The Doomsday Conspiracy

“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.

Chapter Forty-Two

The danger in the air was almost palpable and Robert felt he could reach out and touch it. The waterfront was a beehive of activity, with cargo ships busily loading and unloading. But another element had been added: there were police cars cruising up and down the quay, and uniformed policemen and obvious-looking detectives questioning dock workers and sailors. The concentrated manhunt took Robert by complete surprise. It was almost as though they had known he was in Naples, for it would have been impossible for them to be conducting this intense a search for him in every major city in Italy. He did not even bother to get out of the car. He turned around and headed away from the docks. What he had thought would be an easy plan – to board a cargo ship bound for France – had now become too dangerous. Somehow, they had managed to track him here. He went over his options again. Travelling any distance by car was too risky. There would be roadblocks around the city by now. The docks were guarded. That meant the railroad station and airport would be covered, as well. He was in a vice, and it was closing in on him.