Robert Ludlum - Road To Gandolfo.txt
Page 40
"Good! Let's move then. Troops!
Evacuate the area! Prepare to execute
escape procedures! By your numbers!
Move!"
As if on cue, the sounds of the
revving helicopter could be heard from
the camouflaged area fifty yards away
from the center of Ground Zero.
And then there was another sound.
From the road at the top of the Appian
hill: A car screeching to a halt.
"Stop!" came a plaintive wail from
the woods. "For Christ's sake, stop!"
"What2"
"Mon Dieu!"
273
"she rosa?!"
"I say!"
"Tokig!"
"Bakasi!"
"Shit!"
Sam stumbled down the old dirt road on
the hill. He came racing around the last
curve and fell to one knee.
Giovanni Bombalini watched in
astonishment; automatically he gave the
kneeling figure his rather confused
benediction, ' Dens et f glib"
"Will you shut up!" MacKenzie glared at
Francesco. "Goddamn, Sam! What the hell
are you doing here? You're supposed to be
sick as a dog "
"Listen to me, everybody!" broke in Sam.
"Everyone gather aroundI" He struggled to
his feet; the captains stood where they
were, their faces betraying a certain
insensitivity. "Escape! Run for your
lives! Leave this man alone.! It's a trap!
Machenfeld has fallen! It happened last
night! Hundreds of Interpol police are
swarming..." Sam's jaw was suddenly a
gaping orifice as he stared at the Hawk.
"What did you says"
"You're a real pistol, son. I respect
your moxie, like I said before. But I
can't say you have much respect for my
know-how." MacKenzie snapped one of the
straps that crisscrossed his chest over
his field jacket. It was attached to a
large leather case that was lashed over
his hip. "No assault operation ever stays
out of contact with its command center.
Not since 1971, anyway. Hell, I used to
patch relays from Ly Sol in Cambodia right
straght down to the Mekong units."
"What2"
"Tri-arced, high-frequency radio contact,
boy. Set a schedule and receive-send
simultaneously. You're dated, Sam! As of
an hour ago the only thing swarming around
Machenfeld were butterflies. I don't know
how you did it, but you're mighty lucky
you got here alone.... Come to think of
it, you'd he a damned fool to get here any
other way. All right, men! Resume Phase
Eight! Come on, Sam. You re going for a
ride. And I tell you this now, boy. Any
more trouble and I'm going to open a door
at two thousand feet and you can fly by
yourself"
274 -'
"Mac, you can't! Think of World War
Threel"
"Think of a nice free-fall without a
parachute straight into a plate of
spaghetti!"
And then there was another sound. A
frightening one. From the top of the
hill. From the road again.
The captains and the Turks froze.
The Hawk whipped his head around and
up toward the Via Appia.
The pontiff said one word.
"Carabinieri."
The whining, jarring, two-note
scream of the Italian state police
sirens could be heard in the distance.
Drawing nearer.
"Goddamn! How?! What the hell
happened? Sam, you didn't!"
'My God, no! I didn't! I wouldn't!"
"I think there is a miscalculation,
signore," said Pope Francesco softly.
'What? What mother what
miscalculation?"
"The motorcade was to stop at the
small village well, not so much a
village of Tuscabondo. It is a mile or
so past the deviazone, your detour."
"Jesus!"
"He can be merciful, Signore
Generale."
"Those bastards will be swarming the
hills, the fields. Goddamn!"
"And the air, Generale," said
Captain Orange excitedly, breaking out
in a sweat under his mask. 'The
carabinieri have fleets of elicotteri.
They are the pozzi of the skyl"
"Jesus H. Christ!" -.
"Figlio di Santa Maria Figlio di
Dio He is the way, Generale."
"I told you to shut up. Men! Check
your maps! Quickly! Gris and Bleu,
evaluate escape routes E-Eight and E-
Twelve. Our previous routes were
faster but more exposed. Deliver your
decision in one minute! Orange and
Vert. Give me Frescobaldi! Join the
others! Sam, you stay here!"
