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.What ever happened to the poor grafter?""He got in trouble in jail.A knife fight.He is dead."Don Pasquale still had the memory of a computer.All the threads of aworld-wide network of crime led back to him, and he controlled it because heknew the exact length and strength of every single one.More than ten yearshad passed since that incident in Rome, but he had not forgotten any of thedetails."What has the Saint done now, Alessandro?""He is trying to make trouble for me," Destamio said."He has followed me,spied on me, gone to my family and questioned them, threatened to blackmailme.I have to find out what he knows, and who else knows it, and then get ridof him.""That may be; but why bring him here?""I thought it was the safest place, and besides I did not want to be awaymyself at this time ""What information could the Saint have that he could possibly blackmailAlessandro with?"It was a new voice that broke in, and Destamio started visibly at the sound ofit.It came from the man with the majestic proboscis whom Simon had alreadyintuitively assessed as the most dynamic of the council."Nothing, Cirano, nothing at all," Destamio replied, his voice sounding atrifle hoarser than usual."But I want to know why he thinks he can give metrouble, who he is working with, so that I can take care of everything."The man called Cirano probably a nickname rather than a fortunate choice byhis parents turned his fascinating beak towards Destamio and actuallysniffed, as if all his powers of perception were brought to focus in thatincredible olfactory organ."If he cannot be dangerous, what are you afraid of, Alessandro?" he persistedmercilessly."What is there to take care of?""Basta!" Don Pasquale interrupted Destamio's retort before it even came tovoice."You can wait to fight with each other after I am dead.Until then, Imake the decisions."His lips barely moved when he talked, and there was no sign of animation oremotion on the pallid face.Only the eyes were indomitably alive, and theyfastened on the Saint again with a concentration which could almost bephysically felt."I have long wanted to see you, Simon Templar," he said, still in the clearcorrect Italian which seemed to be used as a neutral language to bridge thedifferences of dialect that must have existed between some of those present,and which can make a Sicilian just as unintelligible to a Calabrian as to anyforeigner."Nobody who defies the Mafia lives so long afterwards as you have.You should have been eliminated before you left Rome, after you crossedPage 55ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlUnciello.Yet here you are crossing us again.I should be telling Alessandroto waste no more time in putting you out of the way.But in the meantime Ihave heard and learned much more about you.I am not sure that you mustinevitably be our enemy.With our power behind you, you could have become manytimes richer than you are.With your cleverness and your daring, we might havebecome even greater."The room was deathly silent.Even at the end of his reign, Don Pasqualeremained the unchallenged autocrat by sheer force of will-power and tradition.The satraps around him were still only his lieutenants, and would remainsubservient until his extinction unleashed the new battle for supremacy."Do you mean," Simon asked slowly, "that after all that, you would offer me achance to join you?""It is not impossible," Don Pasquale said."Such things happen in the world.Even great nations which have been bitter enemies become allies."The Saint hesitated for an instant, while a score of possibilities flashedback and forth across his mind like bolts of lightning, speculating on whatuse he could make of such a fantastic offer and how far he might play italong.But for once the bronze mask of his face was no more defense than a shell ofclear glass against the searching stare that dwelt on it."But no," Don Pasquale said, before he could even formulate a response."Youare thinking only of how you might turn it to your advantage, to escape fromthe position you are now in.That is why I had to see you, to have your answermyself.L' udienza e flnita."Without affectation, he used the same words to declare the audience finishedthat would have come from a king or a pope.Al Destamio grabbed the Saint and hustled him to the door with what might haveseemed like almost inordinate zeal, and Don Pasquale spoke again."Wait here one moment, Alessandro."Destamio gave the Saint a push which sent him stumbling up against themessenger who waited outside, and snapped: "Take him back downstairs and lockhim in."The massive door slammed shut; and the guide grasped Simon's arm at the elbowand propelled him forcefully across the ante-room, along the gal-lery, anddown the magnificent stairway with such brutal vigor that it took all theSaint's agility to keep his footing and save himself from being hurled downthe steps on his face.In the same bullying manner, he was marched through the kitchen, down the backstairs, and along the basement corridor to the room from which he had beenbrought.But at that especial moment he almost welcomed the sadistictreatment, for under cover of a natural resistance to it he was able towrestle more vigorously and concentratedly with the rope that held his wrists.A last brutal kick with his escort's knee sent him flying into the littlecell.The door banged behind him, and the key grated in the lock.He was alone again, for the doctor had not waited; but he knew it would not befor long.Whatever business the dying Don Pasquale wanted to conclude withDestamio could not take more than a short while, and then Destamio would be ineven more haste to complete his own project.But alone and unobserved, the Saint could writhe and struggle withoutrestraint; and he al-ready had a good start.In less than three more minutes he dragged one hand free, and the cord wasslack on his other wrist.Even while it was falling to the floor, he reached the window in a soundlessrush.Until then, he had had no clue to how long he had been unconscious after hehad been knocked out in the mausoleum, and with his hands tied behind him hehad been unable to see the time on his wrist watch.But now, with the electricbulb behind him, he saw that the sky was no longer black but gray with thefirst dim promise of dawn.And that faint glimmer of illumination was enoughto show him why his captors were so unconcerned about leaving him in a roomPage 56ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlwith an open unbarred window.The palazzo was perched on the very edge of a precipice [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]