It was a heavy responsibility that rested on Argento’s shoulders. Within the company, he was known as the efficient German. If there was a problem, they turned to him, and the problem disappeared.
“Why is it roped off?” he asked Miguel.
“The policía have completely shut us down. We can’t get in.”
“But what about your contact?”
“I can’t get in touch with him. He sent the preliminary report, but then I didn’t hear anymore. What are we supposed to do?”
Argento licked his lips. Now was the time to get creative. His goal was to protect the three doctors involved in the tests where the girl died. But the Spaniard had already killed one of the doctors, so now only two were left. Argento’s reputation had already taken a beating. If the Spaniard killed one more or, God forbid, both of the doctors, Argento would be finished. That’s why he’d gone for the safe route and isolated the two remaining doctors in Cabello Medico’s secret lab. It was the safest place Argento knew.
To Miguel, he said, “Stay there and see if you can get more information about the Spaniard’s whereabouts.”
Miguel cleared his throat. “And how do you suggest we do that? We’re not able to go anywhere, and we can’t reach our contact in the police.”
“I don’t care!” Argento hissed. “Fix it!”
“Yeah. Okay.”
Argento hung up. A drop of sweat ran down his back, and he shivered. The whole situation was slipping out of his hands. He had to do something fast, but what? He assessed his options, but nothing felt right. As he paced the ornate office, the sun slowly bathed the room in gold.
Suddenly, Argento flinched, turned around, and rushed to the table. He picked up his phone and scrolled through the contact list. When he found what he was looking for, he pressed the number. It rang a couple of times before a woman answered.
“Novus. How can I help you?”
Argento swallowed. “Madeleine Singh, please.”
“Who can I say is calling?”
“Reinhard Argento. From Cabello Medico,” he replied.
“Just a moment.”
A few seconds later, another woman’s voice greeted him. “This is Madeleine.”
Argento took a deep breath and said, “Hi, Madeleine. It’s Reinhard Argento.”
“Reinhard,” Madeleine said hesitantly, “I’m so glad to hear from you. How are you?”
“I’m good, thanks. But I am afraid I do not have time for small talk, Madeleine. If you don’t mind, I’ll cut to the chase.”
“Yes, of course.”
“I need your help,” he said in his stilted English. “We have a situation here that has gone completely off the rails in the last twenty-four hours.”
“Oh? Enlighten me.”
“Well, for some time, Cabello Medico performed an experimental treatment on cancer patients. It was a groundbreaking treatment, and there was only room for about ten patients to take part in the experiment. During the experiment, however, a very sick little girl was admitted, and she started the treatment. It looked good at first, but about halfway through, she quickly got worse and died.”
“How terrible,” Madeleine said.
“Yes, I agree. But we are talking about seriously ill cancer patients who would still have died without treatment. It is an ethical dilemma, but the intentions were good.”
“Okay, so what happened next?”
Argento sighed. “That is where the problems start. The girl’s parents, well, they turned out not to be just anybody. Of course, this wasn’t something we knew at the time, but the girl’s father was—or rather, is—an extremely dangerous man.”
Argento could almost hear Madeleine’s brow furrowing. “Who was he, Reinhard?”
“Pablo Francisco Adnan Kosh. Or, as we in the intelligence community know him, the Spaniard.”
***
Hugo bolted down the stairs, entered the foyer, and ran into the street. He nearly crashed into the two older ladies who were out walking.
“Watch where you’re going!” one of them shouted.
Hugo jumped to the side. “Sorry!”
He ran on along the sidewalk and pulled his car keys from his pocket. He reached their car, unlocked it, and threw his bag into the back seat. Jumping into the driver’s seat, Hugo twisted the key and revved the engine. The small Peugeot wasn’t entirely new, but it was still quick and nimble, perfect for the small Spanish villages he and Lita had visited in the last week.
He shifted into reverse and backed down a meter before throwing the car into first gear and stepping on the accelerator. With tires screeching, he took off, leaving a cloud of smoke behind him. The engine echoed through the narrow streets as he navigated around two tight corners and continued out onto the main road that led toward the center of town. He passed a dozen cars, then pulled out the comm radio and threw it into the passenger seat.
As Hugo hunted for the sign he needed, he swerved close to a parked taxi. The cabbie pressed on the horn as the Peugeot passed, but Hugo barely noticed. There it was—a sign marked Autostrada.
Hugo shifted and stepped on the accelerator, making the little car leap forward. He made a hard right and took the exit too fast, barely avoiding a truck that was slowly working its way up the ramp. He drove on and entered the highway.
Kilometer after straight kilometer, the highway stretched out. Before long, the faint smell of something burning reached him, and he peeked at the dashboard. The oil light wasn’t on, but the needle had moved to the right. He eased up on the accelerator a little, leaned over, and turned on the comm radio. The same female voice was talking who had spoken to Sánchez before. She sounded stressed.
“Listen to what I’m saying! I’m telling you, it’s on its way!”
A man’s voice answered. Sánchez’s.
“But are you sure? I mean, it doesn’t make sense.”
“You are not listening to what I’m saying, Pedro. He’s headed to some place up on the mountain outside town.”
