back against the wall, the Browning held at his side. Around the first curve was a door, but the voices did not come from within it; they were farther up, beyond a second door, diagonally above on a third landing. Scozzi was screaming now. Scofield was close enough to hear the words clearly.
"He spoke of the Brigades, and-oh my God-of the shepherdl Of the Corsicansl He knowsl Mother of Christ, he knowsl" "Silencel He probes, he does not know. We were told he might do so; the old man called for him, and he had certain facts. More than we presumed, and that is troublesome, I grant you." "Troublesome? It's chaosi A word, a hint, a breath, and I could be ruined!
Everywherel" "You?" said the stronger voice contemptuously. "You are nothing, Guillamo! You are only what we tell you you are. Remember that.... You walked away, of course. You gave him no inkling that there was a shred of credibility to what he said." There was a pause. "I called my guard, told the American to remain where he was. He is under the gun, still by the fountain." "You what? You left him with a guard? An American? Are you mad? That is impossible. He is no such thing!" "He's American, of course he isl His English is American--completely American. He uses the name Pastor, I told you that!" Another pause, this one ominous, the tension electric.
Chapter Eighteen
"You were always the weakest link, Guillamo; we know that. But now you've caved in too far. You've left an open question where there can be nonel That man is Vasili TaleniekovI He changes languages as a chameleon alters its colors, and he will kill a guard with no more effort than stepping on a maggot. We cannot afford you, Guillamo. There can be no link at all. None whatsoever." Silence... brief, cut short by a gunshot and a guttural explosion of breath. Guillamo Scozzi was dead.
"Leave himl" commanded the unknown consigliere of the Matarese. "He'll be found in the morning, his car at the bottom of the gorge of Hadrian. Go find this 'Pastor,' this elusive TaleniekovI He won't be taken alive, don't try. Find him. Kill him.... And the girl in white. She, also. Kill them both." Scofield lunged down the narrow staircase, around the curve. The last words he heard from beyond the door above, however, were so strange, so arresting, he nearly stopped, tempted to fire at the emerging killers and go back up to face the unknown man, who spoke them.
"... Scozzil Mother of Christl Reach Turin. Tell them to cable the eagles, the cat. The burials must be absolute.
There was no time to think, he had to reach Antonia; he had to get them out of Villa d'Este. He pulled back the door and rushed out into the pounding madness. Suddenly, he was aware of the row of chairs lined up against the wall, most were empty, some draped with discarded capes and furs and stoles.
If he could eliminate one pursuer the advantage would be several fold. One man sending out an alarm would be far less effective than two. And there was something else. A trapped man convinced he was about to lose his life would more than likely reveal an identity to save it. He turned into the wall, his hands on the rim of a chair, a cavaliere with too much wine in him.
The heavy door burst open and the first of the two killers raced out, his companion close behind. T"he first man headed for the French doors and the steps to the terrace below; the second started around the edge of the dance floor toward the far archway.
Scofield leaped forward, twisting his body in a series of contortions as though he were a lone dancer gone wild with the percussive sounds of the rock music; he was not the only picture of drunkenness; there were more than a few on the crowded dance floor. He reached the second man and threw his arm over a shoulder, clamping his hand on the holster beneath the jacket, immobilizing the weapon inside it by gripping the handle through the cloth, forcing the barrel into the man's chest. The Italian struggled; it v!as useless and in seconds he knew it.
Bray surged his right hand along the edge of the man's waist and dug his fingers into the base of the rib cage, yanking back with such force that the man screamed.