loud; the two men shouted at each other and raced to the edge.
Nowl
Havelock rose to his feet and ran out of the shadows, his bands extended,
shoulders and arms battering rams. He forced his unsteady legs to respond,
each racing step painful but calculated, sure. He made contact. First the
man on the right, pummeling him with both outstretched bands; then the
Italian on his left, crashing his shoulder into the small of the man's
back.
A deafening blast from the Teresds funnels covered the screams of the two
men as they plummeted into the water below. Michael swung to his left and
hobbled back toward
82 RoBERT LUDLUM
the corner of the warehouse; be would go out onto the deserted pier and face
the once obsequious guard and the elegantly dressed man. Time elapsed:
another minute. Less than three remained at most
He ran unsteadily out onto the vast expanse of the pier with its fog-Iaden
pools of floodlights and immobile machinery. Pitching his voice at the edge
of hysteria, be shouted in broken Italian: "Help mel Help theml It's crazyl
rm hurt. Two men came to help me. As they drew near there were gunshotsl
Three gunshots! From the next pier. I could hardly bear them because of the
freighter, but I did hear theml Gunshotsf Quicklyl They're wounded. One
dead, I thinkl Ob, Christ, hurryl"
The exchange between the two men was verbal chaos. As Havelock staggered
erratically toward the gate he could see that the guard's automatic was
drawn, but it was not the same guard; be was shorter, stockier, older. The
guard's broad face was full of resentment, in contrast to that of the
civilian-in his mid-thirties, tanned, suave-which was cold and without
expression. The man in the overcoat was orderIng the guard to investigate;
the guard was shouting that he would not leave his post, not for 20,000
lirel The capo regime could look into his own garbage; he was no frightened
bainbino of the docks. The capo could buy a few hours of his time, his
disappearance, but not morel
A setup. From the beginning, a charade.
"Andate voi stessil" yelled the guard.
Swearing, the civilian started toward the warehouse and broke into a run,
the abruptly slowing his pace he cautiously approached the comer of the
building.
The guard was now in front of the glass booth, his gun leveled at Michael.
"Youl Walk to the fence," he shouted in Italian. "Raise your hands above
you and grab the wire as high as you canl Do not turn aroundl IT fire into
your bead ff you dol"
Barply two minutes left; ff it was going to work, it would happen now.
.0b, lesusl" Havelock screamed as he gripped his cbest and fell.
The guard rushed forward; Michael remained motionless in a fetal position,
dead weight on the damp, hard surface.
Trm PARsrFAL Mosmc83
"Get upl" commanded the uniformed man. "Get to your feed"
The guard reached down and grabbed Havelock's shoulder. It was the movement
Michael bad been waiting for. He spun off the ground, clasping the weapon
above his head, and gripped the wrist at his shoulder, wrenching it
clockwise as he rose and hammering his knee into the falling guard's
throat. The gun barrel was in his hand; be swung it down, crashing it into
the base of the Italian's skull. The man collapsed. Havelock dragged him
into the shadows of the booth, then raced out of the open gate, jamming the
weapon into his jacket pocket.
A prolonged, belching sound came from the distance, followed by four
hysterically pitched screeches. The Teresa was about to slip away from its
berthl Michael felt a sickening sense of futility sweeping over him as he
ran breathlessly down the wide avenue, his legs barely able to carry him,
his feet swerving, slapping the pavement. When he reached the Teresds pier,
the guard-the same guard-was inside his glass booth, once again on the
telephone, nodding his outsized head, his dull eyes accepting other lies.
There was now a chain stretched across the open gateonly an official
hindrance, not a prohibition. Havelock grabbed the hook and yanked it out
of its cemented base; the chain curled snakelike into the air and clattered
to the ground.
"Che cosa? Fermatil"
Michael raced-his legs in agony-down the long stretch of the pier, through
the circular pools of floodlights, past immobile machinery, toward the
freighter outlined in the swirling mists at the end of the dock. His right
leg collapsed; his hands broke the fall but not the impact, his right
shoulder sliding across the moist surface. He grabbed his leg, forcing
himself up, and propelled himself along the planks until he could work up
the momentum to run again.
Gasping for air as he ran, he finally reached the end of the pier.
The futility was complete: the freighter Santa Teresa was floating thirty
feet beyond the pilings; the giant hawsers slithered over the dark waters
as they were hauled in by men who looked down at him through the shadows.
"Jennal" he screamed. "Jennal lennar
84ROBERT LUDLUM
He fell to the wet wood of the pier, arms and legs throbbing, chest in
spasms, his head splitting as if cracked open with an ax. He ... had ...
lost her. . . . A small boat could drop her off at any of a thousand
unpatrolled stretches of coastline in the Mediterranean; she was gone. The
only person on earth he cared about was gone forever. Nothing was his, and
he was nothing.
