Part 30 (1/2)
”Okay,” he said, then turned back into the cave for Danny.
96.
ROSCANI SAW THE LAKE AND THEN THE TREEtops as the helicopter swung in over the cliffs, taking one last careful look for himself, his father's way of doing things, as if because of it, he would succeed where everyone else had failed. But he didn't. He saw nothing but rock and trees and the water off to the left.
”d.a.m.n,” he swore under his breath. They were down there somewhere, all of them. Father Daniel, the nun, the blond ice picker/razor man, and Harry Addison. Roscani's earlier hunch had been right: the American had been in the grotto. Fingerprints lifted from a medicine case in the room where Father Daniel had been confirmed it.
Roscani wouldn't allow himself to imagine how the American had slipped from them all and found the water caves before they did, or how he and the others had managed to avoid the blond man, which, it seemed, they had. On the positive side, a manhunt across all of Italy had narrowed down to an area of a few square miles. On the negative, he had two sets of fugitives-the Addison group and the blond killer-each with either extraordinary skill at avoidance, third-party help, or just plain luck. Roscani's job was to stop it all, pinch off any possible route of escape, and end it here as quickly as possible.
Ahead, as the pilot brought them north in growing twilight, he could see the buildup of the huge Gruppo Cardinale force he was putting in place to do it-hundreds of Italian Army, carabinieri carabinieri, local police personnel-arriving at the tactical staging area on top of the cliffs above the grotto.
Abruptly, Roscani ordered the helicopter back to strategic headquarters set up hours earlier at Villa Lorenzi, his mind s.h.i.+fting to the next. Gruppo Cardinale was hunting two separate ent.i.ties. The Americans and the nun he knew, but he had no idea who his murderous blond ice picker was. At this point, it was imperative he find out.
97.
THE STEERING WHEEL CHATTERED UNMERcifully in Harry's hands. The truck shook, and the tires spun in the gravel against the steep pitch of the hill, the truck inching upward but at the same time sliding sideways, bringing them perilously close to the edge and the lake how many hundred feet below. Then they were out of the gravel and onto solid ground, the truck gained purchase, and Harry guided it back toward the center of the road.
”So far, so good...” He half smiled and saw Elena pressed against the far door, trying not to show her fear. And Danny, jammed in between them, wholly exhausted, was staring off at nothing, seemingly unaware of any of it. Immediately Harry glanced at the truck's primitive instrument panel. Fuel. They had little more than a quarter of a tank, and how far that would take them he didn't know.
”Mr. Addison, your brother needs fluids and food as quickly as we can possibly get them.”
By now, it was all but dark, and in the distance they could see the lights of traffic on the Bellagio road. The highway south would take them along the lake and back toward Como, where Harry wanted to go. How far it was or how many towns there were in between, he didn't know and neither did Elena.
”Does the Church here still practice sanctuary?” Harry asked suddenly, remembering that places of wors.h.i.+p had provided asylum and safe haven for refugees and fugitives for centuries.
”I don't know, Mr. Addison...”
”Would they help us, at least for the night?”
”In Bellagio. Near the top of the steps. The Church of Santa Chiara. I remember it because it is Franciscan, and I belong to the Congregation of Franciscan Sisters.... If anyone would give us a.s.sistance, it would be there.”
”Bellagio.” Harry didn't like it. It was too dangerous. Better to take their chances going south along the lake, where the police might not yet be.
”Mr. Addison,” Elena said quietly, her gaze falling to Danny, as if she knew what Harry was thinking, ”we don't have the time.”
Harry followed her gaze to Danny. He was asleep, his head dropped down, resting on his chest. Bellagio. Elena was right, they didn't have the time.
98.
IN A BLAZE OF LANDING LIGHTS AND SWIRLing dust, Roscani's helicopter set down on the driveway in front of Villa Lorenzi.
Ducking the still-churning rotor blades, he crossed the formal gardens and entered into the smoky chaos of the command post set up in the late Eros Barbu's grand ballroom. Gilded, polished, and dripping with chandeliers, it was the kind of place an invading army might have set up in, which, in a sense, was exactly what it was.
Pus.h.i.+ng through the clamor, answering a fusillade of questions as he went, he glanced at the huge wall map with the small Italian flags marking the checkpoints and worried, as he had before, whether what they were doing, necessary as it seemed, was too big, too loud, too unwieldy. They were were an army, and that made them think and act like an army, and made them subject to the limitations of a large force; while their prey, as they had proven so far, were essentially guerillas with the freedom of daring and creativity. an army, and that made them think and act like an army, and made them subject to the limitations of a large force; while their prey, as they had proven so far, were essentially guerillas with the freedom of daring and creativity.
