Текст книги "Foreign Affairs"
Автор книги: Stuart Woods
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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 14 страниц)
9
The following morning they took the little electric vehicle and roamed the vertically stacked streets of Positano, doing a little light shopping for Hedy. They checked out of Le Sirenuse at one o’clock, and there was a Mercedes with a driver waiting for them. Stone got a better look at the Amalfi Coast with somebody else driving, and he enjoyed the experience, until they got onto the autostrada, when the driver spoke up.
“Mr. Barrington,” he said, “is there any reason somebody would be following you?”
“None that I’m aware of.”
“There’s a black Lancia sedan three cars back,” the man said. “It’s been behind us since we left your hotel.”
Stone looked back and saw the car; two men occupied the front seat.
“How fast are we going?”
“A hundred and thirty kilometers an hour.”
“Let’s see what happens at a hundred and sixty.”
The Mercedes accelerated. “He’s keeping pace with us,” the driver said.
“What’s going on?” Hedy asked.
“Somebody appears to be tailing us.”
“Are we in any danger?”
“I don’t think so, they’re keeping well back.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“So do I.” Stone put his head back and dozed off.
–
When he woke up they were in Rome. “Do you want to go to your apartment or come with me?” he asked Hedy.
“I spoke to the rental agent while you were asleep, and I asked the driver to drop me there. Let me get sorted out, and I’ll come to you later.”
“I’d like that—you’re good company.”
“So are you.”
The driver dropped Hedy under an arch in a narrow street and took her bags to the elevator.
“I’d like to go to Mr. duBois’s office,” Stone said. Ten minutes later, they were driving under a larger arch and into a spacious courtyard. “Can you take my luggage to the Hassler, please?”
“Of course, sir. Should I come back for you?”
“I’ll get a cab,” Stone said. “Whatever happened to the Lancia following us?”
“He kept with us all the way.”
Stone got out and went into the building, where a uniformed security guard called duBois, then he was sent to the top floor.
Marcel greeted him at the elevator. “Come in, Stone,” he said, and ushered him to a comfortable sitting room.
“This is a lot like your Paris home,” Stone said, looking around.
“When you live in several places, it’s best to keep them as much alike as possible. That way, I always know where everything is.”
Marcel served Stone an espresso, then sat down.
“What’s going on, Marcel? I was followed here from Positano by two men in a car. Were they your security people?”
“No,” Marcel said. “It appears that someone is taking a deep interest in our plans for the new hotel. Perhaps it’s related to that.”
“Marcel, have you been approached by anyone demanding a bribe?”
“A bribe for what?”
“For anything at all. I’m beginning to feel that the Italian Mafia has taken an interest in our project.”
“No one has asked me for money, except the people I’ve hired for various things. Apart from the fire, everything has been normal.”
“Marcel, it is not normal for your car to be stolen at an autostrada service area, then returned to me in Positano and set afire.”
Marcel shrugged. “I will grant you that.”
“Who is providing security for the hotel site?”
“The same security company that provides people for this building.”
“An Italian company?”
“Yes. They were recommended by a business acquaintance.”
“Perhaps it would be better if we delayed the acquisition of the hotel site until we’ve had time to look into this situation.”
“Stone, I closed on the site this morning, on schedule. You and I now own it, through the corporation.”
“Has anyone made an offer to buy the site from you?”
“No, why would anyone do that?”
“Perhaps someone is trying to frighten you and drive the price down, so they can buy it cheaply.”
“Nothing like that has happened,” Marcel said. “Everything is normal.”
“I’m afraid not,” Stone said. “Last night at dinner I found myself seated next to a man called Leo Casselli. Does that name ring a bell?”
“I met someone called Leonardo Casselli at a social function in Paris a couple of weeks ago.”
“Same fellow. In New York he was known as Leo, and he was the reputed head of a large Mafia organization. He returned to his native Italy some years ago.”
“I’ve heard nothing from or about him since our meeting,” Marcel said.
