The Doomsday Conspiracy

Chapter Forty-One

They were approaching the suburbs of Naples. Old apartment houses lined the narrow streets, with laundry hanging out of almost every window, making the buildings look like concrete mountains flying colourful flags.
Pier asked, "Have you ever been to Naples?"
"Once." Robert's voice was tight. Susan was sitting beside him, giggling. I heard Naples is a wicked city. Can we do a lot of wicked things here, darling?
We're going to invent some new things, Robert promised.
Pier was watching him. "Are you all right?"
Robert brought his mind back to the present. "I'm fine."
They were driving along the bay of the Castel Dell' Ovo, the old abandoned castle near the water.
When they arrived at Via Toledo, Pier said, excitedly, "Turn here."
They were approaching Spaccanapoli, the old section of Naples.
Pier said, "It's just up ahead. Turn left onto Via Benedetto Croce."
Robert made the turn. The traffic here was heavier, and the noise of horns deafening. He had forgotten how noisy Naples could be. He slowed the car down to avoid hitting the pedestrians and dogs that ran in front of the car as though they were blessed with some kind of immortality.
"Turn right here," Pier directed, "into Piazza del Plebiscite." The traffic was even worse here, and the neighbourhood more run down.
"Stop!" Pier cried out.
Robert pulled over to the kerb. They had stopped in front of a row of seedy shops.
Robert glanced around. "This is where your mother lives?"
"No," Pier said. "Of course not." She leaned over and pressed the horn. A moment later, a young woman came out of one of the shops. Pier got out of the car and raced to greet her. They hugged each other.
"You look wonderful!" the woman exclaimed. "You must be doing very well."
"I am." Pier held out her wrist. "Look at my new bracelet!"
"Are those real emeralds?"
"Of course they are real."
The woman yelled at someone inside the store, "Anna! Come on out. Look who is here!"
Robert was watching the scene, unbelievingly. "Pier ..."
"In a minute, darling," she said. "I have to say hello to my friends."
Within minutes, half a dozen women were clustered around Pier, admiring her bracelet, while Robert sat there helplessly, gritting his teeth.
"He is crazy about me," Pier announced. She turned to Robert, "Aren't you, caro!"
Robert wanted to strangle her, but there was nothing he could do. "Yes," he said. "Can we go now, Pier?"
"In a minute."
"Now!" Robert said.
"Oh, very well." Pier turned to the women. "We must leave now. We have an important appointment. Ciao!"
"Ciao!"
Pier got into the car beside Robert, and the women stood there, watching them drive away.
Pier said happily. "They are all old friends."
"Wonderful. Where's your mother's house?"
"Oh, she doesn't live in the city."
"What?"
"She lives outside, in a little farmhouse, half an hour from here."
The farmhouse was on the southern outskirts of Naples, an old stone building set off from the road.
"There it is!" Pier exclaimed. "Isn't it beautiful?"
"Yes." Robert liked the fact that the house was away from the
centre of town. There would be no reason for anyone to come looking for him here. Pier was right. It's a perfect safe house.
They walked up to the front door, and before they reached it the door flew open and Pier's mother stood there, smiling at them. She was an older version of her daughter, thin and grey-haired, with a lined, careworn face.
"Pier, cara! Mi sei mancata!"
"I've missed you, too, Mama. This is the friend I telephoned you about that I was bringing home."
Mama did not miss a beat. "Ah? Si, you are welcome Mr ...?"
"Jones," Robert said.
"Come in, come in."
They entered the living room. It was a large room, comfortable and homey, crammed with furniture.
A boy in his early twenties entered the room. He was short and dark, with a thin, sullen face and brooding brown eyes. He wore jeans and a jacket with the name Diavoli Rossi sewn on it. His face lit up when he saw his sister. "Pier!"
"Hello, Carlo." They hugged.
"What are you doing here?"
"We came to visit for a few days." She turned to Robert. "This is my brother, Carlo. Carlo, this is Mr Jones."
"Hello, Carlo."
Carlo was sizing Robert up. "Hello."
Mama said, "I will fix a nice bedroom for you two lovebirds, in the back."
Robert said, "If you don't mind ... that is, if you have an extra bedroom, I'd prefer a room to myself."
There was an awkward pause. The three of them were staring at Robert.
Mama turned to Pier. "Omosessuale?"
Pier shrugged. I don't know. But she was sure he was not a homosexual.
Mama looked at Robert. "As you wish." She hugged Pier again. "I'm so happy to see you. Come into the kitchen. I will make some coffee for us."
In the kitchen, Mama exclaimed, "Benissimo! How did you meet him? He looks very rich. And that bracelet you are wearing. It must have cost a fortune. My goodness! Tonight I will cook a big dinner. I will invite all the neighbours so they can meet your ..."
"No, Mama. You must not do that."
"But, cara, why should we not spread the news of your good luck? All our friends will be so pleased."
"Mama, Mr Jones just wants to rest for a few days. No party. No neighbours."
Mama sighed, "All right. Whatever you wish."
I'll arrange for him to be picked up away from the house, so that Mama will not be disturbed.
