Robert Ludlum - The Parcifal Mosaic.txt

by The Parcifal Mosaic [lit]

  probably one of the last people you spoke to on that train. Slender, medium

  height, a wide-brimmed hat-you were in the vestibule."

  "Sil Naturalmente. Una beUa ragazzal I rememberl" The conductor took the

  money and drank some wine; he belched and continued. "She asked me if I

  knew where she could make connections for Civitavecchia.-

  "Civitaveechia? That's a town north of here, isn't itr

  "Si. A seaport on the Tyrrhenian."

  "Did you know?"

  'There are very few trains between Rome and Civitavecchia, signore, and

  certainly not at that hour. It is at best a stop for freight, not

  passengers."

  "What did you tell her?"

  "Just that. She appeared reasonably well dressed, so I suggested she

  negotiate a taxi for a flat rate. if she could find one. Rome is a

  manicomiol"

  Havelock nodded thanks, placed another bill on the table and went to the

  door. He glanced at his watch, it was twenty past one in the morning.

  Civitavecchia. A seaport on

  58 ROBERT LUDLUM

  the Tyrrhenian. Ships heading out to sea on a given day fnvariably left

  with the early light. At dawn.

  He had roughly three hours to reach Civitavecchia, search the waterfront,

  find a pier, find a ship-find an unlisted passenger.

  S

  He raced out of the marble lobby of the hotel in Bernint Circle and rushed

  blindly up through the winding streets until he reached the Via Veneto. The

  desk clerk at the hotel had not been able to help him but not for lack of

  trying; spurred by the thick folds of lire, he futilely punched the

  telephone bar and screamed numbers at the sleepy switchboard operator. The

  night clerles contacts were limited; he could not raise a rented car.

  Havelock stopped for breath, studying the lights on the Veneto. The hour

  was too late for the full array, but several caf6s and the Excelsior Hotel

  were illuminated. Someone had to help him-he bad to get to Civitavecchial

  He had to find her. He could not lose her. Not again, not ever againl He

  had to reach her and hold her and tell her that terrible things had been

  done to them tell her over and over again until she saw the truth in his

  e~es and heard that truth in his voice; and saw the love he felt so deeply,

  and understood the unendurable guilt that never left him-for he had killed

  that love.

  He began running again, first into the Excelsior, where no amount of money

  interested an arrogant clerk.

  "Yoieve got to help mel"

  "You are not even a guest, signore," said the man, glancing to his lefL

  59

  60 RoBEnT LUDLUM

  Slowly Michael angled his head. Across the lobby two policemen were

  watching the scene. They conferred; obviously, the night operation at the

  Excelsior was under open official scrutiny. Peddlers of capsules and pills,

  white powder and syringes, were working the world-famous boulevard. One of

  the uniformed men stepped forward. Havelock turned and walked rapidly to

  the entrance, once again running into the half-deserted street, toward the

  nearest profusion of light.

  The tired maitre & of the Caf6 de Paris told him he was a capo zuccone. Who

  would have an automobile to rent to a stranger at this hour? The American

  manager of a third-rate version of a Third Avenue bar told him to "pound

  sand."

  Again the winding streets, again the sweat drenching his hairline, rolling

  down his cheeks. The Hassler-the Villa Medicil He had used the name of the

  elegant hotel in the luggage shop by the Ostia...

  The night concierge at the Hassler's Villa Medici was accustomed to the

  vagaries of Rome's wealthiest hotel guests. Arrangements were made for

  Michael to rent a Fiat, one of the Hassler's staff vehicles. The price was

  exorbitant, but with it came a map of Rome and its environs, the most

  direct route to Civitavecchia marked in red.

  He reached the port city at three-fifteen and by threeforty-five he had

  driven up and down the waterfront, studying it until be decided where to

  park the car and start his search for Jenna Karas.

  It was a section common to most waterfronts where the floodlights washing

  the piers remained on all night and activity never stopped; where groupings

  of dockworkers and deckhands mingled like slow-moving automatons,

  crisscrossing each other-men and machinery meshed in volatile con-

  flict-loading the cargo holds and preparing the massive boilers and

  outdated engines of the larger vessels soon to head out into deep water.

  Where caf6s and coffeehouses fined the mist-laden alleys, punctuated by the

  diffused light of the streetlamps-places of refuge serving the harshest

  whisky and the most glutinous food.

  To the north and south were the smaller piers, halyards and masts swaying

  in silhouette against the moonlight; filthy marinas for the fishing boats

  and the trawlers that ventured no more than forty kilometers out to those

  watery places that decades of experience and tradition told the captains

  were

  THE PARsriFAL MosAic61

  where the catches were most plentiful. These piers did not begin to stir

  until the early light was closer, faint sprays of yellowish white inching

  their way over the southwest horizon, pushing the night sky upward. Only

  then did groaning, dull-eyed men walk down the wooden planks toward oily

  gunwales and the interminable, blinding day ahead. Jenna Karas would not be

  in these places where the boats cast off at dawn only to return home when

  the sun went down. She would be somewhere in that complex of larger piers,

  where ships looked to the tides and the charts and sailed to other ports,

  other countries.

