by Andrea Kane
“Then I suggest you run that question by Vance, not me. It’s his department and his choice. I’m just the final say.”
Nodding, Simone rose. “I appreciate your time. If it’s acceptable to you, I’d like to meet with both you and Vance in a few days once I’ve completed my interviews and had the chance to organize my proposal.”
“I’d expect nothing less.”
“Which of your employees handles your calendar? I’ll set up an appointment on my way out.”
“Talk to Jen. She’ll be able to schedule it. But double-check it with Zoe when you interview her today. If there’s a meeting I’ve forgotten about, she’ll be aware of it since she’s probably attending.”
Simone silently noted that Robert was aware of her interviewing schedule. She hadn’t mentioned that she’d be talking to Zoe later today.
“Do Zoe’s professional responsibilities extend beyond being your personal assistant?” she asked instead. “Or does she attend meetings for note-taking purposes?”
Robert shook his head. “I’m working on coming up with a new title for Zoe. She’s been with Nano for fifteen years and managed to earn an MBA despite the long hours she works here. She’s sharp and she’s smart, more of a junior executive—as well as my right arm—than anything else. I frequently elicit her input, so, yes, she does attend meetings for reasons other than note-taking. On the flip side, I doubt I could find the elevator without her.”
“She sounds indispensable.”
“She is.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Simone said with a smile.
Her afternoon interview with Zoe Pearson could turn out to be more interesting than expected.
Sava River Walk, Zagreb, Croatia
27 February
Tuesday, 9:30 p.m. local time
The sky was overcast and the air was chilly, with snowflakes darting about and a fine sheen of ice shimmering on the bare trees that lined the Old Town side of the Sava.
Marc and Philip shook hands with Chief Police Inspector Danijel Horvat and joined him on a stroll in their prearranged location along the river walk. The Sava itself was unfrozen, smooth and serene, glistening in the darkness, and the area they were walking on was dark and shadowed, its benches deserted. Across the Sava they could see the newer side of Zagreb, lights illuminating the apartment buildings where many, including Danijel, lived.
It was clear why he’d chosen this spot for their meeting, especially given the sensitive information about to be discussed.
“Thank you for setting this up on such short notice,” Marc began. “Not that my brother gave you much choice, I’m guessing.”
A small smile played on Danijel’s lips. He was a tall man, with Mediterranean coloring, dark brown hair, and Slavic features.
“Your brother is persuasive, yes,” he replied. “But he’s also one of the finest men I know. You resemble him. Being that he sent you here, I suspect that resemblance goes far deeper than the physical to the character beneath.”
“I like to think so.”
Danijel turned toward Philip. “And your dossier speaks for itself. As does your history with Aidan. I’ll help you both in any way I can.”
He cleared his throat. “I’m sure Aidan has filled you in on the fact that I’m head of the General Police Directorate’s Organized Crime Division, or PNUSKOK, as it’s called here in Croatia, as well as the fact that I worked on an Organized Crime Task Force with Europol. I have a wide range of contacts, both national and international—any of whom I have and will continue to reach out to with the utmost discretion, given the delicacy of your investigation.”
“You’ve already put out feelers?”
“The moment I hung up the phone with Aidan, yes. I’m waiting to hear back.”
“Just so we know, how much did Aidan tell you?” Marc asked bluntly.
Danijel looked unsurprised by the question. “He made it quite clear that my involvement is on a need-to-know basis. Therefore, I’m only privy to the international aspects of your investigation. I accept that. But if you want my help, you must accept that you’re going to have to be as forthcoming with me as possible, as well as open to my taking the lead in any face-to-face interviews and questioning with confidential informants that might arise. I’m a native. You’re foreigners. It becomes an issue of trust. In addition, while English is now taught as a second language in my country, that was not the case years ago. Few residents over the age of fifty can speak it. Even now, German, Italian, or Russian are often the second languages taught rather than English. Some regions teach no second language. So my translation skills will also be essential.”
“We understand.” Marc shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “But in the interest of full disclosure, you should know that we brought two Croatian interpreters with us. Obviously, they won’t be at the meetings you set up, but one of the two will be listening from the car and translating into our ears while you conduct the interviews. That will minimize how detailed you need to be in your back-and-forth explanations between your informants and us and allow you to concentrate on the nuances of the arrangements.”
“I see.” Danijel processed that and then nodded. “I can live with that. What about your other interpreter—what will be her role?”
Philip cleared his throat, thinking that while Derica was handling the CI meetings, Ellie could be used for less legitimate purposes—such as translating Albanian emails or texts that the team intercepted through whatever means they deemed necessary. “I think that’s part of our process you’d prefer not to know.”
“Very well.” Danijel dropped the subject. “You just spoke of yourselves in the plural. Understand that it will be only one of you gentlemen who’ll be accompanying me to each meeting. You can switch off if you like. That’s your choice. The other can remain in the car with your interpreter. Informants either shut down or bolt when they’re approached by more than one unknown quantity. They know me. They don’t know you. So it’s one at a time.”
