Luciano's Luck (13 page)

Carter with you. There is nothing to be gained by trying to stand and fight here.' Carter, half-dazed, was struggling to sit up in bed and Maria was on her feet as they entered the room. 'We're in trouble,' Luciano said. 'Paratroopers. We've got to get out of here.' The door opened and Savage appeared, pulling on his rucksack. Rosa was behind him holding his Mi and she passed it to him. 'What's happening?' 'Detweiler, or I miss my guess,' Luciano said. They moved to the window in time to see Koenig crash through the red pantile roof to the left of them and disappear. The men in the courtyard under Brandt's direction, were already discarding their parachutes. Savage raised his rifle to fire and Luciano knocked it up. 'No need for that. We're getting out of here. That way we leave it clean for the Franciscans.' 'How?' 'The catacombs,' Padre Giovanni said. 'Follow me, please, but we must hurry. There isn't much time.' Luciano said to Savage. 'Sling Carter over your shoulder and you bring his clothes, Maria. We'll dress him later.' They hurried along the passage outside. Padre Giovanni produced a key and opened an oak door at the far end disclosing a stone spiral staircase. 'This goes all the way down to the chapel. The entrance to the crypt, I showed you the other day. I can only wish you luck, my friends. Now hurry, I beg you.' Luciano led the way and Savage followed, Carter over his shoulder, Rosa and Maria behind. Padre Giovanni closed the door and locked it. As he turned, one of the SS paratroopers appeared from the stairhead at the other end of the passageway and covered him with his Schmeisser. Koenig's left arm was badly broken and he sat on one of the benches in the monastery refectory while a young Brother bandaged it. There was also a gash in his left cheek and Koenig held a handkerchief against it to stem the flow of blood. Padre Giovanni said, 'It will need stitches, I fear, Colonel, and the arm is not good. Broken in two places. You will need a skilful surgeon if you are not to be left with permanent injury.' There was a quick step and Brandt came in. 'We've searched the place thoroughly, Colonel. Not a sign of anyone except the Fathers.' 'Should there be?' Padre Giovanni enquired. 'My information was that there were enemy agents here, Father, led by a British officer - a Colonel Carter.' 'Then I can only say you have gone to considerable trouble to no good purpose. There is no one of that description here.' He raised the crucifix around his neck to his lips and kissed it. 'I give you my word.' Koenig stood up wearily, grimacing with pain. 'What about the men?' 'Three dead, Colonel. Two in the ravine outside. Vogel broke his neck falling off the wall. Hartman has a broken leg.' 'And all to no purpose,' Koenig turned to Padre Giovanni. 'You were right, Father.' There was a sudden burst of firing from outside. Koenig hurried out followed by Brandt and Padre Giovanni and stood at the top of the steps. There was a young paratrooper on the battlement above the gate and Koenig called up to him. 'What is it?' 'It looks as if there are people down there in the forest, Colonel, moving towards Bellona. Major Meyer and his column have turned off the road to go after them.' There was a renewed burst of heavy firing. Koenig ssi turned to Padre Giovanni. 'I see now, Father. You told the truth because they'd already gone.' He didn't wait for a reply, simply turned to Brandt and said, 'Right, Sergeant-Major, round up the men and follow me at the double.' For the first time in their long association, Brandt queried an order. 'Look, sir, I don't think in your present state that you're fit to go anywhere.' 'Your opinion is duly noted,' Koenig said. 'Now let's get moving,' and he went down the steps and hurried across the courtyard. Padre Giovanni watched the last paratrooper double through the gate after him, then turned, hurried to the chapel and started to toll the bell, one deep solemn stroke after another. The sound echoed all the way down the valley to Bellona to where Vito Barbera, already alerted by the gunfire from the forest, stood listening. Verga and Father Collura hurried across the square to join him. 'What does it mean?' Verga demanded. 'I don't know, but I've just been on the radio and the Americans have landed. Spread the word. Tell everyone to have what weapons they have ready.' 'It will take time,' Verga said. 'Do the best you can.' They hurried away and Barbera went back inside, climbed up to the coffin room and entered the cubby-hole through the secret entrance. He got down on his knees, prized up a floorboard in one corner and took out a machine pistol and several clips of ammunition, then he went back downstairs. On emerging from the tunnel on the hillside, Luciano and the others had stopped to dress Carter. They got him into pants and a jacket and Maria and Rosa hurriedly forced his feet into boots. Carter was still in a high fever, but reasonably articulate. S23 'What's happening?' 