Cell (18 page)

'I won't.'

Paula was ladling large scoops of polenta, feeling better
as it seeped into her system. In a few minutes she had cleaned her plate, then accepted a second helping. Also
the very strong coffee helped. By the end of the meal she
felt she was ready for anything.

Beaurain asked the waiter to order a taxi. When asked for
their destination he simply replied, 'The Pirelli building.'

'When do you expect us to reach Verona?' Paula asked
in a quiet voice.

'By late afternoon. I want to see the meeting place
before dark. The express stops at two places before Verona.
First Brescia, then a small port on Lake Garda called
Descenzano.'

'You expect trouble?'

'I expect trouble all the time we are in Italy.'

'In Verona too?'

'Especially in Verona. I sense our enemy controls a vast
organization. I'm beginning to think you are right. Our enemy may well be al-Qa'eda.'

15

The Venezia express emerged from under the giant canopy of Centrale into blazing sunlight. Looking out of the
window, Paula saw they were passing a zone of high-rise
apartment blocks. Washing strung on lines fluttered on the
balconies in a mild breeze. The usual boring exit from a national capital.

'I'm glad to get out of Milan,' she said to Beaurain, who
sat beside her. 'It's all enormous stone blocks hemming in
the streets - like a vast prison.'

'There are better areas. The
gallerias
as they call them.
Full of very expensive shops and expensive ladies parading
through them. We missed that area. Well, at least the train
is picking up speed.'

'It goes all the way through to Venice?'

'All the way.'

Their first-class coach was almost empty and soon
they were racing through beautiful countryside. Cultivated
fields, flat as a billiard table, stretched away forever. Already
green shoots were projecting above the water-filled fields.
Paula pressed her face to the window, watching women
with bare legs tending the crop.

'Rice fields,' Beaurain told her. 'Those women really do
work. But we're in the Po Valley, the bread basket - and
wine basket — of Italy. The water conies from the river Po.'

A big male passenger in a business suit walked in as the
train swung round a bend. He lost his balance, crouched
down, bumped into Beaurain as he stood up. He lifted his
dark wide-brimmed hat.

'Most apologies. So sorry.'

He walked on, gripping the tops of seats, then sat down
several rows ahead of them. Beaurain glanced over the side
of his seat. He nudged Paula, cleared his throat, his index
finger on his lips when she looked at him. He cleared his
throat again.

'We'll get off at Brescia,' he said.

She frowned, wondering what was going on, but kept
quiet. He reached down to the side of his seat, got hold
of something and jerked it loose, putting it into his pocket.
Then he left his seat, strolled slowly up the aisle, stopped by the side of the seated passenger with the wide-brimmed hat.
As the express thundered round another bend he seemed
to lose his balance. His elbow hammered a hard blow into
the jaw of the seated passenger. Such a hard blow the man
drooped forward, unconscious.

He strolled back to Paula and sat down beside her. She gazed at him.

'What do you think you're doing?'

He took something from his pocket. When he opened
the palm of his hand she saw a small round black device.
The top was silver. She shook her head, baffled.

'When he lurched into me and crouched,' Beaurain
explained, 'he attached this to the side of my seat. Listening
device, with a magnetic base to hold it to the side of my seat.
I noticed he had a concealed - almost - wire disappearing
into his ear.'

'We can't get away from them,' she commented nerv
ously.

'But now he thinks we're getting off at Brescia. He'll
recover long before we get there. When we're coming into
Brescia we'll get up, carry our bags, and wait in the exit
space. He'll come and join us.'

'What do we do then?'

'It's what I'll do,' Beaurain said with a grim smile.

She looked out of the window. A misty glow was rising
from the fields, creating a beautiful luminous glow of
rainbow colours. She had never seen anything so hypnotic.
This was the real Italy, a place she resolved to visit one day.
It settled her nerves as she went on gazing. She would remember this luminous glow all her life.

The man Beaurain had hit with his elbow eventually
recovered. Paula thought it significant that when he sat up
straight he never once looked back.

As they approached Brescia the view from her window
changed. In the distance hills were looming up above the
mist. When Beaurain nudged her she picked up her case,
followed him to the exit compartment. As they stood close
to the automatic doors, which were closed, Wide Brimmed
Hat appeared. She caught a glimpse of the right side of his
jaw. It was swollen. He had taken a brutal punch. The train
slowed, slid into the station, stopped. The doors opened. Steep steps led down to the platform.

