BudapestThe flight from Paris to Budapest on Malev Airlines took two hours and five minutes. Robert knew very little about Hungary except that during World War II it had been a partner in the Axis, and had later become a Russian satellite. Robert took the airport bus to the centre of Budapest, impressed by what he saw. The buildings were old and the architecture classic. The Parliament House on the RudolphQuay was a huge, Neo-gothic structure that dominated the city, and high on Castle Hill above the city was the Royal Palace. The streets were crowded with automobiles and shoppers.The bus stopped in front of the Hotel Duna Intercontinental. Robert walked into the lobby and approached the concierge.“Excuse me,” Robert said. “Do you speak English?”“Igan. Yes. What may I do for you?”“A friend of mine was in Budapest a few days ago, and he told me he saw a wonderful carnival. I thought as long as Iwas in town, Imight take a look at it. Can you tell me where Imight find it?”The conci
FLASH MESSAGETOP SECRET ULTRANSA TO DEPUTYDIRECTOR HRQEYES ONLYCOPYONE OF (ONE) COPIESSUBJECT: OPERATION DOOMSDAY10. LASLO BUSHFEKETE – SOPRONEND OF MESSAGEThey arrived in the middle of the night when the carnival was shut down. They left fifteen minutes later, as silently as they had come.Laslo Bushfekete dreamed he was standing at the entrance to the large white tent, watching the huge crowd lined up at the box office to buy their 500-forint tickets. Come right this way, folks. See the genuine body part of an alien from outer space. Not a drawing, not a photograph, but an actual part of an actual ET. Only 500 forints for the thrill of a lifetime, a sight you will never forget. And then he was in bed with Marika, and they were both naked, and he could feel her nipples pressing against his chest and her tongue slithering across his body and she was crawling all over him, and he got an erection, and he reached for her and his hands closed over something cold and slimy, and h
His first call was to Fort Smith, Canada. A distraught woman’s voice answered the telephone. “Yes?”“William Mann, please.”The voice said, tearfully, “I’m sorry. My husband is … is no longer with us.”“I don’t understand.”“He committed suicide.”Suicide? That hard-headed banker? What the hell is going on? Robert wondered. What he was thinking was inconceivable, and yet … He began making one phone call after another.“Professor Schmidt, please.”“Ach! The professor died in an explosion in his laboratory …”“I’d like to speak to Dan Wayne.”“Poor devil. His prize stallion kicked him to death last …”“Laslo Bushfekete, please.”“The carnival’s closed. Laslo is dead …”“Fritz Mandel, please.”“Fritz was killed in a freak accident …”The alarms were going full blast now.“Olga Romanchanko.”“The poor girl. And she was so young …”“I’m calling to check on Father Patrini.”“The poor soul passed away in his sleep.”“I have to speak to Kevin Parker.”“Kevin was murdered …”Dead. Every one of
The building was old and unprepossessing, a relic of better days. Robert had visited it many times before, on various missions. He walked down three basement steps and knocked on the door. An eye appeared at the peephole, and a moment later the door was flung open.“Roberto!” a man exclaimed. He threw his arms around Robert. “How are you, mio amico?”The speaker was a fat man in his sixties with white, unshaven stubble, thick eyebrows, yellowed teeth and several chins. He closed the door behind him and locked it.“I’m fine, Ricco.”Ricco had no second name. For a man like me, he liked to boast, one name is enough. Like Garbo. “What can I do for you today, my friend?”“I’m working on a case,” Robert said, “and I’m in a hurry. Can you fix me up with a passport?”Ricco smiled. “Is the Pope Catholic?” He waddled over to a cabinet in the corner and unlocked it. “What country would you like to be from?” Hepulled out a handful of passports with different-coloured covers, and sorted through
The group surged toward the man. “Where’s the liquor, buddy? … Where are the girls? … Let’s get this party on the road …”The thin man was trying to get through to Robert, but the crowd was blocking his way. He watched helplessly as Robert bolted out of the door. Hetook the stairs two at a time.Downstairs in the lobby, Robert was moving toward the exit when the concierge called out, “Oh, Commander Bellamy, Imade your reservation foryou. You are on Air France flight 312 to Paris. It leaves at one a.m.”“Thanks,” Robert said hurriedly.He was out of the door, into the small square overlooking the Spanish Steps. A taxi was discharging a passenger. Robert stepped into it. “ViaMonte Grappa.”He had his answer now. They intended to kill him. They’re not going to find it easy. He was the hunted now instead of the hunter, but he had one bigadvantage. They had trained him well. He knew all their techniques, their strengths, and their weaknesses, and he intended to use that knowledgeto st
Day SixteenRome, ItalyRobert placed a call to Colonel Cesar from a phone booth in the Piazza del Duomo. “Whatever happened to friendship?” Robert asked.“Don’t be naive, my friend. I’m under orders, just as you are. I can assure you, there is no use in your running. You’re at the head of everyintelligence agency’s most wanted list. Half the governments of the world are looking for you.”“Do you believe I’m a traitor?”Cesar sighed. “It doesn’t matter what I believe, Robert. This is nothing personal. I have my orders.”“To take me out.”“You can make it easier by turning yourself in.”“Thanks, paesano. If I need more advice, I’ll call Dear Abby.” He slammed down the receiver.Robert was aware that the longer he was at large, the greater the danger he was in. There would be security agents closing in on him from half adozen countries.There has to be a tree, Robert thought. The line came from a legend about a hunter who was relating an experience he had on safari. “This hugelion wa
Day SeventeenRome, ItalyRobert was awakened by the sun hitting his face. He sat up abruptly, looking around for an instant in alarm, disorientated. When he saw Pier,memory flooded back. He relaxed. Pier was at the mirror, brushing her hair.“Buon giorno,” she said. “You do not snore.”Robert looked at his watch. Nine o’clock. He had wasted precious hours.“Do you want to make love now? You have already paid for it.”“That’s all right,” Robert said.Pier walked over to the bed, naked and provocative. “Are you sure?”I couldn’t if I wanted to, lady. “I’m sure.”“Va bene.”She began to dress. She asked casually, “Who is Susan?”The question caught him off guard. “Susan? What made you ask?”“You talk in your sleep.”He remembered his dream. Susan had come back to him. Maybe it was a sign. “She’s a friend.” She’s my wife. She’s going to get tired ofMoneybags and return to me some day. If I’m still alive, that is.Robert walked over to the window. He lifted the curtain and looked out. Th
Robert listened to the phone ring again and again. It was six a.m. in Washington. I’m always waking the old man up, Robert thought.The Admiral answered on the sixth ring. “Hello …”“Admiral, I…”“Robert! What …?”“Don’t say anything. Your phone is probably bugged. I’m going to make this fast. I just wanted to tell you not to believe anything they’re saying aboutme. I’d like you to try to find out what’s going on. Imay need your help later.”“Of course. Anything I can do, Robert.”“I know.”“I’ll call you later.”Robert replaced the receiver. No time for a trace. He saw a blue Fiat pull up outside the bar. Pier was at the wheel.“Move over,” Robert said. “I’ll drive.”Pier made room for him as he slid in behind the wheel.“Are we on our way to Venice?” Pier asked.“Uh huh. We have a couple of stops to make first.” It was time to spread some more chaff around. He turned onto Viale Rossini. Ahead was theRossini Travel Service. Robert pulled over to the kerb. “I’ll be back in a minute.