  She was somewhere in this stretch of the waterfront where swirling pockets

  of mist rolled off the sea and across the docks, through intersecting pools

  of floodlights and the hammering tattoo of nocturnal labors. She would be

  hidden-not visible to those who should not see her: controllori of the

  piers, paid by the state and the shipping companies to be on the lookout

  for material and human contraband. Keep her out of sight; the moment will

  come when she can be taken on board, after a capo operaio has inspected a

  hold and signed the papers that state the ship in question is free to de-

  part, free from the taint of transgressing the laws of land and sea. Then

  she can walk swiftly out of the shadows and down a pier, controllori and

  opeM themselves out of sight, their duties finished.

  Which pier? Which ship? Where are you, lentO

  There were three freighters, all medium tonnage, berthed alongside each

  other at three of the four major cargo clocks. The fourth housed two

  smaller vessels-barge class-with conveyor equipment and thick piping

  machinery transporting and pumping bulk cargo up into the open holds. She

  would be taken aboard one of the freighters; the immediate thing to learn

  was the departure time of each.

  He parked the Fiat on a side street that intersected the viale fronting the

  four piers. He walked across the wide avenue, dodging several vans and

  trucks, to the first pier on the left, to the gate manned by a uniformed

>   guard, a civil servant of questionable civility. He was unpleasant, and the

  nuisance of having to piece together Havelock's barely fluent Italian added

  to his hostility.

  "What do you want to know for?" asked the guard, filling the doorway of the

  gatehouse. "What's it to your

  62ROBERT LUDLUM

  "rm trying to find someone who may have booked passage," said Michael,

  hoping the words he used were close enough to his meaning.

  "Passaggio? Biglietto? Who buys a ticket on a Portuguese freighter?-

  Havelock saw his opening; he leaned closer, glancing about as he spoke.

  "This is the ship, then. Forgive my poor use of your language, Signor

  Controllore. It's unforgivable. Actually, Im with the embassy of Portugal

  in Rome. In my way an-inspector, as you are. We were told there may be

  certain irregularities with this vessel. Any cooperation from you could be

  duly conveyed to your superiors."

  The human ego when tied to opportunity was not affected by the lowliness of

  a civil service rating. The hostile guard was abruptly pleasant, moving

  aside to admit the straniero importante.

  "Scusatemi, signorel I did not understand. We who patrol those holes of

  corruption must cooperate with one another, noP And, in truth, a word to my

  superiors-in Rome, of course."

  "Of course. Not here."

  "Of course. Not here. 71ey are brutes down here. Come in, come in. It must

  be chilly for you."

  The Miguel CrW6v!w was scheduled to leave port at 5:00 A.M. Its captain was

  a man named Aliandro, who had been in the wheelhouse of the CrW6vtlo for

  the past twelve years, a skipper who knew every island, every shoal in the

  western Mediterranean, it was said.

  The two other freighters were of Italian registry. Ile guards at the gates

  were wearily cooperative, perfectly willing to give whatever information

  the oddly spoken foreigner requested. What be wished to know he could read

  in any newspaper under Navi Informazione-Civitavecchia, the pages of which

  were usually torn out and tacked to the walls of the various caf6s around

  the waterfront. They helped when crewmen got drunk and forgot their

  schedules.

  The Isola cFElba was leaving at flve-thirty, the Santa Teresa twenty

  minutes later, at five-fifty.

  Havelock started to walk away from the third gate. He looked at his watch;

  it was eight minutes past four. So little time.

  Jennal Where are youP

  Tim PARsrFAL MosAic63

  He heard the sound of a bell behind him. It was sudden, abrasive, eeboing

  in its own vibrations, an outside bell meant to be heard above the shouts

  and machinery of the piers. Alarmed, he tamed quickly. The guard had

  stepped inside the glass cubicle that was his gatebouse and was answering

  the telephone. The verbal flow of attentive Sis emphasized the fact that

  whoever was on the other end of the line was issuing orders that were to be

  thoroughly understood.

  Telephones and guards at checkpoints were sources of concern to Michael.

  For a moment he was not sure whether or not to run. The answer was given

  instantly. The guard hung up the phone and stuck his head out the door.

  'Youl You want to know so much about this stinking tub, here's something

  elsel The Teresa stays put. She doesn't sail until six godforsaken trucks

  get here from Torino, which could be eight hours from now. The unions will

  make those bastards pay, let me tell youl Then they'll fine the crew for

  being drunkl They're all bastardsl"

  The Teresa was out of the running, for a while at least. He could

  concentrate on the Elba and the Crist6vdo. If jenna was to be smuggled

  aboard the Teresa, he had hours, but not if it was one of the other two. If

  either was the case, he still had only minutes. He had to spend them wisely

  but swiftly, wasting as few as possible. There was no time for the subtle-

  ties of move and countermove, for circling the grounds of inquiry and

  selecting targets cautiously, being aware of whoever, might be watching

  him. There was time only for money~if takers could be found. And force---if

  those same takers tripped themselves on lies that meant they knew the

  truth.