There were a few seconds of hesitation before Sánchez answered. “Can you see exactly where he’s going?”
“No, not yet. If we draw a line from its current course, there are three villages in that area—Baccu, Listorni, and Pacculi. Baccu and Listorni are located west of the mountain range, and Pacculi is to the north.
Sánchez sounded irritated when he replied, ”I can’t send officers to every village, can I? I don’t have that many!”
“Listen, I can’t help you with that,” the woman said. “You told me to let you know when we had more information about where they were going, and so that’s what you’re getting now.”
Inspector Sánchez hesitated. “All right, thanks for that. But when you know more about which of the villages they’re heading to, then contact me again. Okay?”
“Copy that.”
Hugo’s mind raced. He would only get one chance at this. Those villages—Baccu, Listorni, and Pacculi—were spread over a large area. He wouldn’t be able to drive to all three. He’d have to take a chance. Baccu and Listorni were closer and lower down. A mountain range divided them from Pacculi, which was slightly farther away and higher up the mountain.
He passed some trucks in the inside lane as he looked for the sign. The exit to Baccu and Listorni would be coming up soon, in a couple of kilometers. There was still time. He picked up the phone and called his boss.
“Novus. This is Madeleine.”
“Hey, it’s me.”
“Hugo.”
“I’m on the highway. I need your help.”
Madeleine interrupted him. “Okay, you’re really lucky. We just got the assignment.”
“What assignment?”
Madeleine chuckled. “The one you’re already doing. To catch the Spaniard.”
Hugo frowned and said, “Already? How’d we get it so fast?”
Madeleine told him about the conversation she’d had with Reinhard Argento, and Hugo whistled.
“Impressive. But I’m not com
plaining. I’m on my way after the bastard now.”
Madeleine hesitated, then asked, “What did Lita say?”
Hugo shook his head. “We’ll deal with that later. I need your help first.”
A car honked as he passed.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. Listen.” Hurriedly, Hugo told Madeleine where he was and where he was headed. “So, I have a chance to find him,” he said, “but I have to choose one of the villages.”
“What about the police?” Madeleine asked. “Haven’t they said anything else?”
“Nope. And they can get there by helicopter. I’m driving. In about a kilometer, I could get off the highway and head toward either Baccu or Listorni. Or I could keep driving toward Pacculi.”
“Why do you think he’s coming back, Hugo?” Madeleine asked.
Hugo considered it. “Either there’s some unfinished business that he’s coming back for, or he’s got to take care of the next step in his plan, whatever that may be. Or perhaps he’s coming back to surrender.”
“If it were me,” Madeleine said, “I would choose the most isolated village for a handover. It’s the easiest to watch.”
Hugo thought. That made sense. If a handover were to be carried out, there would certainly be armed men from both sides who would oversee the surrender, and it would be easier to carry out in an isolated place.
“Okay, you’re right. I’ll take a chance on Pacculi.”
“Sounds good.”
“What about the team?” Hugo asked. “Are they on their way?”
“They’re in the air as we speak. It’ll probably be a couple more hours before they get there. Can you pick them up?”
Hugo swerved past a car. “Yeah, tell Mikko to call me when they land. Send the coordinates to the airport.”
“Okay, I’ll tell him. Good luck, Hugo.”
***
Finally. Mikko sank into the soft seat and leaned back. He loved this. The pulse, the passion. The pace when a mission had started. For the last hour, they had gone over the details of the task, and now they were resting a bit before they landed. The aircraft shook as it flew through some turbulence, but Mikko ignored it. He was used to the occasional bumpy flight, and it didn’t bother him in the least. Opening his eyes, he glanced to his right, where Sussie sat gripping her armrests. He leaned toward her and put his hand on hers.
“Hey, it’s all right. Just a bit of turbulence. It’s going to be okay.”
She forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re right. I just don’t feel it.”
He held her hand while the shaking died down. When everything was calm again, she exhaled.
“Thanks, Mikko.”
He let go of her hand and smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”
They were an excellent team, he, Sussie, and Freya. They had their strengths and weaknesses, and they were all individualists, but somehow, they worked well together as a group. Mikko was Finnish ex-military. After he’d left the army, he’d worked for a while with a couple of different security firms before being offered a job at Novus. He had accepted, and it had been a smart move. With his expertise and background in technology, Mikko was made for the job.
Sussie had a completely different background. She’d been a distinguished student at university with a focus on system design. After earning her degree, she’d been employed at the security department of a global IT company, but after a couple of years of that, she’d had enough of the monotonous working days. Madeleine had had her recommended and had contacted her with an offer. And to Madeleine’s delight, Sussie had accepted.
A voice behind Mikko made him turn around. Freya came walking from the rear section of the plane. Freya was a special bird. She had a background in the Norwegian army; Madeleine had reached out to her when she’d left to seek new challenges. She was a little over thirty years old, tall, and strong. Her dark hair was almost always pulled up in a ponytail.
She approached Mikko and Sussie, slapping Mikko playfully on the shoulder. “What’d you do to Sussie? She’s all pale.”
