duration. Talk with Annie, though.
Learn what you can. Maybe Lillian can
help; she's a resourceful filly."
With these words MacKenzie dispensed
with his liability and gained an
asset: Sam now had two additional
people to keep an eye on him. He might
outwit Rudolph and No Name; the girls
were something else again.
Within hours after their arrival,
however, it was apparent to Sam that
Lillian would have very little time to
pay attention to him. In her usual
forthright manner she plunged into
furious activity, commandeering two of
the Machenfeld staff to help her. The
work began first thing in the morning
when the brigade went out for
maneuvers.
Upstairs. In the top floor rooms and
on the ramparts of the chateau.
There was the banging of hammers and
the whirring of saws and the cracking
of plaster. Furniture was carried up
and down the long winding staircase;
those pieces too large or too awkward
were raised and lowered by putties and
ropes over the outside walls. Scores
of potted plants and bushes and small
trees were placed. around the
battlements seen from the ground by
Sam for he was not permitted above the
third floor. Paints and brushes and
253
panels of wood were transported daily
by Lillian and her two helpers and
when Sam could no longer politely
ignore her labors, he asked her what
she was doing.
"A little arranging, that's all," she
replied.
Finally, crates of crushed stone and
washed gravel were hoisted up the
walls, accompanied by several concrete
benches and (if Sam was not mistaken,
and being from Boston he was not) a
marble prayer stall.
It was suddenly very clear to
Devereaux exactly what Lillian was
doing. She was turning the top floor
and the ramparts of Chateau Machenfeld
into a full-fledged papal residence!
Complete with apartments and gardens
and prayer stallsl
Oh, my God! A papal residence!
Anne, on the other hand, spent most
of her time with Sam. Since MacKenzie
had deemed it improper for the girls
to eat at the officers' mess it was
diversionary for women to break bread
with a strike force prior to
combat Anne and Lillian were assigned
their meals in Devereaux's room, Sam
under the eiderdown quilt,~ of course.
But Lillian was rarely there; she
spent most of her time
upstairs arranging.
So Sam and Anne were thrown
together. On a surprisingly platonic
basis. True, he made no pass, but she
made no offer either. It was as though
both understood the insanity whirling
around them, neither wanting the other
to be involved, each, in a very real
sense, protecting the other. And the
more they talked together, the more
Sam began to understand what MacKenzie
meant about Anne. She was the most
genuine, guileless person he had ever
met in his life. All the girls were
devoid of artifice, but there was
something different about Annie.
Whereas the others had reached certain
plateaus conscious of their worth,
Annie was not satisfied. There was
about her a delightfully irreverent
sense of purpose that proclaimed for
all the world to hear that she could
expand, could experience but good
heavens! one did not have to be gloomy
about- it.
Devereaux recognized his imminent
danger: he could get really
sidetracked. He began to think that he
had been looking for this girl for
about fifteen years.
254
And he couldn't think about that.
Another plan had come into focus. One
he knew would work.
-The very day Hawkins and his
brigade of banana cap" tains took off
for Ground Zerol
The last sweet and sour strains of
the orchestra filled the theater.
Guido Frescobaldi took his curtain
calls, wiping a tear from his eyes. He
had to shed his art and think of
things plenipotentiary now. He had to
hurry to his dressing room and lock up
his makeup box.
The call had come! He was going to
Romel He was going to be embraced by
his beloved cousin, the most beloved
of all popes, Giovanni Bombalini,
Francesco, Vicar of Christ! Ohh! Such
blessings had come to himl To be
reunited after all these years!
But he could say nothing. Absolutely
nothing. That was part of the
arrangements. It was the way
Bombalini Madre di Cristo Pope
Francesco wished it, and one did not
question the ways of so munificent a
pontiff. But Guido did wonder just a
little bit. Why did Giovanni insist
that he tell the management that small
lie that he was going to visit family
in Padua, not Rome? Even his friend,
the stage manager, had winked when he
told him.
