Chasing The Dawn (Luke Temple - Book 2) (Luke Temple Series)

by James Flynn

  “No. This one I do alone. Forty minutes there, forty minutes back, and I will be quick.”

  In truth, Luke wanted a good look around Vittorio’s place and didn’t want distractions. There was a nagging thought that kept trying to come to the surface when he thought of Vittorio … what is it? He didn’t have time to dwell. He checked an old electronic alarm clock on the bedside table; the red numbers told him it was 7.15 p.m.

  “Take this.” Luke handed her the Sig Sauer. It was a big decision to leave it. He pushed any thought from his mind that he wanted to protect her; she is a tool, nothing more.

  Chung Su took the gun and rested it on the bed, handling it now as if it were a delicate and dangerous device. Luke slammed the hotel room door shut, and listened for Chung Su to lock it. Once he heard the clicks, he turned and focused in on the next objective.

  58.

  Delvechi stood with his arms folded, staring out at the array of lights shining back from Teramo. His mind was racing.

  Around twenty fireman were stood around the house, doing not much more than staring at it. They were all shouting and gesticulating, but with little urgency. The fire was out.

  “We have isolated the gas lines and cut power to the area. I am just waiting for my men to do the final sweep.”

  Delvechi nodded his head, he was only half-listening. The call had come through to the station a few hours ago, but it had been described as a gas fire, so he hadn’t been notified. After arriving and assessing the scene, the provincial officers had realised there was far more to it and Delvechi had raced over. He now stood amongst a collection of fire engines, provincial cars and two ambulances. The faint thud of helicopter rotors sounded overhead. It was not a state helicopter which meant the media.

  The moment Delvechi had been told the house belonged to Professor Brun he knew in his gut that it was intentional.

  “It wasn’t gas, was it?” Delvechi was not asking.

  “No, Sir,” replied the fireman. “It was a localised explosion that appears to have originated from outside the property. It’s not really my job but in my opinion I would say it originated from the front porch.”

  Delvechi looked around at the range of serviceman. He could see a sense of trepidation and confusion amongst them. They were all starting to realise that it was no accident, and the thought was jarring. He could almost hear them trying to process it. But this is Teramo. How can this happen here? Delvechi knew this was what they were thinking because only one day previously he would have been thinking the same.

  Strolling over to the woman sat in the ambulance, Delvechi motioned for her to wind down her window. “Evening. That the only body?” He nodded at the stretcher that was now making its way over to them.

  “Yes, there was no one else we could find inside.” She eyed him up and down, his long black coat hiding his uniform.

  “Male?”

  She nodded. “But don’t hope to identify him anytime soon, the explosion caught him head on.”

  “Ok. I will need you all to provide a statement, but it can wait until tomorrow.”

  “And you are?” she asked.

  Delvechi pulled his badge out of his pocket. The woman didn’t seem shocked, she just smiled.

  Delvechi knew the body would be that of the professor. Are they eliminating people who know something? The Korean scientists, Vittorio, Brun … Delvechi let the thought hang. Where the hell is Beltrano?

  Just then his attention was diverted by a man striding over from where the provincial officers were all congregated. Officer Nestor.

  There was something different about Nestor. The last couple of times they had met, Delvechi had recognised the normal provincial syndrome, a man who was desperate to be important, feeling challenged in his small pond. But tonight Nestor’s face looked drawn, and he lacked his usual pomp and energy.

  “Good evening, Signor. Is your senior officer here?” Nestor spoke weakly.

  “You can talk to me. What have you found?”

  “Not much, Signor, in fact not anything yet. There was an explosion …” Nestor hesitated. His look was one of fear. “My men and I are all a bit … well … I must say this is very unique for Teramo. First we have the laboratory, then the officer shot dead and now this. This is a bomb, Signor … a bomb here! Is all of this to do with the laboratory? Is it to do with something over there?” Nestor was getting himself worked up and finally snapped, “We deserve to know! We have to notify the government departments!”

  Delvechi didn’t snap at Nestor; he actually empathised with him. He too was desperately trying to make sense of things.

  “Officer Nestor, I fully understand your feelings. But this is being handled. Firstly you know full well that you cannot notify anyone as it is our case.” Delvechi touched his badge. “We are working through this …”

  “Working through this? Working through this?”

  “Officer Nestor, I ask you to control yourself. It is a very serious matter and we have to keep united; it is part of a wider investigation. I assure you we are doing everything in our power to resolve this, but we can’t do that without your cooperation. You do want to capture the perpetrators, don’t you?”

  Nestor restrained himself. “Of course, Signor.”

  “Then please continue to do as we ask. Speak to no one, especially any media organisations, we do not want widespread panic. Tell some of your men to go home, keep a handful here and the rest can come back. I will talk with the emergency services, gather what I can before the official report is produced, but then I will sit with you at the station and we can go over details … ok?”

  Nestor was overcome with fatigue; he seemed to have barely enough energy to nod. He slinked away back to his men.

  Delvechi was swinging in the dark, piecing the jigsaw together bit by bit; it was a putrid image that he was assembling. He felt the sweat building on the small of his back. I must tell a superior officer … every time the thought appeared so did the words of the family in Battaglia.

