It all happened too fast. Rhys and Roddy kept the gangsters back for a second purely thanks to the shining metal of their sabres. Roddy just had time to think that they might yet get away with it when the net descended over them both and they were borne to the ground.
"We take them alive!" shouted Ricco. "The boss needs them both alive!"
"What about the two that went over the edge?" said one of the others.
"We do not need them! These two are important! Well…one of them is. I don' know who the other one thinks he is." He picked up the swords, glanced at them contemptuously, and threw them one by one over the balcony.
"What are they talking about?" hissed Roddy. Rhys winced.
"I think they mean me, old chap. I seem to have got you into some kind of a bind here!"
They were hauled to their feet and Ricco began shepherding the ground towards the exit. The rest of the guests watched in bewildered silence as they were marched past and down the steps to the canal outside. Ricco looked around.
"Where is the boat? It shouda be here by now!"
"It's coming," said Carlo. He pointed to one of the Mob rats, who was hunched over a radio control set.
"It better be! Seal the doors behind us, we cannot have anyone pursuing!" Ricco waved a hand and turned back to Roddy and Rhys.
"I don' know what is going on here," he said. "But I will tella you this- one of you is in a world of trouble. The other one…will wish he was."
Roddy swallowed anxiously.
"We should stick together," whispered Rhys. "They don't know which one of us they need yet. If they find out who we really are, one of us will be for the high jump!"
Roddy nodded. That made sense, but he still didn't know what their captors wanted. And where was Rita? Had she managed to escape? He had lost sight of her when they attacked. The sound of a powerful engine approached, and a sleek motorboat drew up. A remote-controlled masterpiece, it could have fetched a good price in any country. Roddy couldn't help but admire the stylish lines even as he was hustled aboard and down into a small cabin with a single window. Rhys was pushed in after him. The door slammed shut and was locked, and the two rats heard the engines grumble into life again. Rhys seemed unbothered by the sudden turn of events and lay down in one corner with every sign of relaxation. Now that the chaos was over, Roddy was able to get a good look at him. Rhys was some years older than Roddy, with black hair rather than brown, although it was beginning to show a faint dusting of grey around the edges.
"Well, since we're going to be spending some time together, I think we should get to know each other. Commander Rhys Seddon-Tavish, naval attaché to the British Embassy in Monaco. And you are?"
"Roddy," said Roddy. "Roddy St. James."
"Well, I can't think of a better cove to be in this jam with than a fellow officer, at least," said Rhys. "We'll show them what the Royal Navy can do!"
Roddy hesitated, wondering whether this was the best time to admit that it wasn't really his uniform that he was wearing.
"Well, it's funny you should mention that…" he began.
Rita surfaced, gasping for air. The fall had been bad, but as always it had been the sudden stop at the bottom which had been the problem because water is not as soft as it seems if hit hard enough. She had tried to orient herself to minimise the impact- an old sewer-hand's trick- but it didn't seem to have helped. Every part of her body hurt, and her ears were ringing painfully. Deciding where the shore was by the number of lights, she swam a few strokes towards it, and found herself being washed up, almost at once, on a narrow, pebbly beach. Rita hauled herself out of the water, coughed up what seemed like half the Mediterranean, and lay back, panting for air. After a while, the lights of the city stopped spinning and she stood up shakily. The dress was more or less written off, and Rita wasn't entirely disappointed to see this. She spotted an indistinct figure on a deckchair under an umbrella- a distinctly strange sight at this time of night- and staggered towards it.
"Please, help me! Do you speak…I mean, parlez vous Anglais? English?"
The figure put down its newspaper and stared at her. It was pale white with sunscreen and was wearing an old-fashioned pair of striped trunks, but there was no mistaking the voice.
"Why cannot I get away from you two?" said Le Frog, with irritation. "I come 'ere for a quiet 'oliday away from everything and something always goes wrong."
"I know the feeling," said Rita. "Listen-"
"I am trying not to," said Le Frog, returning to the paper. "This is Le Frog's time, not yours. I 'ave better things to do than waste time with your moonlight swims."
Rita bridled. "I was not swimming! And what are you doing here anyway, covered in sunscreen after dark."
"One cannot be too careful with one's complexion," said Le Frog patronisingly, eying her over the page. "I 'ave an image to maintain."
"An image as what? A no-good waste of space?"
Le Frog sighed. "Normally I would rise to the bait, my confrontational coincidental companion, but as I say, I am on 'oliday and I do not care. There is an English phrase involving sticks and stones which comes to mind."
