The Doomsday Conspiracy

Colonel Frank Johnson was seated in General Milliard’s office, his huge frame filling the chair.

“We have half the agents in Europe looking for him,” General Milliard said. “So far, they’ve had no luck.”

“It’s going to take more than luck,” Colonel Johnson said. “Bellamy’s good.”

“We know he’s in Rome. The sonofabitch just charged a bracelet for fifteen thousand dollars. We have him bottled up. There’s no way he can get out of Italy. We know the name he’s using on his passport – Arthur Butterfield.”

Colonel Johnson shook his head. “If I know Bellamy, you haven’t a clue about what name he’s using. The only thing you can count on is that Bellamy won’t do what you count on him to do. We’re after a man who’s as good as the best in the business. Maybe better. If there’s any place to run, Bellamy will run there. If there’s any place to hide, he’ll hide there. I think our best bet is to bring him out in the open, smoke him out. Right now, he’s controlling all the moves. We have to take the initiative away from him.”

“You mean, go public? Give it to the press?”

“Exactly.”

General Milliard pursed his lips. “That’s going to be touchy. We can’t afford to expose ourselves.”

“We won’t have to. We’ll put out a release that he’s wanted on a drug-smuggling charge. That way we can get Interpol and all the police departments in Europe involved without tipping our hand.”

General Milliard thought about it for a moment. “I like it.”

“Good. I’m leaving for Rome,” Colonel Johnson said, “I’m going to take charge of the hunt myself.”

When Colonel Frank Johnson returned to his office, he was in a thoughtful mood. He was playing a dangerous game. There was no question about it. He had to find Commander Bellamy.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Robert listened to the phone ring again and again. It was six a.m. in Washington. I’m always waking the old man up, Robert thought.

The Admiral answered on the sixth ring. “Hello …”

“Admiral, I …”

“Robert! What …?”

“Don’t say anything. Your phone is probably bugged. I’m going to make this fast. I just wanted to tell you not to believe anything they’re saying about me. I’d like you to try to find out what’s going on. I may need your help later.”

“Of course. Anything I can do, Robert.”

“I know.”

“I’ll call you later.”

Robert replaced the receiver. No time for a trace. He saw a blue Fiat pull up outside the bar. Pier was at the wheel.

“Move over,” Robert said. “I’ll drive.”

Pier made room for him as he slid in behind the wheel.

“Are we on our way to Venice?” Pier asked.

“Uh huh. We have a couple of stops to make first.” It was time to spread some more chaff around. He turned onto Viale Rossini. Ahead was the Rossini Travel Service. Robert pulled over to the kerb. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Pier watched him walk into the travel agency. I could just drive away, she.thought, and keep the money, and he would never find me. But the damn car is rented in my name. Cacchio!

Inside the agency, Robert walked up to the woman behind the counter.

“Good day. May I help you?”

“Yes. I’m Commander Robert Bellamy. I’m going to do a bit of travelling,” Robert told her. “I’d like to make some reservations.”

She smiled. “That’s what we are here for, signore. Where are you planning to go?”

“I’d like a first-class airline ticket to Beijing, one way.”

She made a note. “And when would you like to leave?”

“This Friday.”

“Very good.” She pressed some keys on the computer. “There’s an Air China flight leaving at seven forty p.m. Friday night.”

“That will do nicely.”

She pressed some more keys. “There we are. Your reservation is confirmed. Will that be cash or …?”

“Oh, I’m not through yet. I want to reserve a train ticket to Budapest.”

“And when would that be, Commander?”

“Next Monday.”

“And in what name?”

“The same.”

She looked at him strangely. “You are flying to Beijing on Friday and …”

“I’m not finished,” Robert said pleasantly. “I want a one-way airline ticket to Miami, Florida, on Sunday.”

Now she was openly staring at him. “Signore, if this is some kind of a …”

Robert pulled out his ONI credit card and handed it to her. “Just charge the tickets to this card.”

She studied it a moment. “Excuse me.” She went into the back office and came out a few minutes later. “That will be perfectly all right. We will be happy to make the arrangements. Do you wish all the reservations under one name?”

“Yes. Commander Robert Bellamy.”

“Very good.”

Robert watched as she pressed more buttons on the computer. A minute later, three tickets appeared. She tore them off the printer.

“Please put the tickets in separate envelopes,” Robert said.

“Of course. Would you like me to send them to …?”

“I’ll take them with me.”

“Si, signore.”

Robert signed the credit card slip and she handed him his receipt.

“There you are. Have a nice trip … trips … er …”