Fatal Network

by Trevor Scott

  Now!

  Jake swung around the corner, fired five shots quickly downward, and returned to his position on the wall. Two men. One hit for sure. Come on Toni, Kurt, I could use some help here.

  Two shots rang out above him. And then the sound of heavy footsteps moving up to the third floor.

  "Jake, is that you?" Toni yelled.

  "Shit, yeah," Jake said. "Who else would shoot up your apartment. Is it clear up there?"

  "Yes, hurry."

  Jake ran up toward Toni's apartment. She and Kurt were standing with the door wide open, guns drawn.

  Jake signaled with his hands that there were two upstairs and two downstairs. And that he had hit at least one downstairs. Jake popped his clip out and replaced it with a full one.

  The door to the third floor apartment smashed in. Toni gasped and put her hand over her mouth.

  Jake shook his head. "He's down on the first floor apartment," he whispered. "Kurt, stay here and hold those two from getting any closer. Toni, let's go."

  Jake and Toni quickly ran up the stairs. Jake peaked around the corner. The old man's door hung open. He moved forward quickly with his gun cocked and ready to fire. He felt Toni just behind him. Jake had been in the apartment a couple of times, so he knew the layout. But the rooms were dark.

  Now!

  Jake flung himself through the open door to the living room carpet. Instantly, a barrage of flashes from behind where the sofa normally sat lit the room. Bullets thumped against the wall behind Jake.

  Jake shot three times toward the flashes. He heard the distinct thud of bullet penetrating flesh. He rolled across the carpet a few feet.

  Then from the kitchen came another barrage. Toni instantly fired four times and then scooted back behind the door.

  Jake crawled behind a large, thick lounge chair. Had he killed the man he hit? He thought he heard a body hit the ground, but he wasn't sure. Now what?

  Shots echoed up the stairway from Kurt's gun. It had to be his 45 automatic, Jake thought. The sound was much louder than all the 9mm shots fired so far.

  Then at least five more shots came from downstairs. Not Kurt this time.

  One more shot from Kurt. Then silence.

  Jake looked to where Toni was positioned. He couldn't see her. The darkness was complete. He picked up a small ash tray from a table next to the chair and flung it across the room. Flashes came from the kitchen, followed by Toni firing three times.

  As they fired, Jake crawled across toward where he had shot the first guy. He slithered around the outside of the large sofa. He listened for breathing. Nothing.

  Then Toni shot twice. With the light from the flashing Uzi, Jake peeked around the sofa. The man he shot lay face up just two feet from him. Jake reached his hand around the corner of the sofa and felt the man's neck. Nothing. Lifeless. His neck was still warm, but no pulse. Then he felt a moist, stickiness that had to be blood. He slid his hand up to the man's face. His nose was nearly gone. Jake quickly pulled his hand away and wiped it on the carpet. A shiver came over him. Control Jake. Control.

  Jake scooted forward far enough for his gun to clear the edge of the sofa.

  "Your friends are dead, give it up." More flashes came from the kitchen. Jake could feel the sofa taking hits, and the wall next to the door near Toni.

  Jake and Toni fired a salvo. And then the louder sound of Kurt's 45 auto. Jake moved out farther from behind the sofa and opened fire through the thin kitchen wall until his gun was empty. Quickly, he popped in his last clip. But the flashes ended.

  Then silence. The smell of gun powder filled the air. And the hard, cold iron smell of blood from the man next to Jake.

  "Toni?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Hit the lights."

  Finally, the overhead light lit the room. Jake looked over to the door. Toni was crouched on one side and Kurt on the other.

  Toni pointed toward the kitchen. "I can see his feet on the floor."

  Jake got up and charged toward the kitchen. The man lay face down in a pool of blood. "All clear."

  Toni and Kurt drifted slowly into the room. Jake watched as Kurt winced when he saw the man with no nose. In the light, Jake could see that the back of the man's head had been shattered and splintered and was stuck to the wall about six feet behind the sofa.

  The last to die was riddled with at least five bullets. It was hard to tell through all the blood.

