by Trevor Scott
Donicht was downstairs and watched Adams walk outside, and then he rose to tail him. When he reached the street, Adams was getting into his car. Donicht tried not to look at the American as he got into the polizei BMW and turned it over.
●
Jake pulled out into light traffic and gazed at the man sitting behind the wheel of the BMW. When the car pulled out behind him, his assumption was correct. He checked his watch. It was eight-thirty, a half hour from his meeting at Tirol Genetics. What the hell. Take the local cops for a little ride. After a few blocks Jake pulled over along the river and watched a few swans struggling against the current. He noticed the BMW pull over and wait for him. So Jake pulled out into traffic again and drove along the river a few blocks before turning right onto Prinz-Eugenstrasse, which eventually ran into Andechsstasse. As Jake turned left onto Amraser Seestrasse and picked up speed, he noticed the BMW still in his wake.
Two blocks later Jake entered the onramp for the A-12 autobahn heading west, where he quickly burst through the gears.
He weaved in and out of the morning traffic, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror, where he could barely make out the BMW fading behind him. Just before an exit he swung around a truck and down the exit ramp, pulling to a halt at the stop sign below. The BMW missed the turn, and Jake watched it zip past on the bridge to his left. Jake smiled and drove off toward Tirol Genetics.
22
Having just come back from making a few phone calls at a booth in Jenbach, Toni Contardo sat for a moment in her Alfa Romeo gazing up at the gasthaus where she had left the Italian scientist, Giovanni Scala. He had been disturbed at the events of the past twenty-four hours, and she couldn’t blame him for that. He had gone from a high of being nominated for a Nobel Prize, to finding out his partner had been killed. He had nearly been kidnapped, and then finding his partner’s maid murdered like that. It had been too much for him. She had seen much worse. Perhaps even gotten used to such things, if that was possible.
The call she had made to Tirol Genetics had been somewhat routine. The president of the company wasn’t too happy to hear that Scala would not be there on schedule, but then he didn’t have much choice in the matter. She controlled everything.
On the other hand, the call to her message service had been more interesting. She was only twenty miles or so from the man she once thought she would marry, if not at least spend the rest of her life with. The problem had been that her and Jake had always found themselves at different junctures in their lives. At first they had worked in different countries for the same organization, only coming together for a few cases and for vacations in San Remo or Cortina. She warmed to the thought of those brief yet memorable times, where they had explored each other with such great exuberance and passion. Later, after Jake had returned to the States and left the Agency to start his own business, distance had been the detrimental factor, even though he had come to Italy the one time on a case where they had renewed their relationship briefly. And now he was so close and she was working a case, babysitting a scientist who might have understood the physiological importance of his discovery, if not the sociological implications. That would have to change, she knew. But for now, she had to move Scala, in case someone had discovered where she had made the calls from. Jenbach was a small place with limited options for lodging.
She got out and strolled toward the gasthaus.
●
Jake eased into a leather chair in the plush office of Otto Bergen’s second floor suite at Tirol Genetics. The company owned two buildings in Innsbruck, sitting next to each other in a new industrial park that was landscaped more like a medical complex than production facilities.
One building was set aside for research and development, with an extensive laboratory. The smaller building he was in now was the headquarters, containing administrative and marketing personnel.
From where Jake sat waiting for Otto Bergen to arrive, he could see the old Olympic ski jump from one corner, and downtown Innsbruck, the Inn River, and the Alps from the other.
Otto Bergen entered from a side door, met Jake in the middle of the room to shake hands. “Sorry I’m late, Mr. Adams. I had an issue to take care of.”
“No problem,” Jake said taking his seat again. “I was just enjoying the view.”
Bergen sat and swiveled toward the window and back again. “Yes, it is quite remarkable. I chose the location of my buildings myself.”
