by Trevor Scott
Toni turned and noticed a car coming down the on-ramp after them. “Are you sure?”
“Came off the A-12 with us,” Jordan said. “Wasn’t sure then. But now I am. Want me to lose ‘em? Damn I’ve always wanted to say that.”
“No. Just pretend they’re not there. I’d rather know where at least someone is.”
●
Nickolas Hahn’s cell phone rang again. He picked up on the first ring. “Yeah?” He listened carefully. “Stay with them. Give me a call as soon as they exit the autobahn.”
He hung up and smiled at Wolfgang. “I told you they wouldn’t go far. They’re coming back to Innsbruck. I hope she’s as good as you say she is.”
“I’d trust her with my life,” Wolfgang said. “In fact I have.”
“She looks like a nice piece of ass, too.”
Wolfgang laughed. “That goes without saying.”
Hahn opened the glove box and retrieved a small .32 caliber automatic that nearly fit in the palm of his large hand. He extracted the clip and looked at the first round, a Teflon-coated hollow point that made the little bullet act more like a 9mm or .38 caliber. He shoved the clip into the butt and cycled a round into the chamber. Then he de-cocked it and dropped it into his right pocket.
Wolfgang watched his boss carefully. “I thought that’s why you hired us.”
Hahn raised his brows and smiled. “One can never be too careful. Sometimes you have to take control of things yourself.”
●
Fifteen minutes later Jordan exited at Innsbruck East and made his way to Amraser Seestrasse, before turning north onto Andechsstrasse. Since it was past nine thirty, the traffic was light.
“I’d like to come along with you to back you up,” Jordan said to Toni.
“I need you to keep track of Scala,” she said. She retrieved her gun from under her sweater, checked it over quickly, and returned it to its holster. “Drop us off and bring him to the place we discussed. And don’t let anyone follow you this time.”
Jordan glared at her in the mirror. “What if Jake was hit and doesn’t show? You’ll be out there by yourself.”
“You obviously don’t know Jake,” she said. “He’ll be there even if he was hit.”
“I had a feeling.”
The car wound around the street along the river.
●
Hahn got the call that they were traveling along the river. He stuck on the line and listened to where they were heading until the Ford pulled into a parking lot.
“Time to get moving, Wolfgang.
Wolfgang already had the car started, and he pulled out toward the old town, concerned only with what was ahead.
●
Pulling out after the Germans, Sappiamo kept well behind them. He had no idea where they were going. For all he knew, they could be heading off for a beer. But he had a feeling otherwise.
“Time to kick some Aryan ass,” Sappiamo said. “Except for the bitch who took Scala. She’s mine.”
Brachi said, “I hope they know where they’re going.”
Sappiamo kept a safe distance back.
●
Jordan parked the Ford along the Inn River a few blocks from the Golden Roof.
Toni and Otto Bergen got out of the car as soon as it stopped, hoping whoever was following them would think they were the only two in the car. Jordan and Scala scrunched down and waited for the other two to draw those following them away.
She and Bergen crossed the street quickly, noticed the other car park and then heard a door open. “I think they’re taking the bait, Otto. Stick close to me.”
Bergen did exactly that, skittering alongside her trying to keep up with her pace.
Back at the car, Jordan peeked over the seat. When he was sure that Toni and Bergen had been followed, he started the car and pulled away. Jordan wanted to play a bigger role, but he also knew that someone had to make sure Scala was safe. He was the only key to the Dolomite Solution.
39
Sitting back in darkness, Jake peered out the second floor window at the alley below. A few seconds ago a young man had pushed his way out the back door of the Kublatz Restaurant and thrown a load of garbage into the dumpster. Jake tried desperately to remember the events of a few nights ago, when he had crouched down behind that very dumpster while being shot at by the man with the silenced gun. To find out he had known the man, was a revelation that was hard to accept. In the military, officers stood up for one another. They didn’t shoot at each other. Perhaps deep down he had felt some guilt testifying against a fellow officer years ago, but that guilt was quickly squelched by the knowledge that he had helped put away a man who had deceived, cheated, embezzled, intimidated and coerced his fellow airmen. Loyalty to the officer corps was one thing, standing by to see its good name destroyed by the likes of Marcus Quinn quite another.
