‘Well, there’s more coming down from Santo Francisco,’ Hacket said. ‘If we’re not out by nightfall, I guess we’ll have had it.’
‘A fine lookout.’ Reece turned to Hacket, ignoring me. ‘Is Maxwell badly hurt?’
‘Pretty bad. His leg’s smashed. We’d better go back and have a council of war.’ Reece nodded and they moved back along the track to the road. I followed.
‘How did you come to get caught?’ Hacket asked him.
‘I got into Naples last night,’ Reece answered. ‘Maxwell had left a message for me to meet him out here. I got a taxi and drove out. That was about four-thirty this morning. The eruption was in full blast by then. We got held up by refugees and then when some stones fell my driver refused to go any farther. I came on on foot. The villa was deserted except for the body of an Italian. I walked up as far as the outskirts of Santo Francisco. Then I came back. I was just too late to get out.’
‘Tough luck.’
We were back in the street now. The others were just as we’d left them, all huddled in a bunch on the cart. Hilda and Zina stared at us. I think they knew by the expression on our faces that we were trapped. Zina picked up the reins and screamed at the mule. She got the cart round and called to us to get on.
‘Where are you going?’ Hacket asked her.
‘Back to the villa,” she said. ‘It is comfortable there and—’ She didn’t finish but I knew by the starved look on her face and the feverish light in her eyes that she was thinking there were drugs there.
I think Hacket understood, too, for he nodded. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Jump on, Mr. Reece.’