Robert Ludlum - Road To Gandolfo.txt

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Robert Ludlum - Road To Gandolfo.txt Page 14

by The Road To Gandolfo [lit]


  was heard on the deserted back road

  fronting the golf club, and MacKenzie

  waited behind the pillar.

  As Sam walked haltingly up the drive,

  Hawkins decided not to tell him about

  the immobilized patrols. It would

  -only worry the ex-major; better to

  let him think Dellacroce was true to

  his word: he was alone on fairway six.

  "Goddamn! Hello, Sam!"

  Devereaux threw himself to the

  ground, hugging the gravel for dear

  life. And then he looked up; MacKenzie

  took out a small but powerful pencil

  light from his pocket and flicked it

  on.

  The ex-major was certainly angry His

  face was kind of pinched and puffed,

  as if it might explode right out of

  his skin.

  "You unprincipled son of a bitch!"

  Sam whispered, tiny and fear

  intermeshed. "You lowlife! You're the

  most devious, despicable form of

  subhuman that ever lived! What the

  hell have you done, you bustards"

  "Now, now' that's no way to talk.

  Come on, get up; you look silly down

  there all splayed out. . ." MacKenzie

  reached for Devereaux's hand.

  "Don't touch me, you slug worm!

  Fucking Mongolian sheep is too good

  for you! I should have let Lin Shoo

  pry out your fingernails, one by one,

  for four thousand fucking years! Don't

  touch me!" Sam staggered to his feet.

  "Look, Major

  "Don't call me that! I don't own a

  serial number and I don't want to be

  addressed ever by anything remotely

  military! I'm a lawyer; but I'm not

  your goddamned lawyer! Where the hell

  are we? How many 'torpedoes' have us

  covered with guns?"

  MacKenzie grinned. "There's nobody

  boy. Just Dellacroce standing out on

  the fairway like a nice uncle at a

  backyard pasta party."

  "I don't believe youl Do you know

  what that gorilla told me on the

  phone' when I said I wouldn't come out

  here? 94

  That goddamned hood told me my health

  would take a sudden turn worsel That's

  what he told mel"

  'Oh, don't pay any attention to that

  sort of thing. Those fat slobs always

  talk tough."

  "Horseshit!" Devereaux peered into

  the darkness. '~at maniac said if I

  was late he'd send a basket of fruit

  to the hospital tomorrow! And if I

  tried to leave town, some goon called

  Meat would find me before the week was

  upl"

  The Hawk shook his head. "Meat's

  pretty good, but I think you could

  take him. I'd put my money on you,

  boy."

  "I don't want to take him or

  anybody! And don't put any money on

  me! You're never going to see me

  again! I just wanted to get this over

  with. I want to meet this Dellacroce;

  tell him the whole thing's a crazy

  mistaket I had some typing done for

  you, and that's alll"

  "Now listen to me, son. You're

  overreacting.. There's nothing to

  worry about at all." Hawkins started

  walking across the lawn. Devereaux

  kept pace, his head snapping in the

  direction of every noise. "Mr.

  Dellacroce will be exceedingly

  cooperative. And there'll be no more

  tough talk, you'll see."

  "What was that?" There was a squishing

  sound.

  "Relax, All you? I think you stepped

  on some dog turd. Do me a favor. Don't

  start explaining anything untill I

  talk with Dellaeroce, okay? It won't

  take me more than three or four

  minutes."

  "No! Absolutely no! I don't care to

  have.a promising legal career cut

  short in the middle of a fairway at

  some Cosa Nostra golf courser These

  people don't play gamest They use

  bullets, and chains, and heavy cementl

  And riversl What was that?" There was

  a fluttering of wings in the dark

  trees.

  "We alarmed a bird. Let's put it

  this way. If you just keep your mouth

  shut until I'm finished, 111 pay you

  another ten thousand. Free and clear.

  How about thatP"

  "You're a lunatic! No, again.

  Because I can't spend it displacing

  roots in a Boston cemetery! You could

  offer ten million, the answer's still

  nol"

  '~at's not out of the question

  "For Christ's sake, have yourself

  committed before somebody else doesl"

  95

  "Then I'm afraid I'll have to put it

  this way. You either shut up until my

  business with Mr. Dellacroce is

  finished, or tomorrow morning I call

  the FBI and tell them there's an

  ex-major walking around peddling

  raw-file intelligence documents

  he-illegally removed from the G-two

  archives."