Jake checked his watch. It was a few minutes to ten. Things should start happening soon, he thought.
It was perhaps a bit ironic that he had chosen the same alley where he had been set up, yet it was also a perfect place. The entrance from the river side was a problem, but the other direction, back through the maze of narrow passageways, provided an ideal situation for what he had planned. He only hoped that his plans would not get snagged by some unseen force.
●
Toni and Otto Bergen rounded the corner through a dark, narrow alley and she immediately saw the lights at the front door and the sign that read Kublatz Restaurant. If she hadn’t been given directions, she would have never known the place existed.
The two of them went inside and were seated, by Toni’s request, in a large corner booth.
“We’re expecting company,” she explained to the maitre de. “Could you bring me a glass of Chianti?”
“I’d like schnapps,” Bergen chimed in.
In a few minutes they got their drinks. Bergen’s hand was shaking, Toni noticed. “Relax,” she said. “This is going to work. When Jake sets something up, he leaves nothing to chance.”
Bergen sipped his drink. “How have things gotten so complicated?”
She smiled. “This is an important solution. There are a lot of people who’d rather you didn’t find an answer to heart disease.”
“That’s absurd.”
“Perhaps. But true.”
He thought that over. “What makes you think they’ll show?”
“They will. If they don’t, we’ll call them and invite them to our little gathering.” She laughed.
He was starting to feel a little better with the warmth of the schnapps. He leaned back and finished the glass, and then ordered another.
Toni ran through her mind where Jake should be right now. She felt her gun with her arm where it was hidden by her bulky sweater. She had to believe that Jake was all right and would be there for her.
●
Out in the front of the building, Ulrica was on the phone with Hahn, telling him where Toni and Bergen had gone. Standing next to her, off in the shadows a bit, was Marcus Quinn.
“Wait for us there,” Hahn said. “Are you sure there’s no sign of Scala?”
“Absolutely,” she said. “They were in a Ford and parked in the lot out by the river. You should be able to see the car now.”
“I see your car,” Hahn said, becoming irritated. “But there’s no Ford here. Just wait there. Don’t go inside without us. We’ll be there in five minutes.”
“I understand. Our friend will go around back, if that’s all right with you.”
“Good idea,” Hahn said, and then hung up.
Ulrica smiled at the American. “I’ll see you on the other side,” she whispered, as Quinn slipped off through the darkness.
●
Parked a few rows from the Germans, Sappiamo checked over his partners. “You guys ready?” he whispered, as he started to get out of the car.
Gabbiano shrugged. “Yeah, sure.” He checked his 9mm Beretta, even though he had already replaced the bullets he had fired at th
e rink and knew it was ready to go. “Let’s do it.”
“Just a minute,” Brachi said, “pop the trunk.”
Sappiamo did as he said and Brachi removed a bag from the trunk. “I don’t go nowhere without this shit.” He slung the strap over his shoulder and the three of them strutted off after the Germans, who were now over a block ahead of them.
Brachi’s leg was hurting badly. He was having a hard time keeping up with the younger men.
“They turned down that alley ahead,” Sappiamo said. He was anxious now, knowing his partner had died only hours ago following the man down these narrow passageways. Now he was just as determined to get the guy who had shot his friend as he was to get the solution from Scala.
●
Jake saw the shadow of a man enter the alley from the river side. He was about the right height and weight of the man with the silencer. The man he had once served with, Marcus Quinn. Staying back from the window, Jake watched the man take up a position between the two dumpsters.
He waited for a few minutes to make sure Quinn had not been followed, and then he left the apartment and went downstairs. It took Jake almost five minutes to make his way around the block and up through the skinny alleyway to the corner where Quinn had held him at bay only a few nights ago. He smiled to himself thinking how things had changed. He was in charge now, with Quinn the pawn with no place to move.
