The Doomsday Conspiracy (26 page)

"They'll take care of you in there, sir. Last door."

"Thank you."

There were half a dozen people in the room applying for passports, reporting lost ones, and getting renewals and visas.

"Do I need a visa to visit Albania? I have relatives there...."

"I need this passport renewed by tonight. I have a plane to catch...."

"I don't know what happened to it. I must have left it in Milan...."

"They grabbed my passport right out of my purse...." Robert stood there listening. Stealing passports was a thriving cottage industry in Italy. Someone here would be getting a new passport. At the head of the line was a welldressed, middle-aged man being handed an American passport.

"Here is your new passport, Mr. Cowan. I'm sorry you had such a bad experience. I'm afraid there are a lot of pickpockets in Rome."

"I'll sure see to it that they don't get hold of this one," Cowan said.

"You do that, sir."

Robert watched Cowan put the passport in his jacket pocket and turn to leave. Robert stepped ahead of him. As a woman brushed by, Robert lunged into Cowan, as if he had been pushed, almost knocking him down.

"I'm terribly sorry," Robert apologized. He leaned over and straightened the man's jacket for him.

"No problem," Cowan said.

Robert turned and walked into the public men's room down the hall, the stranger's passport in his pocket. He looked around to make sure he was alone, then went into one of the booths. He took out the razor blade and bottle of glue he had stolen from Ricco. Very carefully, he slit the top of the plastic and removed Cowan's photograph. Next, he inserted the picture of himself that Ricco had taken. He glued the top of the plastic slot closed and examined his handiwork. Perfect. He was now Henry Cowan. Five minutes later, he was out in the Via Veneto, getting into a taxi.

"Leonardo da Vinci." It was twelve.thirty when Robert arrived at the airport. He stood outside, looking for anything unusual. On the surface, everything appeared to be normal. No police cars, no suspicious.looking men. Robert entered the terminal and stopped just inside the door. There were various airline counters scattered around the large terminal. There seemed to be no one loitering or hiding behind posts. He stayed where he was, wary. He could not explain it, even to himself, but somehow everything seemed too normal. Across the room was an Air France counter.

"You are on Air France flight 312 to Paris. . . . It leaves at one Robert walked past the counter and approached a woman in uniform behind Page 158

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the Alitalia counter.

"Good evening."

"Good evening. Can I help you, signore?"

"Yes," Robert said.

"Would you please page Commander Robert Bellamy to come to the courtesy telephone?"

"Certainly," she said. She picked up a microphone. A few feet away, a fat middle-aged woman was checking a number of suitcases, heatedly arguing with an airline attendant about overweight fees.

"In America, they never charged me for overweight."

"I'm sorry, madam. But if you wish all these bags to go on, you must pay for excess baggage."

Robert moved closer. He heard the attendant's voice over the loudspeaker.

"Will Commander Robert Bellamy please come to the white courtesy telephone. Commander Robert Bellamy, please come to the white courtesy telephone." The announcement echoed throughout the airport. A man holding a carry-on bag was walking past Robert.

"Excuse me," Robert said. The man turned."

"Yes?"

"I hear my wife paging me, but"-he indicated the woman's bags-"I can't leave my luggage." He pulled out a ten-dollar bill and handed it to the man.

"Would you please go over to that white telephone and tell her I'll pick her up at our hotel in an hour? I'd really appreciate it." The man looked at the ten-dollar bill in his hand.

"Sure."

Robert watched him walk over to the courtesy telephone and pick it up. He held the receiver to his ear and said, "Hello? ... Hello?

The next moment, four large men in black suits appeared from nowhere and closed in, pinning the hapless man to the wall.

"Hey! What is this?"

"Let's do this quietly," one of the men said.

"What do you think you're doing? Got your hands off me!"

"Don't make a fuss, Commander. There's no point"

"Commander? You've got the wrong man! My name is Melvyn Davis. I'm from Omaha!"

"Let's not play games."