'We've been rumbled/ Luciano said. 'We're going to try to make our way down to the village to see what Bar-bera can do for us. Don't try to talk. Just save your strength and let's get going.' Savage passed his Mi to Rosa and his rucksack. Then he hoisted Carter on his back and, they started down the slope. There was a small clearing to cross where the olive terraces ended and the pine trees began. It was when they were half way across that the firing started. It was Meyer in the lead fieldcar as his column raced up the zig-zag road to the monastery, who saw them first and cried to his driver to halt. Suslov in the kubelwagen at the rear of the small column, stood up, reaching for the heavy machine gun mounted on its swivel and started to fire. The bullets kicked up fountains of dirt, chasing the fugitives into the trees and Maria stumbled and fell. Luciano reached down, dragging her to her feet and they staggered into the shelter of the trees. 'After them,' Meyer cried, urging the driver on, and the kubelwagen left the road and hurtled -over the rough ground between the olive terraces. Miraculously, it was only the heel of Maria's shoe which had been hit and they hurried along the track through the pine trees, following Savage and Rosa. The trees at that part grew closely together, making it impossible terrain for the vehicles to operate in. After a while, Luciano, pausing to listen, heard voices. 'They're coming on foot,' he said and a burst of machine gun fire cut through the branches overhead. He fired back quickly, emptying his M1 then rammed in another dip as he ran after the others. There was a crashing in the bushes to the right and one of the Ukrainians appeared, running very fast, his rifle held waist high. He fired twice, kicking up dirt to one side of Savage. Luciano went headlong down the hill and jumped, giving him both feet in the back. The Ukrainian rolled over twice. As he tried to scramble to his feet, Luciano shot him through the head. Savage was gasping for breath now, lurching from side to side as he ran on, borne by Carter's weight. He lost his balance and went headlong, Carter sprawling on top of him. He managed to get to his feet. Carter said weakly, 'Leave me. Save yourselves.' Luciano passed his Mi to Maria and pulled Carter to his feet. 'Lean on me, Professor. One step in front of the other, that's all it takes. Aren't you the guy who went four miles with a bullet in the lung?' 'Keep moving,' Savage said. 'I'll guard your back.' He took a couple of hand grenades from the rucksack Rosa was holding and put one in each pocket. Then he reloaded his Mi. 'Okay,' he said. 'Get going. They may need you. I'll follow on.' She shook her head stubbornly. 'No, Savage, I won't leave you.' There was a rustle in the bushes behind, he turned and fired from the hip and a Ukrainian pitched forward on to his face. Savage gave her a push. 'Get out of itl' He rammed in another clip, ducking as someone fired over to his left in reply and there was a cry of pain. She crouched beside him. 'Please, Savage, we go now.' He slapped her backhanded across the face. 'Get out of here, you stupid little bitch!' She recoiled in dismay, genuine hurt on her face then turned and started to crawl away. He reached out, catching her left hand. 224 'Heh, I love you, don't forget that. Honeymoon in New York, that's a promise.' He turned, raising the Mi and received a burst of machine gun fire full in the chest that lifted him back off his feet. There was blood in his mouth and he was choking on it, aware of Rosa screaming; then she was crouching over him, her face the last thing he saw as he died. She knelt there, holding him in her arms, his blood staining her clothes and they came out of the bushes, four of them, and stood watching her. One of them laughed harshly. 'Let's see if you know your manners.' They were all laughing now as they lowered their weapons and moved in on her and Rosa was laughing too as she laid Savage gently on the ground. She reached in his pockets and turned, still laughing, a grenade in each hand. The Ukrainians recoiled in horror, turned to run, already too late. Luciano and Maria, Carter supported between them, emerged from the pine trees and started across the patch of broken ground leading up to the village. Vito Barbera, from the upper window of the mortuary, saw the Russians moving down through the trees, higher up the slope. There was sporadic firing and to his dismay, he heard Luciano cry out and saw him go down. Carter reeled against Maria and Barbera leaned out of the window and fired a long burst from his Schmeisser across the open ground. Miraculously, Luciano was on his feet and helping Maria with Carteragain. As they reached the edge of the village, two or-three Ukrainians ran out of the forest and started across the open ground. The streets were deserted, everyone indoors, as