Jake leaned against the wall, feeling the cool brick against his face. He had his gun out, his hand against his chest.
The alley behind the restaurant was dark, with only the one light by the back entrance illuminating a small area. If anyone came from the river side, he would see them coming from the lamp posts out along that street. In the darkness he finally saw how completely Quinn had set him up. He listened for any movement, since he could not see if Quinn was still between the dumpsters. Time to wait now and hope that Toni and Bergen could make the plan work.
●
Hahn showed up with Wolfgang in front of the restaurant. Ulrica was finishing a cigarette, which she promptly stamped out.
“Quinn’s around back?” Hahn whispered.
She nodded.
“Good. Then let’s go see what Bergen has to say.”
The three of them entered the restaurant.
●
Toni watched the three come through the front door. “Look surprised now,” Toni whispered to Bergen.
Bergen tried on a smile. He stood slightly, waving the three Germans to his table.
Hahn approached slowly. “Otto, good evening. I heard this place had great food. Now I know it must be true.”
“Why don’t you join us,” Bergen said.
The Germans didn’t hesitate sitting down.
“I’m glad to see you’re all right after that crazy man was shooting in the ice stadium,” Hahn said, glancing at Toni. “Otto. You haven’t introduced your pretty lady.”
“Sorry. This is Maria Francesco Caruso. She works with Giovanni Scala at the University of Milan.”
Toni nodded and smiled.
“That’s a beautiful name,” Hahn said. Keeping an eye on Toni, he said, “These are a few of my associates. Wolfgang is my assistant, and Ulrica is...in marketing.”
Looking at the Turk, Toni noticed she had been staring at her since they walked through the door.
“So, signorina Caruso, is the professor going to join us this evening?” Hahn asked.
“I don’t think so.”
There was tension in the air now as the five of them shifted stares from one to the next.
Finally, Hahn asked Bergen, “We do still have a deal, don’t we?”
Bergen thought for a moment, glancing sideways at Toni. “Of course. It’s just that Scala is frightened. His partner was killed. His partner’s maid murdered. He was almost kidnapped himself. You can understand.”
“It’s a dangerous world we live in,” Hahn said. He touched his right pocket, feeling the outline of his gun. “That became even more apparent earlier tonight at the Olympic Ice Stadium. I even understand that another man was killed in the old town late this afternoon moments after we talked. And, if I’m not mistaken, wasn’t Allen Murdock killed in the alley right behind this restaurant?”
“I believe so,” Bergen said.
“No wonder the place is so empty.”
There was another lull. Toni checked her watch. She was about to suggest they discuss how to bring in Scala and his research, when she saw the man come through the front door and stare directly at them. He was one of the men she had stopped from kidnapping Scala. He also looked mad as hell as he took a seat by himself near the door. How had he found them? The only person missing was the one they were looking for, Marcus Quinn.
“I suggest we talk about how to assure Professor Scala that he will be safe,” Toni said.
Hahn looked unsure. “I don’t see how that applies to me. Anything I can do to help, just ask. It’s in our best interest to bring this solution to the marketplace as soon as possible. We have advertising set to go with plans to blitz Europe within weeks. I also suspect that Scala’s winning the Nobel will have great marketing potential.”
Bergen jumped in. “I’d like to know what Allen Murdock was trying to do for you?”
“What do you mean?”
Toni kicked Bergen. This wasn’t what they were to discuss.
He ignored her. “I mean Murdock was squeezing me for money, along with his friend, Marcus Quinn.”
With that name, Nicolaus Hahn’s face shifted from his normal smirk to more grave. “I don’t understand. Who is this Quinn?”
Bergen finished off his second schnapps and slammed the glass to the table. “You know exactly who I’m talking about,” he said, raising his voice so others in the place turned toward them.