  Jake turned the man over. He had a strong jaw and pock marked face. Even lifeless he looked mean.

  Toni moved over closer and crouched down for a better look. "I know him. Well, I don't know him, but I've had a few run-ins with him and his buddies over the years. I nailed a few of his friends about two years ago."

  "I remember," Jake said. "I was in England for a few months at the time."

  Toni nodded.

  Kurt came and stood near the entrance to the kitchen. "I could use a beer," he said. "By the way, I got the guy on the first floor. But one of them got away."

  "There were only two," Jake said, moving out of the kitchen and across the living room.

  Toni and Kurt followed Jake down the stairs to the first floor. A man lay crumpled at the midway point between the second and first floors.

  On the first floor, Jake crouched down to the hard wood floor and pointed to a small spot of blood. "There! I thought I hit one," Jake said, with the eagerness of a hunter on the trail of a wounded animal.

  Polizia sirens alternated in higher and lower tones off in the distance. Jake cocked his head. He checked his watch. Time had stood still for less than ten minutes as the Hungarians chose their destiny, Jake thought.

  Toni squeezed Jake's shoulder. "You've got to get out of here. Now!"

  Jake knew that it would be hard to explain his presence. Toni had a diplomatic passport, and Kurt his military identification. They could convince the authorities of nearly anything. And Toni had many friends. But his story would sound much too contrived. He had to leave. He rose and started to open the door. He hesitated.

  "Go! I'll explain everything." Toni said. Her eyes sparkled as if tears had started to form.

  "I'll let you know how things go in Germany," Jake said. He flung the door open and swiftly ran toward his car.

  The sirens were getting closer. Jake cranked over the engine, made a U-turn, and sped away. He wound through back streets for a few kilometers and then entered the Autostrada and headed north toward Germany. He'd have to drive through the night to make it there by morning.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 35

  BALATON LAKE, HUNGARY

  Isaac Lebovitz opened the heavy wooden door to the large cabin and ushered in two men with a gust of cold rain. He slammed the door hard and turned to view his guests. One had a bandage around his left shoulder. Blood was escaping regardless of the futile effort. The other, Jason Dalton, slipped his coat off and shook the rain from it.

  "A few more degrees, Jason, and we'd have snow instead of that blasted freezing rain." Isaac said, moving closer to the two men. "Would you like a shot of schnapps?"

  They both nodded their heads. Isaac sat down at the large wooden table and poured three shots of clear schnapps. Isaac knew there was no cause for celebration. No time to waste. But he also knew that sometimes it was easier to get information, the right information, with a comfortable glass of schnapps.

  All three quickly tilted their heads and downed the contents of the small glasses.

  "Ah! Now, what do you have for me gentlemen?" Isaac asked.

  The man with the bandage appeared to be in a great deal of pain. His eyes would close from time to time, and he grimaced when he moved wrong.

  Dalton looked at the injured man and then back to Isaac. "We've got a little problem."

  "We wouldn't be here if that weren't the case," Isaac said. "I heard through some of my sources that there was a terrorist attack in Rome yesterday. Even the news had something to say about three dead Hungarians and a whole lot of bullets shooting up a ni
ce neighborhood. What happened?" Isaac eyed the injured man.

  "We had the CIA agents cold," the man said with a weak, raspy voice. "Then this other guy showed up out of nowhere."

  "Who? Did you get a good look at him?" Isaac inquired.

  "Dark hair, mustache, medium height, athletic walk. He was an American. At first I thought he might have been Italian."

  "How do you know?"

  "The girl, Toni, called out his name. Jake," the man said. He coughed a few times. "He answered back in English."

  Isaac thought for a moment. "Shit!" He poured another round of schnapps and didn't hesitate to be the first to drink. "Why in the hell does this have to happen to me?"

  Dalton and the wounded man looked confused.

  "The man, Jake? That's Jake Adams. He was CIA, but I heard he left the agency about a year ago. Did he shoot you?" Isaac asked, pointing at the wounded man.

  "Yes."

