“I don’t think so,” he said. “No, definitely not. In fact, I assumed he was with the shore patrol, but they told me no.”
“But he spoke like an American?”
“Yes, he did—I think. This time I’m not completely sure. I wasn’t concentrating too well at the time.”
“Doc, if you could try to remember where you’d seen him, it could make a big difference.”
“You’re telling me. I’ve thought about it so much, I’m not sure anymore that he
“Well, are we really sure he was trying to help you? You were pretty groggy at the time, and you didn’t see how it ended.”
Gideon absent-mindedly tongued another nodule of pudding. “Still, it wouldn’t make sense…”
“No, I don’t think so either. I’m just trying to find the connection between the two incidents.”
“Then you think there is one?”
“Sure, no doubt in my mind. These kinds of things don’t happen to people in real life. Once is strange enough, but twice—uh-uh, something’s going on.”
“God, I’m glad to hear you say that. I was starting to think I was getting paranoid.”
The nurse came in to take Gideon’s tray.
“Don’t be smart. Doctor’s going to be very disappointed when I tell him you didn’t eat up all your gunk.”
“Do you suppose I could get some hot tea, Sue? I need something to dissolve that stuff.”
“Sure.” She turned to John. “Coffee?”
“That’d be great. Thanks.”
“John,” Gideon said, as the door swung closed, “am I suspected of anything? Some kind of involvement in… all this? Dope or something?”
“Look, Doc, 1 don’t know what’s going on myself, so I’m not ruling anything out. But I don’t think anyone seriously suspects you of anything. Least of all me.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your saying that.”
The tea and coffee were wordlessly brought by a shy, pretty candy-striper who left quickly, and the two men sipped in silence for a few minutes. Gideon was feeling very relaxed, and the tea was soothing. He drank and watched the dust motes floating in the shafts of strong Sicilian sunshine that filled the hospital room.
With a start, he realized he was dozing and looked up to see the policeman smiling at him, his coffee finished.
“I know I’m not the world’s greatest interrogator,” John said, “but I don’t .usually put ‘em to sleep.” 1 in sorry —
“No, you look like you can use it. If you’re up to it tomorrow, there are some pictures I’d like you to look at in the Security Office. I’ll come by about eleven.”
“Pictures…?” Before he could complete the thought, Gideon was asleep again. He was awakened for a dinner of stewed chicken and vegetables, ate hungrily, and slept soundly until morning.
“Nothing, huh?”
“Not a thing.” Gideon pushed himself away from the table, rubbed the nape of his neck, and leaned back in his chair. He had been leafing through photographs for an hour. “Where did you get all these characters?”
“Local bad guys,” John said. “Mafia, gangsters, a few others. Anybody I thought might be a good bet.”
“But you didn’t really think they’d turn up.”
“No.”
They sat, quiet and a little depressed, John’s fingers gently tapping the table. A clerk came to the doorway and motioned at him. “Telephone.”
When he came back, he said, “They’ve got the car.”
“Who? What car?”
“The guys who ambushed you. They found their car on the road to Taormina, near Mangano.”
“How do they know it’s the right car? I couldn’t describe it to the shore patrol.”
“No, but they analyzed some paint they found on the bumper where you rammed it; it matches the paint on your car. There isn’t any question about it.”
“Great. What else?”
“Not much. Apparently it was doing about a hundred, ran off the road, exploded, and burned so badly you could hardly tell it was a car. They pieced together enough to identify it as a Lancia that was stolen from a garage in Catania on Thursday, but that’s about it. Somebody was still in it, but burnt to a crisp. The
