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The Doomsday Conspiracy

Page 43

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“Father, if you …”

“I saw it with my own eyes. There were two of them in the devil’s chariot, but, oh, there will be more! Others will come! Wait and see. We are all doomed to hell.”

“Father – listen to me. What you saw was not the devil. It was a space vehicle that …”

The priest let go of Robert and looked at him with sudden clarity. “Who are you? What do you want?”

Robert said, “I’m a friend. I came here to ask you about the bus trip you took in Switzerland.”

“The bus. I wish I had never gone near it.” The priest was becoming agitated again.

Robert hated to press him, but he had no choice.

“You sat next to a man on that bus. A Texan. You had a long conversation with him, remember?”

“A conversation. The Texan. Yes, I remember.”

“Did he mention where he lived in Texas?”

“Yes, I remember him. He was from America.”

“Yes. From Texas. Did he tell you where his home was?”

“Yes, yes. He told me.”

“Where, Father? Where is his home?”

“Texas. He talked of Texas.”

Robert nodded encouragingly. “That’s right.”

“I saw them with my own eyes. I wish God had blinded me. I …”

“Father – the man from Texas. Did he say where he was from? Did he mention a name?”

“Texas, yes. The Ponderosa.”

Robert tried again. “That’s on television. This was a real man. He sat next to you on …”

The priest was becoming delirious again. “They’re coming! Armageddon is here. The Bible lies! It is the devil who will invade the earth.” He was shouting loudly now. “Look out! Look out! I can see them!”

The nurse came hurrying in. She looked at Robert reprovingly. “You will have to leave, signore.”

“I need just one more minute …”

“No, signore. Adesso!”

Robert took one last look at the priest. He was raving incoherently. Robert turned to go. There was nothing further he could do. He had gambled on the priest giving him a lead to the Texan, and he had lost.

Robert returned to his car and headed back toward Rome. It was finally over. The only clues he had left – if they could be called clues – were the mention of a Russian woman, a Texan, and a Hungarian. But there was no way to pursue them any further. Check and checkmate. It was frustrating to have come this far and then to be stopped. If only the priest had remained coherent long enough to give him the information he needed! He had been so close. What was it the priest had said? The Ponderosa. The old priest had been watching too much television, and in his delirium, he had obviously associated Texas with the once popular TV show, Bonanza. The Ponderosa, where the mythical Cartwright family lived. The Ponderosa. Robert slowed the car, and pulled over to the side of the road, his mind racing. He made a U-turn and sped back toward Orvieto.

Half an hour later, Robert was talking to the bartender in a small trattoria in the Piazza della Republica. “You have a beautiful town here,” Robert said. “It’s very peaceful.”

“Oh, si, signore, we are quite content here. Have you visited Italy before?”

“I spent part of my honeymoon in Rome.” You make all my dreams come true, Robert. I’ve wanted to see Rome ever since I was a little girl.

“Ah, Rome. Too big. Too noisy.”

“I agree.”

“We live simple lives here, but we are happy.”

Robert said casually, “I noticed television antennas on many of the roofs here.”

“Oh, yes, indeed. We are quite up-to-date in that respect.”

“One can see that. How many television channels does the town receive?”

“Only one.”

“I suppose you get a good many American shows?”

“No, no. This is a government channel. Here we receive only shows made in Italy.”

Bingo! “Thank you.”

Robert placed a call to Admiral Whittaker. A secretary answered the phone. “Admiral Whittaker’s office.”

Robert could visualize the office. It would be the kind of anonymous cubbyhole they kept for non-persons the government no longer had any use for.

“Could I speak to the Admiral, please? Commander Robert Bellamy calling.”

“Just a moment, Commander.”

Robert wondered whether anybody bothered to keep in touch with the Admiral now that the once powerful figure was part of the mothball fleet. Probably not.

“Robert, it’s very good to hear from you.” The old man’s voice sounded tired. “Where are you?”

“I can’t say, sir.”

There was a pause. “I understand. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Yes, sir. This is rather awkward because I’ve been ordered not to communicate with anyone. But I need some outside help. I wonder if you could check on something for me?”

“I can certainly try. What would you like to know?”

“I need to know whether there’s a ranch anywhere in Texas called The Ponderosa.”

“As in Bonanza!”

“Yes, sir.”

“I can find out. How will I reach you?”

“I think it would be better if I called you, Admiral.”

“Right. Give me an hour or two. I’ll keep this just between ourselves.”

“Thank you.”

It seemed to Robert that the tiredness had gone out of the old man’s voice. He had, at last, been asked to do something, even if it was as trivial as locating a ranch.






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