Climatized

by Sally Fernandez

  “There’s a crucial part of the story you’re not telling us!” He intentionally sounded unyielding.

  “What is it with you two? You’ll have to wait for the videotaping. The crux of what you want to know—you’ll only hear from me once.” Antonio was equally determined, but at the same time he seemed ill at ease.

  Even the dinner wine didn’t loosen his lips. At that point, it was doubtful that they would get any more information from him. The hour was late. And Antonio was obviously holding his cards close to the vest. Noble and Max realized they would have to hold off until tomorrow for the moment of truth.

  “Meet us back here in the morning, promptly at eight o’clock,” Noble specified. “We’ll begin recording then.”

  Antonio agreed, having already resigned to his fate. He got up from his chair, said “Domani,” and walked out of the room.

  “You haven’t lost your stuff, kid. Good job.”

  “Thanks!” She held up her fist.

  Noble returned the fist bump on his way to the door. He stood there and listened to Antonio’s footsteps as he walked up the stone staircase to his room. A few seconds later Noble turned the doorknob.

  “Where are you going?” Max was surprised by his sudden move.

  “I’m going to sleep on the sofa in the lounge outside of Antonio’s room. We can’t lose him now.”

  “You think he still might run?”

  “One never knows, but I’m not taking any chances. Will you be okay?” he asked, thinking about her fitful night of sleep.

  “Aside from this damn ankle, you don’t have to worry about me anymore. Sweetheart, what’s done is done. It’s ancient history. And thanks to you, I can truly put it behind me.”

  “That’s exactly what I needed to hear.” He gave her a passionate goodnight kiss and then forced himself to leave, carrying along a disappointed heart.

  For several seconds he stood motionless on the other side of the door, wanting desperately to turn around and make love to her. This was the first time they had worked together as both partners and lovers. And as much as it hurt, he recognized the assignment had to take precedence. Welcome to the spy business, he thought.

  Chapter 34

  ESCAPE FROM CAPANNELLE

  The noise was muffled but detectable. The stealth design and black sheen were menacing. It caught the attention of all those working in the vineyard. Abruptly, the laborers stopped in their tracks and looked upward.

  Max saw Noble’s expression. Slowly their eyes drifted toward the ceiling as they listened to the familiar sound. “You think they found us?” She uttered the words in a muted tone, hoping not to distract Antonio as he prepared mentally for the videotaping.

  Minutes passed. Nothing seemed to deter the helicopter as it stubbornly continued to hover above the vineyard, maintaining its position. The constant humming sound was becoming unsettling. Especially for the three entranced guests inside the hotel.

  “I swear I’ve been extra careful. I’ve paid cash for everything,” Antonio insisted, shattering the silence inside the room.

  Both Antonio and Noble shifted their attention to Max.

  “Don’t look at me! Stanton paid for my airfare, and I paid cash to the driver.”

  Noble switched his attention toward the nightstand. “Max, what about your phone?”

  “It’s secure. Stanton loaded encryption software on both mine and Jax’s.” Immediately, her expression changed to one of dread. Her eyes moved over to the dressing table.

  “What’s wrong? Max—what happened?” Noble had seen that expression on rare occasion. Somehow she had screwed up.

  “I bought a few toiletries for this unplanned excursion and makeup to cover this frigging bruise.”

  “Where?”

  “Duty-free—on the plane.”

  “With your credit card? What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking about how crappy I felt.” Max’s expression remained deadpan, but she could not believe her own stupidity. Whether it was the near-death experiences, the concussion, or fleeing hastily, she simply never focused on the fact that her credit card was being traced thirty-thousand feet up in the wild blue yonder. I have to stop behaving like a P.I. and reflect back to the days when I was a damn good spy, she chastised herself.

  Noble sensed she was confronting her costly mistake and laid off from further recrimination. “Forget it Max. Let’s focus on getting out of here.”

  Antonio entertained that very thought. “The winemaker might be able to help.”

  “Go find him, but make sure the way out of here avoids the main road,” Noble cautioned.

