The Blue Ring (43 page)

She
drove the car, a Mercedes which Michael had not seen before. A small, dark man
sat in the back seat. She did not bother to introduce him. Michael realised
that there would be a gun at his back the whole way.

As soon
as they left the centre of Rome she turned to him and said, "We must
blindfold you from here. You understand, of course."

"Of
course," Michael answered.

He
heard the man move behind him and then felt the black silk scarf slip over his
eyes.

The
sliver of moon was obscured by clouds. They stopped under a clump of trees about
a kilometre from the villa. They were dressed identically: all in black, with
high, rubber-soled boots. Blackened canvas army webbing and pouches covered
their torsos. Knitted black skull-caps covered their hair; their faces had also
been blackened.

Apart
from The Owl they were all familiar and comfortable. The Owl was the only one
who had never served in a disciplined army, but he had dropped into it easily,
even cracking a rare joke as they had kitted up at the safe house. Jens had
just smeared black ointment on his cheeks, forehead and chin. The Dane had
stood back and surveyed his friend. The Owl looked the complete combat soldier
from head to toe. Grenades clipped to the webbing on his chest, a hand-gun
holstered at his hip, a submachine-gun hanging from his right shoulder, and
pouches full of spare magazines; a Trilux night-sight was slung around his
neck. Jens had nodded in satisfaction, but The Owl had said plaintively,
"Creasy won't let me take my Discman and headphones."

It had taken the Dane a few seconds to realise he had just heard a joke.

Under the trees they all squatted on their haunches. Creasy pointed to Maxie and then
in the direction of the villa. Soundlessly, Maxie slipped away into the
darkness. He had been the obvious choice to recce the villa and the grounds.
For five years he had served in the elite Selous Scouts of the Rhodesian army
and could glide past a rogue elephant at ten paces without a qualm. Creasy
lifted the flap of his watch and checked the illuminated dial. It was
ten-fifteen. They had decided to move into final position only at the last moment.

Maxie returned at ten forty-five. He slid in between Creasy and Guido and whispered,
"I counted seven guards: four static and three mobile. They're all
carrying SMGs. There could be more on the other side of the villa. The
perimeter wall is dry-stone and about eight feet high. No wire or alarms on it.
I went within two hundred metres of the villa and the chapel. No trip-wires, no
dogs. People are arriving seven of them while I was watching; three men and
four women. There are no lights on between the villa and the chapel, although I noticed unlit
external lamps between them and over both doors. There's a light from inside
the chapel showing through a high window. It's a red light, but that could be
caused by stained glass."

Creasy leaned forward and looked at Guido. He saw the Italian's white teeth as he
whispered, "I don't like not knowing what's on the other side of the villa."

"Nor me," Creasy answered. Again he looked at his watch.

"We'll split into our two teams and move forward in twenty minutes. We should be in
position before they start moving from the villa to the chapel. That will give
Maxie time to get around behind the villa and see what's there." He tapped
Maxie lightly on the shoulder. "After that come back to my position and
let me know. We then have about twenty minutes to make any necessary change of plan."

Three kilometres away Colonel Mario Satta sat in his command vehicle in a clearing about
two hundred metres off a narrow side-road. There were six other vehicles lined
up alongside: three jeeps with hard tops, another car and two black armoured
personnel carriers, each holding twelve men. His second-in-command, Captain
Brisci, sat beside him, tapping his knee impatiently.

"Why don't we move now, Colonel?" he asked. "We know that Giardini is
already home and probably having dinner with his wife."

Satta glanced at him. Hoping yet again that he was as honest as his reputation and
also as clever, he explained, "In such matters, Captain, I sometimes
deviate from the normal. Now it's possible that our friend Giardini has
compromising papers at home. If we ring the doorbell while he's having dinner,
he or his wife or his children or anyone else in the house may have time to
conceal or destroy those documents. I prefer to wait until they have all gone
to bed and are fast asleep. Then we break down the doors and before he's even
properly awake we'll be in his study."

