by Trevor Scott
His mind was somewhat muddled as he dug into his pockets for spare change. He found the number in the phone book and punched it in. When an older woman answered, he asked in German for Toni’s room. She could have been staying under a variety of names, but he assumed the obvious, since she wouldn’t have given the name she had told Otto Bergen.
In a few seconds there was a reluctant “Hello.” A soft female voice.
“Toni? This is Jake Adams.”
There was silence for a moment. And then, “My God. How did you find me?”
“I’ll explain in a few minutes,” Jake said. “I wanted to call before driving up. I’m in Tulfes.” He peered up the mountain, half expecting to see her poke her head out a window.
“Jake I’m sorry but I don’t have much time. I’m working a case.”
“I know. You’ve got Scala I understand.”
“How—”
“Can we just come up?”
“Who’s we?”
“I’ve got a Major Stan Jordan with me from Air Force OSI out of Ramstein. I think we need to cross-check what we’re doing. I have a feeling there’s information I have that would be beneficial to what you’re doing. Jordan can fill you in on what he’s been up to as well.”
She thought it over. He could still hear her breathing. “Come on up.”
“See you in a bit.”
He hung up and stepped outside. The sun was as high as it would get for that time of year, and a soft breeze brushed the new grass along a boulevard. He took in a deep breath and savored it. Then he got into the Golf and started toward the mountain road.
Jordan sat quietly for a moment, but the uncertainty was too much for him. “You gonna tell me now where we’re going?”
“To see an old friend of mine,” Jake said. “You know about Leonhard Aldo’s death. Well his partner in the research project is—”
“Giovanni Scala. From the University of Milan. Onetime wonderboy. Now middle aged and about to receive his first Nobel Prize. It looks like Aldo will get his posthumously.”
“You are up on this,” Jake said, as he started winding up the mountain. The road was narrow, but in near perfect shape. The paving job couldn’t have been more than a year old.
“So is this some girlfriend of yours?”
“I didn’t say it was a woman,” Jake said.
“You didn’t have to. I could see it in your eyes when you talked about her. Unless you’re gay.”
“Whatever happened to don’t ask, don’t tell?”
“That was fucked up from the start,” the major said, shaking his head. “Talk about some civilian fucking with the integrity of the military service.”
Jake wound up the final turn, where the road opened up at a ledge. On the lower side was a small area where cars could pull over to take in the panoramic view of the mountains to the north and the Inn River cutting through the valley. On the upper side was the gasthaus, a small place, but one with a great view in nearly every direction. Jake understood why Toni had chosen the place. He parked next to Toni’s Alfa Romeo and got out. Looking at the car, he remembered having driven it in Italy. There was history with that hunk of metal and rubber. He looked up at the second floor windows and noticed a figure standing along the right side of one. It was Toni, he was sure, but with the sun glare he could only make out her shape.
Jake and Special Agent Jordan slowly walked inside and up the stairs to the second floor. A door opened down the hall and Toni stepped out. She was wearing dark jeans that showed she hadn’t gained an ounce, and a gray sweater that seemed to hike her breasts to full life when she saw Jake.
They hugged, holding each other close, and he kissed her on both cheeks.
“Let’s get inside,” she said softly.
She closed the door behind them.
Jake started the introductions with himself and Jordan. Then Toni introduced Giovanni Scala, who seemed a bit out of place. Toni and Jake took seats at a small table across from each other, and Special Agent Jordan slid a chair out, sitting backwards on it. Scala retreated to the bed in the corner.
“I’d offer you a drink,” Toni said, “but they don’t have wet bars here.” She stared at Jake and said, “So, why’d you bring the Air Force along for the ride?”
Jake smiled, ignoring the major. “He looked desperate.”
“Hey, hey,” Jordan chimed in. “I am here, folks.”
“Excuse me,” Jake said. “It’s a private joke. I used to complain a lot about my Air Force days when Toni and I worked together years ago.” He turned toward Toni, looking deep into her. “So, how have you been?”
“Fine. As you can see.”
