Chapter 23
Via Nazionale
KESSEL WASTED no time in checking under his bed as well as inside the telephone for bugs. In spite of finding nothing suspicious he told the manager he required new rooms.
Throughout the evening he tried Otto Bayer's cell phone number, and every time the recorded voice of the operator gave the same reply. "The number you are calling has failed to respond. Please try again later."
He did try again later, many times, with increasing frustration. The disappearance of Otto and the Audi was disturbing. Even if Otto had driven to the village of Monte Sisto for a drink, and if his car phone failed or was out of range, he would certainly have come back to the hotel here in Rome by now -- or at least contacted the hotel if he was having trouble with his vehicle.
"I don't know why you're worrying, Herr Kessel," said Karl cheerfully. "Otto probably got fed up with being ordered around by you. I expect he's driven back to Köln."
"He had nothing to gain, Karl. The man is short of money. I haven't paid him anything yet for his time and trouble. All I've given him is cash for fuel."
"He took plenty of photographs," observed Karl bluntly. "They'll be worth much more than the few Italian lira you were going to give him. Let's go and find something to eat."
Kessel ran the comb through his hair and felt no resistance. The haircut in the Via Nazionale had only emphasized its sparseness. "You're right, Karl, I can try Otto's phone again when we're out. But it puzzles me why he doesn't answer, even if he is on his way back to Germany. With a car phone like his you can pick up a signal anywhere."
Karl didn't sound as though he cared. "Just think of all the money you've saved, Herr Kessel."
"If you think...!" Kessel stopped as a thought hit him. The youth had been gone a long time at Monte Sisto, and that was when Otto failed to answer the radio.
"Now what's the matter?" Karl asked.
Kessel knew he must choose his words carefully. The skinhead had already demonstrated he was a killer, and he had no intention of ending up impaled on that damn paperknife. "I'm wondering about Otto's Audi."
"What about Otto's Audi?"
"I promised you a station wagon like that."
Karl stood up. "You promised me that one."
Kessel tried to speak softly. "But you are not concerned that Otto has taken it away?"
Karl shook his head, looking self-conscious. "I didn't know what you meant, Herr Kessel. Otto wasn't going to give it to me willingly. I thought maybe you planned to blackmail him."
"Blackmail? How do you mean, blackmail?" Kessel felt a little more secure now.
"Well, you know, a perverser Mensch like that must have plenty of things he wants to hide."
"Then you don't mind about the Audi?"
"What's happened has happened," said Karl without feeling. "Look, Herr Kessel, even if you're not hungry I am. You can stay here -- I'm going to find some food."
Karl stamped from the room. Kessel stayed behind, making one last attempt to reach Otto. As the receiver buzzed in his ear he wondered where Karl really was going. Perhaps he was on his way back to Monte Sisto to collect Otto's Audi. Perhaps to bury the body. Maybe the youth was just hungry.
The recorded voice repeated the all-too-familiar message.
Kessel felt exhausted. He slammed the telephone back onto its rest. The more he tried to assume total command, the less control he appeared to have. Damn the boy! Damn Otto! Damn the ADR!