"Perhaps you might ask your family
to pray to Saint Peter for a little
sacred fire, Guido. The box office has
not been good this season."
What did the stage manager know? And
when did he know it?
It was not like the Giovanni of old
to be secretive. And yet who was he,
Frescobaldi, to doubt the wisdom of
his beloved cousin, the pope.
Guido reached his small dressing
room and.began to take off his
costume. As he did so his eyes fell on
his Sunday church suit, pressed and
hanging neatly in the center of the
wall. He was going to wear it on the
train to Rome. And he suddenly felt
very ungrateful and ashamed of
himself.
Giovanni was being so good to him.
How could he even think a compromising
thought?
The lady journalist who was bringing
them together had ass
asked for all his measurements. Every
last one. When he asked why, she told
him. And he had wept.
Giovanni was buying him a new suit.
The Hawk and his subordinate
officers from Rome. The final check of
Ground Zero had gone off without a
hitch; no alterations were required.
Further, all intelligence data had
been gathered and processed. Using
basic surveillance techniques employed
in hostile territories, Hawkins had
donned an enemy uniform (in this case
a black suit and a clerical collar)
and obtained a Vatican pass, and
identification that certified him to
be a Jesuit doing an
efficiency study
for the treasury. He had free access
to all calendars and personnel
schedules. From apartments to
barracks.
They all confimned the Hawk's
projections.
The pope would leave for Castel
Gandolfo on the same day he had chosen
for the past two years. He was an
organized man; time was to be
allocated properly with regard to
needs and functions.. Castel Gandolfo
expected him, and he would be there.
The pope would use the same modest
motorcade he had employed previously.
He was not a wasteful or pretentious
man. One motorcycle point with two
front and rear flanks. Basic. The
limousines were restricted to two: his
own, in which his most personal aides
accompanied him; and a second, for
secretaries and lesser prelates, who
carried his current working papers.
The route of the motorcade was the
scenic road he had spoken of with
feeling whenever he mentioned
Gandolfo: the beautiful Via Appia
Antica, with its rolling Ells and
remnants of ancient Rome along the
way.
Via Appia Antica. Ground Zero.
The two Lear jets had been delivered
to Zaragolo. It was an airfield for
the rich. The small Fiat sedan, which
was the diversion equipment for the
Turk privates, had been purchased by
Captain Noir, in the name of the
Ethiopian embassy. It was parked in an
all-night garage next to a police
station where the crime rate was at a
minimum.
as6
GuidoFrescobaldi was on his way to
Rome. Regina would handle him. She'd
put him up at a pensrone she rented
called The Doge, on the Via Due
Macelli, right near the Spanish Steps,
and take good care of the old man
until the morning of the assault.` And
first thing that morning she'd load
him up with a thiopental solution that
would keep him on a harmless high for
damn near twelve hours.
The Hawk planned to pick Guido up in
the Fiat on his way to Ground Zero. Of
course, Regina would have him properly
dressed by then, with a very large
overcoat that covered his fancy
clothes. Skirts, really.
There was only one last item to take
care of. The two limousines used in
maneuvers had to be driven to a place
called Valtournanche, several miles
northwest of the Alpine town of
Champoluc. To a little-used private
airfield frequented by the jetsetters
heading for their ski.chalets. The
limousines were a natural. They were
registered to nonexistent Greeks, and
the Swiss never bothered Greeks who
could afford such automobiles.
Lillian could take care of the
transfer. Oversee it, actually. She
could use the two men who had helped
her shape up the pope's BOQ. Once the
cars were in position they could
vanish along with Lillian. Mac, of
course, would give them bonuses.
He'd get rid of Rudolph, too, and
that psycho, what'shis-name, the
minute they were back from Ground Zero
and the pope was safely secretly in
his quarters. The chef had to stay;
what the hell, even if he did find out
who he was cooking for, he was a
French Huguenot wanted by the police
in sixteen countries.
That left Anne. And Sam, of course.