Wolfgang, imposing as he was, seemed to inflate further. The Turkish woman leaned back in her chair and glanced toward the front door.
●
Jake watched the two men walk down the alley from the river road. One walked with a certain ease, as if he owned the cobblestones. The other, a bag over his shoulder, was limping badly. They had to be the Boston boys, Jake realized. This was a bonus.
The men got within ten feet of the first dumpster and stopped. They were whispering, but not softly enough.
“Why the fuck did he get to go inside,” Gabbiano said, lighting a cigarette. “While we get stuck out in the fuckin’ cold alley. You know I hate fuckin’ rats. Shit was that one there.”
“Rats,” Brachi said. “That’s all I hear from you. Jesus Christ. You outweigh the motherfuckers by two hundred pounds and you’re afraid of the little bastards.” He dug down into his bag and pulled out one of his special fire bombs. He continued, “You got enough fire power on you to blast every last one of the fuckers in Innsbruck. If that doesn’t do it, this baby will.”
“I still don’t get why we gotta go around back,” Gabbiano complained. “He’s sitting in that nice warm restaurant, probably checking out that nice babe who walked off with Scala. Lucky motherfucker.”
“Shut the fuck up and help me with these.”
The two of them were at the base of the back entrance to the restaurant, hitching a wire across the door and setting delays.
“Are you gonna set these or make them automatic?” Gabbiano asked.
“I’m.... Hey who the fuck are you?”
Quinn had risen from between the two dumpsters with his gun pointing at the Boston boys.
Jake readied himself. This wasn’t planned, but it could still work. He slowly moved forward.
“The question is, who are you?” Quinn finally said, moving closer to the two of them. “And what in the fuck are you doing in my alley?”
“Hey, you can have this fuckin’ alley,” Gabbiano said, backing up a step.
Brachi set his stance a little wider. “You’re the man from the ice rink.” He had noticed the silencer.
Looking around behind him, Quinn backed up a few feet and turned so he c
ould see in both directions with his peripheral vision. “Who do you two work for?”
“None of your fuckin’ business,” Gabbiano yelled.
Without saying a thing, Quinn shot the younger one in the stomach.
Gabbiano dropped to his knees and moaned, holding his gut. Then he rolled to his side begging his partner to help him.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Brachi said, leaning down to try to help his young partner. “That’s Dominic Varducci’s nephew. He’ll hunt you down like a dog and start by killing you. Then he’ll kill every one of your relatives. When he’s done doing that, he’ll kill anyone you ever remotely liked. Which in your case might be a damn short list. But you get the picture.”
“Yeah, well, I’m fuckin’ scared,” Quinn said, leveling his gun on the older man now. “You can see I’m shaking.”
It was now or never, Jake realized. He had to move. Then he remembered the small device in his pocket that Martini had given him. He pressed the button and then slowly snuck out from the shadows.
“Drop it Quinn,” Jake yelled.
The man froze momentarily. Then he turned his head toward Jake. “Don’t tell me you work with these morons.”
“I think I told you to do something.” Jake moved closer, his gun leveled on Quinn’s back.
Shifting his upper body around, Quinn took in a full view of Jake. His eyes flicked down toward the CZ-75 in Jake’s hand as if begging it to go off. “Is that an order Captain Adams?”
The younger Boston man was moaning again from the pain, and the older guy had his hand on the wound trying to keep his guts from seeping out. “He needs to get to the hospital right now,” Brachi said.
“Not gonna happen,” Quinn said.
“You fucker. You’re dead.”
Quinn lowered his gun toward the older man.
“I said to drop the fucking gun, Quinn,” Jake yelled again.
●
Inside, the discussion at the table was getting nowhere. Hahn would suggest one thing, only to have Otto Bergen shoot his plan down.
“Why don’t we just go to the office right now,” Bergen suggested. “Then we can send for Scala.”
“Finally,” Hahn said, “You’re making sense. Let’s go then.” He rose and Wolfgang and Ulrica got up as well.