He could. Her hair seemed longer and curlier. Maybe even blacker, if that was possible. Her eyes were bright. He remembered how she would look at him and seem to know what he was thinking. They had been so close for so long and then had drifted apart because of mere geography. Yet, despite that difference in distance, he had always thought of her. He hoped the feelings were mutual.
Toni first explained what she and Scala had been through in the past few days. Then Jake started filling her in on what had been happening in Innsbruck. He told her everything, except how he had taken on the job with Otto Bergen. He wanted to hear her out before divulging that.
When he was done, she simply stared at him for a moment. She slapped him across the arm. “You bastard!”
“What?”
“You move to Innsbruck and you don’t even tell me? What the hell were you thinking?”
“I’ve been leaving messages for you,” he pleaded.
“Yeah, well, you could have tried harder.”
Jake looked to Special Agent Jordan for help.
“Don’t look at me, Adams,” Jordan said. “I’m not the pig who failed to keep track of this beautiful woman.”
She smiled at Jordan and noticed his wedding band. “See. This man is probably happily married because he has great consideration for her. Am I right?” She asked Jordan.
Jordan raised his brows and reluctantly said, “Damn straight.”
“Could we get back to the problem at hand?” Jake asked. “Major, we haven’t heard everything out of you, I’m sure.”
“Listen. Would you quit calling me major. You can call me Stan or Jordan, but calling me major is out of the question. It sure as hell doesn’t do much for my cover.”
“Fine. Jordan. I can live with that. Now tell me what in the hell Allen Murdock was doing for you.”
The OSI agent sighed deeply. “You knew Murdock when you both worked tactical intel and then humint. He did get out of the Air Force and started working for Richten Pharmaceuticals. He worked as a computer analyst for a few years until the owner Andreas Kraft found out he had worked intel. Since Murdock was fluent in German, and I think his wife being a knockout blonde didn’t hurt matters either, Kraft started working him into the operations side of the house. Murdock kept his job in the computer area, but he simply worked a little overtime for Kraft.”
“Doing what?” Toni asked.
“I got it first hand from Murdock,” Jordan said. “He’d go to conferences with his wife, she’d rub her large breasts up against some target, while he went up to the man’s hotel room and took photos of various papers. They had it down to a science. Murdock had saved Richten millions in research and development costs. They’d simply stole ideas from their competitors.”
Jake started thinking. He didn’t think Toni or Jordan would understand him sleeping with Murdock’s wife. “You think he was doing the same thing in Innsbruck?”
“I’m not sure,” Jordan said. “His wife Ute didn’t make the trip with him as far as I know. She was being watched by my people until a few days ago when she disappeared. Murdock was beginning to suspect someone was on to him.”
“What was he doing for Richten in Innsbruck?” Toni asked.
“He had become one of Kraft’s most trusted agents,” Jordan explained. “He was to come here alone and work out the final det
ails of the contract, and also attend the meeting where Aldo and Scala explained how things were going.” The OSI agent glanced to the scientist, who seemed truly interested now, and then back to Jake and Toni. “Obviously someone had other plans for him.”
Finally the scientist broke in. “But why would someone want to kill Leonhard? Or his maid?”
Jake explained. “Here’s the sequence as I see it. Someone goes to Aldo’s apartment to see if they can find a copy of his work. The maid surprises him and gets herself killed. The killer, or killers, doesn’t find what they’re looking for there, so they head to the Dolomites and try to snatch the info there. Only they fuck up and run Aldo off the road. With Aldo gone, and his research lost, they head down to Milano to nab Scala.”
Toni shook her head. “I don’t think so. The two guys who ran Aldo off the road had to be in the Dolomites when the maid was killed. I think we’re talking two separate factions here.”
Jake laughed. “Great.”
“What about Murdock, though?” Jordan asked.
Jake swished his head. “That’s someone else. He was killed by the same asshole who’s been fucking with me. And I’m not sure why, but somebody wanted the deal between Richten and Tirol Genetics stopped. Killing Murdock would delay things only, so I’m sure there’s more to come in that area.” Jake glared at Jordan. “What I still don’t understand is what Murdock was doing for the Air Force OSI?”