  "Then you are truly a lucky son of a bitch," Isaac said. "You should be dead now. Jake Adams doesn't miss much."

  Isaac went to the door and yelled to his driver. In a few seconds, the wounded man was escorted out of the cabin.

  "He'll bring him to a doctor in Budapest," Isaac explained to Dalton. Deep down he knew the man wouldn't make the trip alive.

  Dalton shot down his glass of schnapps and set his glass on the heavy table gently. "We have another problem. My man on the USS Roosevelt is missing. As you know, he was supposed to deliver our last bit of information on the computer chips."

  "Missing?" Isaac asked, clenching his fists. "How could he be missing?"

  "I don't know for sure," Dalton said. "I got word from diplomatic sources that there was a little trouble aboard the carrier. Maybe even a shooting. These are mostly rumors that I didn't have time to check into. All I know is my man didn't show as planned."

  "Probably Jake Adams," Isaac said. "Now we'll have to depend totally on Carlson in Germany."

  Dalton's eye brows rose sharply. "Carlson? Why?"

  Isaac tapped the side of his head. "I guess you have a right to know. Maybe you could even help me out. His name is Steve Carlson. He works for the company you were getting the computer technology from. Do you know him?"

  Dalton's face became red. "That son of a bitch. You've been working with him out of Germany?"

  They stared at each other.

  "Then you do know him?" Isaac asked.

  "Yes! He's my supplier."

  Isaac shook his head. "I guess Carlson has been playing both of us. I didn't know that he was your boss."

  "Yeah, sort of. He planned the Italy scheme. He's also most of my funding source for this partnership. Why was he selling to your men in Germany?"

  Isaac smiled. "He wasn't . One of his men sold him out."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Steve Carlson is selling the same technology you've been selling to me to a German company called Bundenbach Electronics. His middle man, a guy named Johnson, decided to sell to us as well."

  "That asshole," Dalton said, pouring himself another glass of schnapps. "I trusted him. It was Carlson's idea in the first place to set up our arrangement. He wanted to get in on the ground floor of Europe's monetary union. He expected great profits. But he also assumed great risk, and felt comfortable with those risks. Now I know why. He was padding his risk by diversifying. The German company was far more secure. No offense."

  "Jason, I have complete confidence in you," Isaac said. "When you sold me on the partnership, I wasn't buying only technology. I was buying into you. Your concern for our plight. You were a good salesman. I only hope we can continue working together."

  "What do I have to offer you now? If Carlson drops out, I'll have to scurry for investors. I can find them. I'm sure of that. But it would take a little longer. I still have Wall Street connections."

  Isaac poured and drank another glass of schnapps. "I've got a better idea. Carlson is in Germany right now. Go to him and get the information we need."

  "What makes you think he has the information there?"

  "I'm guessing. But if I were him, I'd hold out that last bit of information to the Germans the same as he's done to us."

  Dalton gulped his schnapps. "Okay."

  Isaac slid a small folder across the table to Dalton. "Plane tickets to Frankfurt and then Bonn. There are instructions inside on where to meet. I've also signed a coded message saying who you are and why you are there. Give that to Vitaly when you get there. Any questions?"

  Dalton picked up the small folder the size of a plane ticket and slid it inside his coat pocket. "No."

  "Then good luck."

  Isaac sat at the great table alone. The door slammed behind Dalton. He scanned the empty chairs and dreamt of his friends sitting there with him and drinking to his health. Smoke would billow and linger in the air. Languages would switch from Hungarian to German to Czech to Slovak in a single sentence. No one seemed to notice the intermingled and eclectic changes.

  He poured another glass of schnapps and raised it up in front of himself in a mock toast. Then he downed it quickly and smiled.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 36

  BONN, GERMANY

  The Alfa Romeo hugged the corner without slipping as it quickly decelerated off the Autobahn at the Centrum exit. A light mist was freezing as soon as it hit the pavement. Early morning had failed to produce even a glimmer of light from the sun.

