Foreign Deceit

by Jeff Carson

  With a sploosh sound the Skype session ended. Wolf stared at the screen and ripped off the head set. He stood and flexed every muscle in his body as hard as he could, hissing through his clenched teeth.

  Dinner turned out to be a needed distraction, and some of the best food he’d tasted in his life. Valerio and Maria Rossi’s two boys seemed like good kids, despite Wolf not understanding a word they said.

  It was fascinating to observe the foreign tongue and animated gestures. They would all laugh, and Lia would stop to translate, and then he would laugh, well after the magic of the moment. Nonetheless, he enjoyed the company.

  “Lia used to try to be one of the boys,” Rossi explained. “We would be playing soccer as you Americans call it, or calcio as we call it, and she would insist to play all the time.”

  Lia was concentrating on her meal with a quickly ripening face.

  “She, of course, was better than everyone,” he said. “Except me!”

  Lia kept her gaze on her food.

  “No, she really was. All the boys were so confused by her. Here is this beautiful young girl who wanted desperately to kick their butts at every chance she could get.”

  Lia jutted her head forward. “I didn’t want to kick anyone’s butts. I just wanted to be treated like everyone else.”

  “It is the same today. She is one of the best soldiers we have in the Caribinieri. The boys are confused by her once again.”

  “They are not confused, they are…” She looked back at her meal and resumed eating. Tension fell on the table, and everyone ate in silence for a good ten seconds.

  “They are confused.” Rossi used a quiet tone. “They don’t know what to do with such a talented, beautiful, strong, and vicious young woman. You have already been recognized for your talents. We have a saying in Italy,” Rossi looked to Wolf, “‘Il tempo viene per chi sa aspettare’ — which means ‘All things come to those who wait.’ Isn’t that right, David?”

  “In a perfect world, I guess.”

  Rossi studied his expression. “What is your job at home? Are you an officer? A captain? How do you say?”

  “I’m a Sergeant. In our town we have Officers, Sergeants, then the Sheriff.”

  “Do you wish to be Sheriff some day?”

  “My father was the Sheriff of the town I live in when I was growing up.” Wolf took a deep breath and rolled some spaghetti. “I would very much like to be Sheriff.”

  The table went quiet again.

  “I, too, lost my father,” Rossi whispered. “A few years ago. It was his time. He had a long life. Obviously your father was taken from you at a younger age than I. It must have been very difficult.”

  Wolf nodded. “I’m sorry about your father,” he deflected. “I heard about it from Lia on the way up here.” He stopped himself, suddenly self conscious of he and Lia’s conversation on the way up. Like they had gone behind his back in some way.

  “Yes. My father was a good, hard working man. At least that’s the way I remember him. He and my mother split when I was a child. He helped my brother’s family and my family tremendously after his death. We had no idea that he had amassed such a wealth over the course of his life. He never taught us about how to invest or save the way he did, he just quietly did it for his entire life. It was a surprise for the entire family to get such a large inheritance.” He raised his hands and looked around. “It gave us this. And gave my brother a place to call his own in Liguria as well.”

  His eyes glistened as he pushed his pasta in an aimless circle on the plate. Maria rubbed his back and gently lay her head on his shoulder.

  Lia reached to Wolf’s leg under the table and gave it a soft squeeze, looking at him. She pulled her hand away, rolled her eyes and resumed rolling her spaghetti on her fork. She looked up suddenly, “I’m not vicious!”

  Hearty laughter burned away the tension. Rossi’s two boys joined in, giggling and staring wide eyed at Lia.

  Wolf threw the tiny bag from Matthew Rosenwald’s on the table in front of Rossi. Rossi thumbed it. “It looks just like the one that I found in your brother’s apartment. The same size and look of the bag.”

  They sat on the back patio overlooking the lights of Lecco, sipping a local grappa served by Rossi’s wife. Wolf felt like he was observing reality from another dimension, exhaustion overtaking his body and mind.

