Jonathan jumped off the bed and threw his arms around Alfonso and Dominic. “What did I tell you, Dominic? There’s no end to this man’s generosity. Together, we are the three caballeros. Invincible!”
The two men laughed as Jonathan tried to lead them in a clumsy approximation of a kick line dance. There was a clatter as the doors to the ward burst open. A woman wearing a white doctor’s coat strode in. Her chestnut-brown hair was secured in a tight knot on the top of her head, and there was a severe expression on her face.
“¿Qué está pasando aqui?” she demanded.
Luis, who had been watching and laughing from the nurses’ station, hastily stepped forward. “Señores, this is Doctor Jurado. I asked her to come here especially early to assess Jonathan.”
“Good morning, gentlemen,” said Doctor Jurado, the hint of a smile forming on her face. “Which one was the acrobat in the sex club last night?”
“Acrobat in a sex club?” repeated Dominic, turning to Jonathan. “Just what did happen at XXL?”
IT WAS shortly before eight o’clock when Dominic and Jonathan’s taxi collected them from the hospital. Doctor Jurado quickly declared Jonathan fit to be discharged but advised him to return immediately if he felt dizzy or nauseous. As soon as the taxi set off, Jonathan began to apologize again. Dominic stopped him before he could get into full flow.
“Jonathan, can we forget about last night for a while? It’s true we’ve got a lot to talk about. We’re going to have to do it soon. But not just yet. I’m really worried about the break-in. I think someone’s targeted us. And they might come back.”
“But surely they’re not going to bother us again?” replied Jonathan. “Not now they’ve got your phone with the message from your German lover on it?”
“Bernhardt is not my lover,” said Dominic, irritated at the phrase. “Last night, Karl Michael said the message would only make sense ‘in conjunction with me.’ That’s why I’m worried they might come back.”
Dominic turned to face his husband.
“There’s something that Karl Michael said, and it scares me.” Dominic rested his hand on Jonathan’s arm.
“What was that?” asked Jonathan.
“He said that others would need my help in deciphering the message,” replied Dominic. “I’m worried about what Karl Michael and Bernhardt are involved in. And I wish Bernhardt had never sent me the text.”
Dominic leaned back in the seat and looked out the window. The car was passing some of Barcelona’s finest buildings. The taxi stopped for a moment by the stunning Gaudi architecture of Casa Milà. Normally Dominic would be transfixed by it. This morning he was too annoyed and distracted.
“So what did the message say?” persisted Jonathan.
“That’s the trouble. I can’t remember. It was just a series of numbers.” Dominic turned away from the window to look back at Jonathan as a thought crossed his mind.
“Oh, but now I remember. Karl Michael was supposed to come and see me last night. When we left the beach, I invited him to come back to the apartment and get the message off my phone. But he said he wouldn’t come straightaway. He had something important to do first. He was supposed to come over later, but he never did.”
Dominic took Jonathan’s arm. “I completely forgot, what with Alfonso turning up in the middle of the night with the news about you.”
“Perhaps he’d already been,” said Jonathan grimly. “Perhaps young Karl Michael got impatient, went straight to the apartment while you were searching for me, stole both the phones, not knowing which was yours, and took the laptop for good measure.”
Dominic turned to look out the window again. Their taxi had entered an elegant suburb of Barcelona. The apartment buildings on either side were modern and sophisticated. Trees lined the boulevard. As they waited at a stoplight, Dominic saw a charming pavement café with several well-dressed people sitting outside, taking coffee in the early morning sunshine.
“But it makes no sense,” said Dominic, envying the carefree scene. “Before we left the beach, we made an agreement to help each other. We shook hands on it. Karl Michael said he would help me find you, and I agreed to help him find Bernhardt.”
Dominic turned to his husband and rested his hand on Jonathan’s chest. “No, Jonathan. I think something’s happened. And it worries me a lot.”
Jonathan leaned across and kissed Dominic on the lips.
“Don’t you worry, my almost perfect English husband,” he said. “Your white knight has now returned, and he will protect you.” Jonathan leaned across again to kiss Dominic once more but was flung forward violently as the taxi came to an abrupt halt.