Jordan shifted in his chair and cast his eyes toward the floor.
“You going to answer that?” Toni demanded.
“Don’t hold out on us, Jordan. Remember, Toni is with CIA. You two are supposed to talk once in a while. It’s the reason the new Agency was formed in the first place.”
“All right. Christ, give me a break. It wasn’t for some lofty reason. We simply suspected Richten was dealing in more than just over-the-counter medicine. They have research facilities in some South American countries like Columbia and Venezuela. We think they have a large trade distribution of cocaine from those countries on Liberian tankers from Caracas to Monrovia. From there they go to Amsterdam before spreading out across Europe by truck. We’ve gotten so close. Murdock provided much of our initial information, although he said he wasn’t involved. That part of Richten’s operation was handled by Nikolaus Hahn, the operations officer.”
Jake shook his head. “I don’t believe Murdock was killed for drugs. It had to do with this deal. I’m certain. Someone thought they’d slow the process down, if not completely derail it. Maybe Richten wanted the technology entirely for themselves, cutting Tirol Genetics out. They steal the solution from Aldo and Scala, knock them out of the loop permanently, and they don’t have to settle for a percentage of the profits, they’ve got the whole works.”
Jordan broke in. “Or there could be another company trying to squeeze their way into the picture. Which is one of the assumptions I’d have to make. Murdock might have been double crossing Richten and us, selling out to a higher bidder.”
Suddenly Toni remembered something. She found her purse and removed the photograph of the man having sex with the maid she had found dead at Aldo’s apartment and handed it to Jake. “This was under a table in Aldo’s bedroom.”
Jake examined the photo and handed it to Jordan. “That’s Murdock. But it’s hard to believe he killed the maid.”
“Somebody had to take the shot,” Toni said.
Jordan handed the photo to Toni. “You can set those on a table and use a timer.”
The three of them sat silent for a moment. Finally the scientist spoke. “Mr. Adams. How were you able to locate us?”
Jordan glared at Jake. “Yes, how did you find them?”
Looking at Toni for help and finding only raised brows, Jake said, “Toni’s license plates. A few years back Austria required all hotels, motels, gasthauses, anyplace anyone would want to stay, to provide license plates, country, name, etc. into a huge database. If the person arrived in Austria by train or plane, they must provide a passport number. It was a measure to cut down on international terrorism. Austria has traditionally been a great staging point for terrorists heading north to Germany and France, even England. I made the assumption that Toni still had her Alfa Romeo and she hadn’t changed her plates. This only works if you know the plate number, of course. Otherwise I would have had to check all cars from Italy, maybe narrowing it down to all cars with a Rome prefix. To make a long story short, I lucked out.”
Jordan understood now. “That’s what you were doing with Martini’s computer.”
Jake nodded. “The problem is if I could do it someone else might be able to also. If they know what to look for.”
“So we better get going,” Toni said, rising from her chair.
There was nothing to pack really. Scala had his briefcase, and Toni her purse. Jordan and Scala had made their way to the hall, when Toni pulled Jake aside before leaving the room. “You trust this Jordan?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Good. Because I haven’t told you everything. We need to talk.”
She walked out leaving Jake confused.
29
Otto Bergen sat outside at the Friedrich-Strasse cafe, less than a block from the Golden Roof, sipping a double cappuccino. The three Germans had just joined him and had ordered the same. Bergen had met Nikolaus Hahn at various conferences around Europe. He was a man he expected to deal with in the first place, once he and Kraft had come up with an initial deal months ago. Murdock had been a surprise, yet Bergen somehow felt he would have gotten a better deal with the American. The other two at the table, Bergen had just met. The bald one with the big nose, Wolfgang, seemed like he had come right out of Hitler’s genetic mold. He was big and strong and wouldn’t take much hassle from anyone. The woman, Ulrica, was another story. She was a new German, he thought. Her eyes said she was a Turk or Rumanian. He’d guess the former.
