Chavasse heard voices, two men talking. One of them laughed and a match was struck. He was trapped with no place to run. If one of them took a step to the corner of the building, he was certain to be discovered.

A fresh young voice called, “Heh, you there! Yes, you, you great ox. Come here!”

Liri Kupi strolled calmly across the square, her hands in her pockets. Her intention was obviously to attract the attention of the guards and she succeeded perfectly. As Chavasse went along the side of the guardhouse, two soldiers moved out to meet Liri.

They weren’t even armed, and one of them was stripped to the waist as if he had been having a wash. Chavasse ran forward, raised the rifle and rammed it down hard against an exposed neck. As the soldier crumpled with a groan, the other swung round. Chavasse swung the barrel into the man’s stomach. He keeled over, and the butt of the rifle smashed his skull.

Chavasse was already moving toward the door when Liri arrived on the run, her face flushed. “There can’t be anyone else. They’d have come out when I called.”

“Let’s hope you’re right.”

The outer office was quiet, papers scattering across the desk in the wind that blew in through the doorway. Keys hung on a board on the far wall. Chavasse moved across quickly and opened the inner door. There were only six cells. The first four were empty. Guilio Orsini was in the fifth, sprawled on a narrow bunk, head on hands.

“Now then, you old bastard,” Chavasse said amiably.

The Italian sat up, an expression of astonishment on his face. He jumped on his feet and crossed to the grille. “Paul, by all that’s holy! You go in for miracles now?”

“Ask and ye shall receive,” Chavasse said. “You’ll never know just how apt that quotation is. Where’s Francesca?”

“Next door. We’ve been here ever since we arrived. Kapo took off again in something of a hurry. Presumably to chase you.”

“He’s out of luck.”

Liri was beside him with the keys. As she released Orsini, Chavasse was already at the next grille. Francesca Minetti stood there, eyes like dark holes in the white face.

“I knew you’d come, Paul.”

He took the keys from Liri and unlocked the cell. Francesca came straight into his arms. He held her close for a moment, then pushed her away.

“We’ve got to get moving.”

Orsini was already ahead of them, following Liri, and Chavasse picked up the rifle and pushed Francesca along the passage. The Italian paused in the doorway and looked out into the square.

“Seems quiet enough.”

The noise of the siren rising through the still air was like a physical blow, numbing the senses. Chavasse swung round and saw Francesca on the other side of the room. She had opened a small metal box on the wall and her thumb was pressed firmly against a scarlet button.

He pulled her away so violently that she staggered back against the desk. “What the hell are you playing at?”

She spat in his face and slapped him heavily across the left cheek, and in an instinctive reflex action he returned the blow with his clenched fist, knocking her to the floor.

She lay there moaning softly and Orsini grabbed Chavasse by the sleeve, pulling him round. “For God’s sake, what’s going on?”

A single shot echoed across the square, splintering the doorpost, and Orsini ducked, pulling Liri to the floor. Chavasse looked out through the window and saw a movement on the wall above the great gates. Another rifle shot was followed by the rapid stutter of a submachine gun, and a line of bullets kicked a cloud of dust into the air in a brown curtain.

He smashed the window with the butt end of the hunting rifle, aimed quickly and fired. There was a faint cry and a soldier pitched over the parapet and fell, still clutching his rifle.

One of the two guards lying in the square pushed himself onto his knees, an expression of bewilderment on his face. Chavasse shot him through the head and ducked out of sight as the man’s comrades started to concentrate on the window.

He moved to the doorway and crouched beside Orsini and the girl. “There must be half a dozen of them up there now and more on the way. I’m going to draw their fire. It might give you and Liri a chance. She knows the way. Just do as she says.”

Orsini opened his mouth to protest, but Chavasse was already running into the square. He flung himself down beside the body of the guard he had shot, took aim and started to fire at the men on the wall.

Behind him, Orsini and the girl emerged from the guardhouse and started to run. It was at precisely that moment that the great double doors on the far side of the square swung open. An engine burst into life and a Jeep roared through in a cloud of dust. A light machine gun was mounted on a swivel in the rear and Colonel Tashko swung it in a half arc, a line of bullets churning the dust into fountains beside Orsini and the girl, bringing them to a halt, hands held high.

Chavasse, the heart freezing inside him, saw a detail of soldiers come through the gate, rifles at the port. In the moment that the Jeep braked, slewing broadside on, Francesca staggered past him and lurched toward it. Chavasse jumped to his feet and fired the hunting rifle from the hip as he ran.

His first shot kicked up dirt a foot to one side of her and then something punched him in the left arm, spinning him round, the rifle flying from his grasp. He crouched like an animal, holding his arm tightly, blood oozing between the fingers, and heard boots crunch through the dirt in the sudden silence.

When he raised his eyes, Adem Kapo looked down at him, a slight smile fixed to the small mouth.

TWELVE

RAIN DRIFTED IN THROUGH THE BARS of the window and Chavasse pulled himself up and looked out across the monastery walls toward the river. He was immediately aware of the pain in his left arm and dropped with a curse.

The bullet had passed through cleanly, a flesh wound, and the only treatment he had so far received was to have it bandaged. They were in some sort of storeroom on the second floor of the main building. Liri Kupi slept in the corner, a blanket hitched over her shoulders.

Orsini crouched beside her to straighten the blanket. When he rose to his feet there was a strange expression on his face. “Quite a girl. A pity she had to get mixed up in a thing like this.”

“As I’ve already explained, she wasn’t supposed to.” Chavasse walked to the door, peered through the grille at the guard outside. “God, what a fool I’ve been and I never saw it.”

“Francesca?” Orsini shook his head. “I still can’t believe it.”

“She said the Madonna was in the forward cabin and it wasn’t, and remember we had to blast our way in. How do you get round that?” He kicked a packing case savagely. “The little bitch. That night outside the Tabu when she was attacked. They must have been waiting for me to show. The whole thing was laid on for my benefit.”

“But why?” Orsini demanded. “It doesn’t make sense. And what happened to the Madonna?”

“That’s one thing I’d like to know myself. That part of the story was genuine enough, because Father Shedu confirmed it. At least they don’t seem to have laid hands on him, which is a good thing.”

A key rattled in the lock and the door was flung open. Liri came awake and scrambled to her feet as two soldiers moved into the room followed by Tashko. He examined the girl and smiled.

“I’ll come to you later.”

She spat in his face and he reached out, quick as a snake, and grabbed her shoulder. As Orsini and Chavasse started forward, the soldiers raised their machine pistols threateningly.

Tashko’s face was quite expressionless as his thumb expertly pressed a nerve against bone. Liri’s mouth opened in a cry and she crumpled to the floor. He turned to Chavasse, adjusting his leather gloves.