Luciano and Maria staggered across the square with their burden. They could hear vehicles coming along the road, very close now. Luciano was bleeding profusely from the right leg, limping badly as they turned into the side street leading to the mortuary. Barbera opened the door and hastened to meet them. Meyer stood in one of the troop carriers in the middle of the square and watched as the Ukrainians went from house to house turning everyone out. It was Suslov pausing casually on the corner of the street leading to Barbera's premises to light a cigarette, who noticed blood on the cobbles, a clearly denned trail. He followed it to the steps leading up to the mortuary door. The door was unlocked. He pushed it open, drew the Walther from his holster and moved inside cautiously. There was more blood on the stone flags of the passage leading to the door at the end. He opened that and found himself in the waiting mortuary. It was totally silent and very still in the dim light and he recoiled at the sight of the corpse of a gnarled old woman in the first coffin on his left. There was a spot of blood on the floor, another. He carried on, passing several open coffins containing corpses, each one holding the end of the bell pull in stiff fingers. There was another patch of blood beside an ornate black coffin. He crouched down to examine it and then the hair lifted on the back of his neck as a bell tinkled faintly. He stood up and peered over the edge of the coffin. The corpse of the man inside seemed peaceful enough, hands folded around an ivory Madonna. It was really very beautiful. Suslov leaned closer to examine it and the corpse's eyes opened. There was a click as the Madonna swung upward in the right hand. Father Collura stood against the wall of the church facing half a dozen Ukrainians forming a firing squad while the 226 people of Bellona watched. Meyer, standing in one of the kubelwagenSj nodded, there was a sharp volley and the old priest fell to the ground. 'That's just to show you I mean business,' Meyer called. 'You all know who I'm looking for. I'll give you five minutes to come up with some answers. If you haven't, I'll select two more. Then four and so on. It's your choice.' Watching from the upper window of the mortuary, Maria said, 'We must do something.' Barbera said, 'There isn't much we can do. Most of the young men are in the hills. We didn't have time to organise. The whole thing caught us by surprise.' 'What about the American troops?' Luciano said. 'How long before they get here?' T don't know what's happening.' 'Then let's try the radio.' They went out, Luciano limping badly, his left leg bandaged and Maria opened the window in time to hear Meyer say, 'The Englishman, Carter, and the woman, Maria Vaughan.' The people stood there, quiet in the steady rain. He gave an order and two of the Ukrainians moved into the crowd and grabbed a couple of old men. She didn't really think about it, simply went downstairs, opened the front door and went along the side street into the square. There was a murmur in the crowd as she appeared. She stopped and looked up at Meyer standing there in the kubelwagen. 'I am Maria Vaughan, Major,' she said simply. 'You may release these people.' Meyer gazed down at her. 'And your friends?' 'I cannot help you there. I speak only for myself.' He looked around him. 'Where is Lieutenant Suslov?' 'I don't know, Major,' one of the sergeants told him. 'Still searching house to house, I think.' 2*7 'Very well,' Meyer said. 'Put this woman against the wall.' He looked down at her again. 'Unless, of course, you have changed your mind.' 'I have nothing to say,' she said tranquilly. Two of the Ukrainians seized her and hustled her across to the wall. They left her there beside the body of Father Collura and another firing squad was hastily formed. She crossed herself, closing her eyes to pray and was not aware of Koenig appearing on the other side of the square, a handful of his paratroopers behind him. 'No!'he called. They had come from the monastery on foot and he was tired. The pain in his arm was almost unbearable and his face was coated with dried blood. He moved forward, the paratroopers strung out behind him led by Brandt, and halted beside the troop carrier. 'Who is this lady?' 'The Vaughan woman. She refused to tell me where the rest of her people are.' Koenig called, 'Fraulein Vaughan, would you come here, please.' 'No!' Meyer said violently. T will not have it.' Koenig didn't even bother to look at him. T command here, Meyer. What you wish is of little importance.' 'Damn you, Koenig!' Meyer cried, all the pent-up hatred finally overflowing. He pulled out his Walther and shot him twice in the back. Koenig staggered forward and Maria tried to catch him, half twisting round in an attempt to hold him up. Meyer kept firing in a kind of insane rage, bullets smashing into her, driving her and Koenig down together to lie like lovers, limbs entwined. The people scattered, running for their homes in panic. Brandt dropped on his knees beside Koenig and gently turned him over. He looked up at
