The Doomsday Conspiracy

Three minutes later the clerk was opening the door to the suite. The man in the dark suit moved in cautiously, gun in hand. The suite was empty. He saw the envelope on the table and picked it up. The front of it read: “Commander Robert Bellamy”. He opened the envelope and glanced inside. A moment later he was dialling the headquarters of SIFAR.

Francesco Cesar was in the middle of a meeting with Colonel Frank Johnson. Colonel Johnson had landed at Leonardo da Vinci airport two hours earlier, but he showed no signs of fatigue.

“As far as we know,” Cesar was saying, “Bellamy is still in Rome. We’ve had more than thirty reports on his whereabouts.”

“Any of them check out?”

“No.”

The phone rang. “It’s Luigi, Colonel,” the voice on the telephone said. “We’ve got him. I’m in his hotel suite at the Hotel Victoria. I have his airline ticket to Beijing. He is planning to leave Friday.”

Cesar’s voice filled with excitement. “Good! Stay there. We will be right over.” He hung up and turned to Colonel Johnson. “I’m afraid your journey was for nothing, Colonel. We’ve got him. He’s registered at the Hotel Victoria. They found an airline ticket in his name for Beijing on Friday.”

Colonel Johnson said mildly, “Bellamy registered at the hotel in his own name?”

“Yes.”

“And the plane ticket is in his name?”

“Yes.” Colonel Cesar rose. “Let’s get on over there.”

Colonel Johnson shook his head. “Don’t waste your time.”

“What?”

“Bellamy would never …”

The telephone rang again. Cesar snatched it up. A voice said, “Colonel? This is Mario. We’ve located Bellamy. He’s at the Hotel Valadier. He’s taking a train Monday to Budapest. What do you want us to do?”

“I’ll get back to you,” Colonel Cesar said. He turned to look at Colonel Johnson. “They found a train ticket to Budapest in Bellamy’s name. I don’t understand what …”

The telephone rang again.

“Yes?” His voice was pitched higher.

“It’s Bruno. We’ve located Bellamy. He’s registered at the Hotel Leonardo da Vinci. He’s planning to leave Sunday for Miami. What shall I …?”

“Come back here,” Cesar snapped. He slammed down the phone. “What the hell is his game?”

Colonel Johnson said grimly. “He’s seeing to it that you’re wasting a lot of manpower, isn’t he?”

“What do we do now?” “We trap the bastard.”

They were driving on the Via Cassia, near Olgiata, headed north toward Venice. The police would be covering all the major exits from Italy, but they would be expecting him to go west, to head for France or Switzerland. From Venice, Robert thought, I can take the hydrofoil to Trieste and make my way up to Austria. After that …

Pier’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “I’m hungry.”

“What?”

“We haven’t had any breakfast or lunch.”

“I’m sorry,” Robert said. He had been too preoccupied to think about eating. “We’ll stop at the next restaurant.”

Pier watched him as he drove. She was more puzzled than ever. She lived in a world of pimps and thieves, and drug smugglers. This man was no criminal.

They stopped at the next town in front of a small trattoria. Robert pulled into the parking lot and he and Pier got out of the car.

The restaurant was crowded with patrons, and noisy with conversation and the clatter of dishes. Robert found a table against the wall, and took a seat facing the door. A waiter approached and handed them menus.

Robert was thinking: Susan should be on the boat by now. This may be my last chance to talk to her. “Look over the menu.” Robert rose. “I’ll be right back.”

Pier watched him walk over to the public telephone near their table. He put a coin in the slot.

“I would like to talk to the marine operator in Gibraltar. Thank you.”

Who is he calling in Gibraltar? Pier wondered. Is that his get-away?

“Operator, I want to place a collect call to the American yacht, Halcyon, off Gibraltar. Whiskey Sugar 337. Thank you.”

A few minutes passed while the operators talked to each other and his call was accepted.

Robert hear’d Susan’s voice on the telephone.

“Susan …”

“Robert! Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I just wanted to tell you …”

“I know what you want to tell me. It’s all over the radio and television. Why is Interpol hunting you?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Take your time. I want to know.”

He hesitated. “It’s political, Susan. I have evidence that some governments are trying to suppress. That’s why Interpol is after me.”

Pier was listening intently to Robert’s end of the conversation.

“What can I do to help?” Susan asked.

“Nothing, honey. I just called to hear your voice once more in case … in case I don’t get out of this.”

“Don’t say that.” There was panic in her voice. “Can you tell me what country you’re in?”

“Italy.”

There was a brief silence. “All right. We’re not far from you. We’re just off the coast of Gibraltar. We can pick you up at any place you say.”

“No, I …”

“Listen to me. It’s probably your only chance of escape.”