"I can think of a couple of other English phrases which come to mind," muttered Rita. Clearly there wasn't much help to be had here. The mercenary was never going to help her unless there was something in it for him.
"Listen, Roddy's in danger. Roddy St. James? Descendant of the colleague of your ancestor?"
"Is 'e? 'Ow fascinating."
"That doesn't mean anything to you?"
"My deal with 'im is done. I 'elped 'im save you, I got my family's medal back. Case closed." Le Frog put his hands behind his head. Rita stared, and racked her brain, trying to think of another way into the amphibian's mind.
"The sovereignty of a French people might be at stake!" she said. Le Frog sat up and stared at her.
"What?"
"It was a gang of…Genoese. They want to do something…take back Monaco or something. They've taken Roddy hostage!"
Le Frog stood up and wiped the sunscreen from around his eyes, leaving a large green area on his face that did nothing to enhance his dignity.
"Take…back…Monaco?"
"Yes!" Rita could sense that she was onto a winner here. She was damned if she'd beg for help, but right now Le Frog was one of a very few people she knew in the city, and he had a code of honour…of sorts.
There was a splashing from the water's edge, and another figure emerged unsteadily. It was Sofia. Le Frog stared at her in amazement.
"Madam Ambassador?"
"Oui," affirmed Sofia, swaying gently. Le Frog's gaze went from Rita to Sofia and back again. Then he drew himself to attention.
"Let it not be said that a Le Frog was backward in coming forward in a time of need! Madam Ambassador, I stand ready to serve the Republic!"
Sofia blinked at him.
"I think she'll need a bit of time to recover," said Rita quietly.
Le Frog looked at her sideways. "Do we 'ave a plan?"
Rita thought. "Not yet. I don't even know where they've taken him." She fought down a wave of panic at the thought of Roddy.
"Probably…probably to sea," said Sofia. "I 'eard them talking about it. They will be going back to Genoa, so they will be crossing the Ligurian Sea."
Le Frog groaned. "We shall never catch them! We do not 'ave a fast enough boat!"
"I do," said Rita firmly, before remembering that right now, that wasn't true. The Jammy Dodger II was sitting in Jasper's dock waiting for a dose of panel-beating. But Jasper might still hold the key…
There was a pair of whistling noises from above, and two flashes of steel in the light. Rita looked down at the sabre which had driven itself point-first into the sand by her foot. Another had neatly cut Le Frog's umbrella in half. Sofia stared in shock at the sky and fainted. Rita collected the weapons.
"Come on, I know where we have to go. You…" She sighed. "Pick up the ambassador and follow me."
Rhys stared.
"You're not Royal Navy? But you wear the Queen's uniform!"
"It's my ancestor's," explained Roddy again. "It belongs to my family. It was the only thing I had which suited the dinner."
"It's cruelly ironic that you wouldn't be here if you had a more expansive wardrobe," said Rhys. "On the other hand, you might be dead if you did. Or I might be. Look, I don't know what's going on here either but we've got to keep these Mafia wallahs confused as to who we are!"
Roddy nodded. Rhys relaxed slightly.
"Still, Navy or not, you didn't hesitate back on the balcony. And your name rings a bell. You're not related to August St. James, by any chance?"
Roddy nodded again. "Oh, yes, this is his uniform, in fact."
"Then I'm doubly pleased to meet you, sir! I had a distant relative who once served with August when they were new recruits! Long dead, of course, but he told my father's father's father who told my grandfather who told me that August was a credit to the Service. I see his traditions have lived on even if his occupation has not."
Roddy smiled proudly. "I didn't even know about the connection until we got to Paris. So what exactly is going on here?"
Rhys raised an eyebrow. "You know much of the history of this place?"
"Not really," Roddy shook his head.
"Monaco used to belong to Genoa," explained Rhys. "But they lost it in the Thirteenth Century when a rather underhanded chap called Grimaldi disguised himself to get inside and then killed everyone. Since then, there's always been a rumour that the Genoese Mob are going to try to retake it."
"But why would that involve us?" asked Roddy.
"Ah, well," Rhys had the decency to look embarrassed. "It probably involves me rather than us. Monaco is a French protectorate. France has responsibility for its defence."
"So that's why they tried to kidnap the French ambassador?" Roddy was working it out now.
