'How do you know?'
'He bragged about it. He thought it was a big joke that I should be locked up for a crime the chief of police committed.'
I nodded grimly. 'Let's get him into the cell. The walls are pretty thick, and it will probably be a time before anybody comes looking for him.'
Jandor went into the office, then dragged Petrocelli back to the cell. Then he paused and looked at me.
'I'd like to hurt him,' Jandor said quietly.
'Be my guest.'
In one single, fluid motion, Jandor picked the unconscious Petrocelli up and flung him toward the steel bunk at the back of the cell. Petrocelli hit the bunk with the full force of his weight on his right shoulder. I heard it snap. He was going to have some more pain when he woke up. I locked the cell and connecting doors, then motioned Jandor out the back of the jail, into an alley.
I filled Jandor in on what was happening, then gave him the Regent's ring and instructions on what to do with it. Jandor nodded and started off down the hill, into the forest. I headed in the opposite direction, toward the town.
I knocked lightly at the back door of the Marinello's souvenir shop. Molly, her front draped with a spaghetti- splashed apron, came to the door; the apron reminded me that I hadn't eaten anything in close to twenty-four hours. Molly opened the door, but her welcoming smile faded when she saw the expression on my face.
'I have to talk to John, Molly, and I'd like you to hear what I have to say.'
Molly, sensing trouble, hesitated a moment, but finally went to the front of the shop to get her husband. I was glad to see that
John Marinello was clear-eyed. We sat around a small table while I told him what had happened to their country.
Molly's face grew progressively sadder and more tense, but she didn't interrupt. John's breathing grew short and sharp. I finished quickly, then paused, searching for my next words.
'I know I have no right to ask you this,' I said to both of them, 'but I need John's help. Fordamp's trump card is the explosive charges he's planted in the castles and churches. If we take those away from him, he's relatively powerless. Also, it means that he won't be able to blow up your Regent and a friend of mine.'
'Why John?' Molly's voice was barely a whisper.
'John said that he used to be a construction worker, specializing in stonemasonry. My guess is that he knows something about explosives.'
'I do,' John said evenly.
Molly gripped her husband's arm. 'The charges could blow up in your face.'
'Yes,' I said quietly.
John abruptly stood up. 'Let's go, Mr. Frederickson. We're wasting time.'
I waited, watching Molly. Her answer surprised me. 'You go, John. Mr. Frederickson is right; we must fight.'
Marinello and I headed for the door. Molly's voice came after us, her words incongruous yet somehow reassuring. 'I'll keep your dinner warm, John.'
According to John Marinello, finding the explosives wasn't going to be as difficult as I'd first expected. Assuming that the explosive charges had been placed by an expert, they would be found near the architectural centers of the buildings, where they would do the most damage. It came down to a matter of second-guessing the person who had originally planted the charges.
For practice, we started with the most secluded spot we could find: St. Francesco's Church, built in the fourteenth century. John outlined the search procedure he wanted to follow. He cautioned me for the tenth time not to touch anything I might find, then we split up.
Forty-five minutes later John found one of the charges. I rounded the corner of the church and saw him kneeling tensely beside a niche in the foundation wall, near the ground. He glimpsed me out of the corner of his eye and raised his hand, signaling me to stop. Then he reached inside the niche and slowly withdrew a bundle consisting of five sticks of dynamite lashed together. On top of the bundle was a small metal cannister that resembled a miniature soup can with the label torn off.
John set the dynamite gently down on the ground, then motioned me closer. He was shaking his head.
'There's the first charge,' John said. 'My guess is that there's another one in the same spot on the other side of the building. We'll have to keep looking.'
I glanced at my watch. 'It's taking too much time. With some luck, Jandor should be back with the Italian authorities in another hour or so. When that happens, I don't want Fordamp to have the option of blowing the place up.'
'There's no way to go any faster,' John said. 'I'm sorry.' He didn't have to add that St. Francesco's Church was only one of dozens of potential targets, not including the three castles.
I pointed to the cannister. 'That's the ignition device?'
John nodded. 'Radio controlled. Fordamp must have the transmitter with him.'
'He does. Is there any way we can jam the frequency?'
'We don't have the equipment.'
'Can he set them off one at a time?'
John studied the cannister. 'I doubt it. I'd say they're set to go off all at once.'
It seemed to fit Fordamp's disposition. If he couldn't get what he wanted, he'd leave everything of value in San Marino in ruins.
'How do you disarm it?'
John reached down and unsnapped the cannister from a magnetic clamping device. It seemed simple enough.
'Is there enough there to blow up a castle?'
'Fordamp will have more there.'
'Okay. I've got to go to the castles. I've got a friend in one of them.'
'I'll go with you,' John said, rising to his feet. 'A man's life is the most important thing.'
I heard a noise behind me and wheeled. Marshmallow Mouth and another one of Fordamp's men were standing a few feet away, their guns trained on us.
I decided I'd rather die running than propped up against a tree. I made a gesture of resignation, then made as if to toss the dynamite at them.
They reacted as I'd hoped, instinctively stepping backward and throwing their hands up to their faces. I grabbed the detonator away from John, then leaped to one side and sprinted toward the corner of the building. A gun barked three times and bullets ricocheted off the stone, peppering my face with sharp chunks of rock. But there was no cry of pain from behind me, which meant that at least John had had the good sense to stay put. I made it around the corner of the church and sprinted down an alley.
I had the dynamite and the detonator, but they made an unlikely weapon, one that I couldn't even control. Still, it was all I had. I tucked the dynamite under my arm, put the cannister in my pocket, then headed at a trot toward the castle where Phil and the regent were imprisoned. I had to make one last-ditch effort at getting them out.
A moment later I heard my name in English. It was amplified over a loudspeaker.'
'Frederickson! It's all over now! Come here! We have your friends!'
The sound was coming from the direction of the circus grounds. A few San Marinese stopped and stared around, then moved on. Those who did understand English probably assumed that the words had something to do with circus business.
The message came at me again. More insistent.
I made my way across the town to the high ridge overlooking the field and crouched down in the tall grass. The scene below wasn't encouraging.
Fordamp, flanked by his bodyguards, was standing in the middle of the field. John Marinello had a gun pointed at his gut. Jandor was there, too, his hands tied behind his back. There wasn't going to be any last-minute cavalry charge; I was on my own, and things weren't looking up.
