The Matarese Circle by Robert Ludlum

Author:Robert Ludlum
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Intelligence officers, Fiction - Espionage, Fiction, United States, Spy stories, KGB, Espionage, Adventure stories, Conspiracy, Thrillers, General, Intrigue, Thriller, Soviet Union
ISBN: 9780553258998
Publisher: Bantam Books
Published: 1983-10-01T18:05:43.822000+00:00

“Stop trying to be somebody else!” He heard the statement shouted in his own voice. It was the whisky, the goddamn whiskyl “I'm sorry, I didn't mean that,” he added quickly, putting the glass down. “I'm tired and I've had too much to drink. I didn't mean it.” “Of course you did,” said Antonia, getting up. "I think I understand now.

But you should understand also. I am not somebody else. I have had to pretend to be someone who was not me and that is the surest way to know who you are. I am myself, and you helped me-find that person again." She turned and walked rapidly into the bedroom. closing the door behind her.

“Toni, I'm sorry....” Bray stood up, furious with himself. In an outburst, he had revealed far more than he cared to. He hated the loss of control.

There was a knock on the door, the hallway door; Scofield spun around.

Instinctively he felt the holster strapped to his chest under his jacket.

He went to the side of the door and spoke.

“Si? Chi 0” “Un messaggio, Signor Pastorine. Da vostro amicoCrispi. Di Via Frascati.” Bray put his hand inside his jacket, checked the chain on the door, and opened it. In the hallway stood the waiter from Crispi's who had served their table. He held up an envelope and handed it to Scofield through the open space. Crispi had taken no risks; his own man was the messenger.

“Grazie. Un momento,” said Bray, reaching into his pocket for a lire note.

“Prego,” replied the waiter, accepting the tip.

Scofield closed the door, and tore open the envelope. Two gold-embossed tickets were attached to a note. He removed them and read CrispVs message, the handwriting as florid as the language.

Word has reached Count Scozzi from the undersigned that an American named Pastor will introduce himself at Villa d'Este. The count understands that this Pastor has extensive connections in the OPEC countries, acting frequently as a purchasing agent for oil-soaked sheiks. These are endeavors such men never discuss, so just smile and learn where the Arabian Gulf is located. The count understands too that Pastor is merely on holiday and seeks pleasant diversions. All things considered, the count may offer them.

I kiss the hand of the bella signorina.

Ciao, Crispi

Bray smiled. Crispi was right; no one who performed middleman services for the sheiks ever discussed those services. Profiles were kept excessively low because the stakes were excessively high. He would talk of other things with Count Guillamo Scozzi.

He heard the latch turn on the bedroom door. There was a moment of hesitation before Antonia opened it. When she did, Bray realized why. She stood in the doorframe in a black slip he had bought her downstairs. She had removed her brassiere, her breasts swelling against the sheer silk, her long legs outlined below in opaque darkness. She was barefoot, the bronzed skin of her calves and ankles in perfect concert with her arms and face.

Her lovely face, striking yet gentle, with the dark eyes that held his without wavering, without judgment.

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