‘Where are you calling from?’
‘A call box opposite your hotel. Young went into the building behind me a couple of minutes ago. It’s my guess he’ll lure Calvieri out to the front of the hotel. What do you want me to do?’
‘Stop him. It’s gone far enough. Are you armed?’
‘I wish I was. I had to leave the Browning behind when we fled the boarding house in Rome.’
‘Do you want back-up?’
‘No back-up, thanks. If Young suspects for one moment that I’ve double-crossed him he’ll use the transmitter to detonate the watch. I’ll get him myself.’
‘How?’
‘You let me worry about that. Keep an eye on Calvieri all the same. Try and keep him in the hotel. I’ll call you back later.’
‘C.W.’ be careful.’
‘You can count on it,’ Whitlock said and hung up.
Kolchinsky recounted the conversation to Graham and Sabrina. He thought for a moment, then said, ‘Sabrina, I want you to go down to the foyer. If Calvieri does show his face I want you to keep him occupied until I give you the all-clear sign.’
‘How am I supposed to keep him occupied?’
‘I’m sure you’ll think of something,’ Kolchinsky said, opening the door. ‘Now go on, you’re wasting time.’
‘I still say C.W. needs back-up,’ Graham said, after Kolchinsky had closed the door.
‘No back-up.’
‘He’s unarmed–’ ‘Michael!’ Kolchinsky snapped.
‘I’m as worried about him as you are but he specifically said no back-up. All we can do is wait for his call.’
‘All we can do is hope for his call,’ Graham muttered, then crossed to the tray to pour himself another cup of coffee.
Whitlock emerged from the call box and looked up at the building behind him. Three floors. Several of the third-floor windows were illuminated. The rest of the building was in darkness. Young wouldn’t risk using the third floor. And the first floor was also out. He wouldn’t get the right angle on his shot from there. Which left the second floor. Whitlock glanced at his watch. Young already had a five-minute head start. Whitlock walked towards the alley at the side of the building. He suddenly froze mid-step and the woman behind him stumbled against his arm. He muttered an apology without taking his eyes off the man in the fawn trenchcoat who was standing at the entrance to the alley. He held a black doctor’s bag in his gloved hand. It was the same man Whitlock had seen at the boarding house in Rome. Escoletti looked about him casually, then disappeared into the alley. Whitlock continued to stare at the spot where Escoletti had been standing. How had he found them so quickly? What if he managed to overpower Young and take him away for questioning? What about the transmitter?
Whitlock moved cautiously towards the alley, intent on following Escoletti at a distance.
As Whitlock had predicted, Young had chosen the second floor for the hit. Getting into the building had been easy. The door leading into the alley was unlocked. Once inside he had discovered that the building was some kind of youth centre. According to the bulletin board, the first floor housed an arts and crafts workshop, the second floor a martial arts club and the third floor a discotheque. And only the discotheque was open that evening. The noise would provide the perfect cover for the hit. Nobody in the building would hear the gunshot.
He had passed a couple of teenagers on the stairs between the first and second floors but neither of them had given him a second glance as they made their way to the exit. The double doors were padlocked on the second floor. It took him a few seconds to pick the lock, then he eased one of the doors open and went inside. The street light shone dimly through the Venetian blinds. He could see the padded mats laid out neatly across the wooden floorboards. Then he noticed the two glass cabinets against the wall. He whistled softly to himself as he stared at their contents. One of the cabinets contained a pair of sheathed tachi, the Japanese sword traditionally worn suspended from the belt.
The second cabinet contained ninja weaponry: kama, the sickle used for cutting corn, which doubles as a lethal weapon; kusari-gama, a sickle attached to a lead ball with a chain; nunchaku, the corn-beater, consisting of two short lengths of wood joined by a chain; sai, an iron dagger protected by two lateral hooks which is used to check, or deflect, the tachi; shuriken, the small, iron projectile with sharp, serrated edges; and the tonfa, a twenty-inch oak rod with a cylindrical handle fixed three-quarters of the way along its stem.
Young stared, fascinated, at the assortment of weaponry until a loud horn blast from a taxi in the street below brought him sharply back to his senses. He crossed to the Venetian blinds where he opened his slim, black case and carefully removed the sections of the specially designed detachable Mauser SP66 sniper rifle which he had asked Wiseman to get for him. He screwed on the Zeiss 1.5-6x42 zoom telescopic lens then reached through the Venetian blinds and opened the window. He had a perfect view of the main entrance to the Metropole Hotel. He took a cordless phone from the case and rang the hotel. It was answered by one of the switchboard operators and he asked for Calvieri’s room.
‘Pronto, Tony Calvieri.’
‘You want to know who killed Pisani, don’t you?’
‘Who is this?’
‘I’ll meet you outside the hotel in two minutes. If you’re not there, I’ll assume you’re not interested and leave. Two minutes.’
‘How will I recognize you?’
‘I’ll recognize you.’
Young disconnected the line and replaced the phone in the case. He picked up the sniper rifle and leaned the barrel lightly on the window frame. He adjusted the sights until he had a perfect image of the doorman’s head in the crosshairs. Then, curling his finger around the trigger, he squeezed it gently. Click. He selected a 7.62 mm semi-jacketed soft point bullet from the case and fed it into the breech. Like any good sniper, he only needed one bullet. He rested the rifle on the window frame again and waited for Calvieri to appear.
A smile touched the corners of his mouth when, a minute later, the electronic doors parted and Calvieri emerged into the street. He tightened his grip on the rifle then lined up Calvieri’s forehead in the crosshairs. His finger rested lightly on the trigger but he held back from firing when Calvieri suddenly swung round towards the doors behind him. He looked to see who had distracted Calvieri’s attention. It couldn’t be. It was a woman, dressed differently, but closely resembling the prostitute he had seen in Whitlock’s room in Rome. His mind raced. Who was she? Was she a Brigatista? Why was she in Berne? What was her relationship with Calvieri? More to the point, what was her relationship with Alexander? Was Alexander working with Calvieri? Had Alexander compromised the assignment? Alexander had a lot of explaining to do. Then Young would kill him. He couldn’t afford to take any chances. But he had some unfinished business to attend to first. He lined up Calvieri’s forehead in the sights again. He slowly tightened his finger on the trigger.
The room was suddenly flooded with light.
‘Drop the gun,’ Escoletti ordered from the doorway.
Young used the reflections in the window to watch the figure behind him.
He had two options. Try and shoot him on the turn. Or throw down the rifle and take his chances from there. It was obvious that the gunman wanted him alive, otherwise he would already have put a bullet in his back. He laid the rifle down carefully in front of him then turned round slowly to face his assailant. He looked from the Bernadelli in Escoletti’s hand to the black bag on the floor beside him. It had to be the man Alexander had seen at the boarding house. A sudden thought crossed his mind. What if Alexander was working in league with him?
‘Who are you?’ Young asked. ‘Red Brigades?’