Beaurain smiled, waved a hand, gesturing for Wide Brim
to go first. The Italian waved his own hand, encouraging
them to leave first. Still smiling, Beaurain repeated the
same gesture. Wide Brim again waved his hand. Paula thought it was almost comic, then she noticed the useless wire disappearing into the Italian's right ear. Someone on
the platform blew a whistle. The doors were about to close.
Beaurain put a hand behind the Italian's back, pushed him forward. He tried to get his feet on the steps, failed, fell forward and sprawled on to the platform, face down. The doors closed, the express began moving.

'That can't have done him much good,' Paula remarked as they returned to their seats.

'I wasn't too concerned with his health.'

'You went to the toilet quite some time ago. To get rid
of that listening device?'

'Smart lady. Yes. I lifted the lid, placed the device on the
seat, crushed it with my foot, shoved the bits into the bowl and flushed the toilet. There will be someone else aboard.
No matter.'

An attendant appeared, pushing a trolley. Paula chose a large ham roll, a cardboard cup of coffee. She munched it
quickly. Beaurain stared at her.

'Hungry again? After all that polenta?'

'Got to keep up my strength. I don't think Verona will
be very peaceful.'

'I'm sure it won't be . . .'

She looked out of the window. The hills seemed higher,
closer. Soon they would be mountains. Beaurain leaned across her, pointed.

'They're much too far away for you to see them, but
beyond those hills are the Dolomites. I have skied on them.
I read in the paper, after leaving our hotel, that there is heavy
snow. It will be cold in Verona.'

The express slowed, stopped suddenly in the middle
of nowhere. Time passed. They were still not moving. Beaurain glanced at his watch, tut-tutted. Paula suddenly
felt sleepy. She closed her eyes and fell asleep. She was
woken when the express started moving again. Outside the sunlight was fading.

'Sorry,' she said, 'I had a short nap.'

'You have had a long nap. A whole hour. That means it
will be dark when we arrive in Verona. We shall have to be
very careful.'

'We'll be late for meeting Petacci in the amphitheatre?'

'No. But I wanted to check out the place in daylight. It
can't be helped.'

'But it will be more dangerous.' She prodded him. 'I'm a big girl now. Won't it?'

'Yes, it will be much more dangerous.'

16

Late the previous evening in London Tweed had been
checking his speed-up on the investigation. Monica was
helping him as he read out the list. She was making sure he had missed no one.

'Pete Nield is watching the Ministry. Target, Victor
Warner. Harry is with him. Target, Peregrine Palfry. When
either leave the building. No news yet?'

'Both will call in a coded message when something
happens,' she reminded him.

'Marler is out there somewhere, tracking Eva Brand. Again, nothing from him yet?'

'Not a dickey bird . . .'

'Newman is chasing after Martin Hogarth, the sober brother from Carpford Bob saw approach this building, then walk away . . .'

'Again zilch . . .' She picked up the phone, listened,
looked at Tweed. 'There's a surprise visitor from Carp-
ford. An Agatha Gobble. Runs a shop in Carpford?
Right?'

'Right. The last person on earth I expected. Must have
driven all the way here. I left her my card when I saw her
in that peculiar village. Get her up here . . .'

Mrs Gobble was wearing a fur coat which had seen
better days. She still had the blue beads round her neck.
She plumped her substantial figure into an armchair when Tweed welcomed her, introduced Monica. When she took
off her gloves he saw her hands were shaking. She accepted
Monica's offer of tea.

'Very late for you to drive here,' Tweed said, smiling.

'Thought it safer to come after dark. Maybe nobody would see me then. Funny goin's on up at the village.'

'Relax. Take your time. Tell me what has disturbed
you.'

'Frightened the hell out of me more likely. A lot goin' on
up at the village and none of it good if you asks me. You
were the only person I felt would listen. Two motor-cyclists
have started making night calls on someone. Don't know
who. They comes separately. One just after dark, t'other
late on. They drives slowly round Carp Lake, keep stoppin'
so I don't know who they delivers to. Saw one
-
funny foreigner.'

'How did you come to see him, Mrs Gobble?' Tweed
asked very quietly.

She thanked Monica for the tea. Tweed waited while she
drank the contents. Large swallow. Pause. Large swallow.
Her round fleshy face was redder now, more normal.

'Gives me the shock of me life,' Mrs Gobble continued.
'I went out to empty the rubbish and 'e comes round corner
of lake on 'is bloody bike too fast. Keels over, sprawls on the
ground, loses 'is helmet. Light from me 'ouse streamin' out
and I sees 'im. Big black beard and fierce eyes. Gazes at
me, then rams 'is helmet back on before 'e gets up, lifts 'is
machine, gets back in 'is saddle and drives off towards Drew
Franklin's place. I scuttled inside, closed the door, chained
and locked it. Didn't sleep that night. 'Orrible face.'