This makes him uneasy. The first time he picked up the receiver, there was no voice at the other end, only a silence followed by the click of the connection being broken. This time he lets the telephone ring until it goes quiet. He knows it isn’t Mecha Inzunza, because they have agreed to keep their distance. They decided that last night, on the terrace of Il Fauno. The chess game had ended at ten-thirty. Soon after that, the Russians must have discovered the break-in, the hole cut in the glass door, and the rope dangling from the roof. And yet, sometime after eleven o’clock, when, having showered and changed his clothes, a nervous Max had walked through the garden toward Piazza Tasso, he saw no sign of any commotion in the building occupied by the Soviet delegation. Apart from a few lighted windows, all was seemingly calm. Possibly Sokolov hadn’t yet returned to his suite, he concluded, as he approached the main gate. Or (and this could prove more worrying than police cars parked outside) the Russians had decided to deal with the incident discreetly.
