Sidney Sheldon - The Doomsday Conspiracy

Come right this way, folks. See the genuine body part of an alien from outer space. Not a drawing, not a photograph, but an actual part of an actual ET. Only 500 forints for the thrill of a lifetime, a sight you will never forget.

And then he was in bed with Marika, and they were both naked, and he could feel her nipples pressing against his chest and her tongue slithering across his body and she was crawling all over him, and he got an erection, and he reached for her and his hands closed over something cold and slimy, and he woke up and opened his eyes and screamed, and that was when the cobra struck.

They found his body in the morning. The cage for the poisonous snake was empty.

FLASH MESSAGE

TOP SECRET ULTRA

HRQ TO DEPUTY DIRECTOR NSA

EYES ONLY

COPY ONE OF (ONE) COPIES

SUBJECT: OPERATION DOOMSDAY

10. LASLO BUSHFEKETE – SOPRON –

TERMINATED

END OF MESSAGE

General Milliard made a call on the red phone. “Janus, I’ve received the final report from Commander Bellamy. He’s found the last of the witnesses. They’ve all been taken care of.”

“Excellent. I’ll inform the others. I want you to proceed at once with the rest of our plan.”

“Immediately.”

FLASH MESSAGE

TOP SECRET ULTRA

NSA TO DEPUTY DIRECTORS:

SIFAR, MI6, GRU, CIA, COMSEC, DCI, CGHQ,BFV

EYES ONLY

COPY ONE OF (ONE) COPIES

SUBJECT: OPERATION DOOMSDAY

11. COMMANDER ROBERT BELLAMY –

TERMINATE

END OF MESSAGE

Day Fifteen

Robert Bellamy was in a dilemma. Could there have been an eleventh witness? And if there was, why hadn’t any of the witnesses mentioned her before? The clerk who sold the bus tickets had told him there were only seven passengers. Robert was convinced that the Hungarian carnival owner had made a mistake. It would have been easy to ignore it, to assume that it was untrue, but Robert’s training would not permit it. He had been too well disciplined. Bushfekete’s story had to be checked out. How? Robert thought about it. Hans Beckerman. The bus driver will know.

He placed a call to Sunshine Tours. The office was closed. There was no listing in Kappel for a Hans Beckerman. I’m going to have to go back to Switzerland and settle this, Robert thought. I can’t leave any loose ends.

It was late at night when Robert arrived in Zurich. The air was cold and crisp and there was a full moon. Robert rented a car and took the now familiar drive to the little village of Kappel. He drove past the church and pulled up in front of Hans Beckerman’s home, convinced that he was on a wild goose chase. The house was dark. Robert knocked on the door and waited. He knocked again, shivering in the cold night air.

Mrs Beckerman finally answered the door. She was wearing a faded flannel robe. “Bitte?”

“Mrs Beckerman, I wonder if you remember me? I’m the reporter who’s writing an article on Hans. I’m sorry to bother you so late, but it’s important that I speak to your husband.”

His words were greeted with silence. “Mrs Beckerman?”

“Hans is dead.”

Robert felt a small shock go through him. “What?”

“My husband is dead.”

“I … I’m sorry. How?”

“His car went over the side of the mountain.” Her voice was filled with bitterness. “The Dummkopf Polizei said it was because he was full of drugs.”

“Drugs?” I’m sorry I cannot offer you a drink. Ulcers. The doctors cannot even give me drugs to relieve the pain. lam allergic to all of them.

“The police said it was an accident?”

“Ja.”

“Did they perform an autopsy?”

“They did, and they found drugs. It makes no sense.”

He had no answer. “I’m terribly sorry, Mrs Beckerman. I …”

The door closed, and Robert stood there, alone in the cold night.

One witness was gone. No … two. Leslie Mothershed had died in afire. Robert stood there for a long time. Two witnesses dead. He could hear the voice of his instructor at the Farm: There’s one more thing I want to discuss today. Coincidence. In our work, there is no such animal. It usually spells danger. If you keep running into the same person again and again, or if you keep spotting the same automobile when you’re on the move, cover your ass. You’re probably in trouble.

Probably in trouble. Robert was caught up in a series of conflicting emotions. What had happened had to be coincidences, and yet … I’ve got to check out the mystery passenger.

His first call was to Fort Smith, Canada. A distraught woman’s voice answered the telephone. “Yes?”

“William Mann, please.”

The voice said, tearfully, “I’m sorry. My husband is … is no longer with us.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He committed suicide.”

Suicide? That hard-headed banker? What the hell is going on? Robert wondered. What he was thinking was inconceivable, and yet … He began making one phone call after another.

“Professor Schmidt, please.”

“Ach! The professor died in an explosion in his laboratory …”

“I’d like to speak to Dan Wayne.”

“Poor devil. His prize stallion kicked him to death last …”

“Laslo Bushfekete, please.”

“The carnival’s closed. Laslo is dead …”

“Fritz Mandel, please.”

“Fritz was killed in a freak accident …”

The alarms were going full blast now.

“Olga Romanchanko.”

“The poor girl. And she was so young …”

“I’m calling to check on Father Patrini.”

“The poor soul passed away in his sleep.”

“I have to speak to Kevin Parker.”

“Kevin was murdered …”

Dead. Every one of the witnesses dead. And he was the one who had found them and identified them. Why had he not known what was going on? Because the bastards had waited until he was out of each country before executing their victims. The only one he had reported to was General Milliard. We must not involve anyone else in this mission … I want you to report your progress to me every day.

They had used him to finger the witnesses. What was behind all this? Otto Schmidt had been killed in Germany, Hans Beckerman and Fritz Mandel in Switzerland. Olga Romanchanko in Russia, Dan Wayne and Kevin Parker in America, William Mann in Canada, Leslie Mothershed in England, Father Patrini in Italy, and Laslo Bushfekete in Hungary. That meant that the security agencies in more than half a dozen countries were engaged in the biggest cover-up in history. Someone at a very high level had decided that all the witnesses to the UFO crash must die. But who? And why? It was an international conspiracy and he was in the middle of it.

Priority: get under cover. It was hard for Robert to believe that they intended to kill him, too. He was one of them. But until he knew for certain, he could not take any chances. The first thing he had to do was to get a phony passport. That meant Ricco in Rome.

Robert caught the next plane out and found himself fighting to stay awake. He had not realized how exhausted he was. The pressure of the last fifteen days, in addition to all the jet lag, had left him drained.

He landed at the Leonardo da Vinci airport, and when he walked into the terminal, the first person he saw was Susan. He stopped, in shock. Her back was to him and for a moment he thought he might be mistaken. And then he heard her voice.

“Thank you. I have a car picking me up.”

Robert moved to her side. “Susan …”

She turned, startled. “Robert! What … what a coincidence! But what a lovely surprise.”

“I thought you were in Gibraltar,” Robert said.

She smiled uneasily. “Yes. We’re on our way there. Monte had some business here to take care of first. We’re leaving tonight. What are you doing in Rome?”