Free Luciano's Luck by Jack Higgins

could hear fire engines in the distance.
    The hospital was working at full stretch now and she was on her own, patiently inserting twenty-five stitches into the left leg of a young seaman who had been brought in from the docks half an hour previously.
    He watched her carefully, an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. ‘You're doing a good job there, Sister. How about giving me a little kiss for being a brave boy?’
    ‘Not part of the service, I'm afraid.’
    ‘What a waste,’ he said. ‘I mean, a good-looking girl like you. It must be hell.’
    Behind her, Tankerley moved into the room. He produced a cigarette lighter and flicked it on. ‘Here, light your cigarette and shut up.’ He leaned down to examine the leg. ‘Very nice, Sister. You can go now. I'll finish here.’
    She moved out through the curtain and started awkwardly to unfasten the ties at the back of her gown. Tankerley appeared behind her. ‘Let me.’ He pulled the bows one by one and she was aware that he was angry. ‘Young swine,’ he muttered.
    She turned, shaking her head. ‘He doesn't understand, that's all. So many people want everyone else to be as they are. And he's right. It can be hell. St Chrysostom called celibacy the little crucifixion.’
    ‘And is it?’ he asked.
    ‘Not really, Professor. A very fair exchange in return for what is gained.’
    He scowled and gave her a push. ‘Go on, get out of here before you seduce me entirely. Go home.’
    For once, she did as she was told, too tired, too spent to argue.
    The Convent of the Little Sisters of Pity was in Huby Road, a large red-brick building behind high walls which had once been a college for the training of elementary school teachers. The teachers had long since moved out and a large mortgage had taken over. For twenty years this and the Little Sisters, with a considerable amount of faith had been the base for all their work in the city.
    The chapel was cold and smelled of damp, which was hardly surprising as no heating of any kind was possible because of fuel rationing. It was a place of shadows, candlelight and darkness alternating.
    Maria Vaughan genuflected at the altar rail and lit a candle to the Virgin. She knelt in prayer for a moment, then rose, picked up her mop and bucket, moved to the central aisle and started to clean the floor. In spite of the tiredness she did not mind, for it was a simple enough task and gave her time to think.
    High up in the gallery, Sister Katherine Markham, the Mother Superior of the convent, stood with Harry Carter and Luciano watching her.
    ‘I thought you said she'd been working all day at the hospital?’ Carter said.
    ‘That's so. She's a theatre sister there.’
    ‘Then why this?’
    ‘However hard the day has gone, each member of the Order has an allotted task to perform each evening. However menial, Colonel, it is a symbol of the love that binds us all together. We”ll go down now and I'll introduce you.’
    She started along the gallery to the stairs. Luciano grinned and said softly, ‘Ask a stupid question, Professor, and see what you get.’
    Maria looked up as they approached and paused in her work. ‘Sister?’ she said.
    Sister Katherine smiled. ‘You have visitors, Maria. This is Colonel Carter and this is Mr Orsini.’
    Maria stood there, transfixed, staring at Luciano. He smiled easily and said in Sicilian, ‘Hello, pretty one. It's been a long time.’
    Sister Katherine gently took the mop from Maria. ‘I'll finish here. You can take these gentlemen to my office.’
    Maria looked again at Luciano, turned and walked away. As Carter and Luciano started after her, Sister Katherine said, ‘We use the lodge as a guest house, Colonel. You're welcome to spend the night with us.’
    She dipped the mop in the bucket and started to work on the floor as they went out.
    The office was small and cluttered, barely room for the desk and filing cabinets. Luciano leaned against the door, smoking, while Carter and