Meyer, his face hard, 228 and Meyer reached for the handles of the heavy machine gun on its swivel and swung it to cover Brandt and the paratroopers. 'He was a traitor to the Reich and to the Fiihrer,' he said. 'You hear me? Now stand back, all of you!' He called to his men, 'Mount up and let's get out of here.' The rest of them scrambled in the other kubelwagen and drove quickly away. i8 Luciano and Vito Barbera came out of the mortuary and ran across the square. Luciano, dropped on his knees beside Maria. Brandt said, 'She's dead. They're both dead.' Her face was peaceful, her wounds in the chest and heart. He knelt there for a long moment looking down at her, then gently touched her breast. The blood stained his fingers and he raised them to his mouth. He stood up, wholly Sicilian now and whispered the ancient formula. Tn this way may I drink the blood of the one who killed you.' Men had appeared in the square, old and young, armed with, everything from shotguns to automatic weapons and Brandt and the remaining paratroopers moved in on each other, faces grim, ready for anything. A teenage boy came running across the square and stopped before Barbera. 'They've taken the north road.' 'Then that means the monastery. It leads nowhere else.' Two old women knelt beside Maria to straighten her limbs and one of them took off her shawl to cover the pale face. Luciano was filled with a sense of total despair. He turned. 'Let's go and get him.' He nodded to the troop carrier. 'Can anyone drive this thing?' 'I can,' Rudi Brandt said. There was a moment's silence. Luciano said, 'I thought we were supposed to be at war?' 'This is personal.' Luciano looked at Barbera, who nodded. 'I'll get my truck.' 230 'Fine.' Luciano turned to Brandt. 'I'll go with you boys. Now let's get moving.' They braked to a halt just before the crest of the hill below the main gate. Barbera, who was carrying more than twenty armed men in his old truck, got put and hurried to the troop carrier. 'How are we going to handle it?' 'The troop carrier goes first,' Luciano told him. 'The only way we'll get through those gates. If it works, you come straight in after us and remember Padre Giovanni and the Franciscans are on our side.' 'Okay.' Barbera grinned. 'Do I wish you luck?' 'When did I ever need it?' Luciano slapped Brandt on the shoulder and they drove away. When Meyer got out of his fieldcar in the courtyard at Crown of Thorns, there was no one in sight, the whole place unnaturally quiet in the heavy rain. The only visible signs of the action which had taken place were the parachutes draped untidily on the walls or in the courtyard, lifting uneasily in the slight breeze. At that moment in the catacombs below, Father Giovanni was supervising the departures of the last of the Franciscans into the tunnel, taking with them the young paratrooper with the broken leg. He gave one glance around, then followed them in. The wooden throne swung back into its place with its macabre burden. Meyer was unable to think clearly. It had all happened so quickly, the rage in him something that could not be denied. Now he was faced with the appalling consequences. A sergeant came out of the entrance, ran down the steps and hurried towards him. 'Not a soul in the place. Quiet as the grave, Major.' ^ 'Impossible,' Meyer said. One of the men on the gate called out, 'Someone's coming, Major.' Meyer ran out and paused on the bridge over the ditch. From that vantage point the approach road could be seen in its entirety. The half-track troop carrier was coming up fast followed by an old truck. Way behind, a considerable crowd of people were following on foot. The Ukrainians crowded around him and one of them held a pair of fieldglasses to his eyes. He lowered them and turned to Meyer, bewildered. 'I don't understand. Koenig's paratroopers in the troop carrier and the truck's crammed full of peasants.' Meyer took the glasses from him and raised them and the troop carrier jumped into focus. Brandt, who he recognized instantly, the rest of his men and Luciano. Barbera was at the wheel of the truck behind and the men with him were armed. 'They've joined forces,' Meyer said. 