in amazement. It was the moment to complicate, to stun again.
-Fhe sum is conditional, of course. It's a maximum figure that presumes an immediate answer, eliminating subsequent contacts, and delivery of the package within seven days. It won't be easy. The old man is guarded day and night by sabathi-they're a collection of mad dogs who...." Scofield paused. "But then, I don't have to tell you about anything related to Hasan ibn-al-Sabbah, do I? From what I gather, the Corsican drew on him pretty extensively. At any rate, the prince suggests a programmed suicide-" "Enough!" whispered Scozzi. "Who are you, Pastor? Is the name to mean something to me? Pastor? Priest? Are you a high priest sent to test me?" The Italian's voice rose stridently. "You talk of things buried in the past. How dare you?" "I'm talking about fifty million American dollars. And don't tell me-or my client-about things buried. His father was buried with his throat slit from chin to collar bone by a maniac sent by the council. Check your rec- ords, if you keep them; you'll find it. My client wants his own back again and he's willing to pay roughly fifty times what his father's brother paid." Bray stopped for a moment and shook his head in disapproval and sudden frustration. "This is crazyl I told him for less than half the amount I could buy him a legitimate revolution, sanctioned by the United Nations. But he wants it this way. With you. And I think I know why. He said something to me; I don't know if it's part of his message but I'll deliver it anyway. He said, 'The way of the Matarese is the only way. They'll see my faith.' He wants to join you." Guillamo Scozzi recoiled; his legs were pressed against the wall of the fountain, his arms rigidly at his side. "VVhat right have you to say these things to me? You're insane, a madmanI I don7t know what you're talking about." "Really? Then we've got the wrong man. We'll find the right one; I'll find him. We were given the words; we know the response." "What words?" "Per nostro...." Scofield let his voice trail off, his eyes riveted on Scozzi's Ups in the dim light.
Involuntarily, the lips parted. The Italian was about to utter the third word, complete the phrase that had lived for seventy years in the remote hills of the Porto Vecchio.
No word came. Instead, Scozzi whispered again, shock replaced by a concern so deeply felt he could barely be heard. "My God. You cannot... you must not. Where have you conw from? What have you been told?" "Just,enough to know I've found the right man. One of them, at any rate. Do we deal?" "Do not presume, Mr. Pastorl Or whatever your name is." There was fury now in the Italian's voice.
"Pastor'R do. All right, I've got my answer. You pass. I'll tell my client." Bray turned.
"Alto!" "PerchV Che cosa?" Scofield spoke over his shoulder without moving.
"Your Italian is very quick, very fluent." "So are several other languages. It helps when you travel a lot. I travel a lot. What do you want?" "You will stay here until I say you may leave." "ReallyT' said Scofield, turning to face Scozzi again. "What's the point?
I've got my answer." "You'll do as I tell you. I have only to raise my voice and an aide will be beside you, blocking any departure you may consider." Bray tried to understand. This powerful consigliere could deny everything-he had, after all, said nothing -and have a strange American followed. Or he could call for help; or he might simply walk away himself and send armed men to find him. He could do any of these things-he was part of the Matarese; the admission was in his eyes-but he chose to do none of them.
Then Scofield thought he did understand. Guillamo Scozzi, the quick-thinking industrial pirate with the Borgia mentality, was not sure what he should do. He was caught in a dilemma that suddenly had overwhelmed him. It had all happened too fast, he was not prepared to make a decision.
So he made none.
Which meant that there was someone else-someone nearby, accessible-who could.
Someone at Villa d'Fste that night.
"Does this mean that you're reconsidering?" asked Bray.
$.It means nothingl" "Then why should I stay? I don't think you should give orders to me, I'm not one of your Praetorians. We don't deal; it's as simple as that." "It is not that simplel"