  Antonio left straightaway, almost before Noble had finished issuing the order.

  “I’ll gather my stuff.” The sound of defeat in her voice was obvious.

  Noble gave her a quick hug and assured her they would all be okay. Then, he moved into action. “Pull your things together as fast as you can. I have a fast call to make.”

  “To whom?”

  “Enzo.”

  Luckily, Enzo answered. “Ciao, amico mio. What a pleasant surprise.”

  “I need your help!”

  Enzo could tell from Noble’s strained voice that he was in real trouble. “Calmati.”

  “It’s no time to be calm. I really need your help!” he repeated. Then he gave Enzo a hasty snapshot of what was happening, divulging only what was necessary.

  “Okay, get yourselves to San Marino as fast as you can. I’ll be able to protect you there.” Enzo thought for a second longer and then instructed, “Check into the Hotel Titano. The room will be in my name and they won’t require a passport or any identification.”

  “There’ll be three of us.”

  Just then Antonio rushed back into Max’s room.

  “Enzo, see you soon.” Noble hung up. “What did you find out?”

  Still out of breath, Antonio sputtered, “Simone showed me a tunnel. It starts in the wine cellar under the main gardens and leads to another vineyard about a kilometer away. Here!” Antonio handed Noble a key. “It belongs to an old Laforza they leave at the vineyard until after the harvest. It’s parked on the side of the road, close to where the tunnel ends.”

  “May I ask, what’s a Laforza?” They were in enough peril. Noble wanted to make sure that were not adding to their woes.

  “It’s an Italian SUV made by Rayton-Fissore. Trust me; it will be fine.”

  “Great; go grab your things. We’re getting out of here—now!”

  “Hey guys,” Max lamented, “there’s no way I can make it, in a LaForza or otherwise. Noble, you’ll have to get Antonio to safety alone.”

  “We’re not leaving you here,” Noble insisted.

  Antonio agreed.

  While Antonio left to fetch his belongings, Max asked one more time to be left behind.

  “No, we’re all going together!” Noble was emphatic. “And on the way to San Marino let’s take the opportunity to see if we can get any more information out of Antonio. Maybe even an inkling as to his testimony. We need to be one-hundred-percent sure he’s for real. Our lives and the president’s reputation are on the line.”

  Max relented even though she suspected it was Noble’s ploy to make her feel essential.

  It took them close to an hour to reach the vineyard with Noble and Antonio taking turns carrying either Max’s luggage and crutches or Max. Finally, they reached the end. As Simone promised, an old Laforza was parked alongside the road. They still heard the ominous sound of the helicopter whirling off in the distance and knew they had no time to spare. Hurriedly, they threw their belongings into the rear of the vehicle and helped Max into the back seat. She managed to sprawl out and get reasonably comfortable. Noble and Antonio sat up front. Antonio drove.

  Chapter 35

  A GHOST FROM THE PAST

  “Ford Investigations.”

  “Hey, if it isn’t Jackson Monroe.”

  “Who am I speaking to?”

  “You don’t remembe
r your old spy buddy Sam?”

  “Casper?” Jax was taken aback.

  “Shush, that was a long time ago. But right now you and your lady spy are playing with hell’s fire—or should I say ire—or should I just say ‘L.’”

  Jax shuddered at hearing the one letter that would frighten the bejesus out of anyone. He had heard all the stories about Henry Edmond Little. Henry was in the same Special Forces Unit as he and Sam. Except Henry left the forces as the consequence of a court martial. It was often rumored that while he was serving time in the brig, he would make veiled threats that “there’ll be Hell to pay” after his release. Henry kept his word and became an unrivaled hired assassin known only as ‘L.’ There was nothing little about him and his trademark—all methods he devised for his hits—started with the letter ‘L.’ It became his deadly calling card.

  “You have my attention.”

  “When Max met me in Sarasota, she told me that Claus Veunet died climbing Lou Passo with a virtual stranger. Luca Doerfinger died when his brakes went out on a rented Lexus an hour after he picked up the car. Jonas von Boehmer, an extremely fit German, also met his fate. How did he die, exactly?” Sam asked.