"Yes, dear Sofia. They failed, or I hope so anyway. But they have me, which is almost as good. I presume they think that with me here, Sofia will not dare to act against them. And nor will our embassy. Clever scoundrels, they really thought this through!"
"Why would the French care about you?"
"They wouldn't. Sofia would." Rhys smiled slightly and produced a small velvet box from his pocket. Inside a small silver ring gleamed brightly. "Not diplomatic protocol, of course, and a gross breach of professional ethics and whatnot, but I'm ready to retire anyway. I was going to ask her tonight, you know. Rotten luck with all this business. But love conquers all, as they say."
"Don't they also say that all is fair in love and war?"
Rhys laughed. "Yes they do, old sock, but I find that guided missiles are suitable only for the latter."
Roddy laughed despite himself. Though Rhys was sometimes flippant to the point of appearing uncaring, it was clear that he had a good, practical heart and the warmth in his voice when he talked about Sofia was unashamed.
"And what about your partner," said Rhys. "A fine figure of a woman, if you'll forgive me! Certainly wanted to give these Mafia types what-for even though she was unarmed!"
"She doesn't need to be," said Roddy, with feeling.
"She should be fine," said Rhys. "She can look after Sofia. Sofia is a dear thing, but not what you would call tough."
"Rita is exactly what you'd call tough," said Roddy. "She'll be fine." He paused and wondered where she was, what had happened to her. "She'll be fine…" he repeated, quietly.
Le Frog paused and held up a hand.
"Someone is coming!" he declared. Rita nodded grimly and the small group tried to hide in the nearest shadow. Footsteps were approaching, at least two pairs. Rita peered around the corner, paused and glared at Le Frog.
"Watch the hands, greenskin!"
He shrugged, grinning broadly. "I cannot 'elp it, my suspicious escapee! We do not 'ave much space back 'ere."
Rita ignored him and looked back around the corner. Two rats were approaching, dressed in waiter's clothing. They stopped just around the corner and rested against it, breathing hard.
"Did we lose them, Bruce? I think we lost them."
"We'd better have lost them, Bruce. I'm flat out like a lizard drinking here."
Rita stepped out into the light and put her hands on her hips.
"What are you two doing here?"
The two Bruces regarded her blankly for a moment until realisation dawned.
"See, Bruce! I told you it was them! Hello again…Rita, wasn't it? From Calais?" Bruce One extended a friendly hand. Rita shook it. She had been right, and now there were two more possible allies. The Australians had less reason to help than any of her other companions, but they had already proven themselves to be loyal and trustworthy by risking their lives to refuel the Jammy Dodger II in Calais.
"What on earth are you two doing here?" she asked.
"Whatever it takes, mate," said a Bruce. "We had to leave Calais. In a bit of a hurry."
"There was an incident," said the other Bruce. "We…probably can't go there again. Ever."
Rita stared and decided that she didn't want to know.
"So we fetched up here and blagged ourselves jobs," continued Number One Bruce. "Where's the other one? Was it Bruce? I mean, Roddy?"
"They took him," said Rita. "Those guys back at the party with the knives."
"That was a funny affair, wasn't it?" said Bruce One.
"It was that," said Bruce Two. "We only just kicked down the doors and got away ourselves."
"Are you going to try to get him back?" asked Bruce One.
Rita nodded. "But they must be miles away by now!"
Bruce Two scratched his head. "I dunno, it'll take 'em a while to get the docks. Once they're out on the open sea though…we'd need to fly to stand a hope."
"That," said Rita, "Is precisely what I have in mind."
The workshop was lit brightly by the standing lights scattered around the floor. Jasper was elbows-deep in the Lancaster's second port engine when he heard the grate in the floor being kicked open. He glanced up, annoyed at the interruption, and saw Rita piling out of the shaft, followed by a small, bedraggled group of strangers including a well-dressed female rat, two waiters and a sunscreen-smeared frog wearing red and white striped bathing trunks
"What the blazes?" said Jasper, straightening. "Rita, I thought you'd still be at the dinner? And where's Roddy?"
"That's the problem, uncle," said Rita, setting off across the floor towards the dock. "Something very bad has happened. We need to get after them right now!"
"Get after who? Rita? What's happened?" Jasper clambered down from his ladder and set off after Rita as she boarded the Jammy Dodger II and began rummaging in one of its lockers.
"But you can't take the Dodger! She's not ready yet!" Jasper waved his hands frantically.