“I doubt very much if Casselli has retired. My friend Dino Bacchetti is looking into it. Casselli introduced himself to me, and as he left the table he said that maybe the burning of the car was a warning, and that perhaps I should heed it.”
“That sounds ominous,” Marcel said.
“I thought so, too.”
“What do you propose we do?” Marcel asked.
“I think we have to wait and see if Casselli approaches us, then, if he does, make a decision.”
“All right,” Marcel replied. As he spoke, a telephone beside him buzzed, and he picked it up. “Yes?” Marcel listened, then covered the phone. “Mr. Casselli is on the line,” he said.
“Don’t speak to him just yet,” Stone said.
“Please tell the gentleman that I’m in a meeting and can’t be disturbed,” Marcel said, then hung up the phone. “Now what, Stone?”
“I think we have to make some preparations before speaking to Casselli,” he said. “I think that we should start by replacing all your security people with guards from Strategic Services, Mike Freeman’s company.”
“I have a contract with the Italian company,” Marcel said.
“Then I had better read the contract.”
Marcel picked up the phone and ordered the contract brought to him.
Stone went through it. “The contract is up for renewal in three weeks,” he said. “I suggest you get Mike’s people in, then buy out the remaining time on that contract.”
“Call Mike,” Marcel said.
10
Stone called Mike Freeman in New York.
“Where are you?” Mike asked.
“In Rome. May I assume you have an office here?”
“You may.”
“I’m here with Marcel duBois,” Stone said. “I expect you remember taking over his security needs in Paris last year.”
“Of course.”
“He has something like the same situation now in Rome. We’re trying to build a new Arrington here, and I’m beginning to suspect that the local Mafia is taking an interest. You remember Leo Casselli?”
“I remember reading about him.”
“He’s back in Italy.” Stone told him about his encounter with Casselli and about the two fires.
“How quickly do you want my people there?”
“As quickly as possible, and I’d like you to be particularly careful that none of your people has any Mafia connections.”
“How many do you need?”
“The current contract with an Italian company calls for twelve.”
“I’ve got four Americans there who speak good Italian. Let’s start with them and then go to Italians who speak English.”
“Sounds good.”
“I can have at least half a dozen on-site tomorrow morning and the rest soon after. I’ll send in some people from Paris, if necessary.”
“Excellent.” Stone gave him the address. “Have your supervisor come to Marcel’s apartment on the top floor of the building, then he can start moving his people in.”
“All right. Are you staying there?”
“I’m at the Hassler, but the best way to reach me is on my cell. And we’re going to need the new hotel building site guarded, too.”
“We’ll assess that tomorrow morning and make a recommendation, and that will include a sweep of the offices for devices and a thorough examination of Marcel’s computer systems.”
“Good.”
“I’d better get started, then, we’re near the end of the business day in Rome.”
“Thanks, Mike.” Stone hung up. “Mike can make the transition tomorrow morning. His supervisor will come here and speak to you, then he’ll move his people in. It should go smoothly.”
“Wonderful,” Marcel said. “I’m much relieved.”
“We don’t want a repeat of our encounter with the Russians in Paris,” Stone said. “It’s best to draw a clear line now.”
“I agree.”
Marcel’s phone rang again, and a conversation ensued. He hung up. “That was our construction company,” he said. “They’re withdrawing from the project, and they wouldn’t give me a clear explanation of why.”
“I think we know why,” Stone said. “You should speak to the architects in New York and see who they can recommend to take over the project. Explain to them what we’re facing here.”
“Of course.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go back to the Hassler and make some calls of my own.”
“Good. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Stone took the elevator downstairs and walked through the courtyard to the street, where he found a cab almost immediately. Back at the Hassler, he called Joan.
“How is sunny Rome?”
“Sunny. I need you to order me a new briefcase from the guy who made the one I have. I’d like it identical, but an inch deeper.”
“All right. I don’t know how long that will take.”
“Let’s get him started.”
“Something happen to the old one?”
“It was damaged in a fire. I’ll explain when I see you.”
“And when will that be?”
“I don’t know yet. Probably another few days, maybe a week.”