He heard the shouts behind him, then the hammering of racing feet. And as
he heard the sounds he was reminded of other sounds, other feet another
pier. From where the CrWotto had sailedl
There was a man in an overcoat who bad ordered other men to come after him;
they, too, had run across a deserted pier through shimmering pools of
floodlights and the mist. if he could find that manl If he found him he
would peel the suntanned flesh from the face until he was told what be had
to know.
He got to his feet and began limping rapidly toward the guard who was
running at him, weapon extended.
OPertnati! Alza le manil"
'Un errorel" Havelock shouted back, his voice both aggressive and
apologetic; he had to get by the man, not be detained. He took several
bills from his pocket, holding them in front of him so they could be seen
in the spill of the floodlights. "What can I tell you?" he continued in
Italian. "I made a mistake-which beneflts you, doeset it? You and L we
spoke before, remember?" He pressed the money into the guar(rs hand while
slapping him on the back. "Come on, put that thing away. I'm your friend,
remember? What harm is there? Except rm a little poorer and you're a little
richer. Also, rve had too much wine."
"I thought it was youl" said the guard grudgingly, taking the bills and
ramming them into his pocket, his eyes darting about. 'You're crazy in the
headl You could have been shot. For what?"
"You told me the Teresa waset sailing for hours."
"Ies what I was toldl Theyre bastards, all bastardsl They're crazy toot
They don't know what they're doing
."
"They know exactly what they're doing," said Michael quietly. "I've got to
get along now. Thanks for your help.- Before the angry guard could answer,
Havelock started forward
TnE PARsYFAL MosAic85
rapidly, wincing in pain as he tried to control his throbbing legs and
aching chest. For GocFs sake, hurryl
He reached the stretch of fence that enclosed the CrW6vdo's pier, his hand
now in his pocket, grateful for the weapon. The unconscious guard was still
on the ground in the lower shadows of the glass booth. He had neither moved
nor been moved in the five minutes, perhaps six, that he had lain there.
Was the man in the overcoat still on the pier? The odds favored it; logic
dictated that he would have looked for the guard because he did not see him
in the booth and, when he found him, would have questioned the fallen man.
In doing so, some part of the unconscious body would have been moved; it
had not been.
But why would the capo reginte remain on the pier for so long? The answer
came from the sea through the fog and the wind. Shouts, questions, followed
by commands and further questions. The man in the overcoat was still on the
pier, his gorillas screaming from the waters below.
Michael clenched his teeth, forcing the pain from his mind. He slid along
the side wall of the warehouse, past the door from which the blond decoy
had emerged, to the comer of the building. The morning light was growing
brighter, the mists rising, the absence of the freighter permitting the
early rays of the sun to spread over the dock. In the distance, on the
water, another ship was steaming slowly toward the barbor of Civitavecchia;
it might well be heading for the berth recently vacated by the Crist&(Io.
If so, there was very little time remaining before the shape-up crews
arrived. He bad to move swiftly, act effectively, and he was not at all
sure he was capable of doing either.
A stretch of unpatrolled coastline. Did the man only yards away from him
now know which? He must find out. He had to be capable.
He rounded the corner, holding the weapon against the cloth of his jacket.
He could not use it, he understood that; it would serve no purpose because
it would only eliminate his source and draw attention to the pier. But the
threat had to be conveyed as genuine, his anger had to seem desperate. He
was capable of that.
He stared through the rising mist. The man in the overcoat was at the edge
of the dock, excitedly barking instructions in a low voice; lie, too, was
obviously afraid of drawing atten-
86 ROBERT LuDLum
tion from stray crewmen who might be loitering on the adjacent pier. The
effect was comic. From what Michael could gather, one of the men below was
hanging on to a piling strut, reluctant to let go because he apparently
couldn't swim. The negotiator was ordering the second man to support his
companion and the man was apparently refusing, concerned that he might be
pulled under by his incompetent associate.
"Don't talk anymorel" Havelock said sharply in Italian, the words clear if
not precise, his voice commanding though not loud.
The startled man spun around, his right hand reaching under his overcoat.
"If I see a gun," continued Michael, moving closer, "youll be dead and in
the water before you can raise it. Move away from there. Walk toward me.
Now to your left. Over to the wall. Movel Don't stopl"
The man lurched forward. "I could have had you killed, signore. I did not.
Surely, that is worth something to you."
"It is-obviously. I thank you."
"Nor was anything on your person taken, I assume you are aware of that. My
orders were clear."
"I'm aware. Now tell me why. On both counts~"
"I am neither a killer nor a thief, signore."
"Not good enough. Raise your handsl Lean against the wall and spread your
legsl" The Italian complied; it was not the first time such orders had been
given him. Havelock came up behind him, kicking the man's right calf as he
whipped his hand around the capo regime's waist, pulling the gun from the
Italian~s belt. He glanced at it, impressed. The weapon was a Spanish
automatic, a Llama .38 caliber, with grip and manual safeties. A quality
gun, undoubtedly less expensive on the waterfront. He shoved it into his
own belt. "Tell me about the girl. Quicklyl"
"I was paid. What more can I tell you?"