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"Wait a minute! I've been set up. The man you want is over there!" He pointed to where Robert had been standing.

There was no one there.

Outside the terminal, an airport bus was getting ready to depart. Robert boarded it, mingling with the other passengers. He sat at the back of the bus, concentrating on his next move. He was desperate to talk to Admiral Whittaker to try to get answers about what was going on, to learn who was responsible for killing innocent people because they had witnessed something they were not supposed to have seen. Was it General Hilliard? Dustin Thornton? Or Thornton's father-in-law, Willard Stone, the man of mystery. Could he be involved in this in some way? Was it Edward Sanderson, the director of NSA? Could they be working together? Did it go as high as the President? Robert needed answers.

The bus trip into Rome took an hour. When the bus stopped in front of the Eden Hotel, Robert disembarked.

I've got to get out of the country, Robert thought. There was only one man in Rome he could trust. Colonel Francesco Cesar, head of SIFAR, the Italian Secret Service. He was going to be Robert's escape from Italy. Colonel Cesar was working late. Messages had been flashing back and forth among foreign security agencies, and they all involved Commander Robert Bellamy. Colonel Cesar had worked with Robert in the past, and he was very fond of him. Cesar sighed as he looked at the latest message in front of him. Terminate. And as he was reading it, his secretary came into the office.

"Commander Bellamy is on line one for you."

"The Lido bar in Trastevere."

"Wait right there. I'll see you in exactly one hour."

"Thanks, amico." Robert replaced the receiver. It was going to be a long hour.

Thirty minutes later, two unmarked cars coasted to a stop ten yards from the Lido bar. There were four men in each car, and they were all carrying automatic weapons.

Colonel Cesar got out of the first car.

"Let's do this quickly.

We don't want anyone else to get hurt. Andate al dietro, subito." Half the men silently went around to cover the back of the building. Robert Bellamy watched from the rooftop of the building across the street as Cesar and his men raised their weapons and charged into the bar.

All right, you bastards, Robert thought grimly, we'll play it your way. Day Sixteen Rome, Italy

Robert placed a call to Colonel Cesar from a phone booth in the Piazza del Duomo.

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"Whatever happened to friendship?"

Robert asked.

"Don't be naive, my friend. I'm under orders, just as you are. I can assure you, there is no use in your running.

You're at the head of every intelligence agency's most wanted list. Half the governments of the world are looking for you."

"Do you believe I'm a traitor?"

Cesar sighed.

"It doesn't matter what I believe, Robert. This is nothing personal. I have my orders."

"To take me out."

"You can make it easier by turning yourself in."

"Thanks, paesano. If I need more advice, I'll call Dear Abby." He slammed down the receiver.

Robert was aware that the longer he was at large, the greater the danger he was in. There would be security agents closing in on him from half a dozen countries.

There has to be a tree, Robert thought. The line came from a legend about a hunter who was relating an experience he had on safari.

"This huge lion was racing toward me, and all my gun bearers had fled. I had no gun, and there was nowhere to hide. Not a bush or a tree in sight. And the beast was charging straight at me, coming closer and closer."

"How did you escape?"

a listener asked.

"1 ran over to the nearest tree and climbed it."

"But you said there were no trees."

"You don't understand. There has to be a tree!" And I have to find it, Robert thought.

He looked around the piazza. It was almost deserted at this hour. He decided it was time to have a talk with the man who had started him on this nightmare, General Hilliard. But he would have to be careful. Modern electronic phone tracing was almost instantaneous. Robert observed that the two telephone booths next to the one he was in were both empty. Perfect. Ignoring the private number General Hilliard had given him, he dialed the switchboard of NSA. When an operator answered, Robert said, "General Hilliard's office, please." A moment later, he heard a secretary's voice.

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"Goneral Hilliard's office." Robert said, "Please hold for an overseas call." He dropped the receiver and hurried into the next booth. He quickly redialed the number. A different secretary answered, "General Hilliard's office."