“Having too much fun to come home?”
“I’ll tell you all when I get back.”
“Okay, I’m on the briefcase.” They hung up.
His phone rang. “Hello?”
“It’s Hedy. I’m all sorted out here. Are you ready for me?”
“Come ahead,” he said. “I’m more than ready.”
“I’ll be there in less than an hour.”
“I’ll look forward to seeing you.”
“Yes, it’s been such a long time, hasn’t it?”
They hung up, and Stone stretched out on the bed for a nap. He was nearly asleep when he was wakened by the doorbell. He had forgotten to put out the DO NOT DISTURB sign. He got out of bed and answered it.
A bellman stood at the door, holding an elongated cardboard box. “Flowers for you, Mr. Barrington,” the man said.
Stone put out the DO NOT DISTURB sign and opened the box. Who would be sending him flowers? Hardly anyone knew he was in Rome.
The box was filled with lilies, and they were wilted and dying. Stone found a card and read it.
You would be more comfortable in New York.
Stone called Mike with the latest.
“I’m going to put somebody on you,” Mike said. “This is going to escalate, and we have to be ready.”
“Whatever you think is best.”
“I’ll have somebody with you in the morning.”
11
Hedy arrived at the Hassler and let herself into the suite. Stone was back on the bed, and she lay down with him and put her head on his shoulder. “I hope this all goes away soon,” she said.
“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Stone said, “and I can’t just go back to New York and leave Marcel to handle it. We had a similar problem with the Russian Mob in Paris. Marcel is known there as the French Warren Buffett, and he was and is accustomed to a certain deference in the way people deal with him. I don’t think it’s something he’s sought, it’s just happened as his reputation has grown. I believe the experience with the Russians, though, has toughened him up. He’s already expressed a willingness to do what’s necessary to deal with the problem.”
“How can I help?” Hedy asked.
“First of all, consider your own position: these people already know about you from Positano, and your association with me could cause you difficulties. I’m happy to pay off the agent for the apartment and send you back to New York, or wherever you want to go, on the next airplane.”
“You’d be happy to see me go?”
“Don’t misunderstand—I’m conflicted. I want you with me, but I don’t want you to be less than safe and comfortable.”
“I feel both safe and comfortable with you,” she said.
“I’m glad of that, but if at any time you want to distance yourself from the situation, I’ll get you out.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Stone had a thought. “Excuse me,” he said, “I have to call Pat Frank in New York.” He moved the pillows around and sat up in bed.
“Who’s he?”
“It’s a she. She runs an aircraft management business, and I’m her client.” He dialed the number.
“Pat Frank.”
“Hi, it’s Stone.”
“You okay?”
“Yes, but I had to make an unexpected trip to Rome a couple of days ago, and I’d like you to find a ferry pilot and move my airplane over here. Is there a convenient general aviation airport here?”
“Yes, there’s Ciampino, southeast of the city, just outside Rome’s autostrada beltway. How long do you need hangar space?”
“I’m not sure: a week or ten days, maybe.”
“I have a pilot in mind: I’ll give him a call, then check on hangar space and get back to you.”
“Okay. Use the cell number. And don’t use my name on any of the paperwork.” He hung up.
“You really do have an airplane?” Hedy asked. “I thought you were kidding.”
“I really do, and I fly it myself.”
“I feel like a drink,” she said, getting up. “Can I get you one?”
“Sure.”
She came back shortly with two glasses, then Stone’s phone rang.
“Hello?”
“It’s Pat. I’ve got you a pilot, and he can leave early tomorrow morning. From Teterboro, right?”
“Right.”
“I’ll flight-plan him to the Azores, he’ll overnight there, then on to Lisbon and Rome. The airplane will be there the day after tomorrow, and the name for the hangar reservation is under Pat Frank, Inc. The FBO is Sky Services.” She gave him the address, phone number, and a contact name. “When you’re ready to fly out, call me and I’ll take care of the flight planning and a hotel in the Azores.”
