Treasured Lies (22 page)

Again, nothing.

‘Maybe you'll have a little accident too.' Jimmy's grin bordered on frightening. ‘I wonder if you can swim with your hands tied behind your back.'

The man's upper lip twitched. ‘Then it not look like accident.'

‘We'll tell the police you went crazy after we tied your hands up. You tried to tackle me and went overboard.' Jimmy waved a knife Archer hadn't seen before in the prisoners face. ‘By the time we found you … well, you can guess the rest.'

Jimmy flung something to the floor and Archer recognised it instantly. It was the ankle holster he'd seen on the man earlier. That'd be where the knife came from. Jimmy bent down and slit the tape from the man's ankles to his hip. ‘It won't look like an accident with all this tape on you, will it?'

At this point Archer couldn't tell if Jimmy was serious or not. He certainly had Archer believing him. ‘Let me guess,' Archer said, before things really got out of hand. ‘Ignatius promised you a villa in the South of France and a healthy pay cheque for the rest of your life.'

Recognition crossed the man's face.

‘Want to know how I know that?'

He gave a quick nod.

‘He's been making that exact same promise for decades. My guess is the men who take him up on it never make it to the South of France.'

For the first time, the prisoner's eyes conveyed an element of defeat.

Archer pounced. ‘Iggy's been pushing people around with his money for too bloody long. You're just another disposable thug, hired to do his dirty work.'

‘He kill me already.'

‘Not if you disappear.'

Jimmy shot Archer a glare. Archer chose to ignore it.

‘Tell us what's going on and I'll let you go. We'll tell the police there was only one attacker.'

‘That's not a good plan, Arch.' Jimmy had his hand on Archer's bicep now.

As Archer tried to ignore Jimmy's comment, he began to wonder if this guy could actually disappear. It's not easy to vanish without a trace. He'd need money. He'd have to let go of friends and family. If he had any. A man in this type of business probably didn't. He could see the intruder going over his options in his head when they heard the now very familiar beat of a helicopter's rotors approach.

‘Hear that? The police are about to land above us. You have about two minutes to make up your mind.' Archer turned, gave Jimmy a nod, trying to convey that he knew what he was doing.

‘It's not a good idea, Arch. He'll go straight back to Iggy.'

‘And what do you think Iggy will do? He'll torture him to find out what he's told us and then he'll probably toss him out the helicopter at high altitude. I couldn't live with that.'

Archer maintained Jimmy's glare. His mate wasn't happy, but he knew his place. Archer was boss and Jimmy would never mess with that.

Jimmy shot a glance at the prisoner and if hatred could kill, those eyes would be heat-seeking missiles. ‘He deserves everything he gets.'

Archer put his hand on Jimmy's shoulder about to speak.

‘Okay,' the thug bellowed. ‘I talk now.'

Chapter 25

Nox found the money. It wasn't hard. Obviously the two fools were unconcerned about theft, as they hadn't put any thought into hiding it. Once he'd dug through the multi layers of clothes, bundles of cash were lying there, strewn about with little regard for its value.

He clutched at handfuls of notes and flicked through the variety of denominations. He'd never seen this much money before. In fact, he'd rarely held any cash at all. As a Brother of the St Apostoli Church, all his food, accommodation and living expenses were provided for. The only times he'd actually had a decent amount of money was when he stole it from the collection box.

As he contemplated just how much was here, he wondered if it was enough to finally get the medical treatment he needed. It had taken him decades to learn how to cope with Trimethylaminuria, the rare disease that caused his excessive body odour. A lesser man would have crumbled under the pressure of the ostracising and ridicule Nox suffered daily. But he'd learned to use it to his advantage. While people fled from him, scurrying away like his stench was some kind of poison, he'd been able to hide in the shadows and listen, watch and wait for the perfect moments to exact his revenge.

But now, after the lifetime he'd been forced to endure, he wanted more. Money was just the beginning. With the Calimala treasure in his hands and his disease treated, Nox would return to Florence as a new man and take his rightful place at the top of Florence's nobility. That's what he wanted.