  Havelock walked quickly back to the second gate, where the Isola crElba was

  berthed, altering his story only slightly for the weary guard. He wished to

  speak to a few of the vessers crew, those who might be on shore awaiting

  the ship's call. Would the cooperative civil servant, having shaken a hand

  with several thousand lire folded in the palm, know which of the waterfront

  caf6s were favored by the Elba's crew?

  "They stick together, no, signore? When fights break out, seamen want their

  friends around, even those they hate on board. Try Il Pinguino. Or perhaps

  La Carrozza di Mare.

  64 ROBERT LuDLum

  The whisky's cheaper at the first, but the food makes one vomit. ies better

  at La Carrozza."

  The once hostile, now obsequious guard at the gate of the CrW6vao was more

  than cooperative; he was effusively friendly.

  "There is a caf6 on the Via Maggio where, it is said, many things pass

  hands."

  "Would the CrW&do's men be there?"

  "Some, perhaps. The Portuguese do not mix well, of course. No one trusts

  them-Not you, signorel I refer only to the garbage of the sea. The same

  everywhere. Not you, may God forgive mel"

  "The name, please?"

  "11 Tritone."

  It took less than twelve minutes to disqualify 11 Trftone. Michael walked

  through the heavy doors, beneath the crude bas-relief of a naked creature

  half man and half fish, into the raucous squalor of the waterfront bar. The

  smoke was thick, the stench of- stale whisky thicker. Men shouted between

  the tables; others lurched, and not a few had collapsed, their heads

  resting on folded arms, small pools of alcohol surrounding hands and

  nostrils and bearded cheeks.

  Havelock chose the oldest-looking man behind the bar and approached him

  first. "Are there any here from the Ctlst6vdo?"

  Portoghese?-

  "Sr

  "A few-over there, I think."

  Michael looked through the smoke and the weaving bodies to a table across

  the room. There were four men. "What about the Isola dElba?" he asked,

  turning back to the bartender.

  "Porcil" replied the man. "Pigsl They come in here, I throw them outl

  Scuml"

  "They must be something," said Havelock, scanning the Tritone's -clientele,

  his throat trembling at the thought of jenna among such men.

  "You want crew from the Elba, go to 11 Pinguino. Over there, they don't

  care."

  Michael took out a 10,000-lire note, and placed it in front of the

  bartender. "Do you speak Portuguese? Enough to be understood?"

  THE PAItSrFAL MOSAIC65

  "Down here, if one cares to make a living one must be understood in half a

  dozen tongues." The man slipped the money into his apron pocket, adding,

  "They no doubt speak Italian, probably better than you, signore. So let us

  speak in English. What do you wish me to do?"

  "Tberes an empty table back there," said Havelock, reheved, changing

  lan
guages, and gesturing with his bead toward the left rear comer of the

  caf6. 'I'm going over and sit down. You go to those men and tell them I

  want to see them-one at a time. If you think they won't understand me, come

  over with each and be my interpreter."

  Interprete?-

  "U"

  'Bene."

  One by one the four Portuguese sailors came to the table, each bewildered,

  two proficient in Italian, one in English, one needing the services of the

  interprete. To each, Michael said the same words:

  "I'm looking for a woman. ies aminormatter, nothing to be concerned about;

  call it an affair of the heart. Shes an impetuous woman; we've all known

  them, haven't we? But now she may have gone too far for her own good. I'm

  told she has a friend on the CrWvdo. She may have been around the pier,

  asking questions, looking for transport. Shes an attractive woman, average

  height, blond hair, probably wearing a raincoat and a wide-brimmed hat.

  Have you seen anyone like that? If you have, there could be a lot more

  money in your pocket than there is now."

  And with each man be gave an explanation for his summons that the sailor

  could take back to his companions, along with 5,000 lire: "Whatever you

  tell me remains between us. For my good more than yours. When you go back

  to your table, you can say the same thing Im telling everyone. I want rough

  sex with someone leaving Civitavecchia, but Im not going to take it from

  any son of a bitch who won't leave his papers down at a hotel desk.

  Released by me. Got it?'

  Only with the third man did the bartender, who insisted on being present at

  each interview, caution Havelock flrmly. "This one will leave his papers at

  a desk," he said.

  'Then be's not my type."

  oBener

  66 RoBERT LuDLum

  "Prego.

  Nothing. No such woman had been seen or heard of on the CrW6vdo pier. The

  four Portuguese crewmen resumed their drinking.

  Havelock thanked the perplexed older man beside him, and pressed another

  bill into his apron pocket. "Which way to 11 Pinguino?" he asked.

  "The Elba crew?" Thaes right.-

  "ni gowith you," said the bartender, removing his apron and the money in

  its pocket.

  Iny?"

  "You sound like a decent man. Also stupid. You walk into 11 Pinguino asking

  questions, your money's for everyone. All it takes is one sailor with a