by Diane Capri
He walked toward Jess. “Welcome, welcome, welcome.”
He shook her hand firmly and gestured to the room with a sweep of his arm. “My home is yours.”
“It’s a wonderful house,” Jess replied. “You must be very proud of it.”
He smiled widely, white teeth and blue eyes sparkling against his handsomely tanned skin. “I cannot deny that my home gives me great pleasure. Please, come in. Let us talk.”
He led Jess to a pair of red velvet armchairs beside a gold and black Louis XVI occasional table. Two glasses and a bottle of red wine waited on a silver tray on the table. The wine had been uncorked. He held out the bottle for Jess to read the label.
“From the vineyard of Alvaro Palacios’ L’Ermita. To the north of here. A beautiful area. Vines from the start of the last century.” He pointed to the label, “Velles Vinyes. Old-vines. The very heart and soul of my country.”
“Thank you,” Jess said.
He poured two generous portions.
Jess held the glass in her hands and swirled the wine. The rich berry aroma with hints of spice reached her nose.
Lopez took a sip, holding his mouth closed as the aftertaste worked its way over his palate.
Jess was no expert in wine tasting, but she followed his lead. The flavor was intense and fruity. The spice and the alcohol warmed her throat.
“Raspberry,” Lopez said. “Really there are no raspberries in it, but it is the dominant impression. Most excellent.”
He placed his glass on the table. “Tell me, you have traveled alone, but do you have a family?”
Jess shook her head. “It’s complicated.”
He laughed. “That is why we call them families.”
“I lost my son when he was just a baby.”
Lopez’s face fell. “I am most sorry. Accident? Illness?”
“Abducted.”
Air hissed between his teeth. “Terrible. Only animals steal babies.”
“I’m still looking for him.”
He nodded. “Of course, of course. The police? They have no…”
“They have done what they can, but now I rely on private investigators.”
“I cannot imagine.” He tutted.
Jess sipped her wine. “Where is Debora Elden? I was told she’d be joining us.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
Jess didn’t believe he was the least surprised. “That’s why I accepted your invitation.”
“I’m sorry for the confusion.” He shrugged. “She works for Grupo Lopez, but I am not personally acquainted with her.”
Warmth flooded her cheeks, but she tamped her annoyance. “What work does Ms. Elden do at Grupo Lopez?”
He cocked his head as if he was merely curious. “What is your interest in Miss Elden?”
“Her ex-boyfriend is accused of a bombing attack. She knows him better than I do. I want to talk to her about him.”
“That is a serious situation.” Lopez’s eyes widened, again throwing off a disingenuous vibe.
Jess was fairly certain that he knew the answers to every question he’d asked so far. “Several people died, and many more were injured.”
“In the USA?”
“Yes.”
He raised his eyebrows. “The explosion at Kelso Products that’s been on our news?”
“Yes.”
“This is most concerning. You think Miss Elden was connected with this?”
“The authorities say it doesn’t seem likely.” Jess shook her head. “I think she may be able to help me with our reporting on the incident.”
“Forgive me, when you say our?”
“Taboo Magazine.”
“But this is a criminal investigation, surely?”
“Of course.”
“The authorities have not approached us about Miss Elden.”
“They are pursuing other lines of inquiry.”
He considered this for a moment. “Then they do not believe Miss Elden is involved?”
“I’m sure you understand that the authorities do not confide in me. I can’t say what they believe or don’t believe.”
“So the American slang for your visit is a ‘fishing trip,’ isn’t it?”
“My magazine wouldn’t send me here on a mere fishing expedition, Mr. Lopez.”
“Call me Rafa. Please. Everyone does.” He sipped his wine.
“What does Debora Elden do at Grupo Lopez?” Jess asked again.
“She works in our research department. We are known for our innovation. We employ many researchers.”
“What sort of research is Miss Elden conducting?”
“I am not sure of her specialization.” He offered a lopsided grin. “If I had known you were so interested, I would have more complete answers for you.”
With significant effort, Jess kept a smile in place. She had approached Grupo Lopez about one thing, and that was Debora Elden. So, when the CEO asked to meet with her, she had expected him to have something to say on the subject.
