The connection was broken.
“Did you get it?” Keller barked into the phone.
Adams said, “Close, sir. He was calling from an area in Central Rome. He kept switching numbers on us.”
The General looked over at Keller. “Well?”
“I’m sorry, General. All we know is that he’s somewhere in Rome. Do you believe his threat? Are we going to call off the contract on him?”
“No. We’re going to eliminate him.”
Robert went over his options again. They were pitifully few. They would be watching the airports, railroad stations, bus terminals and car rental agencies. He could not check into a hotel because SIFAR would be circulating red notices. Yet he had to get out of Rome. He needed a cover. A companion. They would not be looking for a man and a woman together. It was a beginning.
A taxi was standing at the corner. Robert mussed his hair, pulled down his tie, and staggered drunkenly toward the taxi. “Hey, there,” he called. “You!”
The driver looked at him, distastefully.
Robert pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and slapped it into the man’s hand. “Hey, buddy, I’m lookin’ a’get laid. You know what tha’ means? D’you speak any goddamn English?”
The driver looked at the bill. “You wish a woman?”
“You got it, pal. I wish a woman.”
“Andiamo,” the driver said.
Robert lurched into the cab, and it took off. He looked back. He was not being followed. The adrenalin was pumping. Half the governments in the world are looking for you. And there would be no appeal. Their orders were to assassinate him.
Twenty minutes later they had reach Tor di Ounto, Rome’s red light district, populated by whores and pimps. They drove down Pas-seggiata Archeologica, and the driver pulled to a stop at a corner.
“You will find a woman here,” he said.
“Thanks, buddy.” Robert paid the amount on the meter, and stumbled out of the taxi. It pulled away with a squeal of tyres.
Robert looked around, studying his surroundings. No police. A few cars and a handful of pedestrians. There were more than a dozen whores cruising the street. In the spirit of “let’s round up the usual suspects”, the police had conducted their bi-monthly sweep to satisfy the voices of morality, and moved the city’s prostitutes from the Via Veneto, with its high visibility, to this area where they would not offend the dowagers taking tea at Doney’s. For that reason, most of the ladies were attractive and well dressed. There was one in particular who caught Robert’s eye.
She appeared to be in her early twenties. She had long, dark hair and was dressed in a tasteful black skirt and white blouse, covered by a camelhair coat. Robert guessed that she was a part-time actress or model. She was watching Robert.
Robert staggered up to her. “Hi, baby,” he mumbled. “D’you speak English?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Le’s you an’ me have a party.”
She smiled uncertainly. Drunks could be trouble. “Maybe you should go sober up first.” She had a soft Italian accent.
“Hey, I’m sober enough.”
“It will cost you a hundred dollars.”
“Tha’s okay, honey.”
She made her decision. “Va bene. Come. There is a hotel just around the corner.”
“Great. What’s your name, baby?”
“Pier.”
“Mine’s Henry.” A police car appeared in the distance, headed their way. “Let’s get outta here.”
The other women cast envious glances as Pier and her American customer walked away.
The hotel was no Hassler, but the pimply-faced boy at the desk downstairs did not ask for a passport. In fact, he barely glanced up as he handed Pier a key. “Fifty thousand lire.”
Pier looked at Robert. He took the money from his pocket and gave it to the boy.
The room they entered contained a large bed in the corner, a small table, two wooden chairs and a mirror over the basin. There was a clothes rack behind the door.
“You must pay me in advance.”
“Sure.” Robert counted out one hundred dollars.
“Grazie.”
Pier began to get undressed. Robert walked over to the window. He pushed aside a corner of the curtain and peered out. Everything appeared to be normal. He hoped that by now the police were following the red truck back to France. Robert dropped the curtain and turned around. Pier was naked. She had a surprisingly lovely body. Firm, young breasts, rounded hips, a small waist and long, shapely legs.
She was watching Robert. “Aren’t you going to get undressed, Henry?”
This was the tricky part. “… tell you the truth,” Robert said, “I think I had a little too much to drink. I can’t give you any action.”
She was regarding him with wary eyes. “Then why did you …?”
“If I stay here and sleep it off, we can make love in the morning.”
She shrugged. “I have to work. It would cost me money to …”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of that.” He pulled out several hundred-dollar bills and handed them to her. “Will that cover it?”
Pier looked at the money, making up her mind. It was tempting. It was cold outside, and business was slow. On the other hand, there was something strange about this man. First of all, he did not really seem to be drunk. He was nicely dressed and for this much money he could have checked them into a fine hotel. Well, Pier thought, what the hell? Questo cazzo se ne frega? “All right. There’s only this bed for the two of us.”
“That’s fine.”
Pier watched as Robert walked over to the window again and moved the edge of the curtain aside.
“You are looking for something?”
“Is there a back door out of the hotel?”