Partisans by Alistair MacLean

attack, seemed imminent Petersen looked at George: the big man’s face was masked in sweat.
    Petersen said in a quiet voice: ‘This is the killer dose, isn’t it?’ Alessandro didn’t hear him. Petersen had to repeat the questions twice before the question penetrated the fear crazed mind.
    â€˜It’s the killer dose! It’s the killer dose.’ He repeated the words several times, the words a babble of near-incoherent terror.
    â€˜And you die in agony?’
    â€˜Yes, yes! Yes, yes!’ He was gasping for breath like a man in the final stages of suffocation. ‘Agony! Agony!’
    â€˜Which means you have administered this yourself. There can be no pity, Alessandro, no mercy. Besides, you could still be telling a lie.’ He touched the tip of the needle against the skin. Alessandro screamed again and again. George applied the clamp.
    â€˜Who sent you?’ Twice Petersen repeated the question before Alessandro rolled his eyes. George removed the pad.
    â€˜Cipriano.’ The voice was a barely distinguishable croak. ‘Major Cipriano.’
    â€˜That’s a lie. No major could authorize this.’ Careful not to touch the plunger Petersen inserted the tip of the needle just outside the vein. Alessandro opened his mouth to scream again but George cut him off before he could make a sound. ‘Who authorized this? The needle’s inside the vein now, Alessandro. All I have to do is press the plunger. Who authorized this?’
    George removed the pad. For a moment it seemed that Alessandro had lost consciousness. Then his eyes rolled again.
    â€˜Granelli.’ The voice was a faint whisper. ‘General Granelli.’ Granelli was the much-feared, much-hated Chief of Italian Intelligence.
    â€˜The needle is still inside the vein, my hand is still on the plunger. Does Colonel Lunz know of this?’
    â€˜No. I swear it. No!’
    â€˜General von Löhr?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Then how did Granelli know I was on board?’
    â€˜Colonel Lunz told him.’
    â€˜Well, well. The usual trusting faith between the loyal allies. What did you want from my cabin tonight?’
    â€˜A paper. A message.’
    â€˜Perhaps you’d better withdraw that syringe,’ George said. ‘I think he’s going to faint. Or die. Or something.’
    â€˜What were you going to do with it, Alessandro?’ The tip of the needle had remained where it was.
    â€˜Compare it with a message.’ Alessandro really did look very ill indeed. ‘My jacket.’
    Petersen found the message in the inside pocket of the jacket. It was the duplicate of the one he had in his cabin. He refolded the paper and put it in his own inside pocket.
    â€˜Odd,’ George said. ‘I do believe he’s fainted.’
    â€˜I’ll bet his victims never had a chance to faint. I wish,’ Petersen said with genuine regret, ‘that I had pressed that plunger. No question our friend here is – was – a one-man extermination squad.’ Petersen sniffed at the test-tube, dropped it and the ampoule to the deck, crushed them both beneath his heel and then squirted the contents of the hypodermic on the deck.
    â€˜Spirit-based,’ Petersen said. ‘It will evaporate quickly enough. Well, that’s it.’
    In the passage-way, George mopped his forehead. ‘I wouldn’t care to go through that again. Neither, I’m sure, would Alessandro.’
    â€˜Me neither,’ Petersen said. ‘How do you feel about it, Alex?’
    â€˜I wish,’ Alex said morosely, ‘that you had pushed that plunger. I could have shot him as easy as a wink.’
    â€˜That would have been an idea. At least he’d have gone without the agony. In any event, he’s all washed up as an operative of any kind or will be as soon as he gets back to Termoli. Or even to Ploe. Let’s fix this door.’
    All eight water-tight clips were