  He knew what he needed to do but he couldn’t bring himself to confront it. He was willing it not to be so, but no matter how he tried to rearrange the pieces they always made the same conclusive picture. Who the hell is going to be next?

  59.

  Luke knew that L’Aquila was the capital of the Abruzzo region but stood in the piazza he did not get that impression. The city had been the victim of a devastating earthquake a few years earlier and it was clear it was still attempting to rebuild.

  The taxi driver had given Luke directions to the address, it was east of the piazza. on the Via Fortebraccio. The ache in Luke’s leg was intense and he decided to rest on a bench before making any moves.

  The most intense feeling was one of frustration; he was a step behind; the Iranians seemed to have a stronghold in Teramo and had been constantly one step ahead. It was not good enough to just neutralise the threat because he had no idea how far the threat had spread. Do they have the technology and want to destroy the work happening at Gran Sasso? Or are they still trying to discover and steal? If a nation as unstable as Iran could copy the experiment then the consequences didn’t bear thinking about. Could this whole thing be energy-based?

  Iran was incredibly dependent on the export of oil, and therein lay their ultimate grievance with the Western economies, who for the majority of the twentieth century were the largest importers of the black gold. In recent times the West flexed their might on several occasions by imposing import bans on Iranian oil to get what they wanted, essentially strangling Iran financially. The motive fit. Fission, the thought came into his mind and it sent a chill to think what they would be capable of.

  Then he remembered Iran was not the only entity in the equation. North Korea; it was widely known within the intelligence community that North Korea was a rapidly growing threat. They had carried out several covert nuclear tests, and it was a reality that they now had the capability to produce large-scale nuclear weapons. Breathing deeply and trying to get focused, Lu
ke rubbed his leg. His hearing was slightly muffled but livable. His head had a dull ache from the blow he had taken in the café. Sometimes he wondered how his body still held together.

  He scanned the piazza, even in the half-light the architecture was beautiful. Closing his eyes a distant feeling crept up … Sarah would have loved it here. He could smell her perfume, the sweet scent of citrus. He opened his eyes and she floated off into the night; he was again alone on the bench. He stood up, stamping his feet to get the circulation going, and headed east toward Vittorio’s.

  ***

  Chung Su lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The room was cold but she barely registered the temperature. In her right hand she rubbed her fingertips over the metallic shell of the Sig Sauer, feeling its every detail. The occasional high-pitched whine of a scooter engine passed by out on the road, but the hotel was silent.

  How is this all going to end?

  Her imagination began to curl and mould images, all of them bad. She knew that they were now set on a path from which they could no longer turn away. In the quiet room, her mind could only conjure horrific images of what may happen. People were already dead, murdered, and in her heart Chung Su felt that her end would come in the same way. I am just a scientist.

  Even if, by some miracle, she could make it home, what waited for her upon her return? The short, stout military man who had set her along this path had made it clear. She replayed the last conversation she had with him, his spitting, angry tone, the cold dead eyes, the definitive way in which he told her she could not return to her homeland if she failed.

  Without Luke present her defense crumbled and tears rolled down her cheeks. It was as though each beat of excitement she had ever felt towards her work was now coming back to hammer her heart. She closed her eyes tight; little dots of light danced across the darkness. They began to merge into flickering particles, firing across the space, colliding, streaming rays behind them … each one a new neutrino desperate to release its energy.

  Chung Su sat up and pushed the gun away. Wiping her eyes, she rolled off the bed and began to pace. As she stalked around the room she felt her heart strengthen, the world felt firmer, she again saw the potential she held to make a difference. Luke was right, in the wrong hands such breakthroughs are dangerous, but not in my hands, in mine and my country’s hands we will achieve great things. She had been tossed into hell but perhaps that was her fate, to emerge from the flames, the phoenix to harness Pandora. Her body felt warm again, and with each step she took she felt stronger. Her helplessness vanished in the face of her belief that she could take on what Vittorio had discovered and use it to make the world a better place.

  I must speak with him …

  She needed to make contact with the short putrid general who had thrust her forward. She was desperate for him to know she was so close, that she remained brave in the face of danger for her homeland, for the people she held dear. She decided that she would bathe and restore some life to her body and then would search for a phone. She was sure she had seen one in the lobby.

  Luke’s words suddenly entered her mind. You must not leave this room, understand? He was a curious entity to Chung Su, his face was delicate, and his eyes were not ones that belonged to a hardened killer. There were few men she had met who were so capable, so in control of their body and mind, and beneath the quiet steel she had the sense he worked for something he believed was for the greater good. Yet he viewed her as nothing more than a useful vessel, a material that had a value, and she was sure that when her value had run out he would discard her the same way he had others. Her mind was made up.

  60.

  Via Fortebraccio was not a picturesque Abruzzi road; it was narrow and buildings lined either side. What made the buildings imposing was the scaffolding seemingly hanging off every frontage. The buildings looked dirty and unkempt, but it was difficult to ascertain whether it was earthquake damage or general neglect.