  “He was supposed to have been given an adrenaline injection to stop a cardiac arrest. But the autopsy revealed traces of sodium thiopental and potassium chloride. Von Boehmer’s cocktail was probably laced with sodium thiopental causing him to become dizzy and then unconscious. And I suspect, instead of adrenaline, he was given the potassium chloride that would have induced cardiac arrest.” Jax was trying to figure where Sam was leading.

  “Remember the doctor treating Max was attacked with a syringe?”

  “Yeah, I still get the shudders thinking about it.”

  “The doc’s a friend of mine and he told that the toxicology report showed over a hundred milligrams of pancuronium bromide. All three of those drugs in combination are used for a lethal injection given to prisoners being executed.”

  “I’ll be damned. They all start with an L. How the hell did I miss that?” Jax was floored.

  “Oh, let’s not forget Sherman Spark died with a Luger pointed at this head.” Sam paused. Then it was his turn to confess. “I didn’t make the connection myself old boy until I ran the plates on the car that hit Max. It was a Lincoln Continental rented by someone using a fake I.D.”

  “Oh my God, the syringe that landed in the doc’s neck was meant for Max. Sam, she’s up to her usual tricks. She’s in a winery in Italy on a hunch.”

  “The name of the winery is Capannelle.”

  “What! How do you know?”

  “I’m afraid that was my fault. I gave her the clue that led her there. And there’s one more thing. When I went to visit Max in the hospital room, I noticed that someone had sent her a bouquet of edelweiss. I caught a glimpse of the scribbled note on the card that was left on the night stand. It was clearly a warning.”

  “Odd,” Jax interjected. “Max received a bouquet of the same flower at the office right after taking the case.”

  “Jax, the Latin name for edelweiss is Leontopodium alpinum. It appears they may have come from the fine and fatal hand of L.”

  “But why would L first warn Max to back off and then try to kill her?”

  “I’ve met our lady spy. She’s quite the looker. Best guess, our deadly assassin had a weak spot and only wanted to finish her off in his own sweet time. Whatever the reason, get to Max and warn her.” Casper hung up.

  Jax immediately tried to call Max, but her phone was unavailable. Then he contacted the winery directly, but they told him that she had checked out a few hours earlier. She’ll be okay, he thought. Noble must have caught up with her by now. But that gave him little comfort. His heart beat more vigorously as the initials for Henry Edmond Little, along with his calling card, spun in his head. “There’ll be HELL to pay, you sadistic bastard!” Jax shouted out to an empty room. He was outraged and at the same time frightened for Max. Suddenly, one more scoundrel came to mind. He dialed the number.

  “Senator Erog, please. This is Jackson Monroe, an associate of Max Ford.”

  “One moment,” the secretary replied.

  “Yes, Mr. Monroe, what can I do for you?” the senator asked impatiently.

  “I recently came across documents that you may find of interest. I understand they have to do with the testimonies Claus Veunet, Luca Doerfinger, and Jonas von Boehmer were to give before your committee.”

  There was complete silence on the other end of the line.

  “Senator, are you there?”

  “What makes you think they are of any interest to me?”

  “All I know Senator, is that four men have died, all of whom knew the contents of their common testimonies.”

  “We’re all shocked at these horrible accidents. Out of respect, my hearings have been delayed by these unfortunate tragedies.”

  “Then Senator, can I assume you’re no longer interested in these documents?”

  Ahem was the strained sound from the end of the line as Erog tried nervously to clear his throat. “I’ll call you right back.” The phone went dead.

  “Son of a bitch, my suspicions were right. He’s up to his pudgy neck in this fiasco.” Jax spouted out loud again and then reverted to a smile. “But the lily-livered senator fell for my bluff. Max was right. He’d make a lousy poker player.”

  Jax had hoped that if he served himself out as bait, the senator would contact L and L would want to take out his old buddy. He waited patiently for the phone to ring, but the call never came. Instead his phone vibrated as a text message was being received—it was an address. “Perfect! Now we go mano a mano!”

