Sidney Sheldon - The Doomsday Conspiracy

Robert hated to press him, but he had no choice.

“You sat next to a man on that bus. A Texan. You had a long conversation with him, remember?”

“A conversation. The Texan. Yes, I remember.”

“Did he mention where he lived in Texas?”

“Yes, I remember him. He was from America.”

“Yes. From Texas. Did he tell you where his home was?”

“Yes, yes. He told me.”

“Where, Father? Where is his home?”

“Texas. He talked of Texas.”

Robert nodded encouragingly. “That’s right.”

“I saw them with my own eyes. I wish God had blinded me. I …”

“Father – the man from Texas. Did he say where he was from? Did he mention a name?”

“Texas, yes. The Ponderosa.”

Robert tried again. “That’s on television. This was a real man. He sat next to you on …”

The priest was becoming delirious again. “They’re coming! Armageddon is here. The Bible lies! It is the devil who will invade the earth.” He was shouting loudly now. “Look out! Look out! I can see them!”

The nurse came hurrying in. She looked at Robert reprovingly. “You will have to leave, signore.”

“I need just one more minute …”

“No, signore. Adesso!”

Robert took one last look at the priest. He was raving incoherently. Robert turned to go. There was nothing further he could do. He had gambled on the priest giving him a lead to the Texan, and he had lost.

Robert returned to his car and headed back toward Rome. It was finally over. The only clues he had left – if they could be called clues – were the mention of a Russian woman, a Texan, and a Hungarian. But there was no way to pursue them any further. Check and checkmate. It was frustrating to have come this far and then to be stopped. If only the priest had remained coherent long enough to give him the information he needed! He had been so close. What was it the priest had said? The Ponderosa. The old priest had been watching too much television, and in his delirium, he had obviously associated Texas with the once popular TV show, Bonanza. The Ponderosa, where the mythical Cartwright family lived. The Ponderosa. Robert slowed the car, and pulled over to the side of the road, his mind racing. He made a U-turn and sped back toward Orvieto.

Half an hour later, Robert was talking to the bartender in a small trattoria in the Piazza della Republica. “You have a beautiful town here,” Robert said. “It’s very peaceful.”

“Oh, si, signore, we are quite content here. Have you visited Italy before?”

“I spent part of my honeymoon in Rome.” You make all my dreams come true, Robert. I’ve wanted to see Rome ever since I was a little girl.

“Ah, Rome. Too big. Too noisy.”

“I agree.”

“We live simple lives here, but we are happy.”

Robert said casually, “I noticed television antennas on many of the roofs here.”

“Oh, yes, indeed. We are quite up-to-date in that respect.”

“One can see that. How many television channels does the town receive?”

“Only one.”

“I suppose you get a good many American shows?”

“No, no. This is a government channel. Here we receive only shows made in Italy.”

Bingo! “Thank you.”

Robert placed a call to Admiral Whittaker. A secretary answered the phone. “Admiral Whittaker’s office.”

Robert could visualize the office. It would be the kind of anonymous cubbyhole they kept for non-persons the government no longer had any use for.

“Could I speak to the Admiral, please? Commander Robert Bellamy calling.”

“Just a moment, Commander.”

Robert wondered whether anybody bothered to keep in touch with the Admiral now that the once powerful figure was part of the mothball fleet. Probably not.

“Robert, it’s very good to hear from you.” The old man’s voice sounded tired. “Where are you?”

“I can’t say, sir.”

There was a pause. “I understand. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Yes, sir. This is rather awkward because I’ve been ordered not to communicate with anyone. But I need some outside help. I wonder if you could check on something for me?”

“I can certainly try. What would you like to know?”

“I need to know whether there’s a ranch anywhere in Texas called The Ponderosa.”

“As in Bonanza!”

“Yes, sir.”

“I can find out. How will I reach you?”

“I think it would be better if I called you, Admiral.”

“Right. Give me an hour or two. I’ll keep this just between ourselves.”

“Thank you.”

It seemed to Robert that the tiredness had gone out of the old man’s voice. He had, at last, been asked to do something, even if it was as trivial as locating a ranch.

Two hours later, Robert telephoned Admiral Whittaker again.

“I’ve been waiting for your call,” the Admiral said. There was a satisfied note in his voice. “I have the information you wanted.”

“And?” Robert held his breath.

“There is a Ponderosa ranch in Texas. It’s located just outside of Waco. It’s owned by a Dan Wayne.”

Robert heaved a deep sigh of relief. “Thank you very much, Admiral,” he said. “I owe you a dinner when I get back.”

“I’ll be looking forward to that, Robert.”

Robert’s next call was to General Milliard. “I located another witness in Italy. Father Patrini.”

“A priest?”

“Yes. In Orvieto. He’s in the hospital, very ill. I’m afraid the Italian authorities won’t be able to communicate with him.”

“I’ll pass that on. Thank you, Commander.”

Two minutes later, General Hilliard was on the line to Janus.

“I’ve heard from Commander Bellamy again. The latest witness is a priest. A Father Patrini in Orvieto.”

“Take care of it.”

FLASH MESSAGE

TOP SECRET ULTRA

NSA TO DEPUTY DIRECTORY SIFAR

EYES ONLY

COPY ONE OF (ONE) COPIES

SUBJECT: OPERATION DOOMSDAY

5. FATHER PATRINI – ORVIETO

END OF MESSAGE

The headquarters of SIFAR is on Via della Pineta, on the southernmost outskirts of Rome, in an area surrounded by farmhouses. The only thing that would cause a passer-by to give a second glance at the innocent, industrial-looking stone buildings occupying two square blocks would be the high wall surrounding the complex, topped by barbed wire, with security posts at each corner. Hidden in a military compound, it is one of the most secretive security agencies in the world, and one of the least known. There are signs outside the compound reading: Vietare passare oltre i limiti.

Inside a spartan office on the first floor of the main building, Colonel Francesco Cesar was studying the flash message he had just received. The Colonel was a man in his early fifties with a muscular body, topped by a pitted, bulldog face. He read the message for the third time.

So, Operation Doomsday is finally happening. E una bellafregat-ura. It is good that we have prepared for this, Cesar thought. He looked down at the cable again. A priest.

It was after midnight when the nun walked past the desk of the night duty nurses at the little hospital in Orvieto.

“I guess she’s going to see Signora Fillipi,” said Nurse Tomasino.

“Either her or old man Rigano. They’re both on their last legs.” The nun glided silently round the corner and walked directly into the priest’s room. He was sleeping peacefully, his hands gathered almost as if in prayer, on his chest. A wedge of moonlight sliced through the blinds, casting a golden band across the priest’s face.

The nun removed a small box from beneath her habit. Carefully, she took out a beautiful cut-glass rosary, and placed it in the old priest’s hands. As she adjusted the beads, she drew one of them quickly across his thumb. A thin line of blood appeared. The nun took a tiny bottle from the box, and with an eye dropper, delicately squeezed three drops into the open cut.