The Danger. - novelonlinefull.com
You’re read light novel The Danger. Part 32 online at NovelOnlineFull.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit NovelOnlineFull.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy
PaoloCenciwastherewiththeGoldonisandLucchese,allofthemlooking nervousastheysattogetheratoneofthetables.Icollectedagla.s.sofwine fromanofferedtrayfulandwentovertoseethem,wishingthemwell.
"Brunelleschikickedhisgroom,"PaoloCencisaid.
"Isthatgoodorbad?"
"Nooneknows,"hesaid.
Ikeptthegiggleinmystomach."How'sAlessia?"Iasked.
"Lessworriedthananyoneelse."
Iglancedattheotherfaces;atLucchese,fiercelyintense,atBrunoGoldoni, frowning,andatBeatrice,yesterday'sglowextinguished.
"It'sherjob,"Isaid.
Theyofferedmeaplaceattheirtablebut.i.thankedthemandwanderedaway,too restlesstowanttobewiththem.
"AnynewsfromLondon?"EricRickenbackersaidinmyear,pa.s.singclose.
"Nonethismorning."
Heclickedhistongue,indicatingsympathy."PoorMorgan.Shouldhavebeenhere.
Instead..."heshruggedresignedly,movingaway,greetingnewguests,kissing cheeks,clappingshoulders,welcomingahundredfriends.
TheWashingtonInternationalwasmakingtheworld'snews.PoorMorgan,hadhe beenthere,wouldn'thavecausedaripple.
Theysavedthebigraceuntilninthofthetenonthecard,thewholeafternoon at.i.tillation,apreparation,withdollarsfloodingmeanwhileintothe pari-mutuelandlosingticketsfillingthetrashcans.
Thewholeofthefrontofthemainstandswasfilledinwithgla.s.s,keepingout theweather,rainorshine.TooneslowlygrowingusedtotherigorsofEnglish coursestheluxurywas.e.xtraordinary,but,whenIcommentedonit,oneof Rickenbacker'sguestssaidreasonablythatwarmbettersbetted,coldbetters stayedathome.Aproportionoftheday'stakeatthepari-mutuelwenttothe racecourse:racegoercomfortwasessential.
Formetheafternoonpa.s.sedinterminably,butinduecoursealltheforeign ownersandtrainersleftthepresident'sdiningroomtoG.o.downnearerthe actionandspeedtheirhorsesontheirway.
Istayedintheaerie,belongingnowhere,watchingthegirlIknewsowellcome outontothetrack;atinygoldandwhitefigurefarbelow,oneinaprocession, eachcontestantledandaccompaniedbyaliveriedoutrider.Noloosehorseson thewaytothepost,Ithought.Norunaways,n.o.bolters.
Atrumpetsoundedafanfaretoannouncetherace.Afrenzyofpuntersfluttered fistfulsofnotes.Therunnerswalkedinprocessionacrossinfrontofthe standsandcanteredthereaftertothestart,eachstillwithanescort.Alessia lookedfromthatdistanceidenticalwiththeotherjockeys:Iwouldn'thave knownherexceptforthecolors.
Ifelt,farmoredisturbinglythanontheEnglishtracks,asens...o...b..ingno partofherreallife.Shelivedmostintenselythere,onahorse,whereher skillfilledher.AllIcouldeverbetoherasalover,Ithought,wasa support:andIwouldsettleforthat,ifshewouldcometoit.
Therunnerscircledonthegra.s.s,becausetheone-and-a-half-mileInternational wasrunonlivinggreenturf,notondirt.Theywerefedintothestallsonthe farsideofthetrack.Lightsstillflickeredonthepari-mutuel,changingthe odds:racesinAmericatendedtostartwhenthepuntershadfinished,nottoany rigidclock.
Theywereoff,theywererunning,thegoldandwhitefigurewiththem,going fasterthanthewindandtomymindcrawlinglikeslowmotion.
Brunelleschi,thebrutewhokicked,puthisbadmoodstogooduse,shouldering hiswayrobustlyroundthefirstbunched-upbend,forcinghimselfthroughuntil therewasaclearviewahead.Doesn'tliketobeshutin,Alessiahadsaid.She gavehimroomandsheheldhimstraight:theycamepastthestandsforthefirst timeinfourthplace,thewholefieldclosetogether.Roundthetopbend left-handed,downthebackstretch,roundthelastcornertowardshome.
