Douglas Alan Captain

BAD MOOD DRIVE


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approach on

      one two seven point four."

      From the back of the plane came a low growl. "Easy,

      Prince. That's a good boy. Let's get this seat belt around

      you."

      There were four men waiting when the 727 landed.

      They stood at different vantage points so they could watch

      the passengers descend from the plane. They waited for

      half an hour. The only passenger to come out was a black

      German shepherd.

      Portoferraio is the main shopping center of Elba. The

      streets are lined with elegant, sophisticated shops, and

      behind the harbor, the eighteenth-century buildings are

      tucked under the craggy sixteenth-century citadel built by

      the Duke of Florence.

      Robert Stanley had visited the island many times, and in

      a strange way, he felt at home here.

      This was the place where Napoleon Bonaparte was

      exiled by the Allied governments to Elba following his

      abdication at Fontainebleau and landed on the island on 4

      May 1814.

      "We're going to look at Napoleon's villa," he told

      Sophia. "I'll meet you there." He turned to Donald.

      "Take her to the Villa del Mulini."

      "Yes, sir."

      Stanley watched Donald and Sophia leave. He looked at

      his watch. Time was running out. His plane would already

      have landed at JFKennedy. When they learned that he was

      not aboard, the manhunt would begin again. It will take

      them a while to pick up the trail, Stanley thought. By then,

      everything will have been settled.

      He stepped into a phone booth at the end of the dock.

      "I want to place a call to London," Stanley told the

      operator. "Barclay's Bank. One seven one ..."

      Half an hour later, he picked up Sophia and brought her

      back to the harbor.

      "You go aboard," Stanley told her. "I have another call

      to make."

      She watched him stride over to the telephone booth

      beside the dock. Why doesn't he use the telephones on the

      yacht? Sophia wondered.

      Inside the telephone booth, Robert Stanley was saying,

      "The Sumitomo Bank in Tokyo ..."

      Fifteen minutes later, when he returned to the yacht, he

      was in a fury.

      "Are we going to be anchoring here for the night?"

      Captain Bargas asked.

      "Yes," Stanley snapped. "No! Let's head for Sardinia.

      Now!"

      Sardinia is the second largest island in the

      Mediterranean Sea. The coasts of Sardinia are generally

      high and rocky, with long, relatively straight stretches of

      coastline, many outstanding headlands, a few wide, deep

      bays, rias, and many inlets and with various smaller islands

      off the coast.

      The island has a typical Mediterranean climate. During

      the year there are approximately 300 days of sunshine, with a

      major concentration of rainfall in the winter and autumn,

      some heavy showers in the spring and snowfalls in the

      highlands.

      Porto Cervo is a small town in Sardinia. It's one of the

      most beautiful places along the Mediterranean coast. The

      little town of Porto Cervo is a haven for the wealthy, with a

      large part of the area dotted with villas built by Alan Kimbal.

      The first thing Robert Stanley did when they docked was

      to head for a telephone booth. Donald followed him,

      standing guard outside the booth.

      "I want to place a call to Banca d'ltalia in Rome.”

      The phone booth door closed.

      The conversation lasted for almost half an hour. When

      Stanley came out of the phone booth, he was in serious

      trouble. Donald wondered what was going on. Stanley and

      Sophia had lunch at the beach of Porto Cervo. Stanley

      ordered for them. "We'll start with malloreddus." Flakes of

      dough made of hard-grain wheat. "Then the porceddu."

      Little suckling pig, cooked with myrtle and bay leaves. "For

      a wine, we'll have the Vernaccia, and for dessert, we'll have

      sebadas." Fried fritters filled with fresh cheese and grated

      lemon rind, dusted with bitter honey and sugar.

      "Bene, signor." The waiter walked away, impressed. As

      Stanley turned to talk to Sophia, his heart suddenly skipped a

      beat. Near the entrance to the restaurant two men were seated

      at a table, studying him. Dressed in dark suits in the summer

      sun, they were not even bothering to pretend they were

      tourists. Are they after me or are they innocent strangers? I

      mustn't let my imagination run away with me, Stanley

      thought. Sophia was speaking.

      "I've never asked you before. What business are you

      in?"

      Stanley studied her. It was refreshing to be with

      someone who knew nothing about him. "I'm retired," he

      told her. "I just travel around, enjoying the world."

      "And you're all by yourself?" Her voice was filled with

      sympathy. "You must be very lonely."

      It was all he could do not to laugh aloud. "Yes, I am. I'm

      glad you're here with me."

      She put her hand over his. "I, too, dear."

      Out of the corner of his eye, Stanley saw the two men

      leave.

      When luncheon was over, Stanley and Sophia and

      Donald returned to town. Stanley headed for a telephone

      booth. "I want the Credit Lyonnais in Paris ..."

      Watching him, Sophia spoke to Donald. "He's a

      wonderful man, isn't he?"

      "There's no one like him."

      "How long have you been with him?"

      "Two years," Donald said.

      "You're lucky."

      "I