The Doomsday Conspiracy

In the communications room, ESS, the electronic switching system, had been activated. The computer screen began lighting up. AX121-B … AX122-C … AX123-C …

“What’s happening?” Keller whispered into the phone.

“The Network Operations Centre in New Jersey is searching the Washington, DC trunks, sir. Hold on.”

The screen went blank. Then the words: OVERSEAS TRUNK LINE ONE flashed onto the screen.

“The call is coming from somewhere in Europe. We’re tracing the country …”

General Hilliard was saying, “Commander Bellamy, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I have a suggestion …”

Robert replaced the receiver.

General Hilliard looked over at Keller. “Did you get it?”

Harrison Keller talked into the phone to Adams. “What happened?”

“We lost him.”

Robert moved into the second booth and picked up the telephone.

General Hilliard’s secretary said, “Commander Bellamy is calling on line two.”

The two men looked at each other. General Hilliard pressed the button for line two.

“Commander?”

“Let me make a suggestion,” Robert said.

General Hilliard put his hand over the mouthpiece. “Get the trace working again.”

Harrison Keller picked up the telephone and said to Adams, “He’s on again. Line two. Move fast.”

“Right.”

“My suggestion, General, is that you call off all your men. And I mean now.”

“I think you misunderstand the situation, Commander. We can work this problem out if …”

“I’ll tell you how we can work it out. There’s a termination order out on me. I want you to cancel it.”

In the Network Operations Centre, the computer screen was flashing a new message: AX155-C Subtrunk A21 verified. Circuit 301 to Rome. Atlantic Trunk 1.

“We’ve got it,” Adams said into the phone. “We’ve traced the trunk to Rome.”

“Get me the number and location,” Keller told him.

In Rome, Robert was glancing at his watch. “You gave me an assignment. I carried it out.”

“You did very well, Commander. Here is what I …”

The line went dead.

The General turned to Keller. “He hung up, again.”

Keller spoke into the phone. “Did you get it?”

“Too quick, sir.”

Robert moved into the next booth and picked up the telephone.

Genera:! Hilliard’s secretary’s voice came over the intercom. “Commander Bellamy is on line one, General.”

The General snapped, “Find the bastard!” He picked up the telephone. “Commander?”

“I want you to listen, General, and listen closely. You’ve murdered a lot of innocent people. If you don’t call off your men, I’m going to the media to tell them what’s going on.”

“I wouldn’t advise you to do that, unless you want to start a worldwide panic. The aliens are real, and we’re defenceless against them. They’re getting ready to make their move. You have no idea what would happen if word of this leaked out.”

“Neither have you,” Bellamy retorted. “I’m not giving you a choice. Call off the contract on me. If there’s one more attempt made on my life, I’m going public.”

“All right,” General Hilliard said. “You win. I’ll call it off. Why don’t we do this? We can …”

“Your trace should be working pretty good, now,” Robert said. “Have a good day.”

The connection was broken.

“Did you get it?” Keller barked into the phone.

Adams said, “Close, sir. He was calling from an area in Central Rome. He kept switching numbers on us.”

The General looked over at Keller. “Well?”

“I’m sorry, General. All we know is that he’s somewhere in Rome. Do you believe his threat? Are we going to call off the contract on him?”

“No. We’re going to eliminate him.”

Robert went over his options again. They were pitifully few. They would be watching the airports, railroad stations, bus terminals and car rental agencies. He could not check into a hotel because SIFAR would be circulating red notices. Yet he had to get out of Rome. He needed a cover. A companion. They would not be looking for a man and a woman together. It was a beginning.

A taxi was standing at the corner. Robert mussed his hair, pulled down his tie, and staggered drunkenly toward the taxi. “Hey, there,” he called. “You!”

The driver looked at him, distastefully.

Robert pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and slapped it into the man’s hand. “Hey, buddy, I’m lookin’ a’get laid. You know what tha’ means? D’you speak any goddamn English?”

The driver looked at the bill. “You wish a woman?”

“You got it, pal. I wish a woman.”

“Andiamo,” the driver said.

Robert lurched into the cab, and it took off. He looked back. He was not being followed. The adrenalin was pumping. Half the governments in the world are looking for you. And there would be no appeal. Their orders were to assassinate him.

Twenty minutes later they had reach Tor di Ounto, Rome’s red light district, populated by whores and pimps. They drove down Pas-seggiata Archeologica, and the driver pulled to a stop at a corner.

“You will find a woman here,” he said.

“Thanks, buddy.” Robert paid the amount on the meter, and stumbled out of the taxi. It pulled away with a squeal of tyres.