"How will we know he's asleep?" the Captain asked.

Satta sighed. Maybe the man was not so intelligent after all. "We have people
watching the house from every direction," he explained. "They report
that the only lights on are downstairs. When the lights downstairs go off and the
lights upstairs go on we'll be informed through the radio. When the lights
upstairs go off we can assume that the family is about to go to sleep. Half an
hour later we burst in."

The
Captain was not so stupid. "What happens," he asked, "if one of
the lights upstairs stays on late into the night? Maybe one of the family is an
insomniac...reading a book or watching a porno video?"

Satta
smiled. "In that case we wait until two o'clock in the morning and then go
in anyway." He glanced at his watch and then felt in his uniform pocket
for the small black box that Creasy had given him.

It
should send out its beep within the next hour, and then Signor Giardini, his
wife and family could enjoy an undisturbed night's sleep.

She led
him by the hand. For a few steps he could feel and hear the crunch of fine
gravel beneath his shoes.

"Four
steps," she said, gripping his hand tightly.

He
found the first step and the others were easy. He felt a warmth as they passed
through an open door. He heard the door close behind him.

"You
can take it off," she said.

He
pulled off the black silk blindfold and blinked into the light. They were
standing in the hallway of what he knew was a large villa. There was a thick
carpet beneath their feet, chandeliers above and old portraits on the walls.
There was an open door ahead; sounds of voices came from it.

She
took his hand again, leading him forward and saying, "No names will be
used." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You will be surprised...shocked
to see a genuine bishop here. He'll conduct the mass."

Michael
would not be surprised or shocked. That afternoon he had studied several
photographs of Bishop Caprese. He would certainly recognise the black goatee
beard, the bushy eyebrows and the curly black hair.

As they
walked down the corridor he noticed the door on his left. That would be the
men's dressing-room. There was a staircase on his right. He knew that it would
go up to the bedroom and a further dressing-room. They entered the room ahead.
There were a dozen people there with champagne glasses in their hands. They all
turned to look at the arriving couple. There were seven men and five women.

Some of
them nodded to Gina. All of their eyes appraised Michael carefully.

An
elderly butler approached with full champagne glasses on a silver tray. They
each took one. Michael sipped and openly gave back the appraisal. He was indeed
surprised to notice that Bishop Caprese was wearing the purple gowns of his
rank. He was taller than Michael had expected. Michael looked into his eyes and
the thought crossed his mind that around midnight he would be placing a bullet
between them. He could not fail to recognise the black, slightly sweating face
of Anwar Hussein standing next to the other recognisable face of Jean Lucca
Donati.

The men
were all dressed in sober suits; the women in long dresses or long skirts and
blouses. Two of the women were in their twenties and very attractive; another
two were about ten years older and also attractive. Three of them were just
passing middle-age; one of those retained an obvious beauty, but the others
could not be helped, even with the plentiful application of make-up. Apart from
the Bishop, Hussein and Donati, Michael did not recognise any of the women or the
other two men, who were middle-aged and overweight.

He
looked around him and said to Gina, "It's a beautiful room, in what must
be a beautiful house. Are the owners present?"

She
smiled and shook her head. "They go away for the weekends on such occasions."

She
took his hand and led him over to the Bishop saying, "You just shake hands
and make pleasant conversation. Ask no direct questions. In about twenty
minutes we'll change and go to the chapel."

He
shook hands with the Bishop and again commented on the beautiful room. The
Bishop nodded and pointed to a large landscape on the wall nearby.

"Not
a Caravaggio," he said with a smile, "but very worthy all the same,
and dating back a hundred years earlier." The Bishop gave Gina a
conspiratorial look and, dropping his voice a decibel, said, "What a
pleasure to see you again, my dear. Your beauty adds so much to these rare
occasions." He gestured at Michael. "And your young companion also
adds lustre to our gathering."

Michael
felt his skin creep as he recalled the description of what would normally
happen after the mass; the orgy would be bisexual.

