by Trevor Scott
“Kurt and I have been thinking about that. We think that the U.S. government may be looking at those countries as a cheaper labor force and an eventual market for goods. That is once they get their economies straightened out. This will take years. But the U.S. companies need to get in on the ground floor.”
Jake placed his hands over the warm radiator. “That makes sense. But what did the pilot have to do with the Commerce Department?”
“That’s the problem. We think we have a rogue in the department. Kurt followed Jason Dalton, the second in charge of the Rome office, to Trieste last night. Dalton dropped off something with at least two guys aboard a fishing boat. We think that Dalton was the contact for the pilot and his men and is transferring the chips to some other country.”
“I see. If he made the drop here in Rome then perhaps he would be selling to a company in Italy. But he’s transferring in Trieste, which is more like a Slovenian port than Italian.”
“Exactly. I see your time in the private sector hasn’t dulled your reasoning,” Toni said.
“Ha...Ha.” A shiver came over Jake again. This time he was afraid he shook visibly. He had to sleep. But more than that, he had to digest the essence of this case. It had become an enigma; two fold from what he had just left in Germany. His case there wasn’t complete, yet he had this new case to work as well. It was comforting to have Toni here, and Herb would keep things moving in Germany while he was away. But how did they relate to one another, or were they even related? He’d need sleep to determine that.
“What are you thinking, Jake?”
“I’m thinking if I don’t get some sleep I’m going to drop.”
“The sofa is yours,” she said, stroking her arm slowly toward the makeshift bed.
He didn’t need any further convincing. He swaggered over, plopped down on the sofa, and curled up his legs to fit on the short couch.
●
In a few minutes, Toni came over to the sofa and looked at Jake. She unhooked his gun from the shoulder holster and set it on the coffee table. Then she covered him with the blanket and straightened it over his body. She sat down in the chair next to the sofa and watched him sleep.
27
VARAZDIN, CROATIA
The pale morning sun seeped through the lead glass outer windows of the great foyer picture window casting elongated diamonds across the burgundy Persian rug.
Isaac Lebovitz hesitated briefly at a small wooden table to smell a grand bouquet of tiny red roses. It was but a small example of what would come, he thought. The beauty and fragrance of a San Remo villa would embrace him with pleasure, and bring tears to his eyes each and every morning. Tears of joy, not despair.
With the creak of the stairway behind him, Isaac turned. Vitaly Urbadic, his most trusted agent, made his way down the rest of the stairs slowly, and stopped to look out to the overgrown front garden. His tired, wrinkled eyes revealed the reality of his forty years, and the long nights and constant travel. Yet, his muscular chest bulged his tight black shirt almost as it had when he was an eighteen-year-old Olympic hopeful. Only a knee injury had stopped his running career. And his twenty years with Hungarian Intelligence had kept him out of the factories.
“It’s a jungle out there,” Vitaly quipped.
Isaac moved over and opened the door to his large study. “I know you must be tired from the long trip last night,” he said. “But I have to hear what you’ve learned.”
Vitaly stretched his arms high above his head and yawned. “All right. But I thought we could at least make time for coffee.”
“The maid will take care of that. Come, have a seat. You may be young, but time will eventually catch up to you as it has me. And then watch out. You won’t be able to run around the continent from Germany to Italy and back to Croatia without a great deal of discomfort.”
“The discomfort has already arrived, Isaac,” he said.
“Greater discomfort than fatigue.”
Vitaly sat in the chair opposite Isaac’s desk.
“Did you get enough sleep?” Isaac asked.
“I guess.”
Isaac tapped the side of his forehead with his index finger in time with the clock on his desk. “What did you find out?” he asked.
Vitaly shifted in his chair. “Dalton is a shrewd man.”
“Besides that,” Isaac said, becoming more impatient.
“He signed the contract. I countersigned to the right of your signature as you requested. He had another guy with him. I think an attorney. He had that distinguished and arrogant air to him, yet shifty eyes. His investors were eager to close the deal, so we can go forward with the plan.”
“Was the money transferred?” Isaac asked directly, realizing his question was more like an accusation.
Vitaly hesitated. “Yes. In the Swiss account.”
“Excellent. Things are moving ahead even faster than expected. I don’t want to wait for Budapest to get off its ass. I could die of old age before that happens.”
“What other choice do we have?” Vitaly asked.
Isaac rose from his chair and walked over to the window overlooking the overgrown side garden that scaled the side of the high brick outer wall. The wall had once kept the poor from peering inward, and the gentry from seeing those less fortunate. Perhaps he could move forward faster, he thought. The money was in place. The technology acquired. Why not?
He turned toward Vitaly. “We have another choice, Vitaly,” he said smiling. “We can shift our first project to Germany. I know...I know, that was supposed to come later. But Germany is moving much faster than Hungary. Rudolf said his company would be ready in six months. That would give his engineers plenty of time to convert the production line.”
“But...will Rudolf’s workers stay?”
There was a lot of speculation in the German press that the citizens were getting disturbed by all the foreigners in their country. Those foreigners were considering moving back to their homeland. But some had nowhere to go. With the unemployment rate in most of Europe above twenty percent, the sentiment was understandable.
