The Lost Testament

107

Antonio Morini’s feelings of desperation and guilt were growing more acute with every passing minute. He had hoped that, with the resources at the disposal of the French P2 organization, the two people he was chasing would finally have been identified and stopped while on French soil, but yet again they had done the unexpected and outsmarted their pursuers. And so, once again, he picked up the phone to dial the British mobile number.

When Morini ended the call, the Englishman put his mobile down on the desk in his study with exaggerated care, a white-hot anger burning inside him. Ever since he’d taken over the leadership of P2 he’d done his best to weed out the dross, to ensure that every member pulled his weight and acted promptly and efficiently in the best interests of the organization. But clearly, given what had happened in both Spain and France, he hadn’t done enough. Heads, he had already decided, would definitely roll because of this shameful failure, and where P2 was concerned that was not a figure of speech.

In the meantime, the ball was now in his court, because the two fugitives were on his home turf and the responsibility for stopping them lay firmly and unequivocally on his shoulders. A fact that pleased him rather more than he’d expected.

Bronson and Lewis now had very little choice about what to do next. Lewis would have to decipher the text, and then they would probably go public with the results. And because of that, he knew exactly where to find them.

For the first time since Morini’s initial call, he felt absolutely confident of success. And as a bonus, he would now have the chance to prove, once and for all, why he was the rightful leader of P2.