‘Five more minutes, then.’
When they felt strong enough, they swam back out to the boat and climbed in. James realised just how exhausted he was when he could barely lift himself over the side. At last they dressed and grabbed the two small paddles from under the seats.
Wearily, they rowed round to the little natural harbour to moor the boat. Everything looked exactly as it had done when James had left.
Victor’s dinghy sat there, ready for an outing.
Victor?
Would he be here?
Would he be all right?
What was waiting for them up at the villa?
James remembered about the robbery. Would the place seem empty and bare without all the paintings?
He had tried not to think about that until now. He had simply pictured an idyllic scene of Victor sitting sipping wine with Poliponi on the terrace, jazz music playing on the gramophone.
Amy jumped off the boat and James tossed her the rope. She tied it to an iron ring and James clambered out to join her.
Too tired even to speak to each other, they tramped up the steps cut into the rock. James just wanted to be in his bed asleep and recovering.
The thought of bed had never been so delicious. Another picture came into his mind. A picture of crisp white sheets, and a mosquito net gently moving in the breeze from an open window.
He smiled.
He was nearly there.
Soon it would all be over.
Victor appeared at the top of the steps wearing one of his Moroccan robes and James smiled.
But then he noticed that Victor looked worried and there was a nasty bruise on his forehead.
‘Victor,’ said James, ‘are you all right?’
Before Victor could say anything he gasped and dropped to one side.
Someone had hit him from behind.
Jana Carnifex stepped forward, her high heels clicking on the stones like the claws of a dog. Her make-up was smeared. Her wig was at a mad angle and straggly grey hair was falling from under it in a messy tangle about her face. Her gold dress was filthy and dusty. In her brown, silver-ringed hand she held a pistol, her long fingernails curled around the handle. She must have been holding it in Victor’s back and then struck him with it.
James looked at Victor. His hands were tied behind him and he appeared to be unconscious.
‘James Bond,’ said Jana. ‘I have been waiting for you.’ She had a crazy, wild-eyed look about her and James knew that she would not hesitate to use the gun. But what could he do? He and Amy were trapped on the steps. If they rushed her, it was possible that one of them would be able to reach her unharmed, but it was too big a risk.
Whatever happened, though, he had to try and shield Amy.
Perhaps they could jump into the sea? James knew that water bent light so that it was hard to aim at something beneath the surface. How good a shot could Jana be?
It was a slim hope, but it was all he had.
He glanced down. They weren’t as high up as the ledge he’d dived off that day with Mauro, but he’d have to be careful of the sea urchins that lay everywhere on the rocks like a black blanket.
How could he explain it to Amy, though? There wouldn’t be time.
He edged up closer to her. He could see drops of sweat sitting on the skin of her neck. She was trembling slightly.
‘Leave Amy out of this,’ James shouted, trying to buy some time. ‘This is nothing to do with her.’
‘Isn’t it? Well, I don’t care,’ sneered Jana. ‘I am going to kill you both, anyway. You have ruined my life, killed my brother and buried my home under filthy mud. I am going to shoot you and you will be food for the crabs. They will eat your pretty faces. Then I am going to shoot your cousin and the other prisoners in the villa.’
At that moment Victor stirred and tried to sit up.
Jana turned on him. ‘Lie still,’ she hissed, ‘or I will shoot you now.’
It was all James needed. Jana was distracted long enough for him to grab hold of Amy round the waist and brace his legs against the rock.
‘Jump,’ he hissed into her ear and pushed off hard.
Amy had just long enough to flex her legs and spring backwards, so that they flew out over the water, narrowly clearing the rocks below.
They landed with a splash and sank to the bottom.
Jana howled in frustration and fired off two wild shots that punched harmlessly into the water, well wide of their mark.
She swore and ran down the first couple of steps to get a clearer aim, but her high-heeled shoes weren’t designed for these conditions and they slipped on the rocks. One ankle turned over and she fell on to her knees, grazing all the skin off them. She flung out one hand, trying to grab hold of the slippery polished stone, but her long fingernails prevented her from getting a grip and she tumbled down a few more steps and over the side, where she went slithering and scraping down the rock face into the water, the gun dropped and forgotten, her fingernails snapping off as she tried to cling on.
She landed among the sea urchins, piercing herself all down one side. She bellowed in pain and tried to climb out of the water, but wherever she put her hands there were more urchins. Her palms and fingers were soon studded all over with broken spines, so that it looked like she was wearing hairy, black gloves.
She couldn’t stand in her heels and her long sodden dress was caught on a rock. In her panic to scramble free she slipped and fell face first into another bed of poisonous spines.
James forced himself to turn away as she clutched at her cheeks, trying to pull the spikes out, but only driving them deeper. She was wailing like a trapped animal and she sank under the water for a few seconds before coming up, spitting and retching.
James swam over to try and help her, but she thrashed about, screaming like a maniac and wouldn’t let him near. He caught a brief glimpse of her ruined face. One eye was pinned shut.
He couldn’t begin to imagine how much pain she was in. He had only trodden on one urchin and it had been agony.
At last she gave a horrible, strangled snarl and clutched her chest. Then she curled up into a ball and as she flopped back in the water, her head struck a rock and finally she lay still.
James tried not to look at her as he helped Amy out of the water on to the steps.
‘Thank you,’ she said and hugged him. Then she winced and gasped.
‘What is it?’ James asked.
‘I’ve got spikes in my foot; I must have stepped on one.’
James looked into her face and smiled, pushing her short hair back off her forehead.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I know exactly what to do…’
Charlie Higson, Blood Fever
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