rludlum-shelby.thecassandracompact-第37节
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Klein took a moment to consider。 〃I like most of it；〃 he said finally。 〃But a couple of points might be a hard sell。〃
〃I don't see where we have options； sir。〃
Klein's reply was interrupted by a call his secretary put through。 Smith noticed a gleam in his eyes as he listened。
Placing a hand over the mouthpiece； he whispered； 〃The BOLO nailed Treloar！〃
Even as Smith leaned forward in his chair； Klein's expression slackened。
〃You're sure？〃 he demanded。 After a pause： 〃No witnesses？ No one saw anything？〃
Klein listened some more； then said； 〃I want the detectives' reports and the crime…scene photos faxed to my desk immediately。 And yes； cancel the BOLO。〃
The receiver rattled in its cradle。
〃Treloar；〃 Klein said； grinding his back teeth。 〃D。C。 cops found him in Volta Place； near Wisconsin； stabbed to death。〃
Smith closed his eyes； picturing the frightened bald man with the funny eyes。
〃They're positive？〃
〃A passport and other ID were found on the body。 It's him。 Someone got very close and stuck what the cops think was a stiletto into his heart。 They're saying it was a mugging。〃
〃A mugging。。。 Did they find anything around the body； a carry…on？〃
〃Nothing。〃
〃Had he been robbed？〃
〃Money and credit cards were gone。〃
〃But not the wallet or the passport。 Those would be left behind to help with the ID。〃 Smith shook his head。 〃Beria。 Whoever was using Treloar knew he was the link。 A weak link。 They used Beria to get rid of him。〃
〃 'They' being。。。？〃
〃I don't know； sir。 But the handoff's been made。 'They' have the smallpox。 Treloar was expendable。〃
〃Beria。。。〃
〃That's why Beria went to St。 Petersburg； why he was on that Finnair flight。 He wasn't running。 He came over to eliminate the weak link。〃
〃Anyone could have done that。〃
〃The execution？ Yes。 But wouldn't it be better to use a man who is… or was… unknown to us？ We have a description； but no fingerprints； no real understanding of movement or methodology。 Beria is perfect because he's as anonymous as an assassin can be。〃
〃So there was an exchange at Sheremetevo。〃
Smith nodded。 〃Treloar had the smallpox all along。〃 He paused。 〃And I was sitting thirty feet away from him。〃
Never taking his eyes off Smith； Klein picked up the phone。 〃Let's not keep the president waiting。〃
Smith was surprised to see the chief executive in casual attire and informal surroundings。 After Klein had made the introduction； Castilla said； 〃Your reputation precedes you； Colonel Smith。〃
〃Thank you； Mr。 President。〃
〃So； what are the latest developments？〃
Klein launched into the murder of Adam Treloar and how it factored into the overall situation。
〃Treloar；〃 the president said。 〃Is there any way you can use him to trace the rest of the conspirators？〃
〃Believe me； sir； we're going to put his life under a microscope；〃 Klein replied。 〃But I'm not holding out much hope。 The people we're dealing with have been very careful in choosing their allies。 The one in Russia… Yardeni… yielded no clues as to who his paymasters might be。 The same may be true with Treloar。〃
〃Let's get back to those 'people' you're talking about。 Do you believe that they might be foreign nationals？ Someone like Osama Bin Laden？〃
〃I don't see Bin Laden's fingerprints on this； Mr。 President。〃 Klein glanced at Smith。 〃The fact that the conspirators' reach is so great… from Russia all the way to NASA in Houston… indicates a certain level of sophistication。 Someone who's very familiar with how we and the Russians operate； where we keep our jewels； and how we guard them。〃
〃Are you suggesting that someone in this country could have orchestrated the theft in Russia？〃
〃The smallpox is in this country； Mr。 President。 The man who stole it； the man who carried it are both dead at the hands of an assassin who； until recently； was a relative unknown in the West。 There is no Arab connection here。 Add to that； the material we're dealing with is not only lethal； but requires a sophisticated facility to turn it into a bioweapon。 Finally there's the involvement of U。S。 military personnel； at least on the periphery。〃
〃Military personnel？〃 the president asked。
Klein turned to Smith； who gave the chief executive a précis of the events that took place in Palermo。
〃I'm going to start digging into the backgrounds of these two soldiers； Mr。 President；〃 Klein said； then paused。 〃So the answer to your question is yes… it's very likely that someone here is running the show。〃
The president took a moment to digest this。
