Part 2 (1/2)
Decker knocked again, waited, frowned, knocked a third time, waited, frowned harder, glanced to each side along the corridor, then used the lock picks concealed in the collar of his jacket. Ten seconds later, he was in the apartment, securing the door behind him, his weapon already drawn. Had McKittrick stood him up, or had something happened to him? With painstaking caution, Decker started searching.
The living room was deserted. So were the bathroom, the kitchen, and the bedroom, including the closets. Decker hated closets-he never knew what might be crouching in them. His chest tight, he completed the search, sat on a padded chair in the living room, and a.n.a.lyzed the possibilities. Nothing in the apartment seemed out of place, but that proved nothing. McKittrick could be in trouble somewhere else. Or it could be, Decker thought for the second time that the son of a b.i.t.c.h stood me up.
Decker waited, in the process conducting another search of McKittrick's apartment, this time in detail: in, under, and behind every drawer; under the mattress and the bed; under the chairs and sofa; in the light fixtures; in and behind the toilet tank.
What he found appalled him. Not only had McKittrick failed to destroy his notes after sending in his report but, as well, he had hidden the notes in a place not hard to predict- beneath shelf paper in the kitchen. Next to the names of the members of the group Decker had met the previous night, he found addresses, one of which was for the apartment building into which McKittrick had gone with Renata. Decker also found the address of something called the Tiber Club.
Decker memorized the information. He put the notes on a saucer, burned them, crumbled the ashes into powder, peered out the kitchen's small window, saw the brick wall of an alley, and let a breeze scatter the ashes. Hunger fought with the discomfort in his stomach. He cut a slice from a loaf of bread, returned to the living room, and slowly ate, all the while frowning at the front door.
By then, it was two in the afternoon. Decker's misgivings strengthened. But what should I do about them? he wondered. He could go back to the international real estate consulting firm and make an emergency telephone call to warn his supervisor that McKittrick had failed to be present at an appointment. But what would that accomplish, aside from creating the impression that Decker was determined to find fault with McKittrick? The guy's tradecraft was sloppy-Decker had already made an issue of that. So wasn't it likely that McKittrick had either forgotten or deliberately ignored the appointment? Maybe he was in bed with Renata right now.
If that's the case, he might be smarter than I am, Decker thought. When was the last time I was in bed with anybody? He couldn't remember. Because he traveled so much, he had few close female friends, all of them in his line of work. Casual pickups were out of the question-even before the spread of AIDS, Decker had avoided one-night stands on the theory that intimacy equaled vulnerability, that it didn't make sense to let down his guard with someone he knew nothing about.
This d.a.m.ned job, Decker thought. It not only makes you paranoid; it makes you a monk.
He glanced around the depressing living room. His nostrils felt irritated by the smell of must. His stomach continued to bother him.
Happy fortieth birthday, he told himself again.
9.
Decker had finished all the bread in the apartment by the time a key sc.r.a.ped in the lock. It was almost 9:00 P.M. McKittrick rushed in, breathless, and froze when he saw Decker.
”Shut the door,” Decker said.
”What are you-”
”We had an appointment, remember? Shut the door.”
McKittrick obeyed. ”Weren't you told? Didn't my father-”
”He relayed a message to me, all right. But that didn't seem a reason to cancel our chat.” Decker stood. ”Where the h.e.l.l have you been?”
”You don't know?”
”What are you talking about?”
”You haven't been watching?”
”Make sense.”
McKittrick hurried to the television set and turned it on. ”Three different television crews were there. Surely one of the channels is still broadcasting from ...” His hand shook as he kept switching stations. ”There.”
At first, Decker didn't understand what he was seeing. Abruptly the loud, confusing images sent a wave of apprehension through him. Thick black smoke choked the sky. Flames burst from windows. Amid a section of wall that had toppled, firemen struggled with hoses, spewing water toward a large blazing building. Fire trucks wailed to a stop among the chaos of other emergency vehicles, police cars, ambulances, more fire trucks. Appalled, Decker realized that some of the wailing came not from sirens but from burn victims being lifted onto stretchers, their faces charred, twisted with pain, not recognizably human. Unmoving bodies lay under blankets as policemen forced a crowd back.
”What is it? What in G.o.d's name happened?”
Before McKittrick could answer, a television reporter was talking about terrorists, about the Children of Mussolini, about the worst incident yet of anti-American violence, about twenty-three American tourists killed and another forty-three injured in a ma.s.sive explosion, members of a Salt Lake City tour group that had been enjoying a banquet at the Tiber Club in honor of their final night in Rome.
”The Tiber Club?” Decker remembered the name from the list he had memorized.
”That's where Renata told me the terrorists like to go.” McKittrick's skin was ashen. ”She told me the plan was foolproof. Nothing could screw it up. It wasn't supposed to happen like this! Renata swore to me that-”
”Quit babbling.” Decker gripped McKittrick's shoulders. ”Talk to me. What did you do?”
”Last night.” McKittrick stopped to take several quick breaths. ”After the meeting, after we argued.” McKittrick's chest heaved. ”I knew I didn't have much time before you took the operation away from me and stole the credit for it.”
”You actually believe that bulls.h.i.+t you told your father? You think I'm jealous of you?”
”I had to do something. I couldn't be sure my phone call to my father would solve the problem. There was a plan that Renata and I had been talking about. A perfect plan. After I left you, I went back to the cafe. Renata and the others were still in the upstairs room. We decided to put the plan into motion.”
”Without authorization.” Decker was appalled.
”Who was I going to get it from? You? You'd have told me not to. You'd have done your best to have me rea.s.signed. You'd have used the same plan yourself.”
”I am trying very hard to keep my patience,” Decker said. On the television, flames shot from doorways, forcing firemen to stumble back as another section of wall fell. The wail of sirens intensified. Smoke-shrouded attendants loaded bodies into ambulances. ”This plan. Tell me about this perfect plan.”
”It was simple to the point of brilliance.”
”Oh, I'm sure it was.”
”Renata and her group would wait until the terrorists came together in one place-an apartment maybe, or the Tiber Club. Then someone from Renata's group would hide a satchel filled with plastic explosive near where the terrorists would have to pa.s.s when they came out. As soon as they appeared, Renata would press a remote control that detonated the explosive. It would look as if the terrorists had been carrying the explosive with them and the bomb went off by mistake.”
Decker listened with absolute astonishment. The room seemed to tilt. His face became numb. He questioned his sanity. This can't be happening, he told himself. He couldn't possibly be hearing this.
”Simple? Brilliant?” Decker rubbed his aching forehead. ”Didn't it occur to you that you might blow up the wrong people?”
”I'm absolutely positive that Renata's group has found the terrorists.”
”Didn't it also occur to you that you might blow up a lot of innocent people with them?”
”I warned Renata not to take chances. If there was the slightest doubt that someone else would be in the blast area, she was to wait.”
”She?” Decker wanted to shake McKittrick. ”Where's your common sense? Most people wouldn't be capable of detonating the explosion. Why would she?”
”Because I asked her.”
”What?”
”She loves me.”