The Doomsday Conspiracy

The call had been routed to Colonel Cesar. "Yes," he said to Giuseppe, "that sounds very much like our man. Listen carefully. He is dangerous, so I want you to do exactly as I tell you. Do you understand?"



"Yes, sir."



"Where are you now?"



"At the AGIP truck stop on the highway to Civitavecchia."



"And he's in the back of your truck now?"



"Yes." The conversation was making him nervous. Maybe I should have minded my own business.



"Don't do anything to make him suspicious. Get back in your truck and keep driving toward Civitavecchia. Give me your licence number and a description of your truck."



Giuseppe gave it to him.



"Fine. We will take care of everything. Now get moving."



Colonel Cesar turned to Colonel Johnson and nodded. "We have him. I'll have a roadblock set up. We can be there by helicopter in thirty minutes."



"Let's go."



When Giuseppe replaced the receiver, he wiped his sweaty palms on his shirt, and headed for the truck. I hope there won't be a shoot-out. Maria would kill me. On the other hand, if the reward is large enough ... He climbed into the cab of the truck and headed for Civitavecchia.



Thirty-five minutes later, Giuseppe heard the sound of a helicopter overhead. He looked up. It had the markings of the State Police. Ahead of him on the highway, he saw two police cars lined up next to each other, forming a roadblock. Behind the cars were policemen with automatic weapons. The helicopter landed at the side of the road, and Cesar and Colonel Frank Johnson stepped out.



As he neared the roadblock, Giuseppe slowed the truck down. He shut off the ignition and jumped out, running toward the officers. "He's in the back!" he shouted.



The truck rolled to a stop. Cesar shouted, "Close in."



The policemen converged on the truck, weapons ready.



"Don't shoot," Colonel Johnson yelled. "I'll take him." He moved toward the back of the truck. "Come on out, Robert," Colonel Johnson called, "it's over."



There was no response.



"Robert, you have five seconds."



Silence. They waited.



Cesar turned to his men and nodded.



"No!" Colonel Johnson yelled. But it was too late.



The police began firing into the back of the truck. The noise of the automatic fire was deafening. Splinters of crates began flying into the air. After ten seconds, the firing ceased. Colonel Frank Johnson jumped into the back of the truck and moved the crates and boxes out of his way.



He turned to Cesar. "He's not here."



Day Nineteen



Civitavecchia, Italy



Civitavecchia is the ancient seaport for Rome, guarded by a massive fort completed by Michelangelo in 1537. The port is one of the busiest in Europe, servicing all sea-going traffic to and from Rome and Sardinia. It was early in the morning, but the port was already alive with noisy activity. Robert made his way past the railroad yards and stepped into a small trattoria filled with pungent cooking odours and ordered breakfast.



The Halcyon would be waiting for him at the appointed place, Elba. He was grateful that Susan had remembered it. On their honeymoon, they had stayed in their room there for three days and nights, making love. Susan had said, "Would you like to go for a swim, darling?"



Robert had shaken his head. "No. I can't move. 'Able was I, ere I saw Elba.'" And Susan had laughed and they had made love again. And bless her, she had remembered the palindrome.



Now all he had to do was to find a boat to take him to Elba. He walked down the streets leading to the harbour. It was bustling with maritime activity, crowded with freighters, small motor boats and private yachts. There was a landing for a ferry boat. Robert's eyes lit up when he saw it. That would be the safest way to get over to Elba. He would be able to lose himself in the crowds.



As Robert started toward the ferry landing, he noticed a dark, unmarked sedan parked half a block away, and he stopped. It had official licence plates. There were two men seated inside the car watching the docks. Robert turned and walked in the other direction.



Scattered among the dockworkers and tourists, he spotted plain-clothes detectives trying to look unobtrusive. They stood out like beacons. Robert's heart began to pound. How could they possibly have tracked him here? And then he realized what had happened. My God, I told the truck driver where I was going! Stupid! I must be very tired.



He had fallen asleep in the truck, and the absence of movement had awakened him. He had got up to look out, and had seen Giuseppe go into the gas station and make a phone call. Robert had slipped out of the truck and climbed into the back of another truck headed north toward Civitavecchia.



He had trapped himself. They were looking for him here. A few hundred yards away were dozens of boats that could have afforded him an escape. Not any longer.



Robert turned away from the harbour and walked toward town. He passed a building with a huge colourful poster on the wall. It read: "Come to the Fairgrounds. Fun for All! Food! Games! Rides! See the Big Race!" He stopped and stared.



He had found his escape.