  “I don’t know what to make of the whole cocaine thing. I’m not sure if this is even cocaine. You’ll need to test it. I don’t think my brother did drugs. He may have experimented in the past, but he never really did drugs. I know what people act like when they do drugs, and my brother didn’t. I need to find this Matthew guy. And something’s off about that Cezar guy at the pub, and Vlad at the observatory. They are holding things back. Something’s off about those two.”

  Rossi took a sip and furrowed his brow. “What if Matthew was supplying your brother with these drugs?”

  “I guess it looks that way. But looks can be deceiving. Then there is the whole thing about the belt. That wasn’t my brother’s belt that was found around his neck. There’s only two things that can mean, either he stole a belt and hung himself with it, or someone strung him up with it…or more accurately, smacked him on the head and strangled him, then tried to make it look like a suicide, and did a poor job of it, because the chandelier couldn’t hold his body weight. That’s what happened, and I’m sure of it. And it had to be at least two people who strung my brother from that chandelier. There’s no way one person could have done it.” He stood and went to the patio railing, gazing at the city below.

  Valerio cleared his throat. “I think there needs to be more evidence. And until then, I don’t see what we can do. There is no name tag on that belt, there’s no way to find out whose it is, other than finding finger prints, which we’ll check. But it’s been handled by more than a few people by now.

  “Secondly, we cannot bring in this Vlad character for questioning because he was sweating profusely as you spoke to him. We cannot arrest the bar owner for being rude to you guys.” He sighed heavily. “I do think that it is strange that this Matthew fellow left town immediately after your brother’s death, though. So, I think we need to find him. Paulo is working on it. He will look at the phone records, and find Rosenwald’s phone, and who knows what else he can uncover? He is a talented boy.”

  Wolf yawned uncontrollably once again and nodded his head.

  Lia stood up. “You need to get some sleep, David.”

  “Yes, you need sleep. We will know more tomorrow.”

  “We need to go over the police report,” Wolf said, sitting back down. “And I don’t know how the hell to read Italian, so I’m going to need your help.” An unstoppable yawn stretched his face.

  Lia stood in front of Wolf and placed her hand gently on his. “You need sleep.”

  Rossi set down his glass and stood. “David. Please. It doesn’t do you any good to not rest. We still have all day tomorrow.”

  Wolf sat forward. “And if I need your help Saturday? What if I need more time?”

  “Then you will have our help on Saturday as well,” Rossi answered immediately.

  Wolf sat back in the seat hard. They were right. If they went over the police report now he probably wouldn’t remember it in the morning. Every cell in his body screamed for sleep. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  “Sleep now,” she said, like talking to a small child. She turned the key and pulled out of the gate.

  “What do you think? Do you really think my brother killed himself?”

  “I think…I think we will find out. I think you need sleep. Go to sleep.”

  He tilted the seat back and lost consciousness immediately.

  Chapter 26

  A light brushing on his cheek pulled him from a dreamless sleep.

  “Yep?” He popped his eyes wide open.

  “We are here.” Lia’s face filled his view. She was close, tilting her head sideways to the same angle as his, her hair dangling across her face.r />
  Wolf lay still. Without thinking he reached up and brushed her hair behind her ear.

  She narrowed her eyes slowly with a short lived smile that turned to a hard gaze. Her lips parted and she exhaled loudly. He could smell the sweetness of her breath.

  He reached and pulled her head close, zero resistance, zero hesitation.

  Lia’s warm moist mouth gently connected with his, her tongue diving with eager swirls that tasted of sweet saliva and red wine. Her breaths came in hard pants, vividly audible over the soft Italian music that played on the radio. Lia reached between them and yanked hard on the emergency brake with a loud crank, then groped at his crotch hungrily with the same hand as she moved closer.

  He reached his right hand between her thighs and shifted himself closer.

  Suddenly she ripped free and pushed his hand away. “No, sorry. Sorry, I…we cannot do this!” she said, straightening and putting her hands on the steering wheel. “Sorry.” She sat, looking down at the steering wheel.

  Wolf looked at her with wide eyes. “Okay, uhhhh…okay. What’s the problem?”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I will pick you up first thing tomorrow, okay?” She looked at him with pleading eyes.

