You Find Him – I'll Fix Him

  He came under the red light and I could see him clearly. He was tall and powerfully built. He was wearing a white singlet, black trousers, and a yachting cap on the back of his head. He lolled over the wall, his back to me, and I saw him light another cigarette.

  I lowered myself into the water again and, using a breast stroke, swam silently to the steps. With my hand on the lowest one, I looked over my shoulder. The man was still staring across at the lights of Sorrento, his back turned to me. I pulled myself out of the water and moved silently up the steps, keeping in the shadows of the overhanging trees. I looked back, but the man was still motionless, looking away from me.

  I went up the steps until I reached a terrace that overlooked the harbour. There I paused and stared up at the villa, fifty feet above me.

  I could see a big, lighted window, uncurtained. There was no sign of life up there, but I could hear the faint sound of dance music coming either from a radio or a record.

  Keeping to the shadows, I moved silently and slowly up another flight of steps that brought me on to the second terrace.

  There was a patch of dark shadow, made by an orange tree, opposite the lighted window. I kept in the shadow, sure that no one could see me, and looked into a large luxuriously furnished lounge.

  There were four men around a table in the centre of the room. They were playing poker. Beyond them, lying on a settee, was Myra Setti. She was reading a magazine and smoking; by her was a radiogram from which came the soft sound of dance music.

  I looked at the men at the table. Three of them were the rough types you can see any day in a Warner Bros, movie. Their clothes were flashy, their neckties dazzling, their faces, burned brown by the sun, were hard, thin and vicious. It was the fourth man who held my attention. He was a man of about fifty; big, grossly fat and dark-skinned. I had seen too many pictures of him in the papers in the past not to recognize him. I felt a little surge of triumph run through me. I had succeeded where the whole of the Italian police force had failed! I should have guessed before now that this inaccessible villa could be Frank Setti's hide-out but, somehow, I hadn't thought of him being here.

  The four men were intent on their game of poker. It was easy to see who was winning. Six tall stacks of counters stood before Setti. The other three had scarcely a counter between them. As I watched them, a tall thin rat of a man threw down his cards with a gesture of disgust. He said something to Setti, who grinned wolfishly at him, shoved back his chair and stood up. The other two also threw in their hands and relaxed back in their chairs, scowling.

  Setti looked over at Myra and said something to her. She glanced up, her face heavy with boredom, nodded, then returned her attention to her magazine.

  The tall man came over to the window and threw it open. I crouched down against the low wall. The sound of dance music came out through the open window loudly now.

  "Jerry's late," the tail man said, speaking over his shoulder to Setti.

  Setti got up from the table, stretched his massive limbs and came to the window.

  "He'll be here," he said. "Jerry's a good boy. He has a long way to come." He looked over at Myra. "Turn that damn thing off. I can't hear myself speak."

  Without looking up from her magazine, Myra reached out and turned off the radiogram.

  Setti and the tall man stood by the window, listening. I listened too. I thought I could hear the faint throb of a motor boat engine somewhere out to sea.

  "Here he comes now," the tail man said. "Harry's down there, isn't he?"

  "He damn well better be," Setti growled. He moved away from the window and walked out of the room. A moment later, he came out on to the terrace.

  I began to sweat. I knew if I was found here my life wouldn't be worth a dime. They'd cut my throat and bury me at sea. My hiding-place wasn't any too safe. If any one of them came over to the orange tree they couldn't fail to see me. It was too late to move now. I lay flat, holding my breath and squeezing myself against the terrace wall.

  Setti sat down at one of the tables, about fifty feet from me. The tall man came out and stood looking out to sea.

  "Here he comes," he said.

  Myra came out and joined him. He pointed out into the darkness.

  "Do you see him?"

  "I see him," she said. She put her hands on top of the wall and leaned forward. She was so close to me I could smell her perfume.

  The red harbour light flicked off and then came on again.

  There was a long pause. Setti lit a cigar. Myra and the tall man continued to stare down at the harbour. I lay so still that a lizard, mistaking me for part of the scenery, ran lightly across my bare back.

  Then I heard the sounds of someone running up the steps. A man appeared, wearing a red singlet, black trousers and rope-soled shoes. He was youngish, good-looking in a flashy tough way, and he grinned widely at Myra as he came on to the terrace.

  "Hi, there," he said.