Jake watched the man carefully. Something wasn’t right. He was talking of pleasant things, but clearly thinking of something less enjoyable. He was dressed in a fine suit, unlike the night before at the restaurant. Yet, it was his eyes that gave away his concern, Jake realized. His eyes seemed to droop with the intensity of burnt toast.
“I looked over the information you sent me last night,” Jake started. “Aldo seemed like a truly gifted man. I’m sure you’ll miss him a great deal.”
“That we will,” Bergen said. “We have other scientists here, but none with Leonhard’s vision and creativity. It was his idea to study the small Italian village. He had a feeling there was a secret there.” Bergen seemed more animated, moving forward in his chair and clenching his fists and jaw as he spoke. “Leonhard recruited his Italian colleague because he needed someone more adept in biochemistry. The two of them made a perfect team.”
Jake remembered reading about the Italian last night. “This Giovanni Scala. I take it he has all the information you need to follow through with your production, assuming their assumptions are correct?”
Bergen’s brows furled forward. “Their assumptions are correct, Mr. Adams. But you are accurate with regards to Scala. He was to present his findings with Aldo this morning. That’s what made me late in meeting you. I was in the conference room trying to calm our investors.”
“Let me guess, Scala’s missing.”
Bergen hesitated and then said, “Not really missing. Yet not here either. Which brings me right back to you. Last night I asked you to look into Leonhard Aldo’s death, which is still important, but not as important as bringing in Giovanni Scala. We need him and the research he and Leonhard had conducted. Can you help me out?”
Jake thought about it. How hard could it be to find a missing scientist? “Sure. You said something about compensation last night. It might be a good time to discuss that.”
“How does a hundred thousand sound?” Bergen asked.
Jake smiled. “It depends on if you’re talking Shillings, Deutsche Marks, or U.S. Dollars.” He did the math quickly in his head. “If it’s Shillings a hundred and forty thousand sounds better.”
“A deal.” Bergen held out his hand across his desk and Jake shook it briefly.
“I’ll need half up front, of course.”
“Certainly. My assistant will arrange it after we talk. But first you’ll need some additional information.” Bergen hesitated, uncertain how to proceed.
Jake laughed. “I figured there had to be more to it. Let me guess. Scala is in some draconian prison and I have to find a way to spring him.”
“Not quite. But you have some imagination.”
Imagination? Shit. He had done just that while in Kurdistan less than a year ago.
Bergen thought for a moment. “I just got a call from someone who says she’s speaking for Scala. He’s afraid to come in because someone tried to kidnap him in Milan yesterday afternoon. He’s frightened, she said. So she said she’d like to set up a meeting with me first, before he brings in his research. I told her we are the rightful owners of his studies, and she got a little upset with me, saying if I wanted more than a box of ashes, I would listen to what she had to say.”
Jake was confused now. “Who is this woman?”
Bergen produced a small piece of paper from his pocket. “Her name is Maria Francesco Caruso.”
Jake tried not to look surprised, but inside everything brightened and he understood what was going on. This would be the easiest ten thousand bucks he ever earned. Maria Francesco Caruso
was his old friend Toni Contardo’s favorite alias. He tried to look serious. “Who is this woman, and what exactly does she have to do with Scala?”
“I don’t know. That’s what I need you for, Jake. She set up a meeting for this evening at seven-thirty.”
“Where?”
“The Olympic Ice Stadium.”
That was smart, Jake thought. On a Friday evening, there would be a hundred skaters at that time of day. “That’s a big place. Where within the stadium?”
“She said to go down by the ice and she’d find me.”
“And you want me to back you up?”
“I want you in place an hour early,” Bergen told him. “She sounded pretty intense.”
That’s Toni, he thought. “I’ll be there.” He got up to leave.
“Thanks, Jake. I appreciate your help. And don’t forget to talk with my assistant about your advance.”
“I won’t,” he said over his shoulder as he left.
After getting a check from the assistant in the outer office, Jake went to his car and thought about what to do until he needed to be at the Olympic Ice Stadium. It was clear that Toni would be almost impossible to find before the meeting. She could have been anywhere. He could leave her another message and hope she got back with him, but that was unlikely. He did have one idea that might work.
