Алистер Маклин - Red Alert

‘I’ll go in first,’ she whispered.

He nodded reluctantly.

She curled her fingers around the handle then shoved open the door and dived low into the room, fanning it with her Beretta. There was only one man in the room. He was seated in an armchair facing the door. It wasn’t Ubrino. He was a heavyset man in his forties with black hair slicked back from a craggy face.

She got up on to one knee, the Beretta aimed at his chest.

‘On your feet, very slowly. And keep your hands where I can see them.’

He looked past her and smiled when Calvieri appeared in the doorway.

‘I’m impressed, Tony. Your new bodyguard?’

Calvieri lowered his gun.

‘I might have guessed. What are you doing here, Luigi?’

‘You know him?’ Sabrina asked.

‘Unfortunately, yes. Luigi Rocca, one of Zocchi’s more repulsive puppets.’

‘I’d mind my tongue if I were you, Tony. My men don’t take too kindly to me being insulted by someone like you. Look behind you.’

Calvieri looked round slowly, his nerves taut. Two men had emerged from the opposite room. Both were armed with AK-74 assault rifles.

‘Drop the gun, Tony.’ Rocca looked at Sabrina. ‘You too, bella.’

Calvieri let the P9 fall from his fingers. One of the men retrieved it.

Sabrina stared at the two Kalashnikovs pointing at her and reluctantly tossed her gun on to the floor. The same man picked it up.

‘You never answered my question, Luigi,’ Calvieri said, coming into the room.

‘I will, in time. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your beautiful companion?’

‘Her name’s Sabrina Trestelli. She’s a graduate of Trento University.’

‘Beauty and brains. Pity you chose to join the wrong cell, bella.’ Rocca beckoned the two men forward. ‘Entertain the lady while I talk to Signore Calvieri.’

‘Whatever you have to say to me can be said in front of her,’ Calvieri said, looking round as the two men approached her.

The first man grabbed her arm. She brought her knee up sharply into his groin. He shrieked in pain and crumpled to the floor.

‘Touch me and I’ll break your arm,’ she snarled menacingly at the second man.

He looked hesitantly to Rocca for instructions.

‘Leave her,’ Rocca said, then gestured dismissively at the man gasping on the floor.

‘Take him away. Wait outside for me. I’ll call if I need you.’

The man helped his colleague from the room and closed the door behind them.

Rocca got to his feet and crossed to a side table. They both refused his offer of a drink. He poured himself a whisky, then resumed his seat and pointed to the couch behind them. Obediently they both sat down.

‘This has gone far enough, Luigi. What do you want?’

‘Answers,’ Rocca replied, and took a sip of whisky.

‘Answers to what?’ Calvieri demanded.

Rocca ran his palm over his greasy hair.

‘I’m in charge now that Signore Zocchi and Ubrino are allegedly indisposed. I use the word ‘allegedly’ because the city’s been rife with rumours, counter-rumours and accusations ever since the break-in at the Neo-Chem plant on Sunday night. I have to reassure my Brigatisti, Tony, that’s why I lured you out here. I need answers, and I need them quickly.’

‘Then I suggest you make an appointment to see Signore Pisani and discuss your problems with him.’

‘Credit me with some intelligence, Tony. Pisani’s dying. He’s nothing more than a figurehead now. You’ve been running the show for the past few months, not him.’

‘Who told you that? Zocchi?’ Calvieri could see he was right by the look in Rocca’s eyes. ‘I thought as much. And you’re the one complaining about rumours? Signore Pisani is dying, we all know that, but to say that he doesn’t play an active part in the running of the Red Brigades any more is complete nonsense. Who do you think sent me to Rome to find Ubrino? I certainly didn’t send myself. I’m here on his specific instructions. Signore Pisani will tell us when he wants to stand down. But until then he is still our leader. So that’s one rumour quashed already.’

‘What about the rumour that Zocchi’s dead?’ Rocca said, then drank down the rest of his whisky. ‘That’s why the prison’s been sealed off.’

‘The prison’s been sealed off because of an outbreak of acute conjunctivitis. I know for a fact that Signore Pisani spoke with one of the doctors who went to treat the prisoners. He saw Zocchi. That was yesterday afternoon. It’s possible that Zocchi could have been killed since then, we’ve no way of confirming or denying that. But look at it logically. If something had happened to him, I think the committee would have heard about it by now.’

‘What’s the doctor’s name?’

‘Are you questioning Signore Pisani’s word?’ Calvieri demanded angrily.

‘I just want to talk to the doctor myself,’ Rocca said defensively.

‘So you’re calling him a liar.’

‘Of course not, but how can I be expected to answer these rumours unless I have the facts at my disposal?’

‘I’ve told you already, call a meeting with Signore Pisani. He’ll understand your predicament.’ Calvieri stood up. ‘If that’s all, I’ve got a busy day ahead of me.’

‘Why are you looking for Ubrino?’ Rocca asked suddenly. ‘What did he take from the plant?’

‘That doesn’t concern you.’

‘I have a right to know!’ Rocca snapped, banging his fist angrily on the arm of the chair. He waved the guard away when the door opened. ‘You’re in my city, Tony. That makes it my concern.’

‘Signore Pisani will call a committee meeting early next week to discuss the implications of the Neo-Chem affair. I’m not at liberty to say anything until then.’

‘If you survive that long.’ Rocca reached for his cigarettes on the table and lit one. ‘There’s a lot of ill-feeling among the younger Brigatisti who resent the way you’re hunting down Ubrino like some wild animal. A contract’s been put out on you. I can’t guarantee your safety here in Rome any more.’

‘So that’s what this is all about. You can’t control your minions and you’re scared that if anything were to happen to me before contact’s made with Zocchi, it could jeopardize your chances of ever reaching brigade chief.’

‘It’s got nothing to do with that!’ Rocca snapped indignantly. ‘I’m warning you. Get out of Rome, you’re not welcome here any more.’

‘I’ll get out when I know Ubrino’s not here. Not before.’

Calvieri paused at the door and looked back at Rocca.

‘I’m right, though. If something were to happen to me it would reflect very badly on you. You’d never make brigade chief. You’d be lucky to remain a cell commander.’

Rocca waited until Calvieri and Sabrina had left, then stubbed out his cigarette angrily and reached for the telephone.

The armed guard approached the fifteen-foot wrought-iron gate and shone his torch through the bars at the Alfa Romeo Alfetta outside. Rocca made no attempt to shield his eyes from the glare of the torch, and activating the driver’s window, he shouted to the guard that he had an appointment to see Nicola Pisani. The guard contacted the house on his two-way radio to confirm the appointment then used a remote control to open the gates. Rocca drove through and the guard immediately closed the gates behind him.

Whitlock and Young had seen the Alfa Romeo Alfetta enter the grounds from their Seat Ibiza parked at the end of the street.

‘What now?’ Whitlock asked.

‘It doesn’t change anything,’ Young replied, stubbing out his cigarette among the half-dozen butts already in the ashtray. ‘I’m still going in.’

Whitlock stared ahead of him. Whose house was it? Young had refused to tell him anything, saying the less he knew, the better it would be for him. He could only assume the house belonged to a senior Brigatista.