Nox pushed most of the clothes over the edge until finally the bed was a canvas of cash. It was impossible to estimate how much was here, but whatever the amount, it was more than enough to help him once he got off the island.

He grabbed a tattered pair of jeans, tied knots at the feet and began stuffing wads of cash into it. The first leg filled quickly and he'd barely made a dent in the money stash. With the second leg he chose the money more carefully, fishing out the higher denominations and placing them meticulously into the pants. It was therapeutic … find the note, stuff the leg, find the note, stuff the leg. It seemed like the most constructive thing he'd done in months.

He was back in control of his life.

With the jeans now full, he tore a threadbare shirt into a long thin strip, wove it through the belt loops on the jeans and pulled it together into a tight bunch to seal up the top. The end result looked like he was holding half a man. He laughed aloud and despite his ribs hurting, his head throbbing and his injured hand stinging, he felt good. No, it was better than that. With a sense of purpose back in his life and a plan to escape, it was like he could feel his body healing itself.

He rummaged through the small amount of clothes that were left on the bed and found another pair of pants, tan-coloured this time. After repeating the knot tying process, he started stuffing again.

All of a sudden he smelt something that made the hairs on his neck bristle. Smoke. He turned around and gasped at the thick smoke pooling in the cabins pitched roof. He leant over the edge of the loft and stared in horror at the blazing piles of clothes he'd tossed over the side of the bed. He'd thrown them right onto the pot belly stove.

‘Shit!' He jumped up and hit his head so hard on the roof that he howled in pain and dropped to his knees again. Sparks blinded his eyes as he rubbed the opposite side of his head to his earlier injury. Popping sounds, as loud as gunfire, startled him into moving.

Smoke quickly flooded the loft area and he held his breath as he crawled to the ladder. He looked down and stared in disbelief at the leaping flames, now nearly as high as the loft.

‘My money!'

Without a moment to spare, he grabbed wads of cash and forced it into the tan-coloured pants. His eyes stung and he blinked away the thick smoke as tears spilled down his checks. A loud bang made him jump and when he looked over his shoulder he saw flames leaping up the wall. He cried out at the sight and erupted into a coughing fit. Gasping for breath, he tasted the fire and his lungs burned as if they were blazing.

This was the jolt he needed.

He tugged his two pairs of stuffed jeans to the ladder. But when he looked down, he stared at the dancing flames covering the clothes he'd tossed all over the floor. The flames were licked with streaks of blue and Nox suddenly realised why the fire had the ferocity it did … that poison the twins guzzled every night was fuelling the flames. He'd seen them spill it enough times to know the floor would be saturated with it.

Situated where it is, the cabin must have withstood many seasons of ferocious winds and fierce storms, but it would be no match for this blaze. Nox guessed he only had a minute or two to get out of there before the whole thing came crashing down.

All the clothes at the base of the ladder were on fire now, as was the floor and two walls. Black smoke spewed from the tattered fabric and pooled in a great swirling cloud in the roof space of the cabin. One of the ropes, weighted down with the dried fish, fell from the ceiling, swinging the flaming braid right in front of his face. The rope crashed into the opposite wall and instantly ignited the table it landed upon. The wooden construction blasted into a fireball, and the speed in which it happened convinced Nox that it too had been absorbing their potent alcohol for years.

‘Holy hell.' Nox snatched a shirt from the pile of clothes, and ignoring the sickly body odour imbedded in the fabric, wrapped it around his head to cover his nose and mouth.

He squinted against the smoke, searching for another way down. There wasn't one. It was now or never. He grabbed the tan pants, and aiming for the wooden slab he'd been forced to sleep upon, swung them with all the strength he had. But the bundle hit the roof rafters and plummeted straight down onto the inferno, instantly erupting into flames.

‘No!' Nox couldn't tear his eyes away as tongues of fire lashed out and reduced his precious money to nothing but blaze and black smoke.