Carlo had noticed the bracelet, too. That bracelet. "Those are real emeralds, huh? Did you buy that for my sister?"
There was an attitude about the boy that Robert did not like. "Ask her."
Pier and Mama came out of the kitchen. Mama looked at Robert. "You are sure you do not want to sleep with Pier?"
Robert was embarrassed. "Thank you. No."
Pier said, "I'll show you your bedroom." She led him toward the back of the house, to a large, comfortable bedroom with a double bed in the middle of the room.
"Robert, are you afraid of what Mama might think if we slept together? She knows what I do."
"It's not that," Robert said. "It's ..." There was no way he could explain. "I'm sorry, I ..."
Pier's voice was cold. "Never mind."
She felt unreasonably offended. Twice now he had refused to sleep with her. It serves him right that I am turning him over to the police, she thought. And yet she felt a small, nagging sense of guilt. He was really very nice. But fifty thousand dollars was fifty thousand dollars.
At dinner, Mama was talkative, but Pier and Robert and Carlo were silent and preoccupied.
Robert was busily working out his plan of escape. Tomorrow, he thought, I'll go down to the docks and find a ship out of here.
Pier was thinking about the phone call she was planning to make. I'll call from town, so the police cannot trace it here.
Carlo was studying the stranger his sister had brought to the house. He should be an easy mark.
When dinner was over, the two women went into the kitchen. Robert was alone with Carlo.
"You're the first man my sister has ever brought here," Carlo said. "She must like you a lot."
"I like her a lot."
"Do you? Are you going to take care of her?"
"I think your sister can take care of herself."
Carlo smirked. "Yeah. I know." The stranger seated across from him was well dressed and obviously rich. Why was he staying here when he could have stayed at some fancy hotel? The only reason Carlo could think of was that the man was in hiding. And that brought up an interesting point. When a rich man was in hiding, somehow, some way, there was money to be made from the situation.
"Where are you from?" Carlo asked.
"From no place in particular," Robert said pleasantly. "I travel a lot."
Carlo nodded. "I see." I'll find out from Pier who he is. Somebody will probably be willing to pay a lot of money for him, and Pier and I can split it.
"Are you in business?" Carlo asked.
"Retired."
It would not be hard to force this man to talk, Carlo decided. Lucca, the leader of the Diavoli Rossi, could crack him open in no time.
"How long will you be staying with us?"
"It's hard to say." The boy's curiosity was beginning to get on Robert's nerves.
Pier and her mother came out of the kitchen.
"Would you like some more coffee?" Mama asked.
"No, thank you. That was a delicious dinner."
Mama smiled. "That was nothing. Tomorrow I will prepare a feast for you."
"Good." He would be gone by then. He stood up. "If you don't mind, I'm rather tired. I'd like to turn in."
"Of course," Mama said. "Good night."
"Good night."
They watched Robert as he walked toward the bedroom.
Carlo grinned. "He doesn't think you're good enough to sleep with him, eh?"
The remark stung Pier, as it was meant to. She would not have minded it, if Robert were a homosexual, but she had heard him talk to Susan, and she knew better. I'll show the stronzo.
Robert lay in bed, thinking about his next move. Laying a false trail with the homing device that had been hidden in the credit card would give him a little time, but he was not depending too much on it. They probably would have caught up with the red truck by now. The men who were after him were ruthless and smart. Were heads of world governments involved in the massive cover-up? Robert wondered. Or was it an organization within an organization, a cabal in the intelligence community acting illegally on its own? The more Robert thought about it, the more feasible it seemed that the heads of state might be unaware of what was going on. And a thought struck him. It had always seemed odd to him that Admiral Whittaker had suddenly been retired from ONI and relegated to some Siberia. But if someone had forced him out because they knew he would never be part of the conspiracy, then it began to make sense. I have to contact the Admiral, Robert thought. He was the only one he could trust to get to the truth of what was happening. Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow. He closed his eyes, and slept.
The creaking of the bedroom door awakened him. He sat up in bed, instantly alert. Someone was moving toward the bed. Robert tensed, ready to spring. He smelled her perfume then, and felt her slide in bed beside him.
"Pier ... What are you ...?"
"Ssh." Her body pressed against his. She was naked. "I got lonely," she whispered. She snuggled closer to him.
"I'm sorry, Pier, I ... I can't do anything for you."
Pier said, "No? Then let me do something for you." Her voice was soft.
"It's no use. You can't." Robert felt a deep frustration. He wanted to spare both of them the embarrassment of what was not going to happen.
"Don't you like me, Robert? Do you not think I have a beautiful body?"
"Yes." And she did. He could feel the warmth of her body pressing closer.
She was stroking him gently, rippling her fingers up and down his chest, moving lightly toward his groin.
He had to stop her before the humiliating fiasco was repeated. "Pier, I can't make love. I haven't been able to be with a woman since ... for a long time."
"You don't have to do anything, Robert," she said. "I just want to play. Do you like being played with?"
He felt nothing. Goddamn Susan! She had taken more than herself away from him, she had taken a part of his manhood.