“Hemos llegado,” announced the taxi driver. And then in a lower voice added, “Putos maricones!”
“Are we here already?” asked Dominic absently, looking out the window at the imposing gates of a modern apartment complex.
“That’s what our foul-mouthed little taxi driver just said,” replied Jonathan angrily.
“Now what’s the matter?” asked Dominic as he reached for his wallet.
“Just when I thought we were making progress,” continued Jonathan, unbuckling his seat belt and slamming the car door open. “That little worm just called us dirty faggots. I thought we’d got past all that.” He turned to Dominic. “Don’t give him a tip, my love. In fact, let’s simply show him what he’s missing out on.”
Jonathan pushed Dominic back against the seat in a passionate embrace.
Chapter 17
DOMINIC WAS overwhelmed by the scale and elegance of Alfonso and Gabriel’s apartment. On their arrival, Alfonso greeted them enthusiastically at the door. He led the way down a wide entrance hall, its walls lined with extravagant twentieth century artwork. The entrance hall emerged into a vast, high-ceilinged reception room. There was a mezzanine floor suspended at the far end. A wall to the left was partly given over to tall glass doors. These opened onto a long balcony overlooking the city. Everywhere, Dominic could see fabulous pieces of art, paintings, sculptures, and glassware. He looked down to admire the fine art deco rugs scattered across the white and black tiled floor.
“¡Hola, amigo!” called a voice from the mezzanine floor in front of them. “You must be the famous Dominic I’ve heard so much about.”
Dominic looked up and saw a tall, broad-shouldered man in his early thirties. He was wearing a white shirt, open at the neck, with sand colored chinos belted around a narrow waist. His wavy black hair was well-groomed, and his smile displayed gleaming white teeth. His bare feet padded on the wooden spiral staircase as he descended rapidly to greet Dominic.
“I’m so pleased to meet you. I am Alfonso’s husband, Gabriel.” He grasped Dominic’s shoulders and kissed him on either cheek.
“Can I get you some coffee?” said Gabriel after their embrace. “Breakfast?”
Dominic shook his head. “Coffee would be lovely, but we really don’t want to put you to so much trouble—”
“I’m famished!” interrupted Jonathan, stepping forward. “Breakfast would be perfect, my dear Angel Gabriel. Especially after a night in hospital.” He embraced Gabriel and kissed him passionately on both cheeks. “I’m Jonathan, Dominic’s husband,” he added proudly.
Gabriel laughed. “How could I possibly forget so quickly, Jonathan? I’ll go start fixing some coffee. Please make yourselves comfortable.” He went into the kitchen, and a few moments later they heard the sounds of an espresso machine hissing into action.
Dominic crossed the floor to a large glass-fronted display cabinet on the far wall. On its middle shelf sat an angular black-and-chrome cocktail shaker, surrounded by eight cocktail glasses. To the side were a glass olive bowl, silver cocktail stirrer, and chrome ice bucket.
“You have a marvelous collection of art deco,” he called to Gabriel with admiration. “My little collection at home pales into insignificance by comparison.”
Gabriel reemerged from the kitchen, carrying a circular black-and-chrome tray. On it were two sma
ll cups of espresso and a sugar bowl. Dominic noticed Gabriel was now wearing an apron emblazoned with the words Rennie Mackintosh Museum, Glasgow in large letters.
“I’m so pleased to know you are a fellow fan,” Gabriel said, setting the tray down on a glass-topped coffee table. “I’ve been collecting since I was fifteen. My father is chairman of the Banco España Nacional and gave me an allowance,” he added by way of explanation for his expensive hobby. “But he doesn’t share my passion for art deco. He calls it vulgar.” Gabriel wrinkled his nose in distaste at the comment.
“Your father doesn’t approve of a lot of things you like,” said Alfonso, walking across to Gabriel and putting an arm around his waist. “Including me.” He looked at Gabriel and arched an eyebrow. “I don’t know why you continue to work with him in that tediously boring place.”