“Good. Have the pilot check the fluids and top off the tanks as soon as he arrives in Rome, and you can send Joan a bill for his services, expenses, and the fuel.”
“Will do. Have a good time in Rome.”
“I’ll do my best.” He hung up and took a sip of his drink. “There, now we’ll have a quick way out of town, if we need it.”
She laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever needed a quick way out of town before.”
“That’s what happens when you hang out with disreputable characters.”
“Or just someone who leads an interesting life.”
“I warn you, sometimes it gets a little too interesting.”
“I’m on board. Shall we order in some dinner?”
“You call room service.”
“What would you like?”
“Surprise me. I feel like a shower.” He knocked off the remainder of his drink, stripped off his clothes, and stood under a stream of hot water for ten minutes.
–
Room service arrived, and Stone approved of Hedy’s choices. They were on coffee when Stone’s phone rang.
“Hello?”
“It’s Mike. I’ve made some calls in Rome, and I don’t like what I’m hearing. I want to get you out of your hotel and into an apartment. I’ve got someone making calls about that now.”
“Hang on, Mike.” He turned to Hedy. “My friend Mike Freeman, who’s handling our security, wants us out of the hotel.”
“How about my apartment?”
“Does anyone besides you and me know about it?”
“A couple of people in New York.” She gave him the address.
Stone went back to Mike. “I’ve got an apartment in the Via Stelletto, Pantheon district.”
“All right, get packed. I’ll have somebody there in half an hour to get you out. Don’t check out of the hotel—I’ll deal with that.”
“All right,” Stone said. He hung up. “Let’s get packed.”
–
Half an hour later there was a soft knock at the door.
“Who is it?” Stone asked.
“I’m from Mike Freeman.”
Stone opened the door to find a large man in a dark suit; he had a hotel trolley with him. They gave him their luggage and followed him to a service elevator, then out a service exit to a waiting van with a driver. Stone gave them the address.
“I know it,” the driver said. “It has a courtyard, which is good for us.”
“There were two men in a car out front at the hotel,” the big man said. “I think they were waiting for you. Don’t worry, we’ll lose them.”
They followed what seemed to Stone a torturous route. As they turned into the Via Stelletto, the big man got out of the van, while the driver continued into the street and turned into the courtyard. “He’s just making sure nobody’s on our tail,” the driver said. The big man rejoined them, and they got their luggage and the two of them into a tiny elevator, while the big man ran up the four flights of stairs.
He didn’t seem winded when they arrived. “Do you mind if I have a look around before you go in?” he asked.
“Help yourself,” Hedy said, unlocking the door.
He disappeared inside, then returned a couple of minutes later. “It’s good,” he said, and he took their bags inside. “Nobody can see into the place, and the terrace overlooks the courtyard, not the street. I couldn’t have picked a better place myself.”
Stone had a look around: there was a large kitchen, two bedrooms and baths, and a comfortable living room, plus a large terrace accessed through French doors. “Very nice,” he said.
“My name’s Hal,” the big man said. He handed Stone two cell phones. “One for each of you. Use them for outgoing calls. You can use your own phone for incoming ones. I’ll be in or around the courtyard downstairs tonight. A guy named Ernie will relieve me in the morning, and he’ll check in with you. My phone number is speed dial one, his is two, three will get you Mr. Freeman, in New York.” He took Stone aside and handed him a compact 9mm handgun and a spare magazine. “It’s loaded, and there’s one in the chamber,” he said.
“Thank you for your help.”
“It’s what we do. Good night.”
He left and Stone went into the bedroom, where Hedy was unpacking his things and putting them into a huge wardrobe on one side of the room. He put the gun in the bedside table drawer.
“Now,” she said, finishing her work and handing him a terrycloth robe. “You’re my guest.”
12
Stone woke to an unfamiliar sound: there was a light knocking far away, and it began to increase in volume. He got into his robe, took the gun from the bedside table drawer, and walked through the living room and the kitchen to the front door. “Who is it?” he shouted, before opening the door.
“Ernie.”
