“No. My friend will wear it.” Robert put the bracelet on Pier’s wrist. She was staring at it, stunned.
Robert said, “That will look pretty in Venice, won’t it?”
Pier smiled up at him. “Very.”
When they were out on the street, Pier said, “I … I don’t know how to thank you.”
“I just want you to have a good time,” Robert told her. “Do you have a car?”
“No. I used to have an old one, but it was stolen.”
“Do you still have your driver’s licence?”
She was watching him, puzzled. “Yes, but without a car, what good is a driver’s licence?”
“You’ll see. Let’s get out of here.”
He hailed a taxi. “Via Po, please.”
She sat in the taxi, studying him. Why was he so anxious for her company? He had not even touched her. Could he be …?
“Qui!” Robert called to the driver. They were a hundred yards away from Maggiore’s Car Rental Agency.
“We’re getting out here,” Robert told Pier. He paid the driver and waited until the taxi was out of sight. He handed Pier a large bundle of bank notes. “I want you to rent a car for us. Ask for a Fiat or an Alfa Romeo. Tell them we’ll want it for four or five days. This money will cover the deposit. Rent it in your name. I’ll wait for you in the bar across the street.”
Less than eight blocks away, two detectives were questioning the hapless driver of a red truck with French licence plates.
“Vous me faites chier. I have no idea how the fuck that card got in the back of my truck,” the driver screamed. “Some crazy Italian probably put it in there.”
The two detectives looked at each other. One of them said, “I’ll phone it in.”
Francesco Cesar sat at his desk, thinking about the latest development. Earlier, the assignment had seemed so simple. “You won’t have any trouble finding him. When the time comes, we will activate the homing device, and it will lead you right to him.” Someone had obviously underestimated Commander Bellamy.
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.
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?”