"I'm not taking it," said Rita, holding up a pile of clothes. "I'm going to change into something more suitable and them I'm going to go and kick some-"
Le Frog coughed warningly. Rita mellowed slightly.
"I mean, I'm going to go and rescue Roddy." She went below with her clothes. Jasper blinked once or twice and looked at the small crowd of people who had arrived with Rita.
"Jasper," he said, holding out his hand.
"Ambassador Sofia de Lesseps of France," said Sofia.
"Bruce," said Bruce.
"Bruce," said the other Bruce. Jasper looked at them and like most people who met the Australians, stopped trying to understand.
"And the amphibian?"
Le Frog saluted. "A selfless servant of France!" he said pompously. The Bruces rolled their eyes. Sofia took pity on the elderly mechanic and explained the situation. Jasper followed every word.
"Then they'll be taking the main drain down the bay," he said. "Which is good. We can stop them! You two-" he indicated the Bruces. "Take my boat, that dark green one. Get down there and start stopping traffic!"
"But the main canal is already dangerous with floating ice," said Sofia. "They won't take that way out!"
"With a boat that size they won't have a choice," said Bruce. "Come on, Bruce. Let's do it. They'll be madder than cut snakes."
"Madder than a sack of 'em," said Bruce Number Two, happily. "No wucking forries." They left. Behind Jasper, Rita emerged in her usual clothes and dropped neatly down to join Sofia, Le Frog and Jasper. She jerked her thumb at the Lancaster.
"Does that thing work yet?"
There was a knocking on the door, which opened. Roddy blinked in the sudden light from the corridor, and was rudely jerked to his feet by Ricco.
"The boss wantsa to see you both," he said darkly. Rhys was pulled upright as well and both English rats were marched to the boat's deck. Roddy looked up and saw that they were still in Monaco drains. There was a bump on the side of the boat, and a small chunk of ice span away in the current. The snowmelt must have been really bad to carry all the way down here!
There was a chair, leather and high-backed, in the middle of the deck, which was surrounded by dark-clothed rats carrying a variety of weapons in meaningful ways.
"Gentlemen," said the chair. Its occupant leaned forward. It was a large, elderly rat wearing an old-fashioned pinstripe suit with an incongruous bright red rosette in the lapel.
"I assume you are wondering why you are here, Commander?"
Rhys elbowed Roddy discreetly. He realised what he had to do.
"Um, as a matter of fact…yes," he stammered.
"So am I," said Rhys.
"Then I shall tell you. My name is Rat Valone. My people call me…Godfather." The old rat sat back and blew a smoke ring from his cigar.
"You are here, gentlemen, because you are useful to me. But…only one of you is really useful. The other is…not. I wonder which one it is?"
"If you're waiting for Spartacus to step forward," said Rhys, "You're wasting your time."
"Yes," agreed Roddy desperately. "For I am Spartacus!"
"As am I" said Rhys, grinning. The Godfather glared at them for a moment.
"I am awake to your little game, gentlemen. You know I need one of you so you will pretend to be the other until you yourselves have forgotten who is who."
"We have ways of making you talk," said Carlo, eyeing Roddy menacingly and fingering the edge of his knife. Ricco flashed his subordinate a look, and the Godfather waved them both into silence.
"No, cousin, we do not. For we need the right one to be…intact, to be of any use to us." Rat Valone put out his cigar. "Such a pity we did not take the women as well. They would have made this so much easier. These Navy types are more inclined to put on the bravado, yes? Name, rank and serial number only! But not the name, I fancy…for then it would be…up stumps? Forgive me, I am not familiar with your game of cricket."
"Forza Italia, huh?" said Rhys, quoting the Italian football team's most famous chant.
"I prefer Forza Genoa, but you are on the right track." Valone sat back. "Gentlemen, it will be a long voyage across the Ligurian Sea. This boat once belonged to the young human Prince of Monaco, so it is swift, but it is not so swift that we will not have time for many, many more chats before we arrive in Genoa. The next one, I assure you, will not be so pleasant. The French lady, she will not cooperate if you are killed, whichever one of you is seeing her, but I am sure we can find parts that she will not miss unduly much." Valone smiled like a shark, and waved a hand. "Take them away."
As they were escorted back below, Roddy looked up as the rat with the radio controls shouted a warning.
"Boss! There's something ahead!"
