The Doomsday Conspiracy (33 page)

"I don't have to watch my language," Robert yelled.

"Do you know who I am? I'm Commander Robert Bellamy. And they call this a boat? It's a piece of junk!" He made his way to the bow and sat down. He could feel the eyes of the other passengers on him. His heart was hammering, but the charade was not over yet. Page 207

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When the hydrofoil docked at Capri, Robert walked over to the ticket booth at the entrance to the funicolare. An elderly man was in the booth selling tickets.

"One ticket," Robert yelled.

"And hurry up! I don't have all day. You're too old to be selling tickets, anyway. You should stay home. Your wife is probably screwing all your neighbors."

The old man started to rise in anger. Passersby were giving Robert furious glances. Robert grabbed the ticket and stepped into the crowded funicolare. They'll remember me, he thought grimly. He was leaving a trail that no one could mIss.

When the funicolare came to a stop, Robert shoved his way through the crowd. He walked up the winding Via Vittorio Emanuele, to the Quisisana Hotel.

"I need a room," Robert told the clerk behind the desk.

"I'm sorry," the clerk apologized, "but we are fully booked. There is-" Robert handed him sixty thousand lire.

"Any room will do."

"Well, in that case, I think we can accommodate you, signore. Would you register, please?"

Robert signed his name: Commander Robert Bellamy.

"How long will you be staying with us, Commander?"

"One week."

"That will be fine. May I have your passport?"

"It's in my luggage. It'll be here in a few minutes."

"I will have a bellboy show you to your room."

"Not now. I have to go out for a few minutes. I'll be right back." Robert stepped out of the lobby, into the street. Memories hit him like a blast of cold air. He had walked here with Susan, exploring the little side streets, and strolled down Via Ignazio Cerio and Via Li Campo. It had been a magic time. They visited the Grotta Azzurra, and had morning coffee at the Piazza Umberto. They took the funicolare up to Anacapri, and rode donkeys to Villa Jovis, Tiberius's villa, and swam in the emerald green waters at the Marina Piccola. They shopped along Via Vittorio Emanuele and took the chair lift to the top of Monte Solaro, their feet skimming over the vine leaves and leafy trees. Off to the right, they could see the houses sprinkled down the hillside toward the sea, flowering yellow broom covering the ground, an eleven-minute ride through a colorful fairyland of green trees, white houses and, in the distance, the blue sea. At the top, they had coffee at the Barbarossa Ristorante, and then went into the little church in Anacapri to thank God for all their blessings, and for each other. Robert had thought then that the magic was Capri. He had been wrong. The magic was Susan, and the magician had left the stage. Robert went Page 208

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back to the funicolare station at the Piazza Umberto, and took the tram down, quietly mingling with the other passengers. When the funicolare arrived at the bottom, he walked out, carefully avoiding the ticket seller. He went over to the kiosk at the boat landing. In a heavy Spanish accent, Robert asked, "-A que hora sale el barco a Ischia?"

"Sale en treinta minutos."

"Gracias." Robert bought a ticket.

He walked into a bar at the waterfront and took a seat in the back, where he nursed a scotch. By now they would have undoubtedly found the car, and the hunt for him would narrow. He spread out the map of Europe in his mind. The logical thing for him to do would be to head for England and find a way to get back to the States. It would make no sense for him to return to France. So, France it Is, Robert thought. A busy seaport to leave Italy from. Civitavecchia. I have to get to Civitavecchia. The Halcyon.

He got change from the owner of the bar and used the telephone. It took the marine operator ten minutes to put his call through. Susan was on the line almost immediately.

"We've been waiting to hear from you." We. He found that interesting.

"The engine is fixed. We can be in Naples early in the morning. Where shall we pick you up?"

It was too risky for the Halcyon to come here. Robert said, "Do you remember the palindrome? We went there on our honeymoon."

"The what?"

"I made a joke about it because I was so exhausted." There was a silence on the other end of the line. Then Susan said softly, "I remember."

"Can the Halcyon meet me there tomorrow?"

"Hold on a moment." He waited.

Susan returned to the telephone.

"Yes, we can be there."