Isaac sat down again and tapped his forehead. “Yes,” he said softly. “They must. They are loyal to Rudolf. He said he’s only lost a few workers. Other companies have lost up to fifty percent. Production has nearly come to a standstill some places. We could start training Rudolf’s workers now, and in a few months, be ready for full production. Rudolf said six months not knowing that the money would be available this soon. I’m sure that he could push for an earlier production date.”
“But what about marketing?” Vitaly asked.
“Dalton’s strategy will help us out there as well. We should be able to keep labor and production costs down. We’ll pump our products out to Western Europe and America at a reasonable price and great profit for us. Then, we’ll be established to exploit Eastern Europe also. And then the world.”
Vitaly smiled broadly. “It sounds like we can’t fail.”
“We can’t fail,” Isaac emphasized. “The chips Dalton has given us are the fastest available. Combine those with the information we are obtaining in Germany, and we’ll have the most advanced product on the market at the cheapest price. They’ll sell like ice cream on a hot day.”
Without knocking, the maid came in with coffee and an assortment of bread, cheese and meats. She nodded to Isaac, and slowly limped out without saying a word.
Isaac motioned for Vitaly to help himself, and then got up to leave the room. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Out in the foyer, the sun had intensified allowing the visibility of dust particles in its beams. Isaac met a tall man in a dark black suit. The man’s eyes stared coldly at Isaac without blinking. His cratered face and steel jaw looked like a Greek statue that had succumbed to acid rain. His large hands were thick and strong. He still had his black felt hat on.
Isaac looked into the man’s eyes sternly and then turned and walked toward the kitchen. The man followed. Once the door to the kitchen was closed
, Isaac said, “You were supposed to get here first.”
The man finally took his hat off. “Yes sir, I know. But I had to make a detour to Rome first.”
Isaac raised his eyebrows. “Rome? Why Rome?”
“I watched the transaction as planned. But I wasn’t alone. There was another guy who had followed Dalton to Trieste.”
Isaac’s interest was now rightfully peaked. He gestured for the man to sit at a small booth near a convex window with a view of the sculptured back garden and pond. It was the only garden on the estate well maintained and out of view of Varazdin’s lower class. “Please, tell me more.”
“I followed the man to a nice residential area in Rome. The car and apartment belong to a woman named Toni Contardo. I couldn’t find out who the man was.”
“Who is she?” Isaac asked quickly.
The man paused for a second. “CIA.”
“What? How do you know?” Isaac asked.
“About two years ago, when I was still assigned to the Southern NATO intelligence acquisition, I ran across her path. She’s one of the agents who cracked our NATO plans scheme. She planted the disinformation to our guys, who then turned it over to the Russian CVR. When the Kremlin found out the plans were useless, our two agents were killed.”
“Yes, yes...I remember,” Isaac said. “So then we must assume that the other man who followed Dalton is CIA also.”
The man shrugged.
Isaac tapped his forehead and then looked at his man directly. “You must make sure they don’t stop Dalton. We can’t have anything go wrong now. I thought that getting rid of Cecil, her boss, would be enough. But I guess we’ll have to get rid of a few more. Do what you have to do. Use whatever means required. I want it done quickly, and with as little commotion as possible.
The man smiled and shook his head.
“You have a problem with that?” Isaac asked.
“No, sir. It’s just that Contardo is quite the looker. It will be a terrible waste of beauty.”
“That’s never stopped you before. Use as many men as you need. Don’t confuse her beauty with a lack of competence. The CIA doesn’t hire just anyone. She has to be good.”
The man needed no more guidance. He rose and departed through the back door.
When Isaac returned to the study, Vitaly was stuffing the last of the bread into his mouth. Isaac poured himself a cup of coffee and took a slow sip.
“Is everything all right?” Vitaly asked, his voice muffled by the bread.
Isaac heard the words, but neglected their meaning. He looked at Vitaly carefully. He was eager to please without question. When Isaac left Hungarian Intelligence for early retirement, his men slowly resigned with him to keep from arousing suspicion. Government service had at one time meant a prestigious position, but had quickly become a mire of bureaucratic stagnation. Vitaly should be beyond the scrutiny of question, Isaac thought. But there was far too much at stake to disregard a double-layered operation. Even Vitaly had to be watched.
“Yes, Vitaly. Everything is just fine.” Isaac sat back in his chair and brought his hands together to his mouth as if praying.
28
ROME, ITALY
Jake slowly opened his eyes to a darkened room. The shades were drawn, but a glint of light seeped through; only enough to make out objects of furniture in Toni’s living area. He pressed the light to his watch; sixteen ten. That was more sleep than he expected to get.
He switched on a small lamp on the table next to the sofa; his bed. Toni had left him a note. She and Kurt had gone to check on Jason Dalton, and would return by five p.m. He checked his watch again. Less than fifty minutes away. Milt should be on his third cup of coffee and halfway through the Sunday paper by now, he thought.
Jake picked up the phone and dialed Milt’s number.
