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The Doomsday Conspiracy :: Sheldon Sidney
Страница: 183 из 213“Pardon, monsieur …” Robert spoke with aperfect French accent. “I’m looking for transportation to Civitavecchia. Would you happen to be going that way?”
“No. Salerno.” He pointed to a man loading another truck nearby. “Giuseppe might be able to help you.”
“Merci.”
Robert moved over to the next truck. “Monsieur, would you be going to Civitavecchia by any chance?”
The man said, noncommittally, “I might be.”
“I would be glad to pay you for the ride.”
“How much?”
Robert handed the man a hundred thousand lire.
“You could buy yourself a plane ticket to Rome for that much money, couldn’t you?”
Robert instantly realized his mistake. He looked around nervously. “The truth is, I have some creditors watching the airport. I’d prefer to go by truck.”
The man nodded. “Ah. I understand. All right, get in. We’re ready to leave.”
Robert yawned. “I am très fatigué. How do you say? – tired. Would you mind if I slept in the back?”
“It’s going to be a bumpy ride, but suit yourself.”
“Merci.”
The back of the truck was filled with empty crates and boxes. Giuseppe watched Robert climb in, and he closed up the tailgate. Inside, Robert concealed himself behind some crates. He suddenly realized how exhausted he really was. The chase was beginning to wear him down. How long had it been since he had slept? He thought of Pier and how she had come to him in the night and had made him feel whole again, a man again. He hoped she was all right. Robert slept.
In the cab of the truck, Giuseppe was thinking about his passenger. The word was out about an American the authorities were looking for. His passenger had a French accent, but he looked like an American and he dressed like an American. It would be worth checking out. There might be a nice reward.
One hour later, at a truck stop along the highway, Giuseppe pulled up in front of a gas pump. “Fill it up,” he said. He walked around to the back of the truck and peered inside. His passenger was asleep.
Giuseppe went inside the restaurant and made a telephone call to the local police.
The call had been routed to Colonel Cesar. “Yes,” he said to Giuseppe, “that sounds very much like our man. Listen carefully. He is dangerous, so I want you to do exactly as I tell you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where are you now?”
“At the AGIP truck stop on the highway to Civitavecchia.”
“And he’s in the back of your truck now?”
“Yes.
“No. Salerno.” He pointed to a man loading another truck nearby. “Giuseppe might be able to help you.”
“Merci.”
Robert moved over to the next truck. “Monsieur, would you be going to Civitavecchia by any chance?”
The man said, noncommittally, “I might be.”
“I would be glad to pay you for the ride.”
“How much?”
Robert handed the man a hundred thousand lire.
“You could buy yourself a plane ticket to Rome for that much money, couldn’t you?”
Robert instantly realized his mistake. He looked around nervously. “The truth is, I have some creditors watching the airport. I’d prefer to go by truck.”
The man nodded. “Ah. I understand. All right, get in. We’re ready to leave.”
Robert yawned. “I am très fatigué. How do you say? – tired. Would you mind if I slept in the back?”
“It’s going to be a bumpy ride, but suit yourself.”
“Merci.”
The back of the truck was filled with empty crates and boxes. Giuseppe watched Robert climb in, and he closed up the tailgate. Inside, Robert concealed himself behind some crates. He suddenly realized how exhausted he really was. The chase was beginning to wear him down. How long had it been since he had slept? He thought of Pier and how she had come to him in the night and had made him feel whole again, a man again. He hoped she was all right. Robert slept.
In the cab of the truck, Giuseppe was thinking about his passenger. The word was out about an American the authorities were looking for. His passenger had a French accent, but he looked like an American and he dressed like an American. It would be worth checking out. There might be a nice reward.
One hour later, at a truck stop along the highway, Giuseppe pulled up in front of a gas pump. “Fill it up,” he said. He walked around to the back of the truck and peered inside. His passenger was asleep.
Giuseppe went inside the restaurant and made a telephone call to the local police.
The call had been routed to Colonel Cesar. “Yes,” he said to Giuseppe, “that sounds very much like our man. Listen carefully. He is dangerous, so I want you to do exactly as I tell you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where are you now?”
“At the AGIP truck stop on the highway to Civitavecchia.”
“And he’s in the back of your truck now?”
“Yes.