Pier was sliding down his body now. "Turn over," she said.
"It's no use, Pier. I ..."
She rolled him over and he lay there cursing Susan, cursing his impotence. He could feel Pier's tongue moving along his back, making tiny, delicate circles, moving lower and lower. Her fingers were gently flicking over his skin.
"Pier ..."
"Ssh."
He felt her tongue spiralling down deeper and deeper, and he began to feel aroused. He started to move.
"Ssh. Lie still."
Her tongue was soft and warm, and he could feel her breasts trailing along his skin. His pulse began to quicken. Yes, he thought. Yes! Oh, yes! His tumescence grew until he became rock-hard, and when he could stand it no longer, he grabbed Pier and turned her over.
She felt him and gasped, "My God, you're enormous. I want you inside me."
And a moment later Robert plunged into her, again and again, and it was as if he had been reborn. Pier was skilful and wild, and Robert revelled in the dark cave of her velvety softness. They made love three times that night. Finally, they slept.
Day Eighteen
Naples, Italy
In the morning, as the pale light was coming through the window, Robert awakened. He held Pier close in his arms and whispered, "Thank you."
Pier smiled mischievously. "How do you feel?"
"Wonderful," Robert said. And he did.
Pier snuggled against him. "You are an animal!"
Robert grinned. "You're good for my ego," he said.
Pier sat up and said seriously, "You are not a drug smuggler, are you?"
It was a naive question. "No."
"But Interpol is after you."
That hit closer to home. "Yes."
Her face lit up. "I know! You're a spy!" She was as excited as a child.
Robert had to laugh. "Am I?" And he thought, Out of the mouths of babes.
"Admit it," Pier insisted. "You're a spy, aren't you?"
"Yes," Robert said gravely. "I'm a spy."
"I knew it!" Pier's eyes were glowing. "Can you tell me some secrets?"
"What kind of secrets?"
"You know, spy secrets ... codes and things like that. I love to read spy novels. I read them all the time."
"Do you?"
"Oh, yes! But they're just made-up stories. You know all the real things, don't you? Like the signals that spies use. Are you allowed to tell me one?"
Robert said seriously, "Well, I really shouldn't, but I suppose one would be all right." What can I tell her that she'll believe? "There's the old window shade trick."
She was wide-eyed. "The old window shade trick?"
"Yes." Robert pointed to a window in the bedroom. "If everything is under control, you leave the shades up. But if there's trouble, you pull one shade down. That's the signal to warn your fellow agent away."
Pier said excitedly, "That's wonderful! I've never read that in a book."
"You won't," Robert said. "It's very secret."
"I won't tell anyone," Pier promised. "What else?"
What else? Robert thought for a moment. "Well, there's the telephone trick."
Pier snuggled closer to him. "Tell me about that."
"Er ... let's say a fellow spy telephones you to find out if everything is all right. He'll ask for Pier. If everything is fine, you say, 'This is Pier.' But if there is any problem, you say, 'You have the wrong number.'"
"That's wonderful!" Pier exclaimed.
My instructors at the Farm would have a heart attack if they heard me talking this nonsense.
"Can you tell me anything else?" Pier asked.
Robert laughed. "I think those are enough secrets for one morning."
"All right." She rubbed her body along his body.
"Would you like to take a shower?" Pier asked.
"Love to."
They soaped each other under the warm water, and as Pier spread Robert's legs and began to wash him, he became tumescent again.
They made love in the shower.
While Robert was getting dressed, Pier put on a robe and said, "I'll see about breakfast."
Carlo was waiting for her in the dining room.
"Tell me about your friend," he said.
"What about him?"
"Where did you meet him?"
"In Rome."
"He must be very rich to have brought you that emerald bracelet."
She shrugged. "He likes me."
Carlo said, "Do you know what I think? I think your friend is running away from something. If we told the right party, there could be a big reward in it."
Pier moved over to her brother, her eyes blazing. "Stay out of this, Carlo."
"So, he is running away."
"Listen, you little piscialetto, I'm warning you - mind your own business." She had no intention of sharing the reward with anyone.
Carlo said reproachfully, "Little sister, you want it all for yourself."
"No. You don't understand, Carlo."
"No?"
Pier said earnestly, "I'll tell you the truth. Mr Jones is running away from his wife. She has hired a detective to find him. That's all there is to it."
Carlo smiled. "Why didn't you tell me this before? Then it's no big deal, I'll forget about it."
"Good," Pier said.
And Carlo thought, I've got to find out who he really is.
Janus was on the telephone. "Have you any news yet?"
"We know that Commander Bellamy is in Naples."
"Do you have any assets there?"
"Yes. They're looking for him now. We have a lead. He's travelling with a prostitute who has a family in Naples. We think they may have gone there. We're following through on it."
"Keep me informed."
In Naples, the Bureau of Municipal Housing was busily trying to track down the whereabouts of Pier Valli's mother.
A dozen security agents and the Naples police force were scouring the city for Robert.
Carlo was busily making his own plans for Robert.
Pier was getting ready to telephone Interpol again.