Robert Ludlum - The Parcifal Mosaic.txt

by The Parcifal Mosaic [lit]

  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