The telephone rang. Paluzzi answered it and punched a code into Pesco’s desk computer as he listened to what Marco was saying.
‘Any luck?’ Sabrina asked once Paluzzi had replaced the receiver.
Paluzzi nodded then pressed a ‘print’ button on the console. A facsimile of the two faces on the screen slid out from a narrow aperture in the side of the computer. He handed it to Sabrina.
‘That’s him all right,’ she announced, handing the facsimile to Kolchinsky. ‘But why two pictures?’
‘Identical twins,’ Paluzzi said. ‘One has a mole on his right cheek. The other doesn’t. That’s the only way of telling them apart.’
Sabrina sat down beside Kolchinsky and looked at the facsimile again.
‘You’re right. It’s uncanny.’
‘Do you know which one you saw in Venice?’ Paluzzi asked.
‘The one with the mole on his cheek. I won’t forget him in a hurry. Who are they?’
‘Carlo and Tommaso Francia.’
‘Who’s who?’ she asked.
‘Carlo’s the one you saw in Venice.’ Paluzzi stared at the VDU. ‘Which means Tommaso was the one in Corfu.’
‘I thought you said you didn’t see his face,’ Kolchinsky said.
‘I didn’t, but they always work on the same assignments.’
‘What does it say about them?’ Kolchinsky asked, gesturing to the VDU.
Paluzzi pressed another button and the text came up on the screen. He read it through, translating it into English in his head. He finally looked up at them.
‘They were born in Salerno in 1956 and orphaned at an early age. Both excelled as sportsmen and by their teens they were skiing in professional tournaments. Carlo specialized in downhill racing, Tommaso in the slalom. They were chosen for the Italian team for the ’76 Winter Olympics but both failed a drugs test on the day before they were due to compete. The FIS banned them for life. They worked as stunt men for a time before drifting into crime in their late twenties. They now work as freelance enforcers in Italy and Greece.’
‘Have you ever come across them?’ Kolchinsky asked.
‘Not personally, but I know of them.’
‘Do they have any sympathies with the Red Brigades?’
‘Their sympathies lie with whoever’s paying them, Miss Carver. And they don’t come cheap. They can afford to name their price. They’re probably the best freelance team in the Mediterranean.’
‘It’s pretty ironic, isn’t it?’ Sabrina said thoughtfully. ‘Karos financed his own death.’
‘It certainly looks that way,’ Paluzzi replied.
‘What about their present whereabouts?’ Kolchinsky asked.
‘Unknown. They’re nomadic. They do have a summer villa at Frezene, a beach resort about twelve miles from here, but neither of them has been seen there in the last year. Naturally I’ll have it staked out but I don’t see us coming up with anything. We’re dealing with professionals.’
‘What about the helicopter?’ Kolchinsky asked. ‘That could be a clue in itself. A white Gazelle with mounted 30 mm cannons. You don’t see them every day.’
‘I’ve already got a team working on that but I doubt we’ll come up with anything there either. They could have hidden it anywhere.’
‘It’s hardly the easiest of things to conceal,’ Kolchinsky said.
‘I agree, but where do we start looking? Italy? Greece? Corfu? Sardinia? Sicily? The list’s endless and we don’t have the time.’
‘Unless, of course, we manage to recover the vial tonight,’ Kolchinsky said optimistically.
‘Don’t hold your breath,’ Paluzzi replied. ‘This operation’s been planned down to the last detail. You can be sure that Ubrino won’t venture out into the open unless he knows it’s safe.’
‘You think it’s a trap?’ Kolchinsky asked.
‘I didn’t initially when Karos told us about the meeting. He would have been with us and it would have been too dangerous to hit Mike and me without endangering his own life. It was only after his death that another possibility came to mind. What if the trap had been set for him? He knows too much, so Ubrino might have planned to draw him out into the open and have him killed. Except, when we linked him to the missing vial the plan was brought forward, to silence him before he could tell us anything.’
‘But Tommaso Francia was too late to silence him before you and Mike got to Corfu so he tried to kill all three of you?’ Kolchinsky concluded.
Paluzzi shook his head. ‘I don’t go along with that. He could have killed us when we were in the pool. We were sitting ducks. It was obvious he was only after Karos.’
‘It’s like what happened in Venice,’ Sabrina said to Kolchinsky. ‘It’s as if they wanted us to escape.’
‘It doesn’t make any sense,’ Kolchinsky muttered, then stubbed out his cigarette and got to his feet.
‘It’s seven o’clock. I want to see Michael before we go to Sant’Ivo.’
‘I’ll get these dossiers on Boudien and the Francia brothers translated into English for you.’
‘I can do that,’ Sabrina said, scowling at Kolchinsky. ‘It’s not as if I’ll have much else to do in my room, is it?’
Kolchinsky took the two folders from Paluzzi and handed them to Sabrina.
Paluzzi gave her a sympathetic smile, then phoned Marco to say that he and Kolchinsky were on their way to Sant’Ivo, and that Marco was to go home and get some sleep. He replaced the receiver and got to his feet.
‘Are you armed?’ he asked Kolchinsky.
Kolchinsky shook his head.
‘Take my Beretta,’ Sabrina said. She unholstered it from the back of her jeans and offered it to Kolchinsky.
‘You hold on to that, Miss Carver. I’ll draw a handgun from the armoury for Mr. Kolchinsky.’
She reholstered the Beretta.
‘Can we drop the Miss Carver bit? You make me feel like an old spinster. It’s Sabrina.’
‘And I’m Sergei,’ Kolchinsky added.
Paluzzi smiled. ‘What type of gun do you use, Sergei?’
‘Tokarev TT-33, but I can make do with whatever you’ve got.’
‘I can get you a Tokarev, no problem,’ Paluzzi assured him, and immediately called the armoury to arrange for one to be sent to the office. ‘It’ll be up in a minute,’ he said, coming round from behind the desk.
Marco appeared in the doorway. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you to Sant’Ivo, sir?’
‘No. Now go and get some rest. I’ll call you if I need you, you can be sure of that.’
‘Can you let me out?’ Sabrina asked Marco. ‘I’d better get back to the hotel and see what Calvieri’s come up with while I’ve been here.’
‘And don’t forget to tell the switchboard to put any calls from C.W. through to you until I get back,’ Kolchinsky reminded her.
‘I won’t,’ she replied, following Marco out of the room.
Paluzzi signed for the Tokarev pistol when it was brought to the office, then they left the building and drove to the San Giovanni Hospital on the Via dell’Amba Aradam opposite San Giovanni in Laterano, the basilica which is the cathedral of Rome. In the hospital foyer Paluzzi approached the reception desk to ask for directions to Graham’s private ward. It was on the third floor overlooking the Villa Celimontana, a park bordering the Colosseum.
Kolchinsky knocked and entered.
Graham was sitting up against the headboard, a pillow cushioning his back. He immediately folded the copy of the International Daily News he had been reading and tossed it on to the chair beside the bed. The discoloured bruise on the left-hand side of his face was partially hidden by the thick dressing protecting the stitches close to his eye.
‘How are you feeling, Michael?’ Kolchinsky asked, brushing the newspaper from the chair as he sat down, his eyes fixed on Graham’s face.