The Matarese Circle - By Robert Ludlum Page 0,115

index finger to his lips, then gestured for Antonia to move to the left end of the sofa while he walked quickly to the right. She was bewildered; she had heard nothing. He motioned for her to help him lift the sofa away from the door. Smoothly, silently.

It was done.

Scofield waved her back into the comer, took out his Browning and resumed a normal conversational tone. He inched his way to the door, his face turned away from it.

"It's not too crowded in the restaurants. Let's go down to Tre Scalini for some food. God knows I could use..." He pulled the door open; there was no one in the hallway. Yet he had not been mistaken; he knew what he had heard; the years had taught him not to make mistakes about such things. And the years had also taught him when to be furious with himself over his own carelessness. Since Fiumicino he had been very careless, disregarding the probability of surveillance. Rome was a low-priority station; since the heavy traffic four years ago, CIA, Cons Op, and KGB activity had been held to a minimum. It had been more than eleven months since he had been in the city, and the scanner sheets then had shown no agents of status in operation there. If anything Rome had lessened in intelligence potential during the past year; who could be around?

Someone was and he had been spotted. Someone moments ago had been close to the door, listening, trying to confirm a sighting. The sudden break in conversation had served to wam whomever it was, but he was there, somewhere in the shadows of the squared-off hallway or on the staircase.

Godamn it. thought Bray angrily as he walked silently around the landing, had he forgotten that alerts had been sent to every station in the world by now? He was a fugitive and he had been careless. Where had he been picked up? In the Via Condotti? Crossing the Piazza?

He heard a rush of air, and even as he heard it, his instinct told him he was too late to react. He stiffened his body as he spun to his right, lunging downward to lessen the impact of the blow.

A door behind him had suddenly been yanked open and a figure that was only a blur above his back rushed out, an arm held high, but only for an instant. It came crashing down, the sickening bolt of pain spreading from the base of his skull throughout his chest, surging downward into his kneecaps where it settled, bringing on the wind of collapse and darkness.

He blinked his eyes, tears of pain filling them, disorientIng him, but somehow providing a measure of relief. How many minutes had he been lying on the hallway floor? He could not tell, yet he sensed it was not long.

He rose slowly and looked at his watch. He had been out for roughly fifteen minutes; had he not twisted the instant before impact, the elapsed time would have been closer to an hour.

Why was he there? Alone? Where was his captor? It did not make sensel He had been taken, then left by himself. What was his capture for?

He heard a muted cry, quickly cut off, and turned toward the source, bewildered. Then bewilderment left him. He was not the target; he never had been. It was she. Antonia. She was the one who had been spotted, not he.

Scofield got to his feet, braced himself against the rail. ing and peered down at the floor around him. His Browning was gone, naturally, and he had no other weapon. But he had something else. Consciousness. His assailant would not expect that-the man had known precisely where to hammer the butt of his gun; in his mind his victim would be unconscious far longer than the few minutes involved. Drawing that man out was not a significant problem.

Bray walked noiselessly to the door of the single room and put his ear to the wood. The moans were more pronounced now. Sharp cries of pain, abruptly stilled. A strong hand clasped over a mouth, fingers pressed into flesh, choking off all but throated protests. And there were words, spoken harshly in Italian.

"Whorel Pigl It was to be Marseillesl Nine hundred thousand lirel Two or three weeks at mostl We sent our people; you were not there. He was not there. No courier of drugs had ever heard of youl Liar! Whore! Where were you? What have you doneP Traitor!"

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