As Robert started toward the ferry landing, he noticed a dark, unmarked sedan parked half a block away, and he stopped. It had official license plates. There were two men seated inside the car watching the docks. Robert turned and walked in the other direction.
Scattered among the dockworkers and tourists, he spotted plainclothes detectives trying to look unobtrusive. They stood out like beacons. Robert’s heart began to pound. How could they possibly have tracked him here? And then he realized what had happened. My God, I told the truck driver where I was going! Stupid! I must be very tired.
He had fallen asleep in the truck, and the absence of movement had awakened him. He had gotten up to look out and had seen Giuseppe go into the gas station and make a phone call. Robert had slipped out of the truck and climbed into the back of another truck headed north toward Civitavecchia.
He had trapped himself. They were looking for him here. A few hundred yards away were dozens of boats that could have afforded him an escape. Not any longer.
Robert turned away from the harbor and walked toward town. He passed a building with a huge colorful poster on the wall. It read: Come to the Fairgrounds. Fun for All! Food! Games! Rides! See the Big Race! He stopped and stared.
He had found his escape.
Chapter Forty-six
At the fairgrounds, five miles outside the town, were a number of large, colorful balloons spread across the field, looking like round rainbows. They were moored to trucks while ground crews were busily filling their envelopes with cold air. Half a dozen chase cars stood by, ready to track the balloons, two men in each car, the driver and the spotter.
Robert walked up to a man who seemed to be in charge. “It looks like you’re getting ready for the big race,” Robert said.
“That’s right. Ever been in a balloon?”
“No.”
They were skimming over Lake Como and he dropped the balloon down until it touched the water. “We’re going to crash,” Susan screamed. He smiled. “No, we’re not.” The bottom of the balloon was dancing on the waves. He threw out a sandbag, and the balloon began to lift again. Susan laughed and hugged him and said…
The man was speaking. “You should try it sometime. It’s a great sport.”
“Yeah. Where is the race heading?”
“Yugoslavia. We have a nice easterly wind. We’ll be taking off in a few minutes. It’s better to fly early in the morning when the wind is cool.”
“Really?” Robert said politely. He had a quick flash of a summer day in Yugoslavia. “We have four people to smuggle out of here, Commander. We must wait until the air is cooler. A balloon that can lift four people in the winter air can only lift two people in the summer air.”
Robert noticed that the crews were almost finished filling the balloons with air and had started to light the large propane burners, pointing the flame into the envelope opening, to warm the air inside. The balloons, which were lying on their sides, began to rise until the baskets stood upright.
“Mind if I look around?” Robert asked.
“Go ahead. Just stay out of everyone’s way.”
“Right.” Robert walked over to a yellow and red balloon that was filled with propane gas. The only thing holding it to the ground was a rope attached to one of the trucks.
The crewman who had been working on it had wandered off to talk to someone. There was no one else near.
Robert climbed into the basket of the balloon, and the huge envelope seemed to fill the sky above him. He checked the rigging and equipment, the altimeter, charts, a pyrometer to monitor the temperature of the envelope, a rate-of-climb indicator, and a tool kit. Everything was in order. Robert reached into the tool kit and pulled out a knife. He sliced into the mooring rope, and a moment later, the balloon started to ascend.
“Hey!” Robert yelled. “What’s going on here? Get me down!”
The man he had spoken to was gaping up at the runaway balloon. “Figlio d’una mignotta! Don’t panic,” he shouted. “There’s an altimeter on board. Use your ballast and stay at one thousand feet. We’ll meet you in Yugoslavia. Can you hear me?”