Stone unlatched the door and found a smaller version of Hal there.
“Mike Freeman sent me. I just wanted you to know I’m on the job,” he said.
Hedy appeared from behind Stone, pulling on a sweater over jeans. “I’ve got to go out for breakfast stuff,” she said.
“Walk her to the store and back, will you?” Stone asked Ernie.
“Sure thing. You gonna be okay?”
Stone nodded.
“Hey,” Ernie said, pointing to the edge of the front door. “Give me your door key.”
Hedy handed it to him. He inserted and turned it. Six bolts emerged from the door. “Look at that,” he said. “It’s like a safe: heavy steel and six bolts that go into a steel jamb. Nobody’s coming in here without a bazooka.”
“Good to know,” Stone said. He had never seen a door like that, either.
Hedy let herself out.
“Lock it from outside,” Stone said, and she did.
Stone got a shower and a shave, and by the time he was out of the bathroom, Hedy had come back and had scrambled eggs and Italian sausage ready.
“Really good,” Stone said. “You know, there’s something very familiar about your name, and I can’t place it.”
“Hedy Eva Maria Kiesler? It’s the real name of the actress from the forties, Hedy Lamarr. She’s Viennese, as was my father, and he claimed some sort of kinship, a distant cousin or something. The name is a family joke.”
“‘I am Tondelayo,’” Stone quoted. “That was her famous line from White Cargo. She was very beautiful.”
“Very smart, too. She invented some sort of torpedo that was used in World War Two. She had several patents, I think.”
“So you skipped the mechanical talent and went straight for the artistic?”
“Something like that. I can pick a lock, though, if it’s not too complicated.”
“Good—you never know when you’ll need a lock picked.”
“I want to start to work today,” she said. “Will that disturb you?”
“No more than you usually disturb me. There are a lot of books in the living room. I’ll see if I can find something in English.”
–
After breakfast, Hedy set up her easel on the terrace, and Stone found a collection of Mark Twain pieces. They were both fully occupied until noon, then they went out to look for some lunch, with Ernie a dozen paces back, watching everything like a predatory bird.
They found a workingman’s tiny café a few doors up the street and had some lasagna, then took a stroll around the neighborhood. There were a couple of dozen restaurants within a five-minute walk, and the Pantheon, the ancient pagan Roman temple that featured the world’s largest unsupported dome, a ten-minute walk away. They continued to the Piazza Navona, with its three Bernini fountains and a zillion tourists.
They were back at the apartment by three, and Stone’s phone was ringing.
“Hello?”
“It’s Mike. Everything okay?”
“Yes. Your guys got us out and to the apartment safely, and Hal approves of our security here.”
“My people made the transition at Marcel’s offices and apartment on schedule this morning. The Italian guards are out, and I’ve got more people arriving about now from our Paris office.”
“You said last night that you were hearing things. What things?”
“My people are hearing that the local Mob have taken a very big interest in Marcel and you. They apparently see the new hotel as a gold mine for them in bribes and extortion. My tech guy went through the security system and computers at Marcel’s office and found the phones bugged, and the computer network breached. All that has been taken care of, and new defenses have been installed.”
“Do you think you can get a message to Leo Casselli?”
“Probably. What do you want me to tell him?”
“Just let him know that we’re not going to play his game, that he’d be smart to leave us alone.”
“I think the disconnection of his electronic surveillance will tell him that. In the meantime, you need to be on guard for some sort of more physical approach. Beware of getting yanked into a car, and don’t either of you go out without Ernie or Hal.”
“Are we doing enough? Anything we’re missing?”
“I’ve spoken to Dino, who’s spoken to somebody in the Rome police, and I think that’s all we can do, until they make another move.”
“Okay, I’ll keep you posted on what’s going on at this end.”
“Same from here.” They hung up, and Stone went back to his Mark Twain.
–
As darkness was falling that evening, and they were contemplating dinner at a restaurant, Stone’s second phone rang.
“It’s Ernie,” he said. “Lock that fucking bank vault door of yours.” He hung up.
