The Gemini Contenders by Robert Ludlum Read Free Book Online Page A

throaty moans grew louder and her body writhed.
    The waiters cleared away the dishes and rolled out the table, a
commesso
lighted a fire in the fireplace and poured brandy.
    “It’s been a lovely day,” said the Contessa d’Avenzo. “May we do it often?”
    “I think we should set up a schedule. By your calendar, of course.”
    “Of course.” The girl laughed throatily. “You’re a very practical man.”
    “Why not? It’s easier.”
    The telephone rang. Vittorio looked over at it, annoyed. He rose from the chair in front of the fireplace and crossed angrily to the bedside table. He picked up the instrument and spoke harshly. “Yes?”
    The voice at the other end was vaguely familiar. “This is Tesca. Alfredo Tesca.”
    “Who?”
    “One of the foremen in the Milan factories.”
    “You’re
what?
How
dare
you call here! How did you get this number?”
    Tesca was silent for a moment. “I threatened the life of your secretary, young
padrone
. And I would have killed her had she not given it to me. You may fire me tomorrow. I am your foreman, but I am a
partigiano
first.”
    “You
are
fired.
Now
. As of this moment!”
    “So be it,
signore.”
    “I want no part—.”
    “Basta!”
shouted Tesca. “There’s no time! Everyone’s looking for you. The
padrone
’s in danger. Your whole
family
’s in danger! Go to Campo di Fiori! At once! Your father says to use the stable road!”
    The telephone went dead.
    Savarone walked through the great hall into the enormous dining room of Campo di Fiori. Everything was as it should be. The room was filled with sons and daughters, husbands and wives, and a thoroughly boisterous crowd of grandchildren. The servants had placed silver trays of antipasto on the tops of marble tables. A tall pine that reached the high beamed ceiling was a magnificent Christmas tree, its myriad lights and glittering ornament filling the room with reflections of color that bounced off the tapestries and the ornate furniture.
    Outside in the circular drive in front of the marble steps of the entrance were four automobiles illuminated by the floodlights that beamed down from the eaves. They could easily be mistaken for anyone’s automobiles, which was what Savarone intended. For when the raiding party arrived, all it would find was an innocent, festive family gathering. A holiday dinner. Nothing else.
    Except an imperiously aggravated patriarch of one of Italy’s most powerful clans. The
padrone
of the Fontini-Cristis, who would demand to know who was responsible for such a barbarous intrusion.
    Only Vittorio was missing; and his presence was vital. Questions might be raised that could lead to other questions. The unwilling Vittorio, who scoffed at their work, could become an unjustified target of suspicion. What was a holiday family dinner without the eldest son, the primary heir? Further, if Vittorio appeared
during
the intrusion, arrogantly reluctant—as his custom—to give an account ofhimself to anyone, there could be trouble. His son refused to acknowledge the extent, but Rome
was
under Berlin’s thumb.
    Savarone beckoned his next eldest, the serious Antonio, who stood with his wife as she admonished one of their children.
    “Yes, father?”
    “Go to the stables. See Barzini. Tell him that if Vittorio arrives during the fascists’ visit, he’s to say he was detained at one of the plants.”
    “I can call him on the stable phone.”
    “No. Barzini’s getting on. He pretends it’s not so, but he’s growing deaf. Make sure he understands.”
    The second son nodded dutifully. “Yes, of course, father. Anything you say.”
    What in God’s name had his father
done?
What
could
he do that would give Rome the confidence, the
excuse
, to move openly against the house of Fontini-Cristi?
    Your whole family is in danger
.
    Preposterous!
    Mussolini courted the northern industrialists; he needed them. He knew that most were old men, set in their ways, and knew he could achieve more with