“Fine. When it comes to the CIs, you’re in charge,” Marc agreed, knowing he spoke for Philip, as well. Danijel had the expertise, skills, and contacts that were necessary to pull this off.
“Good. Then I’ll have the necessary conversations with my CIs and we can move forward.”
“As I’m sure Aidan told you, the young woman we’re searching for has only a few days left before she’s killed,” Philip stated flatly as he trudged along, stones crunching beneath his feet. “The clock is ticking. We must fast-track this, through any means necessary.”
“Yes, Aidan made that clear.”
“Just so you know, we drove directly from Munich, where the victim was kidnapped, to Zagreb, where our computer data indicated was the probable refueling location before the kidnappers transferred the victim to her current place of confinement. Once we arrived in your city, we located a Lukoil station off the A2 whose owner remembered the Mercedes van we identified as the escape vehicle. So we confirmed that the subjects travelled through Zagreb. Now we need to figure out where the victim is currently being held.”
“It’s doubtful the kidnappers would choose an urban location for their place of confinement,” Danijel said. “My suspicions are that we’re looking into more remote districts.”
“That’s where we need your guidance,” Philip responded. “Where would they go to remain undetected? And what specific Albanian organized crime groups would you narrow this operation down to? Is there one that’s more apt to handle kidnappings?”
“That last question will send you down a blind alley.” Danijel waved his hand dismissively. “Albanian crime groups don’t restrict themselves to one line of work, or to one country. Drug, arms, and human trafficking—not to mention the trafficking of human organs—they don’t care what their assignment is or who they work for as long as they get paid. They’re mercenary and they’re brutally violent. They’re also widespread. They operate everywhere from the Balkans to England and the Netherlands.
”
“Really?” Marc’s brows rose. “That’s more expansive than I realized.”
“Some of that branching out is recent, particularly in the Netherlands,” Danijel replied. “As to the Albanian crime groups operating here in Croatia, those are greatly diminished after a large number of arrests that have taken place over the past several years. That doesn’t mean they don’t still exist. With regard to the groups that continue to operate in my country, I obviously have knowledge of their activities. But given we need particular specifics from an insider’s point of view, I’m waiting to hear back from my less legitimate sources.” His brows rose quizzically, seeking confirmation. “Aidan mentioned that you would be bringing cash to help them talk more freely.”
Marc nodded. “The money is in American dollars. We couldn’t risk raising red flags by converting large sums of money into Croatian kuna. Given your sources, we didn’t think that would be a problem.”
“It won’t be.”
“How much cash do you think will be needed?”
“Ten thousand is optimal, just to be on the safe side. A thousand American dollars is equivalent to over six thousand Croatian kuna. That will buy you a great deal of information—from one informant. There are several I have in mind, all of whom I need to meet with face-to-face—and alone—before I can set anything up with you. What I’m hoping is that those informants will lead to other informants until you close in on where this young woman is being held. Thus, the ten thousand dollars.”
Marc unzipped the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out two of the four rubber-banded packets of hundred dollar bills he was carrying. There were five thousand dollars in each. “Do you need this now?”
“No.” Danijel gave an adamant shake of his head, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets as if to reinforce the adamancy of his reply. “You’ll pay them directly. Any bribe money that’s exchanged will not pass through my hands.”
Marc nodded. “Understood.”
“Good.” Danijel came to an abrupt halt. “Then if we’re all on the same page, I’ll go follow up on my feelers so I can get things moving tonight. If I’m successful, I’ll be setting up our first meeting for tomorrow morning. Once I have everything arranged, I’ll call.”
13
NanoUSA
27 February
Tuesday, 2:30 p.m. local time
Ethan Gallagher walked through the meeting room door spot on time, a warm and congenial smile on his face. As Simone had expected, he looked just like his photo, since he clearly wasn’t the pretentious, pose-for-the-camera type. Light brown hair and eyes, cool, trendy glasses, a navy sports coat—probably donned in honor of this meeting—khaki slacks, a white collared shirt, and boat shoes. Business casual at its best.
Simone rose from behind the table, primed to meet Vance’s PA. She’d done her research. Ethan was twenty-eight years old, with all the traits of a millennial. Super tech savvy, intent on getting ahead, and striving for—and achieving—a tight relationship with Vance, for starters. He’d graduated from Berkeley with a degree in Information Technology Management, and Simone had no doubt that he had aspirations of moving up at Nano, maybe into the role of associate, either in the manufacturing or another department—but not before acquiring and capitalizing on the coveted role of PA to the new CEO at Nano. If he was smart, and Simone was quite sure that he was, he’d remain in his new position long enough to highlight it on his resume. And there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that Ethan knew of Robert Maxwell’s upcoming plans for Vance. If Vance knew, then Ethan knew.
Ethan also lived an above-his-means lifestyle—something Simone intended to address. It could be that he just racked up huge credit card bills. On the other hand, it could be that he was getting paid by another, more lucrative employer.
“Hi, Ethan. I’m Simone.” She went straight for the casual, breaking down any walls Ethan might have assumed would be erected.