"Good." Robert hesitated. He thought of all the innocent people who had already died.

"I'm asking a lot of you. If they ever found out you helped me, you could be in terrible danger."

"Don't worry. We'll meet you there. Be careful."

"Thanks."

The connection was broken.

Susan turned to Monte Banks.

"He's coming."

At SIFAR headquarters in Rome, they were listening to the conversation in the communications room. There were four men in the room. The radio Page 209

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operator said, "We've recorded it if you would like to hear it again, sir."

Colonel Cesar looked at Frank Johnson questioningly.

"Yes. I'm interested in hearing the part about where they're going to meet. It sounded like he said Palindrome. Is that somewhere in Italy?" Colonel Cesar shook his head.

"I never heard of it. We'll check it out." He turned to his aide.

"Look it up on the map. And keep monitoring all transmissions to and from the Halcyon."

"Yes, sir."

At the farmhouse in Naples, the phone rang. Pier started to get up to answer it.

"Hold it," one of the men said. He walked over to the phone and picked it up.

"Hello?"

He listened for a moment, then threw the phone down and turned to his companion.

"Bellamy took the hydrofoil to Capri.

Let's go!"

Pier watched the two men hurry out the door and thought: God never meant me to have so much money, anyway. I hope he gets away. When the ferryboat to Ischia arrived, Robert mingled with the crowd boarding it. He kept to himself, avoiding eye contact. Thirty minutes later, when the boat docked at Ischia, Robert disembarked and walked over to the ticket booth on the pier. A sign announced that the ferry to Sorrento was due in ten minutes.

"A round-trip ticket to Sorrento," Robert said. Ten minutes later he was on his way to Sorrento, back to the mainland. With a little luck, the search will have shifted to Capri, Robert thought. With a little luck.

The food market at Sorrento was crowded. Farmers had come in from the countryside bringing fresh fruit and vegetables and sides of beef that lined the meat stalls. The street was thronged with vendors and shoppers.

Robert approached a husky man in a stained apron loading a truck.

"Pardon, monsieur," Robert said, speaking with a perfect French accent,

"I'm looking for transportation to Civitavecchia. Would you happen to be going that way?"

"No. Salerno." He pointed to a man loading another truck nearby.

"Giuseppe might be able to help you."

"Merci."

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Robert moved over to the next truck.

"Monsieur, would you be going to Civitavecchia by any chance?" The man said noncommittally, "I might be."

"I would be glad to pay you for the ride."

"How much?"

Robert handed the man a hundred thousand lire.

"You could buy yourself a plane ticket to Rome for that much money, couldn't you?"

Robert instantly realized his mistake. He looked around nervously.

"The truth is, I have some creditors watching the airport. I'd prefer to go by truck."

The man nodded.

"Ah. I understand. All right, get in. We're ready to leave." Robert yawned.

"I am tres fatigue. How do you say? Tired? Would you mind if I slept in the back?"

"It's going to be a bumpy ride, but suit yourself."

"Merci."

The back of the truck was filled with empty crates and boxes. Giuseppe watched Robert climb in, and he closed up the tailgate. Inside, Robert concealed himself behind some crates. He suddenly realized how exhausted he really was. The chase was beginning to wear him down. How long had it been since he had slept? He thought of Pier and how she had come to him in the night and had made him feel whole again, a man again. He hoped she was all right. Robert slept. In the cab of the truck, Giuseppe was thinking about his passenger. The word was out about an American the authorities were looking for. His passenger had a French accent, but he looked like an American, and he dressed like an American. It would be worth checking out. There might be a nice reward.

One hour later, at a truck stop along the highway, Giuseppe pulled up in front of a gas pump.

"Fill it up," he said. He walked around to the back of the truck and peered inside. His passenger was asleep.

Giuseppe went inside the restaurant and made a telephone call to the local police.

The call had been routed to Colonel Cesar.

"Yes," he said to Giuseppe, "that sounds very much like our man. Listen carefully. He is dangerous, so I want you to do exactly as I tell you. Do you understand?"

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"Yes, sir."

"Where are you now?"

"At the AGIP truck stop on the way to Civitavecchia."