  Jake Adams yawned as he turned right onto Kaiserstrasse and ran through the gears up to third, making each green light. The trip to Italy and back had given him a chance to become familiar with the new rental Alfa. It was a year newer than Toni Contardo's, but none of the instruments had changed.

  He turned left and drove along the Rhine. He checked his watch again; 1105. He was five minutes late. This was starting to become a habit, he thought. Glancing to the rear view mirror, he noticed his eyes were red and the lids drooped. He found little control over them. They would drop shut and he'd shake his head to make them rise temporarily.

  Jake pulled over to the curb a block from the parking area for the public park that butted up to the Rhine and provided government employees a diversion for a lunch time stroll, or a place to eat and feed the ducks and swans.

  When Jake set up the meeting with Herb Kline in the middle of the night from Switzerland, Herb must have forgotten that the freezing drizzle was in the forecast. Maybe the cold rain would keep him awake, he concluded.

  From the bushes near the passenger side of the Alfa Romeo, Jake saw a slight movement. Then Herb appeared and approached the door. Jake unlocked the door for him.

  "This is a change," Jake said, gesturing for Herb to get in.

  Herb brushed off as much rain as he could before getting in and sitting down. He put his briefcase on his lap and wiped the drops of water from the top. "Yeah, I thought I'd leave my car at the office to make it look like I'm there. I even left the office lights on. How was the drive?"

  Jake paused for the right words. "Fast! I never like to see Switzerland that way."

  "I haven't been there in years myself. Maybe I'll get out and travel more when I retire."

  Jake nodded agreement. He started the engine and slowly drove away from the curb. Headlights were required with the dreary lighting. And the only thing keeping the windshield from icing over and the wipers from collecting ice, was a hot, blowing defroster.

  "Where are they?" Jake asked brashly, not even looking toward Herb.

  "Bundenbach Electronics."

  "How long have they been there?"

  "All morning. I put a motion sensitive tracker on Gunter's car. It hasn't moved an inch," Herb said, patting his briefcase with his right hand.

  "Left?"

  "Yes! Bachstrasse"

  "I thought so. I know I haven't been gone that long, but I've been through so many cities in the last week."

  Jake could sense a tension from Herb that he hadn't noticed before going to Italy. It was as if he had lost his confidence again, forg
otten how important this case was. And what it meant to his self esteem, more than anything else. Something had changed him, Jake was sure. But what?

  "So...what happened while I was gone?" Jake searched for an expression; a clue. Apprehension perhaps. Maybe concern. That would be understandable.

  "I told you most everything on the phone."

  Jake made a right on Kolnstrasse and picked up speed slowly. He was in no real hurry, yet.

  "How did you find out about Carlson coming?" Jake asked.

  Herb glanced toward Jake. "The fat guy got a little careless. I've never felt like killing anyone, really. My ex-wife once or twice, maybe. But that was different. With the fat man, I had the opportunity and the actual desire to follow through. I had him cold. Beating him senseless as he had surely done to Walt. I don't know what stopped me."

  Jake felt a flush over his body. Almost a newfound realization of his friend. Sure he knew that Herb had a special desire to succeed this one last time. He needed to take a case from beginning to end and come out the winner, like he had as a young rising star. But even with that burden or inner ambition, he had the self-control to stay within the limits of the law. That was admirable, Jake thought.

  "Herb! That's what separates you from the Gunters of the world."

  "Maybe."

  Jake stopped along the curb with a long view of Bundenbach Electronics. The grass was dark green and the reflective glass glimmered even in the overcast darkness.

  "You don't have to follow through with this," Jake said. "I'll understand."

  "No! I had a feeling it would come to this. My boss is still too busy to see anything wrong. I don't understand how anyone can be so blind in a position like his. I don't trust him either."

  "Does he know anything about this?" Jake inquired.

  "No, no. I stopped keeping him informed before you left for Rome. And he hasn't even asked me for an update. If that isn't irresponsible."

  "I've had assholes like that for bosses. They're so caught up in their own little world they won't take the time to see what you're doing. Fucking bureaucrats."