  “Yeah, sure.” He shifted himself upright, then struggled with the seat reclining lever. “See you tomorrow at eight?”

  “Okay then.” She turned with a smile.

  “Bye.”

  He got out and stood up, suddenly lightheaded, with absolutely no clue where he was. He looked forward and craned his head back looking at the strange building in front of him. He couldn’t remember ever seeing it before. Turning quickly, he reached to knock on the window to stop her, to tell her she’d dropped him off at the wrong place. Then he saw his brother’s apartment building across the street.

  Jesus. Goodnight.

  Chapter 27

  “Piano Terzo” the elevator told him while his watch showed him 10:25 pm. Surprisingly, or not surprisingly, he felt wide awake, full of wired energy.

  Stepping out on the balcony, he took a look below at the piazza. It was filled with chatter, billowing smoke, food smells and clusters of young people. Thursday night.

  “Hi,” a voice startled him from above. Cristina was looking down, exhaling smoke from a cigarette.

  “Hi,” he said. “Do you mind if I come up and have one of those?” He was not feeling like being alone all of a sudden.

  “Sure, come on up.”

  The cigarette was lighter and a little bit thicker in his fingers than he remembered. He brought it up to his mouth, catching a brief scent of Lia’s hair, and lit it with a well practiced move.

  The second drag hit him with a harder buzz than he was expecting, a dizzy wave shifting his balance off, so he reached for the balcony railing and looked over the edge. Fighting through the lightheadedness, he enjoyed the first half of the first cigarette he’d had in years, then had a sudden overwhelming urge to put it out.

  She leaned next to him and looked over the railing, “So did you find anything out today?”

  “Maybe. We went to the pub my brother was at on Saturday night, the Albastru Pub. You ever been there? It’s Romanian.”

  “Yes, I’ve been there.” She shifted upright. “John used to go there a lot. I went once. I do not like the place.”

  “Why?”

  “The guys that work there. I know their type from home. A few of them have tattoos that are the symbol of gangs from where I come from.” She looked at Wolf then took a drag. “Bad gangs.”

  “Yeah, I saw tattoos. What kind of gangs? What do they do?”

  “They would beat up people at home that owned small shops and make them pay them. They would sell drugs. Sometimes they would kill people. I think even policemen were scared of them. I learned to stay away from those types of men. There were many disappearances of girls my age growing up. Not where I lived, but close by. In the city. They were made to be prostitutes and often shipped off to other countries.” She took a long drag. “I told John that he needed to be careful there, and to not mess with anyone. He laughed and said he wouldn’t, but I told him I was serious. That they weren’t the types of guys you wanted to mess with. At least not at home, in Romania.” She took another drag. “He liked the beer I guess.”

  “Did you ever meet the Romanian guy from the observatory that Matthew works with? His name is Vlad. That’s his last name.”

  She shook her head. “No, I haven’t met anyone but Matthew from the observatory.”

  Wolf furrowed his brow. “Did John ever say anything about the bar? Like, he suspected anything else going on there? Like any crime? Drugs?”

  She opened her eyes wide then squinted and shook her head slow, “No, not that I can remember. No.”

  “You holding up all right?”

  She exhaled and her bottom lip quivered, eyes watering. He gave her a hug and let his emotions run free for a few seconds, blurring his vision.

  He pulled away and wiped his eyes. “Can I use your scooter?”

  She laughed. “Well, I kind of need it to get to work. Do you need a ride somewhere tomorrow?”

  “No, I mean, right now.”

  “Uh, sure. I guess. What are you going to do?”

  “I have to go check on something.”

  Chapter 28

  Wolf cut the engine of the scooter, coasting to a stop well past the gate on the main road. He turned on a dirt road that lined the south side of the property and pushed the scooter to a dark pocket underneath a tree.

  The fifty cubic centimeter engine Italian scooter ticked and hissed underneath him, still hot from the twenty minute screaming loud strain on the way there. He had quickly learned he was ridiculously large for that model of scooter.

