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isolated. The authorities have come up with a story that there's a bout of acute conjunctivitis amongst the prisoners so that news of Zocchi's death can't be leaked out to visitors. But it can't remain isolated indefinitely. The vial has to be found. Quickly.'
    'Can't the authorities get around the table with senior Brigatisti and explain the situation to them?' Sabrina asked.
    'They already have,' Kolchinsky replied, resuming his seat. 'Word is that Zocchi masterminded the breakin from his prison cell. It was done without the knowledge of the committee, so none of them know where Ubrino's gone to ground. They have no way of contacting him. And even if they could, who's to say Zocchi didn't give him instructions to open the vial in the event of his death?'
    'To make matters worse, the gunman who shot Zocchi was in a police helicopter, or what looked remarkably like one,' Philpott added. 'Put yourself in Ubrino's shoes. An hour after the government receives his demands, Zocchi is killed by a gunman in a police helicopter. Coincidence?'
    'It's obviously a set-up, sir,' Sabrina said. I # 'Try explaining that to the Red Brigades,' Philpott replied, i
    'But why us, sir?' Graham asked. 'Why haul us back from leave when you could have brought in one of the | other Strike Force teams?'
    Philpott removed a second telex from the folder. 'This 1 also arrived this morning. It concerns Wiseman's brother. I You might remember him. Richard Wiseman. I believe he j was one of the more colourful officers in Vietnam.'
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    l    'Yeah, I remember him. Lieutenant-Colonel Richard Wiseman, Marine Corps. A damn good soldier.'
    'He's now General Wiseman of the First Ranger Battalion. And he's out for revenge. I'm not going to go into detail, it's all in the resume for you to read on the plane. Basically, he's hiring a gunman and a driver to do the dirty work for him. We can't afford to have them encroaching on the case. There's too much at stake. It seems he's chosen a Jamaican from London as the getaway driver. We're going to put our man in his place. And there's only one field operative who fits the bill.'
    'C.W.,' Sabrina said.
    'Right,' Philpott replied, handing out two manila envelopes to Graham and Sabrina.
    The envelopes contained the resume, which had to be destroyed after reading; airline tickets; maps of their ultimate destination; written confirmation of hotel accommodation; a brief character sketch of their contact/s (if any) and a sum of money in lire. All field operatives also carried two credit cards for emergencies. There was no limit to the amount of money an operative could use during an assignment but it all had to be accounted for to Kolchinsky, with chits to back up the figurework, when returned to New York.
    'Your flight leaves in two hours. Sergei will be going
    ith you to set up a base in Rome. I'll be joining you as
    m as I can. Jacques will run things from Zurich
    ny absence.' Philpott activated the transmitter on his to open the door. 'Mike? Sabrina?'
    They paused at the door to look back at him.
    ; 'Good luck. I've got a feeling you're going to need
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    C. W. Whitlock replaced the receiver and looked round at his wife, Carmen, who was standing motionless on the balcony, her hands gripped tightly around the railing, the light evening breeze teasing her shoulder length black hair. She was a tall, slender Puerto Rican with a youthful beauty which belied her true age. She was forty. As he stared at her he realized just how much he loved her. But that wasn't enough to save their crumbling marriage.
    'It's beautiful, isn't it?' he said behind her, looking across the Champs de Mars at the brightly lit Eiffel Tower which soared 984 feet into the clear night sky.
    'That was Jacques on the phone, wasn't it?' she asked softly.
    'Yes, he's on his way up,' he replied, putting an arm around her shoulders.
    'Don't.' She shrugged his arm off and returned to the bedroom.
    He leaned his arms on the railing and looked down at the passing