Boy bit; the omission of the examination was the weakness Guiderone quite naturally pounced upon. The huge electronic iron gate had to be opened and stay open. If it remained shut, all the troops and all the diversions that could be mounted, would not prevent a man firing a rifle into the car. Bray hesitated. "Fair enough. Have equipment and a technician down at the gatehouse. Verification will take two or three minutes, but the gate has to remain open while it's being done." "Very well." "By the way," added Scofield, "I meant what I said to your son-" "You mean Senator Appleton, I believe." "Believe it. You'll find the X-rays intact, no light-marks of duplication. I won't get killed for that." "I'm convinced. But I find a Weakness in these arrangements." "A weakness?..." Bray felt cold.
"Yes. Eleven-thirty to twelve-fifteen is only forty-five minutes. That's not much time for us to talk. For me to talk and you to listen." Scofield breathed again. "If you're convincing, I'll know where to find you in the morning, won't IT' Guiderone laughed softly in his eerily high-pitched voice. "Of course.
So simple. You're a logical man." "I try to be. Eleven-thirty, then." Bray hung up.
He had done it! Every system had a backup system, every backup an alternative. The exchange was covered on a flanks.
It was 11: 9 when he drove through the gates of Appleton Hall and entered the drive that curved up past the carriage house to the walled estate on the crest of the bill. As he drove by the cavernous garage of the carriage house, he was surprised to see a number of limousines.
Between ten and twelve uniformed chauffeurs were talking; they were men who knew each other. They had been here before together.
The wall surrounding the enormous main house was more for effect than protection; it was barely eight feet high, designed to look far higher from below. Joshua Ap- pleton, the first, bad erected an expensive plaything. Onethird castle, one-third fortress, one-third functional estate with an incredible view of Boston. The lights of the city flickered in the distance; the rain had stopped, leaving a chilly translucent mist in the air.
Bray saw two men in the glare of his headlights; the one on the right signaled him to stop in front of a separation in the wall. He did so; the path beyond the wall was bordered by two heavy chains suspended from thick iron posts, the door at the end set in an archway. All that was missing was a portcullis, deadly spikes to come crashing down with the severing of a rope.
Bray got out of the car and was immediately sboved over the hood, every pocket, every area of his body searched for weapons. Flanked by the guards, he was escorted to the door in the archway and admitted.
At first full glance, Scofield understood why Nicholas Guiderone had to possess the Appleton estate. The staircase, the tapestries, the chandeliers... the sheer magnificence of the great hall was breathtaking. The nearest thing to it Bray could imagine was the burned-out skeleton in Porto Vecchio that once had been the Villa Matarese.
"Come this way, please," said the guard on his right, opening a door. "You have three minutes with the guests." Antonia ran across the room into his arms, her, tears moistening his cheeks, the strength of her embrace desperate. "My darling! You've come for us!" "Shhh...... He held her. Oh, God, he held her! "We baven't time," he said softly. "In a little while we're going to walk out of here.
Everything's going to be all right. We're going to be free." "He wants to talk to you," she whispered. "Quickly." "What?" Scofield opened his eyes and looked beyond Toni. Across the room Taleniekov sat rigidly in an armchair. The Russian's face was pale, so pale it was like chalk, the left side of his head taped; his ear and half his cheek had been blown away. His neck and shoulder blade were also bandaged, encased in a T-squared metal brace; he could barely move them. Bray held Antonia's hand and approached. Taleniekov was dying. "We're getting out of here," said Scofield. "We'll take you to a hospital. It'll be all jight." The Russian shook his head slowly, painfully, deliberately.
"He can't talk, darling." Toni touched Vasil?s right cheek. "He has no voice." "Jesus. What did they... ? Never mind, in forty-five minutes we're driving out of here." Again Taleniekov shook his head; The Russian was trying to tell