His brows rose in pleased surprise as he shook her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Simone.” He glanced down at her half-empty cup of coffee, simultaneously putting down his tan leather messenger bag. Clearly, he’d come prepared in case he was asked to pull up information on his laptop or iPad. “Can I get you a refill? I need a cup myself.”
“That would be great.” Simone handed him her cup, waiting to fully assess his demeanor when his attention was diverted at the coffee station.
He wasn’t nervous. In fact, there was a self-assurance about him that spoke volumes. He knew his job was secure and that nothing but blue skies lay ahead. That could fare well for Simone; the more comfortable in his own skin Ethan was, the more likely he was to reveal something he didn’t even realize he was revealing.
He brought over their coffee cups, handed Simone hers, and waited until she’d reseated herself before he pulled back the adjacent chair and sat down. A guy who’d been educated in the art of respect. Kudos to his parents.
“All set.” He took the bull by the horns. “Anything I can do to help Vance and to make our department function more efficiently, I’m in.”
Simone hid her smile behind the rim of her coffee cup. Ethan might be polished, but he was also a young man with a mission, not to mention a wealth of genuine enthusiasm.
“I appreciate that,” she said. “Because from what Vance tells me, you’re his right hand.”
“I like to hope so.”
“That means that you have a unique view of your boss and how he interacts with everyone in his world.” Simone waved at his messenger bag. “You won’t need that. My questions aren’t data-related, they’re personal instinct and knowledge related.”
“Okay.” Ethan propped his elbows on the table and waited.
“Let’s start with: What does Vance’s typical day look like? Where do you see him concentrating his energies? And in what areas do you see his major time challenges?”
Ethan proceeded to give her an accounting that was in sync with what Vance had told her, save the actual details of meetings and emails Ethan wasn’t privy to. No hesitation. No faltering. No visible artifice whatsoever. And he seemed to be fiercely loyal to Vance.
Seemed to be being the operative phrase. How far would that loyalty run if he were promised a huge payout for the right information?
Simone took notes, even though they were unnecessary. But it was crucial that all her interviewees believed she was factoring in their input in order to better the manufacturing department.
“Who does Vance interact with most, both inside and outside the department?” she asked.
For the first time, a flicker of unease crossed Ethan’s face. Clearly, Simone had touched a nerve. She remained silent, knowing that was the best way to increase Ethan’s anxiety and to force him to start talking. And hopefully what he said would be the truth.
“Vance and Robert Maxwell work closely together.” Ethan’s wheels were spinning rapidly as he spoke—Simone could read his body language loud and clear. “And with the upcoming release of our game-changing technology, they’ve been in constant meetings.”
An evasion tactic—one Simone wasn’t about to let slide.
“Does Robert meet more frequently with Vance than with his other VPs?”
“I really can’t speak to that,” Ethan replied. “I’m only clued in to the other departments as they relate to ours.”
“Then let’s talk about the other departments—and their VPs,” Simone said. “I had the chance to speak with all of them this morning. They’re all smart and capable. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Of course.” Ethan nodded vigorously.
Simone didn’t give him time to feel comfortable. “Where do you perceive there to be conflicts between Vance and the other VPs?”
That one threw Ethan for a loop. He took a long belt of his coffee, then set down the cup with a bit of an unsteady hand. He licked his lips a few times, looking like a trapped rat who wasn’t sure which direction to run in.
“Is that an uncomfortable question?” Simo
ne asked bluntly. “Because if there’s bad blood between high-level executives, I need to know that. It can affect the functioning of a department.”
Ethan nodded again, this time with the resignation of someone who knew he couldn’t extricate himself without providing information that could potentially get him in trouble.
“Conflict is a strong word,” he hedged. “But there are often raised voices when Vance and Lawrence Blockman have their meetings.”
“Has it been more frequent of late?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think it’s the nature of their job responsibilities or do you think it’s personal?” Simone asked.
“Can I speak off the record?”
Simone had a pretty good idea what confidential information Ethan was about to disclose. And since none of it was news to her, it was easy to promise Ethan what he wanted.
She put down her iPad. “Very well. Go ahead.”
With a deep breath, Ethan said, “There are rumors that, after the big technology release, Robert Maxwell is going to retire. Word has it that Vance has the inside track for his job. I believe it to be true, although Vance hasn’t mentioned a word of it to me. Based upon the fact that Lawrence Blockman is not only high-performing but has been with Nano almost as long as Vance has, my guess is that he’s the other major contender.”
“And you think that fact is causing heightened tension between the two men.”
“I do. I get the sense that Lawrence knows Vance is the favored child, and he resents it. This is just gut feel on my part—along with some information from trusted sources. But you asked, so I’m answering—off the record,” he reiterated.
“Off the record,” Simone echoed. She pressed a thoughtful finger to her lips. “What about June Morris and Aaron Malcolm? They might not have Vance’s and Lawrence’s tenure here, but I’d think that the CFO and VP Sales would also be prime contenders.”
“Aaron loves his job. I don’t think he has any aspirations of leaving sales and taking on the enormous responsibility of running Nano. As for June, I don’t know. I don’t interact with her much. When it comes to finance, I work with her direct reports. Vance deals with her directly.”
