I needn't have worried. The expediter not only wasn't suspicious, he wasn't even interested. Benedetto and I lifted Zorchi into the ambulance. Benedetto climbed in after him and closed the doors, and I went to the front. "You're dismissed," I told the driver. "I'll drive." As soon as we were out of sight of the clinic, I found a phone, got Rena at the hotel, told her to meet me under the marquee. In five minutes, she was beside me and we were heading for the roads to the north. "You win," I told her. "Your father's in back--along with somebody else. Now what? Do we just try to get lost in the hills somewhere?" "No, Tom," she said breathlessly. "I--I have made arrangements." She giggled. "I walked around the square and around, until someone came up to me. You do not know how many gentlemen came before that! But then one of my--friends showed up, to see if I was all right, and I arranged it. We go up the Rome highway two miles and there will be a truck." "Fine," I said, stepping on the gas. "Now do you want to climb back and tell your father--" I stopped in the middle of the word. Rena peered at me. "Tom," she asked anxiously, "is something wrong?" I swallowed, staring after a disappearing limousine in the rear-view mirror. "I--hope not," I said. "But your friends had better be there, because we don't have much time. I saw Defoe in the back of that limousine." IX Rena craned her neck around the door and peered into the nave of the church. "He's kissing the Book," she reported. "It will be perhaps twenty minutes yet." Her father said mildly, "I am in no hurry. It is good to rest here. Though truthfully, Mr. Wills, I thought I had been rested sufficiently by your Company." I think we were all grateful for the rest. It had been a hectic drive up from Anzio. Even though Rena's "friends" were thoughtful people, they had not anticipated that we would have a legless man with us. They had passports for Rena and myself and Benedetto; for Zorchi they had none. It had been necessary for him to hide under a dirty tarpaulin in the trunk of the ancient charcoal-burning car, while Rena charmed the Swiss Guards at the border. And it was risky. But the Guards charmed easily, and we got through. Zorchi did not much appreciate it. He swore a ragged blue streak when we stopped in the shade of an olive grove and lugged him to the front seat again, and he didn't stop swearing until we hit the Appian Way. When the old gas-generator limped up a hill, he swore at its slowness; when it whizzed along the downgrades and level stretches, he swore at the way he was being bounced around. I didn't regret rescuing Zorchi from the clinic--it was a matter of simple justice since I had helped trick him into it. But I did wish that it had been some more companionable personality that I had been obligated to.