulders. There was no use bothering about it now. He would come in just the same, I assured myself, and he did, though, cautiously . . . but not enough. I placed the muzzle of my gun on his chin as he moved in and kicked the door shut with my heel.
"Take it easy," I said as I ran my hand over his body to make sure he wasn't carrying any weapon. Just then, the porter slid out of the bathroom as quietly as he had gone in with a jeering smile on his face.
"Who are you, and what the hell do you want?" the PC snarled.
"Shut your trap and sit down," I replied, shoving him forward to the upright chair. "You'll be sorry if you don't behave yourself," I warned him, as he sat down, and I was surprised to see him cross his legs and began to relax.
He wore a blue, short-sleeved cotton shirt and plain black pants with a pair of black loafers. He couldn't have been more than twenty-six, but was tall, muscular, and broad-shouldered with short, well-trimmed, wavy, ginger hair. He had a sharp-featured face with an effeminate chin, a firm, determined mouth, and a Roman nose. His eyes were perfectly set and as blue as forget-me-nots . . . and as impersonal. His complexion was just the right blend of mauve and suntan, and that, I presumed, must have been the result of too much idle time he had had to play out there on the beach. However, his angry countenance had thrown a shadow over his otherwise handsome face.
Shortly afterward, the porter lifted the bed cover from the girl's face to allow her get some air. I saw tears roll down her cheek, but there was nothing I could do about that. The PC saw it too, and that infuriated him out of his calmness.
"What the hell do you want?" he repeated, looking desperately around the room like a wounded cat as he uncrossed his legs.
"The diamonds," I answered promptly without mincing words, "and you're going to take me to where I can find them," I asserted.
"You must be crazy," he replied.
"Yes, but you are still going to take me there," I stated, grinning at him.
"You young, coldhearted punks don't keep anything else but women," the porter broke in bitterly as he searched the open cabinet for drinks.
"Get the hell out of here, you two," the PC snarled, ignoring his comment. I decided to show him how serious I was, but as I meant to hit him, Steve, George, and Lydia walked into the room.
"Well, there you are!" I exclaimed. "Meet the rest of the gang," I said with my gun still pointed at him, and my lips still curled up in a grin.
"Now, will you tell me where I can find the diamonds?" I demanded heatedly after some minutes to allow the tense atmosphere caused by their entrance to pass and also to be certain that no one had seen them come in.
"You can go to hell with the rest of your gang," he returned curtly and meant to stand up, but Steve and George sloshed him simultaneously with their fist, and he slouched back into the chair.
"Gag and hold him still," I told George and Steve as I took a pair of small long-nose pliers from my bag. Steve had wanted to know what I needed it for when I requested it back at their station, and I had told him without giving any details, that it might come handy during the operation, and he had accepted it without further questions. I held the tip of the nail on the middle finger of his left hand with the pliers and pulled it suddenly while George and Steve held him down. I hated doing it, but I also needed to let his creepy head know that I meant business. He squirmed with pain and turned sharply, but I didn't let that stop me. I told George to hold the chair firmly while Steve still held him down, and I pulled again. When I later released the finger, I saw the nail was almost out, as blood dripped freely from the wound onto the carpeted floor.
"Will you speak now or do you want me to try this on another finger?" I asked coercively and made to hold his thumbnail with the pliers.
"Why can't you wake up and smell the coffee, you fool?" the porter scolded. "Even the chief would have gladly given the diamonds to him if he did half of that to him," he said, but the man remained adamant.
"Will you tell me where I can find the diamonds or not?" I repeated with a snap, a few seconds after the porter's comment. He nodded his head. I brought out my hunting knife, and as I took off the gag, I warned him how bad it would be if he chose to be foolhardy.
"Come on, Slovan! Go ahead and tell him," the porter urged him as he hesitated. "After all, the damned stones mean nothing to you, and I'm sure that old creepy uncle of yours had no definite use for them."
"Shut up, you dumb-ass drunk," Slovan returned. "I've always known you're hardly useful to yourself, let alone anyone else and repeatedly told him to get rid of you, but he said you were a trusted hand. I wish he could see and hear you, a traitor, like you are now," he spat bitterly.
"Well, I didn't ask him to trust me, did I? And if you choose not to tell them, then it's your funeral," he retorted curtly, shrugging his shoulders as he helped himself to some drink he had found somewhere in Slovan's closet.
"You had better be planning on drowning yourself after all this," he told the porter after a little while.
"Well, loser, I ain't thinking of staying anymore. I'm getting the hell out of this damned snob hole with them," he replied, smiling.
"I bet you are," Slovan returned sarcastically.
After his melodrama with the porter, he gave the safe number as 02V3AC. All that meant nothing to me, so I looked helplessly from him to the porter, and he said he knew the safe and would take us there.
"You're coming with us," I said to Slovan, "and if you play games with me, you will be terribly sorry you did," I warned him sternly.
"I don't have time or patience for games," he returned woodenly, and for the first time, a mirthless grin dropped on his lips.
"I wouldn't have told you anything if I imagined you could leave this island alive," he stated after a brief pause, still grinning.
"Let me be the judge of that," I returned with the same measure of sarcasm. We had him gagged again, and the girl tied to the bed.
"Sorry, sweetheart," I said as tears continued to run down her cheeks, "we just can't leave you loose in here. We've had enough trouble for one day, and we don't want you bringing us more."
Shortly afterward, we all left the room in single file. Steve, George, Lydia, and I had guns in hands and our eyes and ears were as sharp as that of a lynx.