Montezuma’s Revenge

“Do not seek to confuse! What are we to believe—that this ruthless killer is surrendering meek as a lamb? No! That he does not know where he is? Laughable! He knows. Then what? The answer is obvious because he wished to betray his own FBI and therefore wants it to look as though he has been apprehended by us and the hiding place of the painting forced from him, when in reality it is the doublecross in action and he wishes to sell the painting. Well, we will not pay, Mr. Hawkin, we will not play your game, we do not pay for what is rightfully ours, and we will hold you until the painting is returned.”

“Ten million lire?”

“Too high.”

“Make me an offer.”

“I have no authority.”

“I want to go to the toilet.”

“Luigi, Alfredo. // prigioniero aV gabineto?

One of the men unbolted the door while two others seized him each by an arm and walked him across the room. Chances were not to be taken. The door opened into a dimly lit hall that smelled strongly of grease. He was pulled sharply left by his guards, though not before he noticed the stairway to the right rising up to a dimly outlined door. The way out? With firm grips he was propelled into the gloom in the opposite direction to a more humble doorway that was opened to reveal the ghostly porcelain form of an ancient piece of plumbing, wooden box above, newspaper—and cigarette-butt-strewn floor below. His arms were released and he was urged forward.

There was no escape in there and escape was what he greatly desired. With the word came a memory of an orientation lecture in the Army, one of the few he had not managed to sleep through, all about imaginative ways to escape if one were taken prisoner of war. One point had been stressed; the earlier the escape attempt was made the greater chance of success it held. Like now?

With thought came deed. He stepped forward—and threw his weight suddenly against the open door, crashing it into the man who was standing next to it. As the door moved so did he, ignoring the sharp cry of the second man, bouncing off the door and running back down the hall, past the still open door of the room and bounding like a gazelle up the stairs.

Before he was halfway up the entire pack was in full cry after him, men fighting and cursing as they jammed in the doorway, pounding full tilt in his wake. But fear lent a certain bounce to his run, unencumbered by weighty clothes or shoes, so that he sprang up the last steps and slammed bruisingly into the door at the top which, providentially, was unlocked. It burst open under his onslaught and he staggered through into a large kitchen. There was only the briefest image of white hats, black stoves, shocked faces, as he raced the length of it and through the swinging door there, his arrival coinciding exactly with that of the taciturn waiter entering with a tray of dirty dishes.

Momentum counted and Tony kept on going, though staggered still more now by the impact, while the encounter had a far more dramatic impact upon the waiter. Backward he went, emitted a single high-pitched shriek, and into a table which collapsed under his weight. This drew the undivided attention of all the diners in the room, which attention was instantly repaid by the sight of a nearly naked man running the length of the restaurant and out of the front door followed closely by a shouting pack of men. It was very dramatic.

Tony appreciated neither the drama nor the scene and was already beginning to feel very tired, still partially suffering the effects of the drug. Unthinkingly, pulses of red fire being driven into his temples, he retraced the course he had taken earlier on his way to the restaurant, scarcely aware that night had fallen and people were emerging in the cool of the evening. Down the street and down the steps, gravity now lending speed to his plunge, brushing by surprised couples, hearing the enraged shouts of his pursuers. Down and down past the now dormant Long Porker and the still active tortilleria, across the sidewalk—the road miraculously empty of traffic at that moment or he would have been struck by instant death since he was unable to stop-across the flagstones to topple headlong into the dark waters beyond.