  The observatory hunkered in the dark, the dome peeking over the top of a pine tree in the near distance from Wolf’s view through the wrought iron security fence. The rear of the building was faintly lit, a bright light from within the back of the property shining up on the damp air and surrounding trees. Cornfields chalk-filled with singing crickets surrounded the rear of the property.

  He reached in the pack and dug out two leather jackets, a heavy hooded sweatshirt, a pair of pants, and a pair of jeans. He folded one of the leather jackets like an accordian, then hauled up and draped it length-wise across the spikes on the fenc, pulling it down hard on each individual spike to seat it. The process was repeated with each article of clothing. There was no sense in taking chances.

  He pulled, sagging down with extended arms, then propelled himself over with silent fluid move. A squish pierced the air as he landed on the damp interior lawn.

  Running low and fast, he reached the edge of the southernmost building. He crept to the rear, peaking around the corner behind a broad leaved bush. Vivid white light poured out onto the rear lawn from above two propped doors.

  A heated argument was ensuing between two men, in a language that wasn’t Italian. It was more Germanic, harsh sounding.

  The first man was tall and lanky, with a mohawk. Cezar from the Albastru pub. His face was in and out of deep shadow, but the body was unmistakeable. The second man was unmistakeable as well — Vlad.

  Suddenly a loud slap pierced the silence, and Wolf raised his eyebrows. Vlad was pleading in a crouch, and Cezar seemed to be contemplating whether or not to kill him on the spot, shuffling towards him with raised hand.

  Wolf’s pulse accelerated at the unmistakable site of a pistol in Cezar’s hand, pointed straight at Vlad’s head. Any idea of confronting the two immediately left Wolf’s mind. Avoiding detection had just become a high priority.

  Both men froze in their theatrical poses for five full seconds. Cezar shuffled his feet closer, apparently seriously considering the repercussions of shooting Vlad in the head. Vlad hunched down further.

  Cezar suddenly relaxed his posture, put the pistol in the back of his pants, then turned and walked away. He stopped a few feet away and stooped over.

  Wolf n
arrowed his eyes. He hadn’t noticed until now that a box-shaped moving truck was parked, rear facing and wide open. The interior was pitch black due to the angle of the lights.

  Cezar was rummaging through things, speaking in a nonchalant tone. A few seconds later they both walked swiftly into the building. Two loud clacks and the doors began swinging shut slowly.

  The rear of the building suddenly plunged into pure darkness. Wolf hunched down with the sudden change. He knew from plenty of experience and training that it would take him about thirty minutes to fully get his night vision after exposing his eyes to that much light. Waiting, however, was not a good option.

  There was no noise coming from within the observatory, no conversation. He knew at that very instant Vlad and Cezar had entered the building to take care of something. Some thing that would take long enough to justify shutting off the light, but not so long that they would risk leaving the truck open for any length of time. There wasn’t going to be a better opportunity than that moment.

  He sprinted fast to the side of the truck, stopping with his back to the aluminum exterior, then craned his head for a look. His blood pumped fiercely — his breath fast, yet controlled. A fresh taste of the earlier cigarette pumped out of his lungs.

  The truck interior was dark. Very dark.

  One of the first things he’d learned about night tracking, first from his father, and later in the Army, was to use peripheral vision in low light situations. Looking straight at something utilized the cone cells on the retina, which were rendered worthless if too dark. Scanning with the peripheral used the rod cells, which were distributed more evenly throughout the back of the retina.

  He swept his vision, taking in the truck interior with an unfocused gaze, and groped with his hands.

  It was filled with computers — computers of all shapes and sizes. Mostly laptop computers. Monitors lined up along the floor of the truck all along the back and left side. There were six large cardboard boxes with flipped tops filled with laptop computers of all types. None of them looked new. Some had stickers on them — A.C. Milan, Vespa, Hello Kitty…they seemed to be all used computers. Hello Kitty? Wolf pressed his face close to the sticker and felt it. It was on a lap top with a pink soft plastic covering.