The Matarese Countdown by Ludlum Robert

Author:Ludlum, Robert [Robert, Ludlum,]
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2010-06-10T04:00:00+00:00

“Many have believed that Carlo Paravacini’s obsession with his creatures would one day be his death,” said the old man.

“And so it was this day.”

“What?” interrupted Pryce.

“You haven’t heard then?” asked Togazzi.

“You didn’t turn on that lovely automobile’s radio?”

“Hell, no, I didn’t want to touch anything more than I had to.”

“All Bellagio knows, tomorrow all Italy.”

“Knows what?” insisted Leslie.

“I shall relay it as delicately as possible,” continued Don Silvio.

“The door to Carlo’s aviary had been left open and soon the guests began to notice many different birds soaring in the sky. At first it amused them until strips and pieces of human flesh began falling over the lawns and the yacht. Apparently, there was pandemonium and servants rushed into the mansion. What they found caused many to vomit, others to faint, and all to wail and shriek in horror.”

“The bodies,” said Cameron, making a quiet statement.

“What was left of them,” agreed Togazzi.

“The shredded clothing was the principal means of immediate identification. As with the seagulls over beached fish, the eyes were the first to go.”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” mumbled Montrose, turning away.

“What do we do now?” asked Pryce.

“You stay here, of course.”

“What clothes we have, and a great deal of money, are at the hotel.”

“I will take care of the Villa d’Este, the concierge is in my employ.”

“He is?”

“As well as the ambitious sous-chef, a thoroughly dislikable fellow but invaluable to me in so many ways.”

“Such as?”

“Powders in a wine, if I care to have my people interrogate an individual-or poison to a Paravacini slave who has killed once too often. Remember, I am a Scozzi.”

“You’re really something-” “I’ was a brother of the best. He’s called Beowulf Agate, and I learned so very much from him.”

“So I hear,” said Cameron.

“But back to my first question. What do we do next?”

“I have a scrambler code to Scofield, and I should be hearing from him shortly, unless he’s had too much to drink. Even so, the lovely Antonia will shake him up.”

“If he’s drunk?” yelled Pryce.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Beowulf Agate is far more perceptive, drunk or sober, than any intelligence officer who hasn’t touched liquor in twenty years.”

“I don’t believe this!”

Togazzi’s telephone rang. He picked it up from his white wicker table.

“You old scoundrel!” he cried.

“We were just talking about you.”

“What in blazes has that kid been doing?” yelled the voice from New York.

“Forgive me, Brandon, but I’m going to put you on speakerphone, so you may address us all.” Togazzi pressed a button on his white telephone.

“Pryce, are you there?” shouted Scofield over the amplified instrument.

“I’m here, Bray. What do you know?”

“State-the State Department, in case you’ve forgotten-tries to keep its rotten ears to our activities.”

“I remember all too well. So what?”

“Their man in Rome called Washington, and State called Shields, asking if we had a black operation going in northern Italy. Naturally, Squinty denied any involvement. Is that true?”

“No, it isn’t. We were at ground zero.”

“Oh, shit! How come?”

“Because we were about to be killed.

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