"A great deal." Michael reached up and grabbed the man!s left hand; it was
soft. The negotiator was not a violent man, the term capo regime, which the
guard had used, was misapplied. This Italian was no part of the Mafia; a
mafioso at his age would have come up through violent ranks and would not
have soft hands.
A sudden cacophony of ship's whistles erupted from the
THE PARSIFAL MOSAIC87
harbor. They were joined by panicked shouts from the lone man in the
slapping waters below the pier. Taking advantage of the sounds, Michael
rammed the pistol into the negotiatoes kidney. The man screamed. Then
Havelock crashed the handle into the side of the Italian's neck and there
was another scream, which was followed by a series of whimpering pleas.
"Signore . . . signorel You are American; we speak Americanl Do not do this
to mel I saved your life-my word on itl"
'Well get to that. The gir1l Tell me about the girll Quicklyl"
"I do favors around the docks. Everyone knows thatl She needed a favor. She
paidl"
"To get out of Italy?"
"What else?"
"She paid for a lot more than thatl How many did you pay? For the setup."
"Che cosa tnwl direP Set ... up?"
"That show you put onl The pig who walked out of that door over therel"
Havelock gripped the Italian by the shoulder and spun him around, slamming
him back into the wall. "Right around that comer," he added, gesturing.
"What was that all about? Tell mel She paid for that, too. Why?"
I "As you say, signore. She paid. Spiegazioni . explanations . . . were not
required."
Michael jammed the barrel of the pistol deep into the man's stomach. "Not
good enough. Tell mel"
"She said she had to know," the negotiator spat out, doubling over.
"Know what?" Havelock slapped the man7s hat off and, grabbing him by the
hair, crashed his head into the wall. "Know what?"
"What you would dol"
"How did she know rd follow her here?"
"She did notl" Then why?-
"She said you might do Sol You were ... ingegnoso ... a resourceful man.
You7ve hunted other men; you have means at your disposal. Contacts,
sources."
"Thaes too loosel How?' Michael bunched the Italian's hair in his fist,
pulling it half out of its roots.
"Signore ... she said she spoke to three drivers on the pi- 88 RoBERT LuDLum
aftafomm before she found a taxi to take her to Civitaveochial She was
afraidl"
It made sense. It had not occurred to him to look for a taxi ramp at the
Ostia; taxis were not in oversupply in Rome. In truth, he had simply not
been thinking; he had been bent only on moving.
"Per tavorel Aiuto
l Mio Diol- The screams came from the water below.
The ships in the harbor were beginning to fill the air with whistles and
vapor. There was so little time left; soon the crews would come, men and
machinery crawling all over the pier. He had to learn exactly what the
negotiator had sold; he gripped the man's throat with his left hand.
"She's on the Teresa, isn't she?"
"Sir
Havelock recalled the words of 11 Tritone's owner: the Teresa sailed to
Marseilles. "How is she to be taken off the ship?"
The Italian did not answer; Michael plunged his fingers deeper into the
man7s throat, choking him. He went on: "Understand me, and understand me
well. If you don~t tell me, I'll kill you now. And if you lie, and she gets
past me in Marseilles, ni comeback for you. She was right, Im resourceful
and I've hunted a great many men. III find you."
The negotiator went into a spasm, his mouth gaping as he tried to speak.
Havelock reduced the pressure on the man's neck. The Italian coughed
violently, grabbing his throat, and said, '"What's it to me, anyway, so III
tell you. I don~t want afflizione with the likes of you, sfgnorel I should
have known better. I should have listened betterl"
"Go on."
"Not Marseilles. San Remo. The Teresa stops at San Remo. How or where she
is to be brought ashore, I do not knowmy word on itl She buys her way to
Paris. She's to be taken across the border at Col des Moulinets. When, I do
not know-my wordl From there to Paris. I swear on the blood of Christl"
The negotiator did not have to swear he was telling the truth; his
terrified eyes proved it. He was being honest out of fear, extraordinary
fear. What had jenna told him? Why hadn't the man ordered him killed? Also,
why had nothing been stolen? Michael released his grip on the Italian's
neck.
THE PAnsrFAL MosAic89
He spoke quietly. "You said you could have had me killed, but you didn't.
Now tell me why."
"No, signore, I will not say it," whispered the man. "In the name of God,
you'll never see me againl I say nothing, know nothingl"
Havelock raised the pistol slowly, resting the point of the barrel on the
man~s left eye. "Say it," he said.
"Signore, I have a small, profitable business here, but I have never
once--never-involved myself with political activitiesl Or anything remotely
Robert Ludlum - The Parcifal Mosaic.txt Page 11