“Hello,” Milt answered.
“Jake Adams,” he said.
“Jake, where are you?”
“Italy.” Jake yawned.
“You sound tired. Did you drive down?” Milt asked.
“Yeah. I just woke up. Has anything happened since we talked last?”
“Well, yes.” Milt paused. “The government is giving me problems. They say the leak is still in place aboard the USS Roosevelt.”
“How’s that possible? I take it you’ve heard about the bombing in Genoa a week ago?”
“Yes.”
“That may have been to cover someone’s tracks. I’m not sure who. But we’re working on it.”
“We?” Milt asked.
“Yeah, I still have a few friends in Italy. Milt, are you alone? Is Steve Carlson there with you?”
“I’m alone. Steve took an unexpected vacation. Something about a sick aunt out East. I briefed him before he left, though.”
“Sorry to hear that. Milt I’ll track down the Roosevelt and see what I can come up with. Who’s the tech rep onboard?”
“A guy named Burt Simpson. But he’s trustworthy. Steve hired him personally about two years ago.”
“I don’t trust anyone,” Jake said sternly. “Trust can get you killed at this stage of the game. But I’ll find him and get as much information as I can from him.”
“Milt, I’ve got a theory. Bundenbach Electronics was moving in a number of different directions up until about five months ago. At that point, they cut loose all of their research and development people except for those working on transputer technology.” Jake waited for some response.
“Go ahead.”
“Well, I think that Bundenbach decided to shift all its efforts to transputers, but then came up with the same problem that the other European companies have run across. The transputer processing is fast, but it comes with trade-offs. To make it truly outstanding, say a breakthrough equivalent to the Cray One back in the early eighties, they had to overcome memory direction problems. With the speed and storage capabilities of your chips, they can overcome all of their problems. They’ll have a computer with an ironclad networking scheme at one fourth the price of any supercomputer. They could put a lot of companies out of business with a super transputer like that. But even more scary would be to shift production of transputers to the personal computer level. I don’t even want to think about what would happen then.”
Jake paused again to listen for a response.
“Milt, are you still with me?” Jake asked.
“Shit. I wish we’d thought of that. Are you sure you don’t want to come to work for me permanently?”
Jake laughed. “No, thanks anyway. Computers are just a hobby with me.”
“Yeah, right. I wish we had a few more hobbyists in our company.”
“Do you think my theory has relevance then?”
“Yes, unfortunately,” Milt said. “I wish you were wrong, but I doubt you are.”
“Thanks for the confidence. Milt, this case is taking some strange twists. I’m sure that I’ll have it wrapped up in no time. But....” He thought about his own motives.
“What’s the matter, Jake?”
“I don’t know. This case really pisses me off. And when I get pissed, I do things that may hurt others. It would be okay, but sometimes those people are close to me.”
“Do what you have to do,” Milt said, and then paused. “There’s a lot to be said for self-preservation. Sometimes you have to hit people over their head to get their attention. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
That’s the problem. Jake had a bad feeling about this case. Getting shot at during his first days in Germany didn’t help dispel that feeling. He thought things would change for the better, but keeping one step ahead of Gunter and his men had been nearly a full-time job.
“Milt, I’ll do my best,” Jake said with confidence.
“I know, Jake. I know.”
Jake hung the phone up gently. He stroked his hands through his hair. This shit’s getting long, he thought, as he pulled pieces of hair straight up. Dirty too. He rose from the sofa, quickly undressed, and went into the bathroom to tak
e a shower.
As the shower was getting hot, Jake looked at himself in the mirror. He noticed he’d lost a few pounds. His muscles were a little less defined; probably due to his lack of working out since arriving in Europe.
After the shower, he walked out into the living room, naked, rubbing his head dry with the towel.
Toni stood at the door, watching him.
Jake finally noticed her and just stood there looking back at her. He felt a warmth rising within him.
She kept her gaze on his eyes, but had to notice him growing.
“Is Kurt with you?” Jake asked.
“No. I’ll have to go pick him up in a few hours.”
“That should be enough time,” Jake said as he moved closer to Toni.
Her breathing became slower and deeper; her chest rising with each breath.
Jake dropped the towel, grasped the nape of her neck, and kissed her anxiously.
Squeezing his firm buttocks with both hands, she thrust him closer to her.
He released his kiss and nibbled along her strong jaw and down her neck; then back up to her ear.
She stretched her head backward. “Jake,” she sighed.
He slowly unbuttoned her shirt and unleashed the front latch on her overflowing bra. Her breasts escaped into his awaiting hand. He caressed her gently, discovering her firm, rounded form, as he had so many times before.
Toni kicked off her shoes, and Jake helped her slip out of her skirt.
Their lips met again as they lowered themselves to the smooth blue tapestry.
He slowly entered her.
“Yes,” she cried softly. “Pronto, pronto.”
He picked up the tempo. Smoothly, quickly, forcefully.
She arched her back and forced her lips upward with each stroke.
It was as if they had never parted ways. They had always been so good together.
After a long while, they lay united, embracing, her soft face against his stubbled jaw.