A waiter came with the drinks, set them swiftly and went away without saying a word.
Bergen was set to listen. “Is everything ready for production?”
Hahn finished his sip of coffee and set the cup on the glass table. “You tell me. I understand Leonhard Aldo is dead and his papers haven’t been recovered.”
Feeling uncomfortable, Bergen said, “That’s true. But his associate, Giovanni Scala, has the information on the solution, and our other researchers can take over where Aldo left off.”
Hahn looked surprised. “You have Scala?”
Bergen’s eyes shifted from one person at the table to the next, and finally settling on Hahn. “You’ll have to trust me.”
Sitting at a table at another cafe across the cobblestone walking path, was the Italian Sappiamo and his two American associates from Boston, Brachi and Gabbiano. All three were drinking beer, trying not to look at Bergen and the three Germans, but taking turns doing just that. The other Italian, Sappiamo’s partner, was sitting alone almost a block away as a lookout.
Hahn drank some more coffee. “I trust you, Bergen. You have as much to lose as we do. Perhaps more. I just want to know why you had Murdock killed?”
Bergen looked shocked. “It wasn’t me,” he pleaded.
“It doesn’t matter,” Hahn said. “I’m sure he had it coming.”
“But I didn’t,” Bergen assured him.
“Sure, anything you say. Now simply tell me how you plan on getting the solution from Scala.”
Something wasn’t right, and Bergen knew it. This man knew more than he should. Reluctantly, he leaned toward Hahn and whispered, “Tonight. Seven-thirty.”
“Where?”
“The Olympic Ice Stadium.”
Hahn glanced at his two associates to make sure they had both heard him. “Is Scala trying to pull something? Squeeze more money out of you?”
Bergen shook his head. “I don’t think so. I didn’t actually talk with him, though. It was a woman. A Maria Francesca Caruso. She called me this morning around the time Scala was supposed to show up. Said to meet me at the
stadium and she’d bring Scala. I tried to ask her what she wanted, but she wouldn’t say. It wasn’t money. That was clear.”
“Everybody wants something,” Hahn said, thinking things over carefully. “Unless she’s with the government.”
That was something Bergen had not even considered.
Hahn finished his coffee and stood slowly. Wolfgang and Ulrica did so also. “We’ll meet you there at seven,” Hahn said. “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind a little company.” He smiled and walked off, his associates flanking him.
Bergen didn’t have a choice. He watched the Germans walk off and he nodded to the American, Marcus Quinn, who had been sitting across the walk, to follow them. It was best to be safe in situations like this.
●
The Italian up the street, the lookout, got up now and followed Quinn down the narrow walking street. He had taken the signal from Sappiamo.
●
The Germans were walking along talking when Wolfgang first noticed the shorthaired blonde man with the bulky jacket behind them. He stopped, looking into a store window and told his boss what he suspected. Hahn agreed to split up and make their way to Innbrucke Bridge that crossed the river from Herzog-Otto-Strasse to Innstrasse. Hahn and Ulrica split off first, shooting down a narrow alley together. Wolfgang stood tight, watching the man in the window’s reflection.
●
Quinn wasn’t sure what to do. They had seen him. The big guy was watching him now. To make things worse, someone else had followed him, he was sure. He had two choices. Continue to follow the Germans, or find out who was behind him. Considering the circumstances, he’d have to choose the latter, since he was sure that man had no idea he was on to him. He passed along the narrow street across from the large German, not paying attention to him whatsoever. In a block he stopped to light a cigarette, glancing back for a moment at the dark man in the leather coat, who also had stopped, pretending to look at something in a store. The German was gone. Had probably gone down the alley after Hahn and the woman. But who was this dark-haired man, and why was he following him? He took in a long drag and continued down the walkway. There were a number of tourists on the street. Some wearing ski jackets. Some in expensive clothes. The man behind him was different, he was sure. He wasn’t a tourist. He was most certainly following him.