Not willing to risk his second stash of money, he tucked the padded jeans under his right arm and squeezed it close to his body. He'd need his good hand to get down the ladder. Another loud crash snapped him into action.

He was about to step into the flames of hell. He had no choice.

Nox sucked in a huge breath, and with only a quick glance towards the door to identify the way to run, he stepped onto the top rung.

It occurred to him that most people would say a prayer when faced with a situation like this. But he'd given up relying on prayer many, many years ago. The only thing he could rely on was his own grit and determination. And that's what he did. With clenched teeth he hobbled down the ladder, squeezing his good hand around the wooden rungs so he didn't fall backwards. It was a fine balance between speed and safety that got him down without falling.

His feet touched the bundle of clothes and he nearly lost his balance. He turned. The heat hit him like a sheet of molten glass. Flames lashed out from every direction.

His heart thundered in his chest as he clutched the shirt over his mouth and ran for the door. He shoved it open and at the same moment Shadow came tearing out of the cabin, hair up in shackles and screaming his own terrified wails. Nox tripped over the feline and fell face first into the junk pile.

His nose hit something hard. Pain exploded behind his already stinging eyes. Bottles, timber and all manner of junk tumbled onto his body, almost burying him beneath the clutter. Dazed and confused he lay there, gasping for air. A loud explosion shattered the silence and Nox bolted upright. With the stuffed jeans under his arm he stumbled to his feet and wove his way through the junkyard. He didn't stop until he was a decent distance from the cabin.

Gasping for breath, he tugged the shirt from his face, crumbled to the rocky ground and stared at the fiery hell he'd escaped from. Yellow and red flames leapt from the roofline. As he held his hand up to shield his eyes, the brilliant display of flashing light caught and danced off his ring, bringing the stones to life. As he adjusted the angle of his ring, admiring the glow from within the precious stones, he had a moment of clarity. In spite of everything that had happened, the fact that he was here, alive, and now also blessed with an abundance of money, convinced him that he would, no matter what, fulfil his destiny.

Through the cracks in the walls, the interior of the hut had become white, like some kind of power source was about to explode from its belly. Nox felt a trickle down his lip and when he wiped it away he wasn't surprised to see his own blood. He'd seen his fair share of it lately and took little notice as he wiped it onto his shirt.

After a while, he lay back on the grass and stared up at the heavens and screamed, ‘Have you finished with me yet?'

An almighty crash made Nox sit up just in time to see the entire cabin implode in on itself. Flames, sparks and smoke leapt high into the air. The cabin was engulfed in a huge fireball. The chickens scattered, squawking in their escape and the water tank that he'd gulped from earlier tumbled off its stilts, rolled down the hill and disappeared over the cliff.

As Nox ran his dry tongue around his mouth, all he could taste was smoke. With the only water source gone, along with the stash of dried fish, the twins will have no choice but to leave the island with him.

His eyes followed the threads of smoke that caught in the ocean breeze and drifted out to sea. Suddenly he spied a boat down in the water. It was heading towards his island, casting a ribbon of white water in its wake. He was sure it'd be the twins. The pace it was travelling was much greater than the speed it had left, and Nox had no doubt they'd seen what he'd done to their cabin.

Nox was thirsty, hungry, and shattered, and his body trembled with both pain and exhaustion. But he had a horrible suspicion he was about to experience another kind of wrath. He wondered if he'd even have the strength to deal with the twins.

As he glanced at the horizon he made another shocking discovery. The sun was setting. They didn't have much time before the blackness of night would consume them and they'd be stuck here for another night. He would not spend one more night on this island, not without food, and not with his tongue as dry as fried prosciutto.

He eyeballed the boat again and a sense of despair gripped him. He estimated less than ten minutes before the twins hit the shore.

Nox rolled to his feet and searched for something to use as a weapon. A plank of wood, a metal pole, a glass bottle, anything would do.

The piles of junk at the back of the cabin would be a perfect place to start looking, but not only was the heat too intense to get anywhere near it, the rubbish was already dotted with flames. He disregarded that idea. There was nothing else. He gave up and began to run down to the beach.