Алистер Маклин - Red Alert

And neither man was prepared to back down first. It had become a matter of pride.

Paluzzi knocked on Pesco’s open door and entered the room. Pesco was smoking his customary cigar, the thick smoke drifting up into the extractor fan on the wall behind him. The two men acknowledged each other with a curt nod then Paluzzi turned to smile at Kolchinsky and Sabrina who were seated on the couch against the wall.

‘Where’s Mike?’ Sabrina asked.

‘He’s at the San Giovanni Hospital,’ Paluzzi replied and immediately raised a hand to allay her anxiety. ‘He’s okay, don’t worry.’

‘What happened?’ Kolchinsky asked.

Paluzzi recounted the events briefly, culminating in their rescue from the sea by a coast guard helicopter answering Marco’s mayday call.

‘How bad is the wound?’ Sabrina asked, the anxiety still on her face.

‘He needed fourteen stitches. The doctors were more worried that the blow could have damaged his eyesight but they gave him the all-clear after a series of tests. They want him to remain in hospital overnight, just as a precaution. He wasn’t too happy about that.’

‘Well, he can just stay there,’ Kolchinsky said, and looked at his watch. ‘It’s gone six-thirty. How long will it take us to get to Sant’Ivo from here?’

‘It’s about a ten-minute drive,’ Paluzzi replied.

‘I’ll go with Major Paluzzi,’ Sabrina offered.

‘No you won’t,’ Kolchinsky replied firmly. ‘You’re working with Calvieri. I want you at the hotel where you can keep an eye on him. I’ll go with the Major.’

Sabrina sat back glumly and folded her arms across her chest.

Pesco stubbed out his cigar and got to his feet.

‘Mr. Kolchinsky, I’ll leave you in Fabio’s capable hands. I have a meeting with the joint chiefs-of-staff at eight-thirty.’

Kolchinsky stood up and shook Pesco’s hand.

‘Thank you for your time, Brigadier.’

‘Glad to be of help.’ Pesco smiled at Sabrina. ‘A pleasure meeting you, Miss Carver.’

She smiled back.

Pesco acknowledged Paluzzi with another nod and left the room.

‘I presume from that show of affection there’s little love lost between the two of you,’ Sabrina said, looking at Paluzzi.

‘Sabrina, that’s enough!’ Kolchinsky chided her sharply.

‘It’s no secret,’ Paluzzi told them. ‘He’s about as popular here as a pit viper in a rabbit hutch. He’s never tried to fit in with the rest of us. Giuseppe Camerallo, his predecessor, was an inspiration to us. He led by example. He wouldn’t expect us to do anything he wasn’t prepared to do himself. Pesco hasn’t even been on a training exercise with us yet. He’s a desk man. The men don’t want that. They want another Camerallo.’

‘So why was he sent here?’ Sabrina asked.

‘Because he’s a desk man. Paperwork was Camerallo’s weakness. The auditors found the books in a total shambles when they came here after his death. That’s why the top brass sent us Pesco. I was put in charge of field operations so it was only natural that the men looked to me as their new leader. Pesco can’t accept that. He wants that respect himself. But he won’t get it by sitting behind a desk all day. That’s why he resents me so much.’ Paluzzi sat on the edge of the desk. ‘How was the trip to Venice?’

Sabrina told him what had happened.

‘Have you identified the man who fired at you?’

‘Brigadier Pesco sent my description of the man through to the computer suite ten minutes ago. There hasn’t been any feedback yet.’

Paluzzi was about to ring through when Marco appeared at the door, a folder in his hand. ‘I’ve got the information you wanted on Boudien.’ He seems Marco paused when he noticed Kolchinsky and Sabrina. ‘Sorry, sir. I didn’t realize you had company.’

‘Come in, Angelo,’ Paluzzi said, beckoning him into the room.

‘This is Sergei Kolchinsky, deputy director at UNACO and Sabrina Carver, Mike’s partner. Lieutenant Angelo Marco, my right-hand man.’

Marco shook hands with them, then handed the folder to Paluzzi.

‘Do me a favour, Angelo, see what’s happened to the description Miss Carver sent through to be analysed in the identograph. It doesn’t take ten minutes to come up with a name.’

Marco nodded and left the room.

Paluzzi tapped the folder.

‘This is the info on Philippe Boudien, Karos’s personal bodyguard. I’ll have copies of it made for you before you leave.’

‘Is he under surveillance?’ Kolchinsky asked.

‘Twenty-four-hour surveillance. And the phone line’s been tapped. So far nothing.’ Paluzzi moved round to Pesco’s chair and sat down. ‘Any news from your other operative? Whitlock, is it?’

Kolchinsky lit a cigarette and nodded.

‘I got a call from him this afternoon. He and Young have booked into a boarding house in the city. Wiseman’s staying at the Hassler Villa Medici.’

Paluzzi whistled softly. ‘He must have money to blow. That’s one of the most expensive hotels in Rome.’

‘His ex-wife inherited the Whiting shipyard outside New York. She sold it five years ago for close on a hundred million dollars. He got to keep the Lear jet, the ranch in Colorado and an estimated ten million when they were divorced last year.’

‘Ten million and he’s still drawing an army salary? I certainly wouldn’t be slogging my guts out for the state if I had that kind of money in the bank.’

‘The money isn’t important to him. He’s a soldier, first and foremost. And a good one, by all accounts.’

The telephone rang. Paluzzi answered it and punched a code into Pesco’s desk computer as he listened to what Marco was saying.

‘Any luck?’ Sabrina asked once Paluzzi had replaced the receiver.

Paluzzi nodded then pressed a ‘print’ button on the console. A facsimile of the two faces on the screen slid out from a narrow aperture in the side of the computer. He handed it to Sabrina.

‘That’s him all right,’ she announced, handing the facsimile to Kolchinsky. ‘But why two pictures?’

‘Identical twins,’ Paluzzi said. ‘One has a mole on his right cheek. The other doesn’t. That’s the only way of telling them apart.’

Sabrina sat down beside Kolchinsky and looked at the facsimile again.

‘You’re right. It’s uncanny.’

‘Do you know which one you saw in Venice?’ Paluzzi asked.

‘The one with the mole on his cheek. I won’t forget him in a hurry. Who are they?’

‘Carlo and Tommaso Francia.’

‘Who’s who?’ she asked.

‘Carlo’s the one you saw in Venice.’ Paluzzi stared at the VDU. ‘Which means Tommaso was the one in Corfu.’

‘I thought you said you didn’t see his face,’ Kolchinsky said.

‘I didn’t, but they always work on the same assignments.’

‘What does it say about them?’ Kolchinsky asked, gesturing to the VDU.

Paluzzi pressed another button and the text came up on the screen. He read it through, translating it into English in his head. He finally looked up at them.

‘They were born in Salerno in 1956 and orphaned at an early age. Both excelled as sportsmen and by their teens they were skiing in professional tournaments. Carlo specialized in downhill racing, Tommaso in the slalom. They were chosen for the Italian team for the ’76 Winter Olympics but both failed a drugs test on the day before they were due to compete. The FIS banned them for life. They worked as stunt men for a time before drifting into crime in their late twenties. They now work as freelance enforcers in Italy and Greece.’

‘Have you ever come across them?’ Kolchinsky asked.

‘Not personally, but I know of them.’

‘Do they have any sympathies with the Red Brigades?’