The Doomsday Conspiracy
“Why should we?” one of them asked defiantly.
“You’ll find out.”
One hour later the prostitutes of Rome found themselves under siege. Patrol wagons swept the city, picking up all the women working the streets, and their pimps. There were screaming protests.
“You can’t do this … I pay police protection.”
“This has been my beat for five years …”
“I’ve been giving it to you and your friends for free. Where’s your gratitude …?”
“What do I pay you protection for …?”
By the following day, the streets were virtually empty of prostitutes, and the jails were full.
Cesar and Colonel Johnson were sitting in Captain Bellini’s office. “It’s going to be difficult to keep them in jail,” Captain Bellini warned. “I might also add that this is very bad for tourism.”
“Don’t worry,” Colonel Johnson said, “someone will talk. Just keep the pressure on.”
Their break came late in the afternoon. Captain Bellini’s secretary said, “There’s a Mr Lorenzo to see you.”
“Send him in.”
Mr Lorenzo was dressed in a very expensive suit, and wore diamond rings on three fingers. Mr Lorenzo was a pimp.
“What can I do for you?” Bellini asked.
Lorenzo smiled. “It’s what I can do for you gentlemen. Some of my associates inform me that you are looking for a particular working girl who left town with an American, and since we are always eager to cooperate with the authorities, I thought I would give you her name.”
Colonel Johnson said, “Who is she?”
Lorenzo ignored the question. “Naturally, I’m sure you would want to express your appreciation by releasing my associates and their friends.”
Colonel Cesar said, “We are not interested in any of your whores. All we want is the name of the girl.”
“That is very gratifying news, sir. It’s always a pleasure to deal with reasonable men. I know that …”
“Her name, Lorenzo.”
“Yes, of course. Her name is Pier. Pier Valli. The American spent the night with her at the L’Incrocio Hotel, and the next morning they took off. She is not one of my girls. If I may say so …”
Bellini was already on the telephone. “Bring up the records on a Pier Valli. Subito!”
“I hope you gentlemen are going to show your gratitude by …”
Bellini looked up, and then said into the phone, “And cancel Operation Puttana.”
Lorenzo beamed. “Grazie.”
Pier Valli’s records were on Bellini’s desk five minutes later. “She started streetwalking when she was fifteen. She has been arrested a dozen times since then. She …”
“Where does she come from?” Colonel Johnson interrupted.
“Naples.” The two men looked at each other. “She has a mother and brother living there.”
“Can you find out where?”
“I can check it out.”
“Do that. Now.”
Chapter Forty-One
They were approaching the suburbs of Naples. Old apartment houses lined the narrow streets, with laundry hanging out of almost every window, making the buildings look like concrete mountains flying colourful flags.
Pier asked, “Have you ever been to Naples?”
“Once.” Robert’s voice was tight. Susan was sitting beside him, giggling. I heard Naples is a wicked city. Can we do a lot of wicked things here, darling?
We’re going to invent some new things, Robert promised.
Pier was watching him. “Are you all right?”
Robert brought his mind back to the present. “I’m fine.”
They were driving along the bay of the Castel Dell’ Ovo, the old abandoned castle near the water.
When they arrived at Via Toledo, Pier said, excitedly, “Turn here.”
They were approaching Spaccanapoli, the old section of Naples.
Pier said, “It’s just up ahead. Turn left onto Via Benedetto Croce.”
Robert made the turn. The traffic here was heavier, and the noise of horns deafening. He had forgotten how noisy Naples could be. He slowed the car down to avoid hitting the pedestrians and dogs that ran in front of the car as though they were blessed with some kind of immortality.
“Turn right here,” Pier directed, “into Piazza del Plebiscite.” The traffic was even worse here, and the neighbourhood more run down.
“Stop!” Pier cried out.
Robert pulled over to the kerb. They had stopped in front of a row of seedy shops.
Robert glanced around. “This is where your mother lives?”
“No,” Pier said. “Of course not.” She leaned over and pressed the horn. A moment later, a young woman came out of one of the shops. Pier got out of the car and raced to greet her. They hugged each other.
“You look wonderful!” the woman exclaimed. “You must be doing very well.”
“I am.” Pier held out her wrist. “Look at my new bracelet!”
“Are those real emeralds?”
“Of course they are real.”
The woman yelled at someone inside the store, “Anna! Come on out. Look who is here!”
Robert was watching the scene, unbelievingly. “Pier …”
“In a minute, darling,” she said. “I have to say hello to my friends.”
Within minutes, half a dozen women were clustered around Pier, admiring her bracelet, while Robert sat there helplessly, gritting his teeth.
“He is crazy about me,” Pier announced. She turned to Robert, “Aren’t you, caro!”