Gabriel laughed and gestured at the apartment. “Because it pays for this, my husband.” He turned back to Dominic.
“Alfonso just brought me a most exquisite bronze statue. Come and see. I have it on the mezzanine. I am deciding where to display it.”
Dominic followed Gabriel as he strode up the spiral staircase two at a time. At the top was a sunlit library, the walls lined with books. Light streamed in from three large skylights filtered by electrically operated blinds.
Gabriel reached into one of the shelves, picked up the bronze statue, and presented it to Dominic.
“Here. Isn’t he beautiful? My perfect Adam.”
JEFF LAY back on the large black leather couch, a beer in his hand. Next to him sat Nick, hunched over Tanya’s laptop, checking and rechecking multiple log-in sequences for the banking service networks of WRI. The vast loft space was lit by the warm glow of LED lights, discreetly embedded in the six wrought-iron columns that supported the roof structure. A vinyl copy of Electric Dreams by the guitarist John McLaughlin played softly in the background.
Jeff took a swig of his beer and turned to Nick. “The call’s about to start. All good?”
Nick nodded. “The log-in sequences are all there, as far as I can tell. I don’t want to do any more work on them. We need to hand this over to China now. They’ll be able to create a permanent, secure pathway that will remain undetectable. They can keep it dormant until the Ninety-Nine’s ready for the assault.” He looked up at Jeff. “Let’s get on with it. I’m fucking done in, and we’ve got the hackfest starting tomorrow.”
Jeff initiated the call on his iPad. He turned off John McLaughlin and switched the conference call to the main speakers in the loft. Within a few minutes, they heard the rest of Charter Ninety-Nine, confirming they were online.
“Why hasn’t Germany checked in?” asked East Coast.
“We’ll hold on a few moments more,” replied Jeff. “I don’t want him missing this. Besides, we need an update on the DG chip. I want to know if he’s got any news. The British guy’s landed here in San Francisco, and we’re tracking him.”
At that moment, there was a click on the conference call, and a distorted voice began speaking.
“This is West Coast,” interrupted Jeff. “Could you repeat, please? The sound’s pretty shit.”
There was a pause, then “Hello, West Coast. This is Germany checking in.” The sound was still badly distorted, but the voice was just about audible.
“Okay, we’re all here,” said Jeff. “I’ll be brief. There’s been a breakthrough today. We’ve now got a way into the global bank networks. China, you’ve got some work to do, but we’re confident you’ll build us a tunnel, ready for the assault. This new development, coupled with Britannia’s success on personal records, means we should be ready to launch the assault, maybe sooner than we planned.”
“Hey, just a minute,” said East Coast. “Aren’t we forgetting something? This whole thing could get blown out the water if we don’t get the DG chip back. And what’s happened to the Originator? Do we even know he’s still on our side?”
There was a crackle on the call as a voice interrupted. “Germany here. We’re close to securing the DG chip. We’ve obtained information sent by the Originator that should lead us to it very soon. West Coast? We may need your help on this.”
Jeff took another swig of his beer and set the bottle down on the floor. “Sure. What do you need?”
“The Originator made contact with a British man called Delingpole,” continued the voice on the speaker. “He’s currently in Spain. But we’ve now learned he’s flying to San Francisco tomorrow. We believe he may have the DG chip. If we fail to intercept him before he flies, you must take over when he lands there.”
Jeff looked across at Nick. “Is he linked with this other British guy, Steve Brown? If so, we’re already on to him.”
“It’s possible,” replied Germany. “We’ll find out what we can in the next twelve hours. But I have a question for the group. What if the DG chip is already destroyed? We may have to go ahead with the assault without it installed. Be prepared for that. We know the Originator never copied it. Deliberately. It’s unique.”
Jeff sighed. “Germany, you know as well as we do that it’s taken five years to build the DG chip. Once in place, it has the power to help us change the course of world events. It’s essential if our global rewriting of personal records is to succeed. You warned us before—if we launch the assault without the DG chip, we’re certain the assault will fizzle out in a few days, if not hours.” He looked across to Nick again, who nodded in agreement.