●
After Jake left Otto Bergen’s office, Marcus Quinn entered from the side door and took the seat that Jake had just sat in. He could still feel the warmth from Jake’s body, and that thought tingled through him, bringing bumps to his arms. He had been that close to Adams. He wanted the man so badly, he would do anything to get him.
“Did you hear everything on the intercom?” Bergen asked.
The man was preoccupied thinking of Adams. Finally he said, “I heard it. You said exactly what I told you.”
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Positive. Adams will help us and then I’ll take care of the prying bastard. He’s done screwing up my life.”
“Who do you think this Caruso woman is?” Bergen asked, visibly concerned.
Quinn thought for a long minute. “Don’t know. But when I find her, I’ll fuck her up good for messing with my plans.”
23
Brachi and Gabbiano had slept for much of the flight from Boston to Rome, which had remarkably arrived a half hour ahead of schedule due to a tail wind. From Rome they had immediately caught a commuter flight to Milan, and were now making their way from deboarding to the baggage carousel.
Waiting for them at the baggage area was Pasquale Sappiamo, a distant cousin of Varducci and therefore also related to Gabbiano, but he wasn’t sure how.
The three of them greeted with kisses, and then picked through the bags for their own, before heading out of the terminal to a car parked illegally in a drop off zone. There was already a ticket on the windshield, which Sappiamo quickly scooped up, ripped in pieces, and threw to the ground.
Sappiamo had changed cars from the BMW he and his partner had run the Austrian off the road with, and the one the woman had shot the tires on, to the rental Renault Safrane.
Brachi was in the front seat with the man whose left eye seemed to wander off uncontrollably, and Gabbiano was in the back seat watching the outskirts of Milan pass by. Brachi wasn’t sure what to think of this man with the wandering eye and slicked back hair in the leather coat. He had heard from Varducci that he was very good at what he did, which was nearly anything illegal. With all good criminals Sappiamo also had a specialty. It was said he could kill a man with one blow to the nose, and had proven it many times. Brachi noticed the man was solid, but he guessed he outweighed him still by twenty pounds. He also knew that how a man carried himself was as important as size. As far as he knew, the biggest man in the world could still not stop a bullet with his massive chest, or keep his flesh from burning with the fuel compound he produced.
Only after they were on the road heading north on Autostrada 4, did the Italian start explaining what had happened.
“We had the scientist, Brachi,” Sappiamo explained. “We were heading to the car when this woman appeared from nowhere.” His head swiveled back and forth. “She got the drop on us. Shot our tires and took Scala herself.”
“Who was she?” Brachi asked him.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. She was Italian. Beautiful dark flowing hair. I didn’t know if I wanted to shoot her or fuck her.”
Gabbiano laughed from the back seat until he saw the wandering eye in the rearview mirror.
“What you thinking back there, cousin?” Sappiamo yelled. “You think I fucked up?”
“No, no. I just had a vision of a gun barrel sliding in and out of some bitch’s cunt.”
They all laughed.
“We’re related?” Sappiamo said to Brachi, slapping him across his arm. “It’s scary.”
Brachi looked back at his partner, who was gazing out at the countryside again. Then he asked Sappiamo, “Did you get everything I asked for?”
“It’s in the trunk.”
“Good.” He noticed they were really flying along the autostrada. They had to be going well over a hundred miles an hour. “How long will it take to get to Austria?”
Sappiamo smiled. “Not long at this speed.” He checked the clock on the dash. It was just past noon. “We should get to Innsbruck for dinner.”
“What about your partner”
“What about him?”
“Is he good?”
Sappiamo considered that. “Si, he’s good. Some think he tends to shoot before thinking, but that’s because he’s young. He gets a little excited, and boom, he blows up. Explodes. That happens with younger guys with sex also. Don’t you think?”