  Luke moved cautiously down the road. He had memorised the address from the original file Davison had given him in Hillerod. Not every building he passed had numbers, but he could see they were getting higher as he moved down. A corrugated metal shutter belonging to a small personal garage loomed up on his right; next to it was a slanted concrete ramp that split two houses. The one on his left was three storeys high and carried a rusted metal number Fifty-One. That was Vittorio’s number. Luke edged back over to the opposite side of the road. There were only two windows on the middle level, all in keeping with the local style; a split pane of glass in a wooden frame with two brown shutters opened out on either side. Luke hitched himself up onto the top of a stone wall and moved into the trees until he was confortable he was invisible to any passing pedestrians. He then settled down to watch.

  ***

  After thirty minutes and with the cold having taken root in his limbs, Luke was satisfied that no one was watching the property. There had only been one person that had passed and he was a teenager far more engrossed in his mobile phone than the world around him. Luke couldn’t marry the property up with someone who had done groundbreaking work such as Vittorio, it was a run-down area and a tiny run-down flat. It felt odd. There were no signs of life on any floor, no lights, no sound and certainly no movement.

  Luke felt the comforting tingle of adrenaline. He felt it pulse through his veins. It was always a dangerous move, entering a property illegally.

  As he reached the rear of the house Luke stopped to listen; he heard nothing to alarm him. The back of the property had no scaffolding, but it was just as run-down. There was no light, and a high wall that separated the property behind cast a total blackness over the small concrete space. Letting his eyes adjust, Luke saw some ragged police tape that hung limply across a single back door. Moving past a rusted metal container he pressed his ear gently against the door: silence.

  He crouched down and brushed his hand over the cold floor, trying to feel whether there was anything that would be of use in freeing the lock, but all he got was a dusty jumper sleeve and cold palms. Without any other option and not wanting to be on site longer than was necessary he braced his right foot against the doorframe and swiftly and effectively jammed his covered fist through the single-pane glass. The shatter of the glass and the further smashing on the tiled floor inside was much louder than Luke would have liked, but after a moment of silence, no one or nothing seemed disturbed. Throwing his hand inside the small hole he released the lock, entered and shut the door quietly behind him.

  The house was in darkness; Luke wanted to keep it that way. Directly in front of him there was a set of stairs; all floors seemed tiled and cold. On his right there was a door that had a number one painted on it. Placing his feet heel to toe he gently moved across the tiled floor, keeping as quiet as possible. Just because you don’t hear people doesn’t mean they don’t exist.

  Reaching the top of the stairs, Luke rounded a sharp corner and directly in front of him was apartment two. More police tape was stretched across the door, two strands crisscrossed to make an X. The hallway was barely big enough for two people to pass each other, and again Luke was bemused why a renowned professor would choose to live in such a place. Moving to the door, he negotiated the tape, and again pressed his ear up against the door. He heard no noise from inside. Using a slice of glass from the shattered window to jimmy the lock sideways, Luke slipped inside Vittorio’s apartment.

  The first thing to attack Luke’s senses was the smell of cigar smoke. He found himself stood in a large open-plan dining room and kitchen; there were no lights on and the furniture made solid shapes in the dark. An electronic dial flashed on the microwave indicating the time was 8.41 p.m. Luke moved into the kitchenette area. Seeing a solid block with protruding arms he leant over and gently pulled out a large kitchen knife from the stand. He had no weapon on him and it made him feel uneasy. He tucked the knife down the back of his jeans, the cold metal pressing against the small of his back. He would replace it on his way out.


  Luke reached into his jeans pocket and removed the weighted sock. He carefully pushed out his mobile phone, battery and Sim card. Amazingly, the only damage from the bomb blast was a crack running across the screen. With a little difficulty due to his frozen fingers, he connected the parts together.

  Luke moved towards a closed door on his left, it led him into the lounge where again his nostrils were attacked by the stench of cigar smoke. The lounge faced the road, and one of the windows was letting in residual moonlight, which was casting eerie shadows through the scaffolding. Tucked into a corner of the room next to another door was a curved desk unit that had shelves extending up from a writing table.

  Why is it so pristine? Luke couldn’t work out why the flat had been left so untouched. Surely forensics have been through here with a fine toothcomb? Nothing looked touched, everything was sat neatly in its place. There was no way forensics would replace everything as it was; they would take things and examine them for evidence.

  He needed to focus and begin his search. He had no idea what exactly he was looking for but the fact everything was untouched gave rise to hope that he may still find something crucial to unravelling the mystery. His Group 9 instructor came to mind: when searching a property you must be methodical. It is absolutely crucial that you structure the search in your mind as you go through. You are not some bumbling burglar; you have to apply the same granular detail to each movement. Keep it simple, take pictures. If you move something, you have a picture; you replace it as it was. Make sure to remove tell-tale signs of a moved object, dust marks and indents being the most obvious. With those words ringing in his ears, he set to work.

  61.

  Chung Su cautiously stepped out past the lift. Her grit and determination started to wane as she stood looking at the exposed position of the payphone situated at the far end of the hotel foyer. Luke’s words stuck in her mind and for a moment she contemplated returning to her room. No, be strong, think of the consequences. She knew she had to make the call; the number was burned into her memory.