Going into a small office at the far end of the ballroom, he closed the door and sat down. There were calls waiting-from Taglia in Rome, Farel in the Vatican, his wife at home.
The call to his wife would be first. And then Taglia and then Farel. After that he would see no one for twenty minutes. He would take that time for himself. For a.s.soluta tranquillita a.s.soluta tranquillita. His splendid silence. To be calm and to think. And then quietly go over the data he'd received from INTERPOL, to see if somewhere in those pages he could determine the ident.i.ty of his blond man.
Bellagio. Hotel Florence. 8:40 P.M P.M.
Thomas Kind sat at the dressing table in his room and looked at himself in the mirror. Astringent had cleaned the deep facial scratches made by Marta's clawing nails and drawn the wounds tightly enough to apply the makeup that he was now using to cover them.
He'd arrived back at the hotel a little before five after hitching a ride on the Bellagio road from two English university students on vacation. He'd been in a fight with his girlfriend, he'd told them; she'd lashed out, scratching his face, and he'd simply walked off-he was going back to Holland that night, and as far as he was concerned, she could go to h.e.l.l. A half mile from the police checkpoint, he asked to be let out, saying he was still angry and wanted to walk it off. When the students had driven away, he'd left the road, crossed a field behind some trees, then come back to the road on the far side of the checkpoint. From there it had been less than a twenty-minute walk into Bellagio.
Coming into the hotel, he'd taken the back stairs to his room, then called the front desk to say he was checking out early in the morning and that whatever final payment was due should be added to his credit card and forwarded with the bill to his home in Amsterdam. Afterward, he'd looked at himself in the mirror and decided the thing to do was to take a shower and then change. And change he had.
Leaning toward the mirror, he touched mascara to his eyelashes, then dabbed once again at the eyeshadow. Satisfied, he stood back and looked at himself. He wore heels, beige slacks, and a loose white blouse under a lightweight blue linen blazer. Small gold earrings and a string of pearls finished the look. Closing his suitcase, he glanced once more in the mirror and then, pulling on a large straw hat, tossed the room keys on the bed, opened the door and left.
Thomas Jose Alvarez-Rios Kind of Quito, Ecuador, alias Frederick Voor of Amsterdam, was now Julia Louise Phelps, a real estate agent from San Francisco, California.
99.
HARRY WATCHED ANXIOUSLY AS THE TWO armed carabinieri carabinieri waved the white Fiat on toward Bellagio, then looked to the next car in line, motioning it forward and then stopping it in the bright glare of the checkpoint's work lights. Across, two more waved the white Fiat on toward Bellagio, then looked to the next car in line, motioning it forward and then stopping it in the bright glare of the checkpoint's work lights. Across, two more carabinieri carabinieri worked the vehicles leaving the city. Four more stood in the shadow of an armored car at the roadside, watching. worked the vehicles leaving the city. Four more stood in the shadow of an armored car at the roadside, watching.
Harry had seen the lights and knew what it was even before the traffic in front of him began to slow. They'd been more than lucky the first time, when it had been just he and Elena going through the other way. Now, there were three of them, and he held his breath, expecting the worst.
”Mr. Addison-” Elena was looking directly ahead.
Harry saw the car in front of them move off. Abruptly, an armed carabiniere carabiniere waved them forward. Harry felt his heart pound, and suddenly there was sweat under his palms as his hands gripped the wheel. Again the waved them forward. Harry felt his heart pound, and suddenly there was sweat under his palms as his hands gripped the wheel. Again the carabiniere carabiniere waved them forward. waved them forward.
Breathing deeply, Harry eased the clutch out. The truck moved ahead, then the policeman motioned him to stop. He did. Then two carabinieri carabinieri came toward them in the purple-white of the checkpoint lights, one from either side. Both carried heavy flashlights. came toward them in the purple-white of the checkpoint lights, one from either side. Both carried heavy flashlights.
”Christ!” Harry's breath went out of him with a rush.
”What is it?” Elena asked quickly.
”The same guy.”
The carabiniere carabiniere saw Harry, too. How could he forget? The old truck with the priest who had nearly run him over earlier that same morning. saw Harry, too. How could he forget? The old truck with the priest who had nearly run him over earlier that same morning.
”Buona sera,” the carabiniere carabiniere said carefully. said carefully.
”Buona sera,”Harry acknowledged.