The screams of the sirens were
nearer, almost at the intercept point
of the Appia. Frescobaldi, weaving in
MacKenzie's grip, sang louder.
Is
"Signora." Giovanni Bombalini took a step
toward MacKenzie. "You speak of the word
of a general. You have great sincerity
when you say it."
"What? Yes, of course. You're not much
different, I suspect. Command's a big
responsibility."
"Indeed it is. And truth is
responsibility's right arm." The pope
looked once more at the unconscious
figures of his motorcade, each body
comfortably stretched out, none harmed.
"And compassion, naturally."
The Hawk was barely listening. He was
holding Frescobaldi, keeping an alert eye
on a stunned Sam Devereaux, and watching
Captains Gris and Bleu make their final
evaluations over the maps. "What are you
talking about?
'You say you have no wish to inflict harm
on my person.
"Of course not. Wouldn't get much ransom
for a corpse. Well, maybe with your people
"
"And Frescobaldi is as strong as an ox,"
said the pope, as much to himself as to
MacKenzie, while studying the
half-conscious Guido. "He always was.
Signore Generale if I said I would go with
you without interference, perhaps even in
the spirit of cooperation, would you grant
me a small request? As one commander to
another?"
The Hawk squinted at the pontiff.
"What is it?"
"A brief note, only several words in
English to be left with my aide. I would
want you to read it, of course."
MacKenzie took out a combat pad from his
field jacket, ripped off a page, unclipped
the waterproof pencil and handed both to
Francesco. "You've got fifteen seconds."
The pope put the paper against the
limousine and wrote swiBly. He gave the
page back to the Hawk.
I am safe. With GodEs blessing I shall
reach you as
the chess-playing O'Gilligan reaches me.
Honkes' .
"If it's a code, it's pretty piss-poor.
Go ahead, pu
t it in the colored fella's
pocket. I like that part that says you're
safe." ~-
276
Giovanni ran to the figure of his papal
aide, stuffed the note under his cassock
and returned to the Hawk. "Now, Signore
Generale, you waste time."
'What?"
"Put Frescobaldi in the limousine!
Hurry! Inside is a briefcase. With my
pills. Get it, please."
"What?"
"You would last five minutes in the
Curia! Where is the elicottero'?"
"The copter?"
"Yes."
"Over there. In a clearing."
Captain Gris and Bleu had completed
their swift conference. Gris called out.
' We have briefed the men General. We
go! We meet at Zaragolo!"
"Zaragolo!" said the pontiff. "The
airport at Monti Prenestini?"
"Yes," answered the Hawk, staring with
sudden concentration on Pope Francesco.
"What about it?"
"Tell them to stay north of Rocco
Priora! There are battalions of police
in Rocca Priora."
"That's east of Frascati "
Yes!"
"You heard him, Captains! Outflank
Rocco Priora! Now, scramble!" roared the
Hawk.
No!" screamed Sam, backing away on the
road, looking up at the hill.
Everybody's crazy! You're out of your
minds! I'm going to stop you. All of
you!"
Young man!" Giovanni stood erect and
addressed Sam pontifically. 'Will you
please be quiet and do as the general
says?!"
Noir emerged from the clearing. "The
bird's ready, General! We've got a clean
lift-off area."
'We've also got an extra passenger. Get
the counselor, Captain. You might show
him a needle, if you can manage
"With real pleasure," said Noir.
One dosage, Captain!"
-"Shit!"
And so Giovanni Bombalini, the Holy
Father of the Catholic Church, and
MacKenzie Hawkins, two-time win277
nerof the Congressional Medal of Honor,
put Guido Frescobaldi into the papal
limousine and ran like hell through the
Appian forest to the helicopter.
It was difficult for Francesco. The
pontiff swore mildly at Sebastian, the
patron saint of athletes, and finally.in
desperation pulled up the skirts of his
habit, displaying rather thick peasant
legs, and damn near beat MacKenzie to
the aircraft.
The Lear jet soared above Zaragolo's
cloud cover, Captain Noir at the
controls, Captain Rouge in the
co-pilot's seat. The Hawk and the pope
sat in the forward section, across from
one another, each by a window.