Bruce Number One looked at the approaching motorboat critically, and then glanced back to the stern of Jasper's vessel where Bruce Number Two was attempting to tie an iceberg to it. It wasn't easy keeping the long, narrow boat held across the tunnel, but they were managing it and were studiously ignoring the chorus of abuse being thrown at them from other boaters.
"I think we've got them, mate," he said, getting down. "No way can they get past this."
The sleek motorboat's engine revved angrily. There was a surge of water, and a crunch noise. Bruce watched their quarry receding into the distance and looked down as the water came over his knees.
"Maybe not," he admitted.
"Try it now!"
Rita punched the button again. The port engine spluttered half-heartedly, rotated once and then stopped. Jasper swore noisily from somewhere inside it.
"I can't believe it! This worked this morning! What could possibly be wrong?"
Rita was almost screaming with exasperation. She knew that this was a long shot, but surely it couldn't go wrong before leaving the workshop? The hatch opened in the floor, and the two Bruces squelched in.
"Sorry, mates, we hit a slight technical hitch out there…" said Number One Bruce.
"Which is to say that we were hit with a slight technical hitch," said the other one.
"Which is to say we were clobbered by the QEII's ugly sister," finished the first Bruce. "Sorry, mate, but the boat's cactus."
"Cactus?" said Le Frog, who was leaning on the plane's tyres and looking bored.
"Broken. Stuffed. Sunken. An ex-boat," elaborated Bruce Two.
"Then we've no time to lose," said Sofia. "They must be in the 'arbour by now!"
"So how's this all going?" said Bruce One.
"Very well, very well," said Jasper distractedly. "In fact, if you could pass me that spanner just there? There, by your foot."
Bruce passed it up and peered into the engine casing. "Looks like quite a job there, mate."
Jasper gave something in the engine a savage twist. A jet of oil blasted out and hit Bruce in the face, but then the engine roared into life. Jasper laughed joyfully.
"Now we're talking!"
"So we can go?" Rita climbed out of the cockpit as Jasper climbed into it. Only he could fly this thing safely. If the word could be applied to it at all. Jasper hit a row of switches and the other three engines came to life, filling the workshop with noise and blue smoke.
"Not yet!" shouted Jasper. "Someone get that thing off the bench!" He pointed to the transmitter he had found left over from building the model plane's controls into the cockpit directly. A Bruce handed it up along with a small oscilloscope.
"I hope you know what you're doing!" he shouted.
Sofia climbed into the third seat and took the equipment. "I will go with you! I cannot stay behind!"
"We can take one more!" Jasper looked around. Le Frog sighed and wandered up the side of the fuselage.
"I 'ope you were not thinking of starting this endeavour without me, my airborne adventurers?" he said, sitting down.
"All right!" shouted Jasper to the Bruces. "Then the two of you will have to stay behind!"
"No worries, mate!" said Bruce One.
"I need you to open the hangar doors though! That lever there!" Jasper pointed again as the engines spluttered slightly. Bruce yanked the indicated control hard and set of doors at the other end of the workshop opened slowly. A night breeze blew in, clearing some of the exhaust smoke. Bruce Two kicked away the chocks and Jasper turned the great plane slowly. He pulled his goggles over his eyes excitedly.
"Through adversity to the stars! Tally ho!" The engines thundered up to full power and the Lancaster lumbered unsteadily, but with increasing speed, down the tunnel.
"Do you know if this thing will work?" shouted Rita.
"No!" replied Jasper cheerily. "But we'll all find out in six point five seconds!"
"Why six point five seconds?" asked Rita.
"That's how long it'll take to fall onto the rocks if we can't take off before we run out of runway! Run out of runway, hahahah!" Jasper laughed madly.
Rita sat back and tried not to think about that. Or about the roaring cacophony which seemed to fill the world. Or about Roddy. Poor, dear Roddy…
"Here we go!" shouted Jasper. The hangar doors shot past them in a blur and the plane emerged into the night air. The 'runway' was a narrow strip of sand high up on a cliff edge, and Rita saw distance markers flashing past them, counting down alarmingly fast. The land fell away beneath her and she felt a sickening lurch in her stomach as the plane dropped suddenly.
"Come on! Come on!" Jasper was screaming at the controls hysterically. As if in response, the note of the engines changed down as they stopped struggling. The sharp fall had given them the airspeed they needed. Jasper Air was in business.
The Lancaster turned once, high above the glittering city, and turned out to sea.
"Hang on, Roddy," whispered Rita, her words lost in the slipstream. "We're coming."