  "Oh, no you don't! Because I'll tell

  the truth. I'll tell them how you

  blackmailed me, then conned me, then

  blackmailed me again. You'd get a

  lighter prison sentence in PekingI"

  "It surely does get complicated,

  doesn't it? I mean you'd be reopening

  the Brokemichael business. How would

  it look? A man violates the espionage

  laws because he doesn't hke spending

  a little extra time in the service of

  his country. In a cushy job, not even

  combat. Pretty weak blackmail, I'd

  say."

  "You unprtuc~pled "

  "I know, I know," said the Hawk

  wearily. "You keep repeating yourself.

  What you've got to understand is that

  it doesn't make a whole lot of

  difference to me. As you said, I've

  been shafted. How much more shafting

  can they do?"

  Hawkins kept walking. Devereaux

  followed reluctantly, his eyes darting

  everywhere, his nerves obviously

  frayed; a series of whispered. squeaks

  emerged from his throat until he found

  the words. "Have you no decency, sir?

  No sense of compassion? No love of

  your fellow man within your heart?"

  "I surely do," said the Hawk. They

  cut across the third tee onto fairway

  six. "Now keep that eloquent tongue of

  yours inactive for a while. It you

  don't like the way things go, then

  speak your piece. Can I be fairer than

  that?" ~

  The overcast sky was thinning out;

  intermittently the moon shone through.

  And a hundred yards ahead they could

  see the squat figure of Angelo

  Dellacroce, his hands still clasped

  behind his back, the lighted stub of

  a cigar still in his mouth. ~

  "He must have ashes all over his

  front," said Hawkins quietly. Then

  louder, "Mr. Dellacroce?"

  There was a grunt from the obese

  body in front of them. MacKenzie


  flicked on his pencil light and held

  it over his own head, spilling the

  light on his longish steel-gray hair,

  96

  throwing shadows down across his

  precisely barbered Van Dyke.

  "You're making us a target!" whispered

  Sam.

  "Who's going to shoot?"

  They approached the Italian; Mac

  extended his hand. Dellacroce made no

  move to accept it. Hawkins spoke

  quietly. "Even when I accepted gook

  surrenders I got a handshake. Sort of

  separates us from the animals."

  Reluctantly Dellacroce Dulled his

  hand from behind his back and the two

  shook. '~1 ain't no gook and this

  ain't no surrender," said the raspy

  voice.

  "Course it isn't," answered

  MacKenzie brightly. "It's the

  beginning of a profitable association.

  By the way, this is my attorney and

  good friend, Sam Devereaux "

  "Mac!"

  "Shut up and shake hands," said

  Hawkins sotto Face. "Goddamn, boys. I

  said shake hands!"

  With even greater reluctance, the

  two hands inched toward each other,

  touched briefly and separated as

  though the owners feared infection.

  "That's better," said the Hawk

  enthusiastically. "Now we can talk."

  And MacKenzie did. He started by

  listing the illegal activities~oth

  foreign and domesti~of Angelo

  Dellacroce. It took him two minutes.

  "Now, Mr. Dellacroce, the reason the

  authorities can't catch up with you is

  that they don't have access to a

  single financial clearinghouse that

  ties in specifically with all these

  here sundry enterprises. I realize it

  will sound strange to you, sir, but I

  believe I have that acesss. There's a

  bank in Geneva, Switzerland; the first

  three numbers-on the account happen to

  be seven, one, five. In this account

  is something over sixty-two million

  dollars "

  "Basta! Basta!"

  " and the deposits were made

  directly from such locales as I've

  suggested. Now I guess you've studied

  the new Swiss laws relative to such

  accounts. They're tricky because fraud

  in one country may not constitute

  fraud in Geneva. But goddamn, would

  you believe there's now a way for

  Interpol to subpoena the records of

  those accounts? All the international

  police have to do is submit a

  97 ,

  copy of a payment to a specific

  account that's been made by a

  convicted narcotics dealer. And it

  surely is wondrous good fortune on my

  part to have in my possession Xeroxed

  copies of quite a few such payments "

  "Basta! You shut up!" Dellacroce

  roared. "Fingers! Manny! Carlo! Dino!

  Get out here! Now!"

  There were only the sounds of the

  night in reply.

  "There's no one there. At least no

  one that can hear you," said the Hawk

  softly.

  'What!? Fingers! Figlio delta

  prwtftuta! Get out herel"

  Nothing.

  "Now, you and I, Mr. Dellacroce, will

  step away from my friend and attorney,

  here, so we can talk real private

  like." MacKenzie touched the Italian's

  arm, which was instantly yanked away.

  "Meat! Augie! Rocco! You hear me,

  boys? Get out here!"

