“Of course, signora.”
An assistant manager escorted Pier upstairs. “This is one of our nicest suites.” It was beautiful.
Pier said haughtily, “I suppose it might do. The Commander is very particular, you know.” She took the second envelope out of her purse, opened it, and glanced inside. It contained a train ticket to Budapest in the name of Commander Robert Bellamy. Pier stared at it, confused. What kind of game is this? She left the ticket by the bed stand.
When Pier returned to the car, Robert asked, “How did it go?”
“Fine.”
“Last stop.”
This time it was the Hotel Leonardo da Vinci. Robert handed Pier the third envelope. “I would like you to …”
“I know.”
Inside the hotel, a clerk said, “Yes, indeed, signora, we have a lovely suite. When did you say the Commander will be arriving?”
“In an hour. I would like to examine the suite to see if it is satisfactory.”
“Of course, signora.”
The suite was more lavish than the other two Pier had looked at. The assistant manager showed her the huge bedroom with a large canopied bed in the centre. What a waste, Pier thought. In one night, I could make a fortune here. She took out the third envelope and looked inside. It contained an airplane ticket to Miami, Florida. Pier left the envelope on the bed.
The assistant manager escorted Pier back to the living room. “We have colour TV,” he said. He walked over to the television set and turned it on. A picture of Robert leaped onto the screen. The anchorman’s voice was saying: “… and Interpol believes that he is presently in Rome. He is wanted for questioning in an international drug-smuggling operation. This is Bernard Shaw for CNN News.” Pier was staring at the screen, transfixed.
The assistant manager turned off the television set. “Is everything satisfactory?”
“Yes,” Pier said slowly. A drug smuggler!
“We’ll be looking forward to seeing the Commander.”
When Pier joined Robert in the car downstairs, she looked at him with different eyes.
“Now we’re ready,” Robert smiled.
At the Hotel Victoria, a man in a dark suit was studying the guest register. He looked up at the clerk. “What time did Commander Bellamy check in?”
“He has not been here yet. His secretary reserved the suite. She said he would be here within the hour.”
The man turned to his companion. “Have the hotel staked out. Get reinforcements. I’ll wait upstairs.” He turned to the clerk. “Open the suite for me.”
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.