He could handle Sam. Sam was so
lashed to that loaded howitzer he was
part of the casing. But he couldn't
figure out Annie. What was the girl up
to? Why wouldn't she leave? Why had
she used his own oath against him?
"You gave your solemn word that if
ever any of us came to you. in need,
you'd never abandon us. You'd never
allow an injustice to be done if you
could prevent it. I'm here. I'm in
need, and an injustice has been done.
I've nowhere else to go. Please let me
stay."
t57
Well, of course, he had to. After
all, it was-the word of a general
officer.
But who's Could it he Sam?
Coddarnn!
So he would die in Gandolfo. It
could be worse, thought Giovanni
Bombalini, gazing out the windows of
his study. A half century ago all he
had to look forward to was a gravesite
in the Gold Coast, preceded by a long,
drawnout Last Rites ceremony delivered
half in Latin, half in Kwa with swarms
of flies circling hs head. Gandolfo
certainly held advantages over that
exit.
He would be able to work better,
too, at Gandolfo, use the weeks left
to straighten out his own affairs,
which were minimal, and do his best to
set a course tor the immediate future
of the Church. He would bring with him
several hundred analyses of the most
powerful dioceses throughout the world
and issue scores of promotions;
balancing, but balancing in favor of
younger, more vigorous perspectives.
Which often had nothing to do with
youth.
He had to keep reminding himself
that the intractable old guard was not
to be scorned, and should not be. The
old war-horses had gone through
ecclesiastical battles unknown to the
vast majority of those who screamed
for reform and change. It was not easy
to alter the philosophies of a
lifetime. But the Jine old war-horses
knew when to step aside and graze in
the pastures, ready with an
affectionate eye to offer advice when
asked, compassion regardless. The
others the Ignatio Quartzes of the
world needed a push.
Pope Francesco decided that among
his last acts would be a little
pushing. It would take the form of a
Last Rites Dissertation to be read to
the Curia after his death, and then
made public. It was a bit
presumptuous, he supposed, but if God
did not want him to complete it, He
could always summon him at His will.
He had begun the dissertation,
dictating to the young Black priest.
And he had sent a papal memorandum to
every office in the Vatican appointing
his young aide as executor of his
personal effects in the event he was
called by the arms of Christ.
ass
Giovanni was told that Ignatio
Quartze threw up for nearly an hour
after receiving the papal
instruction. It must have wrecked
havoc with the cardinal's nasal pas-
sages.
"Your Holiness?" The young Black
aide came through the door of the
bedroom
carrying a suitcase. "I can't
find the miniature chessboard'. It's
not in the drawer with the
telephone."
Giovanni thought for a moment, then
coughed an embarrassed laugh. "I'm
afraid it's in the bathroom, Father.
Since Monsignor O'Gilligan solved his
conversion problems by explaining
penance, he's been an absolute terror
in his moves. Concentration was
required."
"Yes, sir." The young priest smiled
as he put down the suitcase. "I'll
put it in the vestment trunk."
"Are we about packed? I say 'we,'
but you've done the work."
"Almost, Holy Father. The pills and
the tonics will stay in my
briefcase."
"A little fine brandy could do just
as well."
"I have that, too, Your Holiness."
"You are truly a man of God, my son."
259
CHAPItERTVIENIY THREE
RIGIRATII COSTRUZIONE!
The large metal sign was secured to the
center of the wooden barrier which
stretched across the width of the back
country road. - -
It looked very official, right down to
the last tiny red reflector, and the
imposing insignia of Rome's municipal
government. It also officially closed off
a section of the Via Appia Antica to all
approaching vehicles, offering instead a
detour cut out of the forest down the
Appian hill. And since this particular
stretch of the Appian road was the
narrowest on the entire route, there was
no feasible alternative to the detour if
the vehicles in question were larger than
the smallest Fiat. Not even the size of
the Fiat sedan which the Hawk had driven
out of the garage next to the police
station and which now lay overturned at
the bottom of the hill.
Robert Ludlum - Road To Gandolfo.txt Page 37