"Please hold for an overseas call," Robert said. He let the receiver hang, walked into the third booth, and dialed. When another secretary answered, Robert said, "This is Commander Bellamy. I want to speak to General Hilliard."

There was a gasp of surprise.

"Just a moment, Commander." The secretary buzzed the intercom.

"General, Commander Bellamy is on line three." General Hilliard turned to Harrison Keller.

"Bellamy is on line three. Start a trace, fast." Harrison Keller hurried over to a telephone on a side table and dialed the Network Operations Center, manned and monitored twenty-four hours a day. The senior officer on duty answered.

"NOC. Adams."

"How long will it take to do an emergency trace on an incoming call?" Keller whispered.

"Between one and two minutes."

"Start it. General Hilliard's office, line three. I'll hang on." He looked over at the general and nodded. General Hilliard picked up the telephone.

"Commander-is that you?"

In the operations center, Adams punched a number into a computer.

"Here we go," he said.

"I thought it was time you and I had a talk, General."

"I'm glad you called, Commander. Why don't you come in and we can discuss the situation? I'll arrange a plane for you, and you can be here in-"

"No thanks. Too many accidents happen in airplanes, General." In the communications room, ESS, the electronic switching system had been activated. The computer screen began lighting up. AX121-B ... Ax122-C ... AX123C...

"What's happening?"

Keller whispered into the phone.

"The Network Operations Center in New Jersey is searching the Washington, D.C., trunks, sir. Hold on."

The screen went blank. Then the words Overseas Trunk Line One flashed onto the screen.

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"The call is coming from somewhere in Europe. We're tracing the country...."

General Hilliard was saying, "Commander Bellamy, I think there's been a misunderstanding. I have a suggestion.

Robert replaced the receiver.

General Hilliard looked over at Keller.

"Did you get it?"

Harrison Keller talked into the phone to Adams.

"What happened?"

"We lost him."

Robert moved into the second booth and picked up the telephone. General Hilliard's secretary said, "Commander Bellamy is calling on line two."

The two men looked at each other. Gonersl Hilliard pressed the button for line two.

"Commander?"

"Let me make a suggestion," Robert said. General Hilliard put his hand over the mouthpiece.

"Get the trace working again."

Harrison Keller picked up the telephone and said to Adams, "He's on again. Line two. Move fast."

"Right."

"My suggestion, General, is that you call off all your men. And I mean now."

"I think you misunderstand the situation, Commander. We can work this problem out J~ "I'll tell you how we can work it out. There's a termination order out on me. I want you to cancel it." In the Network Operations Center, the computer screen was flashing a new message: AXJ55-C Subtrunk A21 verified. Circuit 301 to Rome. Atlantic Trunk 1.

"We've got it," Adams said into the phone.

"We've traced the trunk to Rome."

"Get me the number and location," Keller told him. In Rome Robert was glancing at his watch.

"You gave me an assignment. I carried it out."

"You did very well, Commander. Here is what IThe line went dead. Page 163

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The general turned to Keller.

"He hung up, again." Keller spoke into the phone, "Did you get it?"

"Too quick, sir."

Robert moved into the next booth and picked up the telephone. General Hilliard's secretary's voice came over the intercom.

"Commander Bellamy is on line one, General." The general snapped, "Find the bastard!" He picked up the telephone.

"Commander?"

"I want you to listen, General, and listen closely. You've murdered a lot of innocent people. If you don't call off your men, I'm going to the media and tell them what's going on."

"I wouldn't advise you to do that, unless you want to start a worldwide panic. The aliens are real, and we're defenseless against them. They're getting ready to make their move. You have no idea what would happen if word of this leaked out."

"Neither have you," Bellamy retorted.

"I'm not giving you a choice. Call off the contract on me. If there's one more attempt made on my life, I'm going public."

"All right," General Hilliard said.

"You win. I'll call it off. Why don't we do this? We can-"

"Your trace should be working pretty good, now," Robert said.

"Have a good day." The connection was broken.

"Did you get it?"