"And he's in the back of your truck now?"

"Yes." The conversation was making him nervous. Maybe I should have minded my own business.

"Don't do anything to make him suspicious. Get back in your truck and keep driving. Give me your license number and a description of your truck." Giuseppe gave it to him.

"Fine. We will take care of everything. Now get moving." Colonel Cesar turned to Colonel Johnson and nodded.

"We have him. I'll have a roadblock set up. We can be there by helicopter in thirty minutes."

"Let's go."

When Giuseppe replaced the receiver, he wiped his sweaty palms on his shirt and headed for the truck. I hope there won't be a shoot-out. Maria would kill me. On the other hand, if the reward is large enough... He climbed into the cab of the truck and headed for Civitavecchia. Thirty-five minutes later, Giuseppe heard the sound of a helicopter overhead. He looked up. It had the markings of the state police. Ahead of him on the highway, he saw two police cars lined up next to each other, forming a roadblock. Behind the cars were policemen with automatic weapons. The helicopter landed at the side of the road, and Cesar and Colonel Frank Johnson stepped out. As he neared the roadblock, Giuseppe slowed the truck down. He shut off the ignition and jumped out, running toward the officers.

"He's in back!" he shouted.

The truck rolled to a stop. Cesar shouted, "Close in." The policemen converged on the truck, weapons ready.

"Don't shoot," Colonel Johnson yelled.

"I'll take him."

He moved toward the back of the truck.

"Come on out, Robert," Colonel Johnson called, "it's over." There was no response.

"Robert, you have five seconds." Silence. They waited.

Cesar turned to his men and nodded.

"No!" Colonel Johnson yelled.

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But it was too late. The police began firing into the back of the truck. The noise of the automatic fire was deafening. Splinters of crates began flying into the air. After ten seconds, the firing ceased. Colonel Frank Johnson jumped into the back of the truck and moved the crates and boxes out of his way. He turned to Cesar.

"He's not here."

Day Nineteen Civitavecchia, Italy

Civitavecchia is the ancient seaport for Rome, guarded by a massive fort completed by Michelangelo in 1537. The port is one of the busiest in Europe, servicing all seagoing traffic to and from Rome and Sardinia. It was early in the morning, but the port was already alive with noisy activity. Robert made his way past the railroad yards and stepped into a small trattoria filled with pungent cooking odors and ordered breakfast.

The Halcyon would be waiting for him at the appointed place, Elba. He was grateful that Susan had remembered it. On their honeymoon, they had stayed in their room there making love for three days and nights. Susan had said, "Would you like to go for a swim, darling?" Robert had shaken his head.

"No. I can't move. 'Able was I, ere I saw Elba.'" And Susan had laughed, and they had made love again. And bless her, she has remembered the palindrome. Now all he had to do was to find a boat to take him to Elba. He walked down the streets leading to the harbor. It was bustling with maritime activity, crowded with freighters, motor boats and private yachts. There was a landing for a ferryboat. Robert's eyes lit up when he saw it. That would be the safest way to get over to Elba. He would be able to lose himself in the crowds. As Robert started toward the ferry landing, he noticed a dark, unmarked sedan parked half a block away, and he stopped. It had official license plates. There were two men seated inside the car watching the docks. Robert turned and walked in the other direction. Scattered among the dockworkers and tourists, he spotted plain-clothes detectives trying to look unobtrusive. They stood out like beacons. Robert's heart began to pound. How could they possibly have tracked him here? And then he realized what had happened. My God, I told the truck driver where I was going! Stupid! I must be very tired. He had fallen asleep in the truck, and the absence of movement had awakened him. He had gotten up to look out and had seen Giuseppe go into the gas station and make a phone call. Robert had slipped out of the truck and climbed into the back of another truck headed north toward Civitavecchia.

He had trapped himself. They were looking for him here. A few hundred yards away were dozens of boats that could have afforded him an escape. Not any longer.

Robert turned away from the harbor and walked toward town. He passed a building with a huge colorful poster on the wall. It read: Come to the Fairgrounds. Fun for All! Food! Games! Rides! See the Big Race! He Page 213