Sussie waved her hand and said, “Nah, he tried to help me. I don’t like it when the plane shakes. You know that.”
Freya leaned over and smiled. “Yeah, I know. How are you doing?”
“Better now.”
Freya turned to Mikko. “Have you gotten hold of Hugo yet?” she asked.
“No, he’s not answering. But Madeleine said she was going to try to catch him too.”
Freya grabbed the seat as the plane rocked. “Yes, Hugo hopefully knows we’re on our way. Given what we read earlier about this Spaniard, we need all the help we can get.”
Sussie bit her lip and said, “Right. I’ve also gotten some reports about his career and alleged victims. If it is him, he’ll probably be challenging to catch.”
“Well, we’ll see how much catching this mission is about,” Freya replied.
“What do you mean—you don’t want to do this?” Sussie asked. “Madeleine said we’d just been hired to stop him.”
Freya shrugged. “Yeah, but you know as well as I do that with a target like this, there are no guarantees.”
“Of course, I know,” Sussie said, tilting her head. “It all depends on the target, but we don’t have to go in with the attitude that this is a kill mission. There are other ways.”
Freya frowned. “Agreed,” she said. But deep down, Freya knew some people could only be stopped with brute force. Some people were, by their very nature, evil. No matter how much you wished it, you couldn’t meet those kinds of people with anything but power. Hugo knew that too, which was what made him such an excellent team leader. He understood that sometimes there was no other way out than to kill. Not always, but sometimes. Freya hoped they’d be able to get hold of him before they landed.
She glanced at her watch and saw it was a little after seven in the morning. Leaning toward the window, she squinted out at the dawning morning sun that bathed the pictorial landscape below in yellow light. It was a stunning sight. But they weren’t here for a pleasure trip, she thought, gathering herself again. They were on their way to help their leader on a mission.
***
A chain is only as strong as its weakest link. Pedro Sánchez opened the door and went out into the Spanish morning. The already-balmy air met him, and he breathed it in deeply. This was his country, his people. The sun caressed him as he turned to the nearest officer and waved.
“Get the car. Let’s go.”
The young officer nodded rapidly. “Of course, boss.”
Sánchez lit a cigarette and drew a deep puff. He slowly let the smoke slip out while he deliberated what to do. He didn’t have enough officers to send some to each of the three villages. Baccu and Listorni were quite close. Pacculi was also nearby, but the town was higher up the mountain than the other two.
He was deep in thought when the young officer drove the police car up toward him. Sánchez held out his hand, showing to the officer where he should stop. The young cop braked hard, and Sánchez opened the passenger door and climbed in. He pointed forward.
“Go.”
The officer pushed the accelerator, and they left the police station behind. Sánchez was still immersed in thought when the officer cleared his throat.
“Sorry, boss, but where are we going?”
Sánchez shrugged. “Just keep going straight ahead here. Drive straight east. I need to see if we can catch a couple more helicopters. We only have one available down at the airfield, and if we have three villages to visit, we’re going to need help.”
The officer nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Sánchez thought through the situation. Maybe he could contact the district police and ask them for more resources. If the chopper was carrying the Spaniard, they had a chance to catch him, and that would be the highlight of his career. But if it wasn’t, he’d be derided by his colleagues. Sánchez bit his lip. It would be insufferable if that over-the-top Miguel Sitche in the neighboring village made jokes at
his expense.
As they continued, the young officer cleared his throat again.
Sánchez frowned and said, “For God’s sake, Joaquin. If you want to say something, just do it. You don’t have to sit there clearing your throat every time you want to say something.”
Joaquin swallowed. He’d only worked for the force for three months, and everything was still new.
“Sorry. Excuse me, boss, but I was just going to say I have a cousin down at the airfield. He might have an idea of where some helicopters are that the police can rent.”
Sánchez twisted his fleshy neck and stared at Joaquin. The young officer’s eyes flickered.
“What’s that, now?”
Joaquin clenched his jaw. “Ah . . . my cousin . . . he works at the airfield. Maybe he can help us.”
Sánchez slapped Joaquin on the shoulder. “You’re a lifesaver, Joaquin. Do it. Call your cousin and see if there are two available helicopters we can rent for a day.”
Steering the car with one hand, Joaquin pulled his cell phone out of the middle console with the other and began scrolling down through the contact list. Sánchez nodded. Maybe this would work. Yes, he had to go for it. What was it his grandmother had always said? “No fear.”
Sánchez stared out the side window as they drove along the highway. He’d been at the same job now for almost fifteen years. It was time for something new, and this was going to be his ticket up. He was going to catch the Spaniard and become Spain’s golden boy. If he succeeded, he’d be on the front page of every newspaper for a month. Joaquin glanced at him and gave a thumbs-up. Sánchez chuckled, grabbed his cell phone, and dialed.
“Headquarters.”
“It’s Sánchez. Get our men ready and get them down to the airfield. We’ve got two more helicopters ready, so get everyone down there with as many weapons as they can carry.”
The voice hesitated. “But sir, we’re still waiting for five more men. Even with the people we’ve called in, we only have nineteen.”
The Hugo Xavier Series: Book 1-3 Page 52
