who had flown into Brindisi-Casale an hour earlier by helicopter, specifically to brief Richter.
‘He arrived at the international terminal, Terminal Three. Because he was spotted before he reached passport control, the immigration people were able to record his details. He was
travelling on a German passport, in the name of Günther, and had just arrived on a flight from Geneva. The purpose of his visit, he claimed, was tourism. We checked with Swiss – the
airline he was flying with – and learned he has a return ticket to Geneva, due to fly out of Rome in three days. That was when we contacted your Secret Intelligence Service, Mr
Simpson.’
Richter glanced over at Simpson and did some swift mental calculations. The timing for this was almost exactly right. As soon as Simpson had been informed by SIS about the possible sighting of
Andrew Lomas – who was on the alert list of every Western Intelligence service – he had suddenly, miraculously, changed his mind about Richter’s long-standing request for two
weeks’ continuation training on board the Invincible .
‘So where is he now?’ Richter asked, putting the thoughts from his mind.
‘Not too far from here,’ Perini replied, ‘and he’s led us on quite a dance so far. He took a taxi from Fiumicino to the Stazioni Termini – Rome’s main railway
station – and there bought a ticket to Naples. One of our men got close enough to him to hear him speaking to the ticket clerk.’
‘Why didn’t he just fly direct to Naples, then?’ Simpson asked.
‘He couldn’t,’ Perini replied. ‘There are no direct flights from Geneva to Naples. They all route through an airport in some other country first, usually Paris or Munich,
and our guess is that Lomas didn’t want to risk being spotted either in France or in Germany.’
‘So he’s now in Naples?’
‘No. Let me explain,’ Perini shook his head, looking slightly embarrassed. ‘We got one of our men on to the train that Lomas caught, and briefed watchers to wait for him at
Naples. That train makes three stops before it gets there: Latina, Formia and Aversa. Lomas got off at Aversa – the station serving Caserta, a few miles north of Naples. Our man followed him
out, and then used his mobile phone to let us know what had happened, but we had nobody waiting at Aversa and the station’s at least a half-hour drive from Naples. That was our mistake.
‘Lomas got into a taxi and our man followed in another, but it was late afternoon and the traffic was very heavy. When he got boxed in, the taxi carrying Lomas slipped away.’
‘We tend to use motorcycles,’ Simpson remarked shortly.
‘So do we,’ Perini replied with a frown, ‘and we had two waiting at the station in Naples, but unfortunately nothing at Aversa. There had been no indication that Lomas realized
he was being followed, and we assumed incorrectly that he would proceed to Naples. It was just an unfortunate oversight.’
‘He probably didn’t know he was being followed,’ Richter said sympathetically, ‘but for men like Lomas taking precautions becomes a way of life. He’d
probably never buy a ticket to any railway station he was actually intending to use – always for somewhere further down the line, and then get off earlier. So how did you find him
again?’ Perini stared at him. ‘You obviously did find him,’ Richter went on, ‘otherwise I wouldn’t be sitting here trying to develop a taste for pasta al forno and with a Sea Harrier parked outside that the Royal Navy would quite like to get back safely.’
Perini nodded. ‘Yes, we did find him again. Our man had the registration number of the taxi Lomas hired, and we interviewed its driver. He took his fare to one of the smaller hotels in the
centre of Caserta, but when we checked with the hotel reception, nobody resembling Lomas was registered there.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ Simpson snorted. ‘As Richter’s already said, Lomas is an accomplished
‘He arrived at the international terminal, Terminal Three. Because he was spotted before he reached passport control, the immigration people were able to record his details. He was
travelling on a German passport, in the name of Günther, and had just arrived on a flight from Geneva. The purpose of his visit, he claimed, was tourism. We checked with Swiss – the
airline he was flying with – and learned he has a return ticket to Geneva, due to fly out of Rome in three days. That was when we contacted your Secret Intelligence Service, Mr
Simpson.’
Richter glanced over at Simpson and did some swift mental calculations. The timing for this was almost exactly right. As soon as Simpson had been informed by SIS about the possible sighting of
Andrew Lomas – who was on the alert list of every Western Intelligence service – he had suddenly, miraculously, changed his mind about Richter’s long-standing request for two
weeks’ continuation training on board the Invincible .
‘So where is he now?’ Richter asked, putting the thoughts from his mind.
‘Not too far from here,’ Perini replied, ‘and he’s led us on quite a dance so far. He took a taxi from Fiumicino to the Stazioni Termini – Rome’s main railway
station – and there bought a ticket to Naples. One of our men got close enough to him to hear him speaking to the ticket clerk.’
‘Why didn’t he just fly direct to Naples, then?’ Simpson asked.
‘He couldn’t,’ Perini replied. ‘There are no direct flights from Geneva to Naples. They all route through an airport in some other country first, usually Paris or Munich,
and our guess is that Lomas didn’t want to risk being spotted either in France or in Germany.’
‘So he’s now in Naples?’
‘No. Let me explain,’ Perini shook his head, looking slightly embarrassed. ‘We got one of our men on to the train that Lomas caught, and briefed watchers to wait for him at
Naples. That train makes three stops before it gets there: Latina, Formia and Aversa. Lomas got off at Aversa – the station serving Caserta, a few miles north of Naples. Our man followed him
out, and then used his mobile phone to let us know what had happened, but we had nobody waiting at Aversa and the station’s at least a half-hour drive from Naples. That was our mistake.
‘Lomas got into a taxi and our man followed in another, but it was late afternoon and the traffic was very heavy. When he got boxed in, the taxi carrying Lomas slipped away.’
‘We tend to use motorcycles,’ Simpson remarked shortly.
‘So do we,’ Perini replied with a frown, ‘and we had two waiting at the station in Naples, but unfortunately nothing at Aversa. There had been no indication that Lomas realized
he was being followed, and we assumed incorrectly that he would proceed to Naples. It was just an unfortunate oversight.’
‘He probably didn’t know he was being followed,’ Richter said sympathetically, ‘but for men like Lomas taking precautions becomes a way of life. He’d
probably never buy a ticket to any railway station he was actually intending to use – always for somewhere further down the line, and then get off earlier. So how did you find him
again?’ Perini stared at him. ‘You obviously did find him,’ Richter went on, ‘otherwise I wouldn’t be sitting here trying to develop a taste for pasta al forno and with a Sea Harrier parked outside that the Royal Navy would quite like to get back safely.’
Perini nodded. ‘Yes, we did find him again. Our man had the registration number of the taxi Lomas hired, and we interviewed its driver. He took his fare to one of the smaller hotels in the
centre of Caserta, but when we checked with the hotel reception, nobody resembling Lomas was registered there.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ Simpson snorted. ‘As Richter’s already said, Lomas is an accomplished
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