He
shook hands with the others. Donati's handshake was limp, but Hussein's grip
was like a vice. Canapes were served by the butler.

Michael
looked about him and decided that he might well be at any boring cocktail
party. He only focused on what was coming when Hussein loomed up beside him,
took him by the elbow, and suggested they go and change. They all moved out of
the room into the hall.

The
women turned left up the stairs. Gina gave him a reassuring look.

The men
moved down the corridor and went through the door on the right. It was a very
large room with damask walls, and furnished with brocade-covered settees. Half
a dozen long black cowled robes with tasselled belts were laid out on one of
the settees. On the floor was an assortment of black sandals. Michael looked
across the room and with relief saw the two doors described to him by Rene. He
knew that they were both bathrooms, and that he had to get into the right-hand
one.

Without
ceremony Donati and Hussein started taking off their clothes. The others
followed. Michael knew that he had to go into the bathroom after he had put on
his robe. Donati and Hussein stripped naked. Donati had a paunch, but Hussein's
black body was rock hard. Hussein picked up one of the robes and held it up to
Michael's shoulders.

"It
will make a good fit," he said with a smile. He bunched up the hem in both
hands and lifted the gown over Michael's head. It fluttered down to the floor.

"It
is a good fit," Michael said with a smile. "My tailor would
approve."

"Who
is your tailor?" Donati asked.

Michael
gave him a level look and answered, "I was told not to ask, or answer,
direct questions."

Both
Donati and Hussein nodded in approval. Michael realised that he had just passed
a test. He found a pair of sandals that looked the right size, sat down and
buckled them on.

As he
rose he said, "I must visit the bathroom...I don't suppose there's one in
the chapel." With a smile at Hussein he remarked, "I must confess to
being slightly nervous."

Hussein
smiled back and gestured towards the two doors. A catastrophe almost happened.
One of the other men who was completely naked was also heading for the doors.
Michael hurried after him and said, "Which is which?"

The man
shrugged and said, "Since we're all men either one will do."

Michael
quickened his pace and arrived at the right-hand door.

Inside
was one of the largest bathrooms he had ever seen. A huge enamelled bath stood
on four legs alongside one wall, an equally huge wash basin beside it. At the
end was a toilet and next to it a bidet. On the right was the piece of
furniture that Michael was praying he would see. A very tall white wardrobe,
inlaid with a swirling, gold-leaf pattern. He wondered how Satta's elderly
mother had reached that high. Then he saw the flimsy chair standing beside it
against the wall. He quickly pulled the chair out and stood on it.

An
ominous creak came from below his feet. He moved them to the outside of the
chair, reached up his hand and felt along the top of the wardrobe. He literally
sighed with relief when he felt the hard metal.

He
pulled down the gun and the two-inch-thick rubber bands and the small black
metal box which housed the transmitter. Within ten seconds the rubber bands
were around his waist, firmly holding the Colt 1911 and the transmitter in
place. With another sigh Michael moved to the toilet and relieved himself.

Creasy
watched through his night-glasses; they turned the figures a dim yellow, making
the procession even more obscenely evil. From their gait he could tell that the
women led the way, dark and hooded. The men followed. With their cowls up he
could not identify Michael, but suddenly he saw one of them at the back move an
arm to the waist of his gown. Two seconds later the little black box in the
canvas pouch at Creasy's waist beeped softly twice.

Guido
was lying alongside him, also watching through his night-glasses. He gently
thumped Creasy's shoulder and whispered, "That brat of yours is armed and
in communication."

Creasy
grunted and whispered back, "My mood has improved by a thousand per cent.
If we had to go in there cold, Michael would have been their first suspect. We
have no idea if any of them are armed, but if so at least Michael has a
fighting chance."

He
aimed his night-glasses at the rear corner of the villa. He was looking for
Maxie who had been checking out the other side of the building. He saw nothing.
He turned to look at Guido and, beyond him, The Owl. They both had their
glasses trained in the same direction. They were about three hundred metres
away.