by Trevor Scott
“He’s still there?” Varducci asked.
“Yes, sir,” the young man said. “He was in a rental Toyota Camry. I’m sure he didn’t see us follow him.”
“Good job. Go back and wait for instructions.”
The young man strutted back and got behind the wheel.
Varducci turned to Jake. “This is your show, Jake. How you want to play it?”
Jake thought about it. “I could use a weapon.”
Varducci opened the glove box and pulled out two hand guns. “Take your pick.”
One was a Smith and Wesson revolver in .38 caliber with six rounds, and the other a Sig Sauer 226 9mm automatic with a fifteen round clip plus one in the chamber. “I’ll take the Sig,” Jake said taking hold of the gun wrapped in a leather shoulder holster. “That’s a damn fine piece. I can snap off half a dozen rounds before the other guy cocks the hammer.”
“Good choice. Now how you wanna do this?”
Jake strapped the holster and gun over his left shoulder and covered it with a maroon wind breaker. “I’d rather go in alone. You could block the road so he can’t get out this way.”
“Sounds good. Here take this.” Varducci handed Jake a small cellular flip phone. “Any problems you hit the speed dial number one. I’ll get the call here on this other phone and we’ll come and give you a hand.”
“Thanks.” Jake dropped the phone into his left pocket and started out the door.
“You going to whack this guy Quinn?” Varducci asked. “I’m only asking because I need to know what kind of damage control to expect when you’re done.”
Jake hesitated. “That depends on him. Shooting might be the easy way out for him. I’d rather see him suffer in prison for a helluva long time. We’ll see what happens.”
Outside, the rain was getting worse. Jake pulled up his collar, but it was useless. He was going to be completely drenched by the time he reached the estate. It wasn’t until Jake reached the end of the driveway and stood for a moment looking at the huge house lit up like electricity was free, that he realized how he would approach Quinn. Varducci had given him the layout of the house, so he made his way around back along the right side.
There were perfectly trimmed trees close to the house, making it easy for him to stay in the shadows. Finally he reached a flagstone patio that stretched out from double French doors. There was a light on inside and Jake could see a distinguished-looking man wearing khakis and a dark sweater. Talbot, he guessed. Sitting in a leather chair across from a blazing fire was Marcus Quinn. They were talking but Jake couldn’t hear what they were saying.
Jake looked down at his shoes, which were soaked, and decided to take them off, along with the socks. Then he drew his gun and tried the handle. It wasn’t locked.
Slowly he started to open the door and stopped. The wind was blowing so hard they would hear him enter almost immediately. He’d have to dash in quickly.
With one fluid motion, Jake flung himself into the room. “Freeze,” he screamed, pointing his gun at Quinn.
Talbot nearly jumped out of his pants, spilling his drink on the bearskin rug. “My God. Who the hell are you?”
Marcus Quinn still had not turned around. “That would be Jake Adams.” He swiveled his head to look directly into the gun’s barrel a few feet from his head. “A little wet out, Jake? Come closer to the fire and dry off.” He raised his right hand slightly.
“Don’t even think about it, asshole.”
“Lighten up, Jake. It’s my cognac. You wouldn’t want to shoot me without my getting a last drink. Would you?” He raised his glass and took a long sip.
Jake moved around the chair, backing Talbot to the far side of the fireplace.
“I thought you said Adams has no status with the government anymore,” Talbot said to Quinn.
“Yes. It’s a pity I didn’t find that out sooner. Right Jake? Then perhaps I wouldn’t have felt the need to fuck with you so much in Innsbruck. On second thought...it was just too much fun. If you can’t have fun on this earth, then why go on living?”
Jake fought the urge to start shooting and not quit until all sixteen rounds found their mark cutting through his flesh. Struggling harder within him was his conscience telling him that he couldn’t do it. He would be no better than Quinn. “You’re going to live a long time, Quinn. This time it won’t be a military prison. It’ll be an Austrian jail. Now I understand they are a little more plush than those in America, but I think my friend Franz Martini can arrange for you to serve in the same place as those two men you met in the Innsbruck alley. Your fellow Americans from Boston? They’ll both live, by the way. And I think they’re going to be a little angry with you.”
Talbot started to reach for the phone. “I’ll have to call the police. Let them sort this out.”
“Go ahead,” Jake said.
“Don’t even think about it, Talbot,” Quinn said, giving the man an angry glare. He reached into his pocket.
“Keep your hands on the arms of the chair,” Jake demanded.
“Or what? You’ll shoot me? I hope you do.” He continued his hands inside his pocket and retrieved a stack of photographs. “Pictures,” Quinn said, smiling. “You’re gonna love this, Adams. You remember my good friend Allen Murdock. Look at what he did to that poor scientist’s maid.” He flipped a few photos toward Jake and they landed at his feet.
Keeping his gun trained on Quinn, Jake lowered himself and scooped up a couple photos. They showed Allen Murdock screwing the woman tied to the scientist’s bed. “I think the Austrians will probably frown on the maid’s death even more than that of Murdock.” He dropped the photos, reached inside his left pocket, and found the speed dial. He guessed Varducci was on the other end by now. “I don’t need any help,” he said for Varducci’s sake. “Understanding your motivation in all of this, Quinn. You’re a greedy bastard and sold yourself to the highest bidder. Which in this case was Andreas Kraft, through Nicolaus Hahn, for Richten Pharmaceuticals. Then you tried to squeeze money out of Otto Bergen. But even that wasn’t good enough for you. You wanted more money, so you contacted Andrew Talbot.”