〃Monstrous；〃 he whispered。 〃Unbelievably monstrous。 Mr。 Klein； if we knew why they want the smallpox； wouldn't that tell us what they intend to do； maybe even who they are？〃
Klein's tone betrayed his frustration。 〃It would； Mr。 President。 But the 'why' is just another puzzle。〃
〃Let me get this straight。 There's a potential plague source that may be somewhere in the D。C。 area。 You also have a killer loose…〃
〃Mr。 President；〃 Smith interrupted； 〃the killer may actually be our best bet。〃
〃Would you care to elaborate； Mr。 Smith？〃
〃The conspirators have eliminated the two men whom we might have gotten to。 They brought over their own assassin for precisely that reason。 I think they're holding him in reserve in case there's more wet work to be done。〃
〃Your point being？〃
〃Beria is our last link to the conspirators； Mr。 President。 If we find him and manage to take him alive； he might give up enough to point us in the right direction。〃；
〃Does an all…out hunt for this killer run the risk of too much publicity？ Maybe it'll frighten him off。〃
〃It would have； sir；〃 Klein broke in。 〃Except for one thing： Beria murdered a man in cold blood on a Washington street。 He's no longer a terrorist but a mon murderer。 If we link him to the killing； every law…enforcement agency in five states will be after him。〃
〃Again： wouldn't this only drive him deeper underground？〃
〃Not really； sir。 Beria and the men who control him would think they know exactly the kind of forces that are being marshaled against them。 They would circumvent them。 And they would feel safe because they'd think they knew exactly what law enforcement's next step would be。
〃Plus； if we hunt Beria without publicity； and the conspirators have no idea what it is we're doing； they might believe that the threat of his capture outweighs his usefulness；〃 Smith added。 〃In which case； he'd end up like Yardeni and Treloar。〃
〃Point taken； Mr。 Smith；〃 the president agreed。 〃I presume you have a plan for Beria？〃
〃Yes； I do； sir；〃 Smith replied quietly； and began to describe it。
Inspector Marco Dionetti of the Venice Questura stepped nimbly from the police launch to the dock in front of his palazzo。 He returned the constable's salute and watched the boat as it disappeared into the passing canal traffic； the vessels lit up from bow to stern。
At the front door Dionetti deactivated the security system before entering。 His cook and servant were both old women who had been in his household for decades。 Neither was any match for a burglar； and since the palazzo had enough treasures to fill a small museum； precautions were necessary。
Dionetti picked up the mail waiting for him in the foyer。 Proceeding to the drawing room； he settled into a club chair and slit open the letter from the Offenbach Bank in Zurich。 He sipped his aperitif and nibbled on black Kalamata olives while scrutinizing the balance in his account。 The Americans might be many things… none of them good… but they never missed a payment。
Marco Dionetti did not concern himself with the big picture。 He did not care why the Rocca brothers had to kill or why they had to die。 True； his conscience had been pricked when he'd sold Peter Howell。 But Howell had traveled to Sicily and would never be heard from again。 In the meantime； the Dionetti legacy； courtesy of American dollars； would continue to flourish。
After a refreshing shower； Dionetti took his solitary meal at the great table that could seat thirty。 When coffee and dessert had been served he dismissed the servants； who retired to their quarters on the fourth floor。 Lost in thought； Dionetti nibbled on strawberries drenched in Cointreau and daydreamed of where he might vacation； courtesy of American largesse。
〃Good evening； Marco。〃
Dionetti choked on the fruit in his mouth。 He stared in disbelief as Peter Howell entered the room as calmly as if he were an invited guest and took a seat at the other end of the long table。
From inside his smoking jacket Dionetti whipped out a Beretta； leveling it across twenty feet of ancient cherrywood。
〃What are you doing here？〃 he demanded hoarsely。
〃Why； Marco？ Was I supposed to be dead？ Is that what they told you？〃
Dionetti's mouth worked like that of a landed fish。 〃I don't know what you're talking about！〃
〃Then why hold a gun on me？〃
Very carefully Howell opened his palm and placed a small vial on the table。
〃Did you enjoy your dinner； Marco？ The risotto di mare smelled excellent。 And the strawberries… are you enjoying them？〃
Dionetti stared at the vial； then at the few berries at the bottom of his bowl。 He tried to push away the dark thoughts crowding his mind。
〃Are you guessing that I someh
