The Doomsday Conspiracy

“Do you want to take that trip downtown?”

“What for?” Lucca shrugged. He gave them Carlo’s address.

Thirty minutes later, Pier opened the door to find two strangers standing there.

“Signorina Valli?”

Trouble. “Yes.”

“May we come in?”

She wanted to say no, but she did not dare. “Who are you?”

One of the men pulled out a wallet and flashed an identification card. SIFAR. These were not the people she had made her deal with. Pier felt a sense of panic that they were going to try to cheat her out of her reward. “What do you want with me?”

“We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Go ahead. I have nothing to hide.” Thank God, Pier thought, Robert is out. I can still negotiate.

“You drove down from Rome yesterday, didn’t you.” It was a statement.

“Yes. Is that against the law … was I speeding?”

The man smiled. It did nothing to change the expression on his face. “You had a companion with you?”

Pier answered carefully. “Yes.”

“Who was he, signorina?”

She shrugged. “Some man I picked up on the road. He wanted a ride to Naples.”

The second man asked, “Is he here with you now?”

“I don’t know where he is. I dropped him off when we got into town and he disappeared.”

“Was your passenger’s name Robert Bellamy?”

She knitted her brow in concentration. “Bellamy? I don’t know. I don’t think he told me his name.”

“Oh, we think he did. He picked you up on the Tor di Ounto, you spent the night with him at the LTncrocio Hotel, and the next morning he bought you an emerald bracelet. He sent you to some hotels with airline and train tickets, and you rented a car and you came down to Naples, right?”

They know everything. Pier nodded, her eyes filled with fear.

“Is your friend coming back, or has he left Naples?”

She hesitated, deciding which was the best answer. If she told them that Robert had left town, they would not believe her, anyway. They would wait here at the house and when he turned up, they could accuse her of lying for him and hold her as an accomplice. She decided that the truth would serve her better. “He’s coming back,” Pier said.

“Soon?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, we’ll just make ourselves comfortable. You don’t mind if we look around, do you?” They opened their jackets, exposing their guns.

“N … no.”

They fanned out, moving through the house.

Mama walked in from the kitchen. “Who are these men?”

“They are friends of Mr Jones,” Pier said. “They have come to see him.”

Mama beamed. “Such a nice man. Would you like some lunch?”

“Sure, Mama,” one of the men said. “What are we having?”

Pier’s mind was in a turmoil. I have to call Interpol again, she thought. They said they would pay fifty thousand dollars. Meanwhile, she had to keep Robert away from the house until she could make arrangements to turn him in. But how? She suddenly remembered their conversation that morning. If there’s trouble you pull one shade down. The two men were seated at the dining-room table, eating a bowl of capellini.

“It’s too bright in here,” Pier said. She rose and walked into the living room and pulled down the window shade. Then she went back to the table. I hope Robert remembers about the warning.

Robert was driving toward the house, reviewing his plan of escape. It’s not perfect, he thought, but at least it should get them off the trail long enough to buy me some time. He was approaching the house. As he neared it, he slowed down and looked around. Everything appeared to be normal. He would warn Pier to get out, and then take off. As Robert started to park in front of the house, something struck him as odd. One of the front shades was down. The others were up. It was probably a coincidence, but still … an alarm bell sounded. Could Pier have taken his little game seriously? Was it meant to be a warning of some kind? Robert stepped on the accelerator and kept driving. He could not afford to take any chances, no matter how remote. He drove to a bar a mile away, and went inside to use the telephone.

They were seated at the dining-room table when the telephone rang. The men tensed. One of them started to rise.

“Would Bellamy be calling here?”

Pier gave him a scornful look. “Of course not. Why should he?” She rose and walked over to the telephone. She picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Pier? I saw the window shade and …”

All she had to do was say that everything was all right, and he would come back to the house. The men would arrest him, and she could demand her reward. But would they merely arrest him? She could hear Robert’s voice saying: If the police find me, they have orders to kill me.

The men at the table were watching her. There was so much she could do with fifty thousand dollars. There were beautiful clothes to buy, cruises to take, a pretty little apartment in Rome … and Robert would be dead. Besides, she hated the goddamned police. Pier said into the telephone, “You have the wrong number.”

Robert heard the click of the receiver and stood there, stunned. She had believed the tall tales he had told her and it had probably saved his life. Bless her.

Robert turned the car around and headed away from the house, toward the docks, but instead of going to the main part of the port that serviced the freighters and ocean liners leaving Italy, he drove to the other side, past Santa Lucia, to a small pier where the sign over a kiosk read: “Capri and Ischia”. Robert parked the car where it could easily be spotted, and walked up to the ticket seller.