“This is ludicrous,” Talbot said. “I met Mr. Quinn on my last trip to Germany. He was at a party with Allen Murdock and his wife. The man was blackmailing me.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Quinn yelled to Talbot.
“This is interesting,” Jake said. “Go ahead, Talbot. Continue.”
Talbot drank the last of his cognac and poured himself another. “The bastard set me up. This woman comes on to me, hauls me up to her bedroom in the middle of this party and strips down. My God she was beautiful. How could I resist? When I get back here I get a package with photographs of me and the woman.”
“Wait a minute,” Jake said. “I thought you were divorced. Why would you care about photos of you and another woman?”
Talbot took another drink. “Quinn here told me if I didn’t hire him to secure the deal with Tirol Genetics he’d give his good friend Allen Murdock the photos. He said Murdock was extremely jealous and would kill me.”
“I said shut up, Talbot,” Quinn said.
“So you hire Quinn,” Jake said. “It makes no sense, since Tirol Genetics was already set to deal with your German company.” Jake thought for a moment and all of a sudden things became clear. “You were going to cut Tirol Genetics out of the deal.”
Talbot sunk into a chair alongside the fireplace. “It wasn’t my idea. Quinn set up the entire mess. As it turned out, his plan would have been perfect.”
“Why’s that?” Jake asked.
“Because of that fucking goon Varducci who took over majority stock of my German company,” Talbot said, and then drank down the last of his drink.
“This is interesting. I’d like to hear more,” Jake said.
“What? Varducci? He’s a fucking mob asshole from Boston. Comes to me and forces me to sell my stock to him and this doctor. I’ll show him how cutthroat I can be in business.”
Just then t
he hall door flew open and Varducci entered with his driver. He was holding the cell phone against his ear.
Talbot turned pale seeing Varducci.
Jake pulled his phone from his pocket. “Wonderful little devices these cell phones.”
“You’ll show me hey you fuckin’ little puke,” Varducci yelled at Talbot, looming over the man in his chair. “You’re lucky I didn’t really conduct a fucking hostile takeover.” Varducci backhanded Talbot, snapping his head back against the wall, knocking him out. Then Varducci turned on Quinn, who had sat up in his chair straighter. “And you...you cock sucker. You’re the bastard who shot my nephew. I ought to fuckin’ pop you right here. Only reason I don’t is because I made a promise to Jake here that I wouldn’t. I always keep my promises.”
With one quick motion, Quinn pulled his gun and aimed it at Varducci. Then he rose from his chair moving his gun within a few inches of the man’s face. Varducci didn’t budge. “You’re pretty tough when you have your goon standing by here.”
“Jake, shoot this motherfucker,” Varducci said.
Jake had his gun aimed right at Quinn’s head. He wasn’t sure what to do. He wanted the man in jail, not dead.
Suddenly there was a single shot from Jake’s left. Quinn dropped instantly to the bearskin rug, a bullet hole in his temple.
Jake turned to see the young man from outside. The driver of the Ford. He was shaking now, his gun dangling from his right hand.
●
Back in Innsbruck, Jake slung his bag over his shoulder as he came down the arrivals ramp. He checked over the crowd, searching for her. Finally he saw Toni standing against a pillar smiling at him. They embraced for a long time and finally kissed.
They started walking toward the exit, when she said, “You’re going to love this place I found. It’s close to the river with a wonderful view of the mountains to the north.”
“Sounds great. Now all we need is another job.”
EPILOGUE
It was a warm afternoon in the Italian Dolomites. The two young girls ran through the field of high grass and wildflowers. The sisters were wearing Sunday dresses, had just come from church, and were allowed by their parents to take a shortcut from their tiny village of Pico Forno to their country home that sat along the Avisio River.
As the girls got closer to their home, they met up with a path used by cattle along the edge of the river. They followed the trail singing songs.
When they could see their house, they slowed and started throwing sticks into the water.
Anna, the older girl, saw it first. Light shimmered from under the brush when the sun’s rays hit it just right. She pointed it out to her younger sister.
The older girl broke a stick and reached as far as she could, finally catching the handle and pulling the silver box toward them. She reached down and raised the heavy box from the cold mountain stream and set it at her feet in the grass.
“What is it?” her little sister asked.
“I don’t know. But I’m keeping it.” She picked up the briefcase and skipped along toward her house, her sister right on her heels.
Consider the next book in the Jake Adams Series:
Vital Force (Jake Adams #4)
Rise of the Order (Jake Adams #5)
The Cold Edge (Jake Adams #6)
Without Options (Jake Adams #7)
The Stone of Archimedes (Jake Adams #8)
Lethal Force (Jake Adams #9)
If you liked this thriller, please consider these fine Salvo Press titles:
Memory Leak by Trevor Schmidt
Mako by Clabe Taylor
Crown of Thorns by Hank Luce
The Seventh Deception by G. Dedrick Robinson
Spirit Flight by P.R. Fittante
Codebreaker by Katherine Myers
Dog Walker by Heath Kizzier
Hypershot by Trevor Scott
