Grant took the M16 being held by Womack, put the extra rounds into his chest vest and double checked the clips for his .45.
“What do you want the men to do with him?” Moore asked as he pointed over his shoulder to the Italian.
Grant eyed the surrounding area. “Gag and hogtie him to that tree over there,” he said pointing beyond some thick brush. “Maybe we’ll pick him up on our way out.”
Adler stepped aside as Simpson and Womack pulled the Italian from the truck. “One last time. You sure you want me to stay here?” he asked Grant.
“You’re the only one who can inspect those canisters and determine what needs to be done.”
Adler nodded begrudgingly. “And you’ll contact me as soon as it’s clear, right?”
Grant punched him in the shoulder as he walked by, taking a few steps down the path, keeping an eye out for Simpson. He brought his arm close, trying to see his watch.
Adler motioned with his head. “Here he comes.”
Simpson didn’t wait for Grant to ask. “Tough, sir. That damn cave’s pretty deep, and the entrance is covered by trees and brush. But I’d say there’s at least five of ‘em in there. There was some kinda light behind the trees; may have been a guard.”
“Okay, Craig. That’ll have to be good enough.” He checked his rifle, then said, “Everybody knows what has to be done, and we’ve gotta get it done before daybreak. Come on, Ray.”
Grant and Moore, with their rifles locked and loaded, moved quickly down the left side of the road. They had gone about fifty yards when they noticed some kind of dim light up ahead, the glare being filtered through trees.
Grant put his hand out, motioning for Moore to slow down. “Gotta be the entrance. Let’s go.”
Moving farther off the path, taking cover behind some brush, they crouched down, continuing to move forward, keeping their eyes focused on the light that seemed to be moving, until they were directly opposite it. Finally, they were able to see a large, barrel-chested man pushing aside tree branches, holding a lighted lamp high overhead.
Grant and Moore stopped dead in their tracks as the man walked within thirty feet of their position. They could smell tobacco smoke as he took a deep, final drag, then flicked the butt close to where they were hiding. They figured he was watching for the trucks.
With one last look, the man turned, went back up the incline and disappeared behind the tree branches. The light slowly dimmed until there was only darkness.
Grant spoke softly. “He’s in the cave. We’ve gotta get closer.” He motioned for Moore to take the right side. They took off simultaneously, running to take their positions on either side of the cave entrance.
Grant rushed up to the edge of the cave, pressing himself against the rock, gradually squatting down and inching his way to get behind large, moss-covered rocks. Moore was taking his position opposite him, about twenty-five feet away. Grant turned his back from the cave entrance, pulled his penlight from his pocket, shining the tiny light on his watch. There were still a couple of minutes. He held up two fingers for Moore.
He scooted closer to the edge of his hiding place, then looked around the corner. A pungent dampness and cigarette smoke immediately hit his senses. The floor of the cave, from what he could see, was nothing but rocks, puddles of water, and some kind of brush. He tried focusing on what he could only assume was a curve to the left in the rock, then beyond that was probably the very back of the cave. A flickering, dim light reflected on the walls.
Grant eased himself backward, hearing occasional, muffled laughter echoing within the cave. Just as he was about to look at his watch, he heard truck engines and saw headlights. Moore signaled a thumb’s up. Both of them crept farther back, seeing a light inside the cave getting brighter, knowing someone was heading toward them.
Grant brought his rifle in front of his body, with his index finger in position, ready to let all hell break loose if necessary.
Chapter 15
Giovanni Bruno held a lamp as he walked in front of the munitions lined up against the cave wall. Leary of the steel containers grouped together, he stepped to the opposite side of the cave. Castalani hadn’t given specific information on what was hidden inside the containers, but Bruno had enough smarts to know it was something very dangerous.
He heard footsteps. Amara walked toward him, then put the lamp on the ground before lighting up another cigarette.
Bruno slapped the cigarette out of his hand, shouting, “Idiot!” He crushed the cigarette with the heel of his shoe, before asking, “Anything yet? Did you see or hear the trucks?”
“Nothing.”
Bruno started pacing, knowing the last trucks with the prisoners were overdue. Almost a bigger problem was he didn’t have a way to track them even if he wanted to. All the other vehicles had been driven to Palermo.
Castalani’s bodyguards, Gallo and Luca, leaned against a protruding rock formation with their Uzis slung over their shoulders, just watching Bruno. Within a minute, they all heard the sound of engines. What no one heard was Bruno’s sigh of relief.
As they reached the point in the cave where it curved around, he said to Amara, “You stay here; keep this section lighted. Piscaro, you come with us.”
Bruno held the lamp high overhead, as they all maneuvered around obstacles in their path, making their way through the cave, finally able to see headlights filtering through the tree line. One of the driver’s turned the truck so the lights were shining toward the cave.
Grant saw the glow from a lamp and heard footsteps drawing closer. He motioned with his hand for Moore to back up. Both of them stepped back, pressing themselves against the rock formation. He gave a brief smile inwardly, silently complimenting Russo on shining the headlights toward the oncoming Italians, making it more difficult for them to see into the truck. But daylight was approaching, with a mere hint of sunshine already on the distant horizon. Four men walked out of the cave. Grant remembered Simpson had said he heard at least five voices.
Still staying behind the trees, Bruno shouted at the men driving the trucks, waving them toward him. “Hey! Andiamo! Get those Americani in here!”
“We need some help!” Russo shouted back. “Give us a hand!”
Bruno led the way through the trees, stopping just outside the tree line. “The three of you go,” he said, waving his hand forward, trying to hold the lamp higher.
Once the Italians were past the trees, Grant moved closer to the entrance, seeing Moore staring at him, waiting for orders. Grant pointed at him, then pointed to the cave. Moore held a thumb up, looked toward the tree line, then edged his way closer to the entrance before reaching for his knife. Looking at Grant one more time, he saw Grant’s final nod. He rounded the corner and disappeared into the cave.
Grant continued creeping closer to the trees. His timing would have to be perfect.
Chapter 16
Light from the early morning sun slowly broke through a thin layer of clouds and volcano smoke drifting across the horizon. Luigi Castalani was asleep, slouched down behind the steering wheel, with his head resting against the seat. He began to stir as he felt the warm light against his eyelids. Finally, his brain kicked in, and bolting upright, he grabbed hold of the steering wheel and shook his head.