  But he also needed Sam.

  Jax redialed the number Sam had called him from before. There was no answer. Frantically, he searched his desk looking for the piece of paper with the phone number he had scribbled down, the one Max had shown him earlier, the one with Sam’s other number. He dialed it.

  “We’re done talking,” Sam grumbled.

  “Wait! I have a plan. Meet me tomorrow in Washington at two p.m. I’ll text you the address.” Jax hung up.

  Chapter 36

  ON THE ROAD TO SAN MARINO

  San Marino was a three-hour drive from Gaiole. Noble used the navigation on his secure phone to guide them. Once underway, Antonio took the opportunity to ask two gnawing questions.

  “Who’s Enzo? And why are we going to San Marino?”

  “Enzo Borgini is a dear friend and the executive director of police headquarters at Interpol.” Noble could see Antonio wince, but continued. “He’s headquartered in Lyon, France, but oftentimes he’s in San Marino where Interpol plays a vital role in promoting cooperation between its tiny republic and other member countries. Fortunately for us, he’s in San Marino at the moment.”

  “Fortunately for me—he’s Italian,” Antonio jested.

  “Hey, slow down! Who do you think you are, Fabrizio Giovanardi?” Max bellowed as she almost rolled off the back seat.

  Antonio chuckled as he looked at the rear-view mirror. “So you know our famous race car driver?” Easing slightly up on the gas pedal, he continued to wend his way up and down the meandering roads on SS73.

  “I’m just a head full of trivia.”

  “There’s something else bugging me,” Antonio said. “How could the credit card transaction on the plane lead to Capannelle?”

  “I’m sure Max would also be happy to explain that anomaly.” Noble felt her punch the back of his seat with her fist. He laughed inwardly.

  Max huffed. Then she droned as though she were reading a textbook. “The transaction was traced to a specific flight. From the security cameras at the airport it was easy to find a woman fitting my description, being wheeled through Fiumicino, and outside to a car waiting. The license plate on the car was easily visible on the outdoor security camera. All it took was to track down the driver and ask where he delivered his fare.” While Max laid out her Spy Tracking 101 theory, she realized how si
mple it sounded. Her self-incrimination began to resurface.

  Abruptly she switched the conversation.

  “Antonio, you told me that when you and Simone discussed global warming, you disagreed as to the cause. So what is your take on climate change if it’s not global warming?”

  “Nice try, but I’ll only discuss the testimony on videotape.” Antonio caught her sunken expression in the mirror.

  “She’s just making small talk, Antonio,” Noble interjected. “But I’d be interested in your opinion as well.”

  Antonio thought, What’s the harm? and moved in with his pitch. “The UN Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, the IPCC, is posturing that manmade CO2, when released into the atmosphere produces warmer temperatures. But in reality, overall manmade emissions have little effect.”

  “I’m all ears!” Max caught Antonio eyeing her again in the mirror. She made sure she appeared interested.

  “There’s a total disconnect between CO2 in the earth’s surface temperatures. What’s being touted by the IPCC does mesh with the numbers. I place my money on the analytical stats.”

  “So reducing CO2 will have little long-term effect on temperatures?”

  “Yes. But there’s overlooked evidence that CO2 has a salutary effect. It’s making Earth greener, which will be beneficial to crops and forests.”

  “Greener?” Max asked rather dubiously.

  “Yes—greener. There’s science that bears me out. Recently, a team of scientists using satellites has determined that in the last thirty-five years Earth is becoming greener. I’m sure you remember from your high school science class the term photosynthesis?”

  “Sure. The process by which plants and other organisms convert carbon dioxide and water, along with nutrients from the ground, into sugars producing energy.”

  “You get an A-plus. But don’t forget that energy is the main source of fuel from which plant life thrives and some of that CO2 comes from fossil-fuel production. Also, as Earth becomes greener the biomass absorbs more of the CO2 and the entire ecosystem as a whole flourishes.”