'They're coming up together. Inside quickly and get the gates dosed.' He turned and ran for the courtyard. Meyer was no soldier, never had been, and the Ukrainians ignored him now. Someone closed the gates and slid the retaining bar through its sockets and the rest of them took the two heavy machine guns from the hubelwagen and carried them up to the battlements above the gate. They were all up there now and Meyer stood in the centre of the courtyard amongst the billowing parachutes quite alone. There was a Schmeisser in one of the kubel-wagens. |He picked it up, turned, walked away from the gate and mounted the stone steps to the east rampart. Brandt, peering out through the open visor of the troop carrier, said to Luciano, 'Get down here. This could be a hot one.' Luciano did as he was told. Above them, two of the paratroopers crouched over the heavy machine gun, hanging on as Brandt increased speed, turning into the last stretch, the half-tracks kicking up mud and filth from the road. The machine guns above the gate started to fire when they had still a hundred yards to go. The armoured plating of the troop carrier took most of the brunt and their own machine gun was returning the fire now, raking the battlements above the gate. One of the Ukrainians was hit and came over the parapet, dragging a machine gun with him, falling on to the bridge as Brandt roared on, bouncing over the body, the machine gun hitting the gates at close to sixty miles an hour, tearing them from their hinges. The troop carrier kept on going, smashing into one of the kubelwagens, drifting broadside past another. One of the paratroopers tossed a stick grenade, there was a tremendous explosion as the kubelwagen's petrol tank exploded. The Ukrainians up on the wall were firing down into the yard, working their Schmeissers furiously and two of them tried to turn the heavy machine gun round. Rudi Brandt ran forward, hurling another stick grenade. It curled lazily through the air exploding above the gate. Two of the Ukrainians fell into the yard and the machine gun followed them. The second kubelwagen exploded, showering burning fuel over a wide area. A dense pall of black smoke drifted across the courtyard. Luciano, crouched at the side of the troop carrier, snatched up a Schmeisser from a fallen paratrooper. Bullets bounced from the armour plating and he turned and fired instinctively at the battlements on the other side of the courtyard, at the figure crouched up there beside the wall. Meyer. He emptied the Schmeisser in another long burst, pulled out his Smith and Wesson and ran for the steps leading to the east rampart. He paused at the bottom, peering up through the smoke, fired three times very fast at what might have been a shadow and went up the steps on the run. Below in the courtyard, Barbera and his friends had arrived in strength and there was a confused mel6e of hand to hand fighting in the smoke and rain. Up there on the ramparts, it was quiet. Smoke drifted eerily and the noise of the battle in the courtyard seemed far away, as if it were happening in another time, another place. Luciano removed his shoes and went forward cautiously on silent feet, the Smith and Wesson ready. He was at the highest point in the monastery, he knew that, smoke billowing around him. He was aware of the pigeons in their loft, fluttering in alarm, and paused. Then, quite suddenly, a gust of wind lifted across the battlements, dissolving the pall of smoke. Meyer was standing only a few feet away, covering him with the Schmeisser. 'Drop it!' he said. 'Now!' 'Whatever you say.' Luciano put the Smith and Wesson down carefully on the battlements. Meyer was surprisingly calm. 'Who are you?' 'Salvatore Lucania but most people call me Luciano.* Meyer was shocked, it showed in his eyes and his finger slackened on the trigger. The ivory Madonna was ready in Luciano's left hand. As he swung, the blade jumped, catching Meyer under the chin, shearing through the roof of the mouth into the brain. It took all Luciano's strength to pull the knife free. Meyer staggered back, still alive, a look of astonishment on his face, then fell backwards over the low parapet. The pigeons in the loft threshed around in panic. S34 Luciano lifted the latch and opened the screen door and they flocked out, launching into space, climbing above the smoke into the clear rain. He watched them go, then realized that he was still holding the ivory Madonna. For a moment, he was tempted to throw it out into space, but that would not have been Salvatore Lucania's way, nor Lucky Luciano's. He kissed the blade, still wet with Meyer's blood, the ritual completion of the oath he had taken in the square, then wiped it clean, cl'osed it and slipped the Madonna into his pocket. Life for life, blood for blood and no satisfaction in it at all, but then Maria could have told him that, and he turned and went down the steps to the courtyard. Maria Vaughan lay in a coffin before the altar of the little church at Bellona, her features relaxed and at peace in death, her wounds covered by a shroud. Candles flared around her, placed there by the villagers, but now, the place was empty, except for Katerina sitting in the front pew and Don Antonio Luca beside the coffin. Luciano and Mario Sciara standing in the shadows at the back of the church watched as Luca leaned down to kiss the pale face. Katerina stood up and put an arm around him. They started up the aisle. Sciara opened the door and he and Luciano waited. When he reached them, Luca paused. 