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?"