Sidney Sheldon - The Doomsday Conspiracy

“Yes. I’m interested in hearing the part about where they’re going to meet. It sounded like he said Palindrome. Is that somewhere in Italy?”

Colonel Cesar shook his head. “I never heard of it. We’ll check it out.” He turned to his aide. “Look it up on the map. And keep monitoring all transmissions to and from the Halcyon.”

“Yes, sir.”

At the farmhouse in Naples, the phone rang. Pier started to get up to answer it.

“Hold it,” one of the men said. He walked over to the phone and picked it up. “Hello?” He listened for a moment, then threw the phone down and turned to his companion. “Bellamy took the hydrofoil to Capri. Let’s go!”

Pier watched the two men hurry out of the door, and thought: God never meant me to have so much money, anyway. I hope he gets away.

When the ferry boat to Ischia arrived, Robert mingled with the crowd boarding it. He kept to himself, avoiding eye contact. Thirty minutes later, when the boat docked at Ischia, Robert disembarked and walked over to the ticket booth on the pier. A sign announced that the ferry to Sorrento was due in ten minutes. “A round trip ticket to Sorrento,” Robert said.

Ten minutes later he was on his way to Sorrento, back to the mainland. With a little luck, the search will have shifted to Capri, Robert thought. With a little luck.

The food market at Sorrento was crowded. Farmers had come in from the countryside bringing fresh fruit and vegetables and sides of beef that lined the meat stalls. The street was thronged with vendors and shoppers.

Robert approached a husky man in a stained apron, loading a truck. “Pardon, monsieur …” Robert spoke with a perfect French accent. “I’m looking for transportation to Civitavecchia. Would you happen to be going that way?”

“No. Salerno.” He pointed to a man loading another truck nearby. “Giuseppe might be able to help you.”

“Merci.”

Robert moved over to the next truck. “Monsieur, would you be going to Civitavecchia by any chance?”

The man said, noncommittally, “I might be.”

“I would be glad to pay you for the ride.”

“How much?”

Robert handed the man a hundred thousand lire.

“You could buy yourself a plane ticket to Rome for that much money, couldn’t you?”

Robert instantly realized his mistake. He looked around nervously. “The truth is, I have some creditors watching the airport. I’d prefer to go by truck.”

The man nodded. “Ah. I understand. All right, get in. We’re ready to leave.”

Robert yawned. “I am très fatigué. How do you say? – tired. Would you mind if I slept in the back?”

“It’s going to be a bumpy ride, but suit yourself.”

“Merci.”

The back of the truck was filled with empty crates and boxes. Giuseppe watched Robert climb in, and he closed up the tailgate. Inside, Robert concealed himself behind some crates. He suddenly realized how exhausted he really was. The chase was beginning to wear him down. How long had it been since he had slept? He thought of Pier and how she had come to him in the night and had made him feel whole again, a man again. He hoped she was all right. Robert slept.

In the cab of the truck, Giuseppe was thinking about his passenger. The word was out about an American the authorities were looking for. His passenger had a French accent, but he looked like an American and he dressed like an American. It would be worth checking out. There might be a nice reward.

One hour later, at a truck stop along the highway, Giuseppe pulled up in front of a gas pump. “Fill it up,” he said. He walked around to the back of the truck and peered inside. His passenger was asleep.

Giuseppe went inside the restaurant and made a telephone call to the local police.

The call had been routed to Colonel Cesar. “Yes,” he said to Giuseppe, “that sounds very much like our man. Listen carefully. He is dangerous, so I want you to do exactly as I tell you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where are you now?”

“At the AGIP truck stop on the highway to Civitavecchia.”

“And he’s in the back of your truck now?”

“Yes.” The conversation was making him nervous. Maybe I should have minded my own business.

“Don’t do anything to make him suspicious. Get back in your truck and keep driving toward Civitavecchia. Give me your licence number and a description of your truck.”

Giuseppe gave it to him.

“Fine. We will take care of everything. Now get moving.”

Colonel Cesar turned to Colonel Johnson and nodded. “We have him. I’ll have a roadblock set up. We can be there by helicopter in thirty minutes.”

“Let’s go.”

When Giuseppe replaced the receiver, he wiped his sweaty palms on his shirt, and headed for the truck. I hope there won’t be a shoot-out. Maria would kill me. On the other hand, if the reward is large enough … He climbed into the cab of the truck and headed for Civitavecchia.

Thirty-five minutes later, Giuseppe heard the sound of a helicopter overhead. He looked up. It had the markings of the State Police. Ahead of him on the highway, he saw two police cars lined up next to each other, forming a roadblock. Behind the cars were policemen with automatic weapons. The helicopter landed at the side of the road, and Cesar and Colonel Frank Johnson stepped out.

As he neared the roadblock, Giuseppe slowed the truck down. He shut off the ignition and jumped out, running toward the officers. “He’s in the back!” he shouted.

The truck rolled to a stop. Cesar shouted, “Close in.”

The policemen converged on the truck, weapons ready.

“Don’t shoot,” Colonel Johnson yelled. “I’ll take him.” He moved toward the back of the truck. “Come on out, Robert,” Colonel Johnson called, “it’s over.”

There was no response.

“Robert, you have five seconds.”

Silence. They waited.

Cesar turned to his men and nodded.

“No!” Colonel Johnson yelled. But it was too late.

The police began firing into the back of the truck. The noise of the automatic fire was deafening. Splinters of crates began flying into the air. After ten seconds, the firing ceased. Colonel Frank Johnson jumped into the back of the truck and moved the crates and boxes out of his way.

He turned to Cesar. “He’s not here.”

Day Nineteen

Civitavecchia, Italy

Civitavecchia is the ancient seaport for Rome, guarded by a massive fort completed by Michelangelo in 1537. The port is one of the busiest in Europe, servicing all sea-going traffic to and from Rome and Sardinia. It was early in the morning, but the port was already alive with noisy activity. Robert made his way past the railroad yards and stepped into a small trattoria filled with pungent cooking odours and ordered breakfast.

The Halcyon would be waiting for him at the appointed place, Elba. He was grateful that Susan had remembered it. On their honeymoon, they had stayed in their room there for three days and nights, making love. Susan had said, “Would you like to go for a swim, darling?”

Robert had shaken his head. “No. I can’t move. ‘Able was I, ere I saw Elba.’” And Susan had laughed and they had made love again. And bless her, she had remembered the palindrome.

Now all he had to do was to find a boat to take him to Elba. He walked down the streets leading to the harbour. It was bustling with maritime activity, crowded with freighters, small motor boats and private yachts. There was a landing for a ferry boat. Robert’s eyes lit up when he saw it. That would be the safest way to get over to Elba. He would be able to lose himself in the crowds.

As Robert started toward the ferry landing, he noticed a dark, unmarked sedan parked half a block away, and he stopped. It had official licence plates. There were two men seated inside the car watching the docks. Robert turned and walked in the other direction.