'You know what to do, Mario,' he said to Sciara- 'Yes, Capo.' 'Good.' He turned and looked at Luciano, eyes dark. Luciano waited, but there was, after all, nothing to say. Katerina tightened her arm around him and they went out and Sciara followed them. It was very quiet in the church and his footsteps echoed between the walls as Luciano walked down the aisle to the coffin. He stood there looking down at her, suddenly tired. He touched her hand gently. It was cold, hard, no life there at all. Maybe people come to God when the Devil has no further use for them. His words to her echoed in his mind and her reply: No, Mr Luciano. I could never accept that. Never. He turned and walked away quickly. Harry Carter lay in Vito Barbera's bed at the mortuary, propped up against pillows, still very weak as he sipped the brandy Barbera held for him. 'So, in the end, we got exactly what we wanted.* Luciano, standing at the window looking down into the square, nodded. 'All over the Cammarata, in every village, every town in Western Sicily, all the way to Palermo, the word is already passing. That Don Antonio Luca is for the Americans.' 'Because a German killed his grand-daughter?' 'Exactly/ Luciano said. 'Blood for blood, an old Sicilian custom. I'd have thought you'd have realized that by now.* Carter nodded. 'And the paratroopers?' 'We let them clear off in the troop carrier, what's left of them, to take their chances. They took Koenig with them.* Carter frowned, 'I don't understand.' 'It turned out he was still alive. Badly wounded, but in there with a chance if they can get him to a decent surgeon in time. I should imagine that sergeant major of his will ride over the Devil himself to get him to Palermo.' Barbera said to Carter, 'You need to eat now. I'll get you some soup.' He went out. There was a small silence. Carter said to Luciano, 'You could take to the mountains. We could say you were killed in the fighting.' Luciano grinned. 'Hen, don't tell me I've succeeded in I corrupting you completely?' He shook his head. 'No, I'll go back.' 'Why, because the President said that was the way it had to be? He made no promises, remember. You could be back inside for years.' 'Well, you take a chance every day of your life.' Luciano walked to the window, opened it and leaned out into the rain, breathing in its freshness. Across the valley from Crown of Thorns high up on its crag, the bells started to peal. And so, the Mafia card was played and played to the full. In a single night, two thirds of the Italian soldiers defending the vital positions overlooking the main road through the Cammarata to Palermo, deserted. Even their commander was detained by Mafia trickery and handed over to Allied forces. German units in the area, left in a hopelessly vulnerable position, had no other choice but to pull out. American forces raced north, reached Palermo in only seven days from the initial landing in what General George Patton was to describe as the fastest blitzkreig in history. Mussolini was toppled from power by a war-weary nation on July 24, and in spite of spirited resistance by German forces, the whole of Sicily was in Allied hands by August 17. Charles Lucky Luciano returned to Great Meadow Penitentiary and appeared before a State Parole Board in 1946. The circumstances of the proceedings are still shrouded in controversy, but in February of that year, Governor Dewey commuted his sentence and Luciano was sent to Ellis Island and deported. Nearly sixteen years later, on January 25, 196s, he died of a heart attack at Capodichino airport near Naples. The body was held at the chapel of the English Cemetery until arrangements could be made to have it transported to America. For a while, there was considerable interest and many visitors. By the third day it had slackened off a little and 238 the young reporter and photographer from Associated press were beginning to think about packing it in when a small tour bus appeared. Fourteen or fifteen people got out, and went to the entrance of the chapel, mainly American women chattering amongst themselves. 'More tourists,' the young reporter said sourly. 'Five hundred lira a time to gaze at a corpse. I reckon that's about it. Put your gear in the car and let's get out of here.' He went to the porch where the door stood open and looked inside. The women were gathered at the rail peering over at the coffin and the reporter noticed a grey-haired man in his sixties wearing a black overcoat, standing at the back of them. They turned and came down the aisle. The grey-haired man paused, raising his collar against the cold, suddenly breaking into a paroxysm of coughing. 'Are you all right?' the reporter asked, concerned. 'Smoker's cough, that's all. Been trying to stop for years.' 'You didn't know him?' 'Who, Luciano?' Professor Harry Carter smiled. 'Did anybody?' and he turned and went down the path to where the rest of the tourists were boarding the coach. Juki