“Which means,” cut in the voice of East Coast, “you gotta get that DG chip back. And if you have to, use extreme force.”
DOMINIC HELD the finely formed statue of Adam and turned it slowly. He caressed its smooth surface while his mind desperately tried to recall the exact detail of the message he had received from Bernhardt the day before.
Turn to the feet of Adam
And there was a set of numbers and a date. If only he still had his phone. If only he could remember those numbers. His fingers explored around the base of the statue, gently rubbing across the sculpted feet of the figure. Then he held it up to the light and peered at the figure closely.
“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” said Gabriel. He watched proudly as Dominic scrutinized his latest acquisition. “I think he’s from Germany, probably early 1930s.”
Dominic had now turned the statue completely upside down. The base of it was about five inches square and half an inch thick, with a narrow step on each edge. Dominic gently slid his thumbnail around the step.
“What have you got there, my love?” Jonathan strode up the spiral staircase, two at a time, to join Dominic and Gabriel on the mezzanine floor. Alfonso followed a few paces behind him.
“Oh my,” continued Jonathan as he saw the look on Dominic’s face. “I can see you’re in love again.” He turned to Alfonso with a knowing look. “My husband has found another art deco romantic in darling Gabriel.”
“No, Jonathan, it’s more than that.” Dominic turned to his husband, his eyes wide with excitement. “Jonathan, this is a statue of Adam. Gabriel has just acquired it.”
He held it out, and Jonathan took it in his hands. He weighed it for a moment and then turned it over a couple of times.
“Very pretty,” he said. “No fig leaf? Very daring.” He turned to Alfonso. “Far too risqué to be British.” Alfonso laughed and nodded in agreement.
“But Jonathan,” said Dominic excitedly. “Bernhardt’s text. It said, ‘Turn to the feet of Adam.’ What if this was the Adam he was referring to?”
Jonathan laughed and handed the figure back to his husband.
“I’m sorry, my love. I think you’re clutching at straws. Why would Bernhardt send you a text about a statue that belongs to Gabriel?”
“Bernhardt?” asked Alfonso sharply. He turned to Dominic. “Who is Bernhardt?”
Dominic looked embarrassed for a moment. “Bernhardt Freude. He’s just a friend of mine from Germany. We knew each other long ago. He was driving down to meet us here as he couldn’t make it to the
wedding. Yesterday I received a strange text from him. And since then I’ve heard nothing.”
Alfonso reached out and gently took the statue from Dominic. Then he looked up at Gabriel. “Gabriel, can I have a word with you in private for a moment?” He turned to Dominic and Jonathan. “Please excuse us, gentlemen. I mean no disrespect, but there is something that Gabriel and I must discuss alone.”
The two men descended the staircase. Dominic and Jonathan leaned over the handrail of the mezzanine floor and watched as Gabriel and Alfonso walked out onto the balcony.
Jonathan looked across to Dominic and raised his arm. “Something wrong with my deodorant today?” he asked and turned his head to sniff his armpit. When Dominic rolled his eyes, he lowered his arm and draped it over Dominic’s shoulder.
“Anyway, my love,” he continued as he pulled Dominic toward him and slipped his hands around his waist. “Could you see anything on the bottom of that statue? I could certainly see something on the front. He was very well-endowed. Just like my own beautiful—”
“Jonathan, not here,” interrupted Dominic. He placed his own hands over Jonathan’s and intertwined their fingers.
“You know, I was almost ready to pack my bag and go home last night.” Dominic leaned his forehead on Jonathan’s. “I was very angry with you. But I was also worried you might have been kidnapped.” He lifted his head to look closely into Jonathan’s eyes. “Then I find you were in that god-awful nightclub. I can’t put up with this much longer, Jonathan. This could be the shortest marriage ever.”
Jonathan opened his mouth to speak but closed it again as he heard feet ascending the spiral staircase. Instead, he pulled Dominic close and kissed him tenderly on the lips.
“Adam appears to have inspired love in my art deco Garden of Eden,” Gabriel said with a laugh as he reached the top of the stairs.
The Deadly Lies Page 12