as so many think I am. Usually I simply try to implement decisions made before I got there." "But in those decisions," said the count, "there is knowledge, is there not?" "I hope so. Otherwise an awful lot of money's being thrown away." "Blown away with the desert winds, as it were," clarifled Scozzi. "Why do I think we actually have met before. Mister Pastor?" The sudden question had been considered by Scofield; it was always a possibility and he was prepared for it. "If we had I think I'd remember, but it might have been the American Embassy. Those parties were never as grand as this, but just as crowded." "Then you are a fixture on Embassy Row?" "Hardly a fixture, but sometimes a last-minute guest." Bray smiled self-deprecatingly. "It seems there are times when my countrymen are as interested in asking me questions as your friends here in Tivoli." Scozzi chuckled. "Information is often the road to heroic national stature, Mister Pastor. You are a reluctant hero." "Not really. I have to make a living, that's all." "I would not care to negotiate with you," said Scozzi. "I detect the mind of an experienced bargainer." "That's too bad," replied Scofield, altering the tone of his voice just enough to signal the Italian's inner antenna. "I thought we might talk for a bit." "Oh?" The count glanced at Antonia. "But we bore the bella signorina." "Not at all," said Toni. "I've learned more about my friend during the last several minutes than for the past week. But I am famished---' "Say no more," interrupted Scozzi, as if her hunger were a matter of corporate survival. He raised his hand. In seconds a young, dark-haired man dressed in tafls appeared beside him. "My aide will see to your needs, si- gnorina. His name is Paolo and, incidentally, he is a charming dancer. I believe my wife taught him." Paolo bowed, avoiding the count's eyes, and offered his arm to Antonia. She accepted it, stepping forward, her face turned to Scozzi and Bray.
"Ciao," she said, her eyes wishing Scofield good hunting.
"You are to be envied, Mister Pastor," remarked Count Guillarno Scozzi, watching the receding figure in white. "She is adorable. You bought her in ComoT' Bray glanced at the Italian. Scozzi meant exactly what he said. "To be honest with you, I'm not even sure she's ever been there," he answered, knowing the double lie was mandatory; the count could make inquiries too easily.
"Actually, a friend in Ar-Riy.%d gave me a number to call at the lake. She joined me in Nice. From where I've never asked." "Would you consider, however, asking her about her calendar?-'TeU her for me the sooner the better. She may reach me through the Paravacini offices in Torino." "Turin?" "Yes, our plants in the north. Agnelli's Fiat gets far more attention, but I can assure you, Scozzi-Paravacini runs Turin-as well as a great deal of Europe." "I never realized that." "You didn't? I thought it was perhaps the basis for your wishing to...talk for a bit,' I believe you said." Scofield drank the last of his champagne, speaking as he took the glass from his lips. "Do you think we might go outside for a minute or two? I have a confidential message for you from a client on-let's say, the Arabian Gulf. It's why I'm here tonight." Scozzi's eyes clouded. "A message for me? Naturally, as most of Rome and Torino, I've met casually with a number of gentlemen from the area, but none I can recall by name. But, of course, we'll take a stroll. You intrigue me." The count started forward, but Bray stopped him with a gesture.
"I'd rather we weren't seen going out together. Tell me where you'll be and I'll show up in twenty minutes." "How extraordinary. Very well." The Italian paused. "Ippolito's Fountain.
Do you know itr "I'll find it." "It's quite a distance. There shouldn't be anyone around." 'Mat's fine. Twenty minutes." Scofield nodded. Both turned and walked away in opposite directions through the crowd.
There were no floodlights at the fountain or sounds of disturbance as a man crawled around the rocks and walked silently through the foliage. Bray was taking no chances that Scozzi had stationed aides in the vicinity. If he had, Scofield would have sent a message to the Italian, naming a second, immediate rendezvous.
They were alone--or would be in a matter of minutes. The count was strolling down the path toward the foun- tain. Bray doubled