  "They're sleeping, too, sir," said

  Hawkins kindly. "They won't wake up

  for a couple of hours."

  Dellacroce whipped his head toward

  Mac. "You got cops here? How many cops

  you got?" The questions overlapped.

  "Nobody. Iust me and my good friend

  and attorney "

  "How many? Alone you couldn't!"

  "Alone, I did," answered the Hawk.

  "My best boys!"

  "I'd hate like hell to see your

  support troops." MacKenzie chuckled.

  "Now it's time for our private talk."

  The Hawk led Dellacroce thirty feet

  away. He talked quietly for exactly

  four minutes and thirty seconds.

  At which point a rasping,

  ear-splitting scream shattered the

  stillness of fairway six.

  "Mannnnucagggiii'!"

  And Angelo Dellacroce fainted right

  there on the manicured grass.

  MacKenzie bent over the man and

  gently slapped him back into

  consciousness.

  They talked once more with the Hawk

  holding the obese Italian's neck as

  though he were a medical corpsman.

  The scream came again.

  "Mannnnuaauggggiii'!"

  And Dellacroce fainted again. 98

  So the Hawk revived him again.

  And they talked for two minutes more.

  "Mannnnnnuaggggiiii'!"

  This time MacKenzie lowered the

  man's head on the grass of fairway six

  and got up. The moon had broken

  through the night clouds, revealing a

  stunned Sam staring at the sight of

  the fallen Dellacroce. This was it,

  thought the Hawk, as he walked slowly

  toward Devereaux. There was no point

  in procrastinating any longer. Sam

  would have to be told. There was no

  other way.

  "Well, Sam," began Mac with quiet

  confidence in the intermittent

  moonlight on fairway six, "it's a

  pretty good start. Mr. Dellacroce was

  eager to subscribe to the full amount

  reserved for him. The Shepherd Company

  has its first ten million dollars."

  Devereaux's knees buckled. The Hawk

  rushed forward and caught him before

  he hit the ground. The ground was not

  hard but MacKenzie wanted Sam to know

  he cared; it was always a good idea to

  let one's superior-adjutant know the

  commander was concerned for his

  well-being. "Goddamn, son, you've got

  to stop this kind of thing! You're

  behaving no better than Mr.

  Dellacroce! Now that's just not

  proper; you're cut from a finer

  tunicl"

  Sam's eyes were swimming around and

  around in the moonlight on fairway

  six. The words that emerged from his

  trembling lips were by and large

  incoherent, but several phrases were

  repeated often enough to be under-

  stood. "Secretary-treasurert.~h, my

  God, I'm a sec'atarytreasurerl Ten

  million dollars' worth of cement! I'm

  in ten million dollars' worth of shit!

  I'll he sunk in concrete pajamas! I'm

  dead!"

  "Now, now, stop your wailin'. You're

  a big lawyer, fella; you shouldn't act

  like this."

  "I should never have met you, you

  squirrelly bastard! That's the only

  shouldn't of my lifer Oh, my God! That

  killer passed out!"

  "So did you. Almost. I caught you "

  "Shhh! Let's get out of here! I'll

  send him a
letter I'll get some

  Bellevue stationery I'll certify you

  a lunatic! It was all a lousy joker"

  "Oh, Mr. Dellacroce knows better than

  that, boy." Hawkins 99

  patted Devereaux's cheek-with his

  right hand while, with his left, he

  kept an iron grip on the base of Sam's

  skull inhibiting any movement above

  the waist. "Dellacroce's a very

  religious man, most of these Italian

  fellas are; doesn't make any

  difference what they do for a living.

  That's separate. He knows I told him

  the truth."

  "What the hell are you talking about?

  What's religion got to do with

  anything? Get off my neck!"

  "Religion helps a man recognize the

  truth. He may not like it; his religion

  may not like it, or even admit it is

  the truth, but because he's

  contemplated, the religious man can

  separate what's real from what's

  horseshit. You follow me?"

  "Not for a goddamned second! My neck

  hurtsl"

  "Sorry. I'll ease up, but it's time

  we talk." MacKenzie removed his hand.

  Instantly Devereaux bolted, but the.

  Hawk merely rolled with him, pinning

  him back to the earth. "I said we've

  got to talk, boy. You're a reasonable

  person; you can see the logic in

  that."

  "The problem," whispered Sam,

  straining on the ground, "is that

  you're not reasonable or logical! Do you

  know what you've done? Guys like

  that " He gestured with his head;

  somehow, he could not use his hands.

 

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