Brachi was beginning to like this guy. “I think so.” He looked over his shoulder again at the young Gabbiano, who was trying to ignore the two of them. “What’s your man up to now?”
“He’s found us a place to stay and he’s been watching the headquarters of Tirol Genetics. The other scientist who had an unfortunate driving accident yesterday, kept all of his records with him. My partner is checking his apartment in Innsbruck, but I don’t think he’ll find anything there. With Aldo gone, Scala is our key now. He has all the data with him. We went to Scala’s apartment before going to the university. He also left nothing at his place.” He thought about how they should have gone to the university first. Then the woman would have missed them.
“Are you sure the woman took him to Innsbruck?” Brachi asked.
“I’m sure.” He put both hands on the wheel as he passed a slow truck and then swerved back into the right lane. “Scala can’t do anything without Tirol Genetics. He and the Austrian are under contract with them.”
“Then won’t we need Tirol as well?” Brachi asked him.
“That’s not my problem. Varducci simply told us to get the information. He knows it’s worth a lot of money. I’m guessing he’ll sell it to the highest bidder.”
That made sense, Brachi thought. “Does your partner have enough restraint to wait until we arrive?”
Sappiamo’s left eye shifted out of control. “I told him to wait. He’ll call us on the cell phone in one hour, so we’ll find out then.”
The car shot north toward the foothills of the Alps.
●
The red Opel Omega with German plates started slowing for the outskirts of Innsbruck. The three inside had driven all night, stopping only to change drivers. In the front passenger seat was Nikolaus Hahn, the operations officer for the Mainz-based Richten Pharmaceuticals. He had been picked up by the other two at his home at four in the morning like his boss had said would happen. He didn’t know much about them, other than their first names. The driver was Wolfgang, a large man in his late thirties with a nose big enough for a head twice as large as his. He was totally bald with a scalp plastered with scars. The woman in the back seat was petite, and would have probably been pretty if her hair had not hung down into he
r eyes. Wolfgang had introduced her as Ulrica. She was dark, and Hahn suspected she was at least half Turk. She spent most of her time sharpening a knife that she practiced pulling from a wrist sheath.
“Take that exit,” Hahn ordered. “We should grab something to eat before visiting Bergen.”
Wolfgang did as he was told, slowing the car for the exit ramp.
●
Following less than a kilometer back in a dark blue Ford, was Major Stan Jordan, with Air Force OSI, tired from the all-night drive from Germany. He had been alone. So every time the Germans had stopped he had as well, but with no relief at the wheel. After dropping off Sergeant Lyons at her apartment, he had first driven north to Mainz to check on his contact. The only thing he had gotten from Lyons was the number Jake Adams had called her from, which had turned out to be a bank lobby in Innsbruck. He did trust his judgment on her assessment of Adams, though. If she said he was a good guy, he had to believe her. Now he needed to talk with Adams to see how he was involved. While he was at Mainz, he had spotted the Opel sitting out in front of Nikolaus Hahn’s house. He had simply placed the little light under the rear bumper and waited. When the three of them had gotten into the car, Jordan had to simply press a button on the dash if he needed to see the car’s position ahead. He could sit back on the autobahn a kilometer or so, especially in the darkness, and whenever he wanted, he would light up the car like a yellow beacon, reassured he would not lose them.
He saw the car exit ahead, so he started to slow down and signal. Now he’d have to move in closer, even though he was quite sure where they were heading.
24
Glancing back through the glass as he purchased a ticket, Jake watched the dark-haired man in the black leather jacket behind him in line, pretending not to consider him and failing unquestionably.
Jake had noticed the man in his little Peugeot 205 pull out behind him after leaving the Tirol Genetics parking lot. He was getting pretty pissed off at shadows, even though he knew this man couldn’t be a cop. So he had slowly driven to Innsbruck’s Alpenzoo, being careful not to notice the man tailing him. In the process he had formed an idea of how he wanted to handle this.