Twooftheleadersdroppedback:Brunelleschikeptongoing.Alessiaswungher sticktwice,aimedtheblackbeaststraightatthetargetandrodelikeawhite andgoldarrowtothebull.
Shewontheraceandwascheereda.s.shecametothewinners'enclosureinfront ofthestands.Shewasphotographedandfilmed,herheadback,hermouth laughing.AsBrunelleschistampedaroundinhiswinner'sgarlandoflaurels (whatelse?)shereachedforwardandgavehisdarksweatingneckawide-armed exultantpat,andthecrowdagaincheered.
Iwholeheartedlysharedinherjoy:andfeltlonely.
Theyallcameuptothediningroomforchampagne,winners,losers,andEric Rickenbackerlookingecstatic.
"Welldone,"Isaidtoher.
"Didyousee?"Shewashigh,highwithachievement.
"Yes,Idid."
"Isn't.i.tfantastic?"
"Thedayofalifetime."
"Oh,Idoloveyou,"shesaid,laughing,andturnedawayimmediately,andtalked withanimationtoathrongofadmirers.Ah,Andrew,Ithoughtwryly,howdoyou likeit?AndIansweredmyself:betterthannothing.
WhenIfinallygotbacktothehotelthemessageb.u.t.tonwasflashingonmy telephone.MyofficeinEnglandhadcalledwhenIwasout.PleasewouldIget throughtothemstraightaway.
GerryClaytonwasontheswitchboard.
"YourItalianfriendrangfromBologna,"hesaid."Thepoliceman,Pucinelli."
"Yes?"
"Hewantsyoutotelephone.Icouldn'tunderstandhimverywell,but.i.thinkhe saidhehadfoundGiuseppe-Peter."
Chaptereighteen.
BYTHETIMEIgotthemessageitwasthreeinthemorning,Italiantime.Onthe premise,however,thatthelawneitherslumberednorsleptIputthecall throughstraightawaytothecarabinieri,andwasansweredbyayawningItalian whospokenoEnglish.
Pucinelliwasnotthere.
ItwasnotknownwhenPucinelliwouldbetherenext.
ItwasnotknownifPucinelliwasinhisownhouse.
Igavemyname,spellingitcarefullyletterbyletterbutknowingitwouldlook unp.r.o.nounceabletomost.i.talians.
Iwilltelephoneagain,Isaid:andhesaid"Good."
Atoneinthemorning,Washingtontime,ItelephonedtoPucinelli'sownhome, reckoninghisfamilywouldbeshapingtobreakfast.Hiswifeanswered, children'svoicesinthebackground,andIaskedforherhusband,inItalian.
"EnricoisinMilan,"shesaid,speakingslowlyformysake."Hetoldmetogive youamessage."Ashortpausewithpapernoises,then,"Telephonethishouseat fourteenhourstoday.Hewillreturnbythattime.Hesaysitisveryimportant, hehasfoundyourfriend."
"InMilan?"Iasked.
"Idon'tknow.Enricosaidonlytoaskyoutotelephone."
Ithankedheranddisconnected,andsleptfitfullywhilefourthousandmiles awayPucinellitraveledhome.Atfourteenhours,twoP.M.histime,eightA.M.
inWashington,Igotthroughagaintohishouseandfoundhehadbeencalledout ondutytheminutehereturned.
"Heissorry.Telephonehisofficeatseventeenhours."
Bythattime,Ireckoned,myfingernailswouldbebittentotheknuckle.My stomachpositivelyhurtwithimpatience.Iorderedbreakfastfromroomservice toquietenitandreadtheWashingtonSundaypapersandfidgeted,andfinallyat elevenIgothim.
"Andrew,howareyou?"hesaid.
"Dyingofsuspense."
"What?"
"Nevermind."
"Whereareyou?"hesaid."YourofficesaidAmerica."
"Yes.Washington.HaveyoureallyfoundGiuseppe-Peter?"
"Yesandno."
"Whatdoyoumean?"
"Youremember,"hesaid,"thatwehavebeeninquiringallthetimeamonghorse people,andalsothatweweregoingtotrysomestudents'reunions,toseeif anyonerecognizedhimfromthedrawing."
"Yes,ofcourse,"Isaid.Wehaddriftedautomaticallyintoournormalhabitof speakingintwolanguages,anditseemedjusta.s.satisfactoryasever.