Bewildered, MacKenzie glanced over at
Francesco. He knew from long years of
experience that when command was
stymied, the best thing to do was to do
nothing, unless the combat at hand
required immediate counterstrike.
Such was not the case now. The problem
was that Francesco did- not behave like
any enemy the Hawk had ever fought.
Goddamnt
There he sat, his heavy robes
unbuttoned down to his undershirt, his
shoes off, and his hands folded casually
across his wide girth, looking out the
Lear's window like some kind of happy
delicatessen proprietor on his first
airplane ride. It was amazing. And
confusing.
Goddamnt
Why?
MacKenzie realized that there was no
point in wearing his stocking mask any
longer. The others had to, for their own
protection, but for him it made no
difference.
He removed it with a grateful sigh.
Francesco looked over at him, not
unpleasantly. The pope nodded his head,
as if to say, Nice to meet you face to
face.
Goddamn!
MacKenzie reached into his pocket for
a cigar. He lifted one out, bit off the
end, and pulled out a book of matches.
"Per fawre?" Francesco was leaning
toward him.
"What?"
"A cigar, Signore Generale. For me. Do
you mind?"
278
. .
.
"Oh, no, not at all. Here you are."
Hawkins extracted a second cigar from
the pack and handed it to the pontiff.
And then, as an afterthought, reached
into his other pocket for the clipper.
But it was too late.
Francesco had bitten off the end,
spat it out somehow without
offense taken the matches from Mac's
hand, and struck one.
Pope Fraucesco, the Vicar of Christ,
lighted up. And as the circles of
aromatic smoke rose above his head,
the pontiff sat back in the seat,
crossed his legs under his habit, and
enjoyed the scenery below.
"Craze," Francesco said.
"Prego," replied MacKenzie.
279
1
PART
I' ~
The ultimate success of any
corporation is dependent
upon its major product~or
service. It is imperative
that the projected consumer
be convinced through
aggressive public reIations
techniques that the
product, or service, is
essential to his very
existence, if possible.
Shepherd's Laws of Economics:
Book CCCXXI, Chapter 173
CHAPTER I1VENTY-I?OUR
Sam sat in the
cushioned, wrought
iron chair at the
northwest corner of
the Machenfeld
gardens. Anne had
picked the spot after
careful deliberation;
it was the area of the
gardens that provided
the best view of the
Matterhorn whose peak
could be seen in the
distance.
It had been three
weeks now since the
awful thing:
Ground Zero.
The captains and the
Turks had departed tor
unknown parts of the
world, never to be
heard from again. The
staff had been reduced
to one cook, who
helped Anne and Sam
with the housecleaning
and the gardens.
MacKenzie was not very
good at either chore,
but he did take turns
driving into the
village for the
newspapers. Too, he
checked daily with the
high-priced doctor he
had flown in from New
York, just in case.
The doctor, a
specialist in internal
medicine, had no idea
why he was being paid
such extraordinary
sums of money to do
absolutely nothing but
live lavishly in a<
br />
lakeside residence,
and so in the spirit
of the AMA he accepted
the unreported cash
and did not complain.
Francesco (Sam could
not bring himself to
say pope) had settled
comfortably into the
sealed-off top-floor
apartments and could
be seen daily walking
on the ramparts
through his rooftop
gardens.
MacKenzie had really
done it! He had won
the biggest military
ol>jective of his
career.
And he was currently,
through a convoluted
series of
extraordinarily
complex, untraceable
conduits, making his
ransom demands of the
Vatican.
Ultrahigh-frerluency
radio codes arcing
from the Alps to
Beirut to Algiers;
relayed by 283
desert and ocean towers from
Marseilles, to Paris, to Milan, and on
to Rome.
According to the schedules he had
imposed, the Vatican reply was to be
radioed out of Rome and relayed from
Beirut by 5 P.M.
MacKenzie had left Machenfeld to
drive to the isolated transmission
center a lone cabin high in the upper