"Wehavesucceededinbothplaces.Inbothworlds."Hepausedforeffectand soundedundeniablysmug."HelivesnearMilan.Heisthirty-fournow.Hewentto MilanUniversityasastudentandjoinedradicalpoliticalgroups.Itis believedhewasanactivist,amemberoftheRedBrigades,butnooneknowsfor sure.Iwastolditwasafact,b.u.t.therewasnotrueevidence.Anyway,hedid notcontinueinpoliticallifeafterheleftuniversity.Heleftwithoutsitting hisfinalexaminations.Theuniversityaskedhimtoleave,butnotbecauseof hisradicalopinions.Theymadehimleavebecauseheforgedchecks.Hewasnot prosecuted,whichIthinkisamistake."
"Mm,"Iagreed,riveted.
"SothenIhadhisname.Andalmostimmediately,thesamedaythatIlearnedit, wehadtheinformationfromthehorsepeople.Theysayheisnotwellknownin thehorseworld,henevergoestotheraces,heistheblacksheepofa well-regardedfamily,andisbanishedfromtheirhouse.Nooneseemstobe absolutelycertainindetailwhythisis,butagaintherearemanyrumorsthat itistodowithfraudandforgingchecks.Everyonebelievesthefatherrepaid everypennytokeepthefamilynameoutofthedisgrace."
"b.u.t.thehorseworldtoldyouthis?"
"Yes.Intheend,someonerecognizedhim.Ourmenwereverydiligent,very persistent."
"They'retobecongratulated,"Isaidsincerely.
"Yes,Iagree."
"Whatishisname?"Iasked.Ithardlyseemedtomatter,but.i.twouldbetidier togivehimtheproperlabel.
"Hisfatherownsracehorses,"Pucinellisaid."Hisfatherownsthegreathorse Brunelleschi.Giuseppe-Peter'srealnameisPietroGuidoni."
Washington,D.C.,seemedtostandstill.Suspendedanimation.Iactuallyfora whilestoppedbreathing.Ifeltstifled.
"Areyouthere,Andrew?"Pucinellisaid.
Iletoutalongbreath."Yes..."
"Nooneha.s.seenPietroGoldonisincethesummer.Everyonethinkshewentabroad andhasn'tcomeback."Hesoundedpleased."Itfitsthetimetable,doesn't.i.t?
WechasedhimoutofItalyandhewenttoEngland."
"Er..."Isaidfaintly."HaveyouheardaboutMorganFreemantle?Didyouread anythinginthepapersyesterdayortoday,seeanythingontelevision?"
"Who?IhavebeensobusyinMilan.WhoisMorganFreemantle?"
Itoldhim.Ialsosaid,"BrunoandBeatriceGoldonihavebeenhereallthis weekinWashington.Ihavetalkedtothem.Brunelleschiwonthebig Internationalracehereyesterdayafternoon.AlessiaCencirodeit."
Therewasthesamesortofstunnedbreathlesssilencefromhisendastherehad beenfrommine.
"Heisthere,"hesaidfinally."PietroGoldoniisinWashington."
"Yeah."
"Youofcourseknewthat."
"Ia.s.sumedthatGiuseppe-Peterwashere,yes."
Hepaused,considering."InwhatwayisitbestthatIinformtheAmerican policeofhisident.i.ty?Itmaybethatmysuperiorswouldwanttoconsult..."
"Ifyoulike,"Isaidpolitely,"Imyselfwillfirsttellthepolicecaptainin chargeofthingshere.Thecaptainmightbepleasedtotalktoyouthendirect.
There'sanItalian-speakerinhisforcewhocouldtranslateforyouboth."
Pucinelliwasgratefulandcarefulnottosoundit."Thatwouldbeexcellent.If youcouldarrangeit,Iamsureitwouldbehelpful."
"I'lldoitatonce,"Isaid.
"ItisSunday,"hesaid,almostdoubtfully.
"Butyouyourselfareworking,"Ipointedout."AndI'llreachhim,somehow."
Hegavemehisscheduleoftimesonandoffduty,whichIwrotedown.
"You'vedonemarvels,Enrico,"Isaidwarmly,neartheend."Idocongratulate you.Itmustbeworthpromotion."
Helaughedshortly,bothpleasedandunhopeful."ThisGoldoniha.s.stilltobe caught."Athoughtstruckhim."Inwhichcountry,doyouthink,willhebe broughttotrial?"
"Onhispastrecord,"Isaiddryly,"nowhere.He'llskiptoSouthAmericaas soonasthepolicegetnearhimhere,andnextyearmaybeapoloplayerwillbe s.n.a.t.c.hedfromoutofachukka."
"What?"