“I can come to your office tomorrow,” she said, as pleasantly as she could manage.
“You are very persistent, but yes, come tomorrow afternoon.” He smiled. “For now, please enjoy your wine.”
She sipped obligingly before she returned to her agenda. “What does Grupo Lopez produce in Zorita?”
He stood, and topped off both glasses. “Shall we take a walk? I believe the air will have cooled by now.”
She followed him through a door into another large room. He flipped a switch, and the far wall of French doors began to fold like a concertina until the entire space opened to the garden.
A flagstone patio ran the width of this section of the house. Statues and plants, artfully lighted, dotted across the flagstones.
In the middle of the patio was a tall table and two bar stools. Tiny candles floated in a crystal bowl. The air was cooling and fresh after the day’s heat. She put her glass on the table and wondered when they would eat so that she could leave.
The garden sloped gently down from the house. A large fountain gushed water into a reflecting pool.
“This is beautiful,” Jess said.
He smiled toward the view. “It gives me great pleasure, but…”
Jess waited.
He turned to her. “This house, this garden, you, me? We all are objects in time. We come and go. When I bought this house, it was almost a ruin.” He waved a hand at the garden, “What is now lush and green was overrun with weeds. I have changed everything here. Perhaps, in time to come, the next owners will change these things, too.”
Jess nodded. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”
“But more than that. Possessions are trinkets in the universe. People live and die. Too soon, we will be forgotten.” He clinched his fist and snapped his fingers open. “Poof. We’re gone.”
He looked straight into Jess’s eyes. “There is only one thing that stands the test of time. Only one thing that cannot be erased… Ideas and the benefits to mankind that we make from them.”
“I guess.” She narrowed her eyes, wondering what he wanted her to take away from here tonight. She recognized Rafa Lopez as another in a long line of CEOs seeking positive publicity from Taboo Magazine.
“The inventor of the wheel is lost before the age of communication, but his invention? No one knows who invented money, but have you used money today?”
“Those ideas probably didn’t emanate from a single person.”
He laughed. “Exactly! But Aristotle’s logic? Or Euclid’s geometry? Newton’s physics or Darwin’s natural selection? Einstein’s special theory of relativity?”
“Marx and Engels,” she said, nodding. “Of course, these were great men throughout time.”
He held out his hands, his palms toward her in agreement. “Yes! You see? Ideas and the men who generate them are never forgotten. They become immortal.”
She nodded. “Yes.”
Rafa smiled more broadly, as if she were a particularly apt
pupil of whom he, the great professor, especially approved. “But do you know what you need to spark a great idea?”
Jess shrugged.
“A great problem. Not trivial. Big, sweeping, intractable. Something that has defeated great minds for centuries. So large it paralyzes the mind.” He stopped to breathe, his arms stretched wide like DaVinci’s Vitruvian Man. “That is what you need for a revolutionary idea. With the right problem, comes the opportunity for immortality that few will ever reach.”
“Like Aristotle and Euclid.” She paused and smiled. “Or Henry Ford.”
Rafa laughed for a while, as if mentioning Ford in the same breath as Aristotle and Euclid was hilarious. But she had the feeling he was more interested in collecting billions for a product like Ford, than any grand idea simply to serve humanity.
When he stopped laughing, Jess asked, “Is that what you’re doing at your plant in Zorita? Working on a great idea for an intractable problem?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The silence lasted a long time before he lifted his gaze. “The air is good, no?”
It took her a moment to change gears. “It is refreshing after the day’s heat.”
“Do you notice the insects?”
She looked and listened. “Now that you ask, no. I don’t.”
“Do you know why?”
She cocked her head. “A Grupo Lopez product?”
Lopez walked a circle in front of the table. “In the past, evenings in this area were miserable. Multitudes of flying insects made life too difficult.”
“It’s the same in most areas.”
“But it doesn’t have to be.” He stretched his arms wide. “Now we are able to enjoy the evening.”
“Because you’ve used a special pesticide here to kill them all?” Jess frowned and curled her lip.
Rafa’s eyebrows shot up. “You say that as if taking control of our environment is a bad thing.”
Jess nodded. “How does that old song go? Give me spots on my grapes, and leave me the bird food?”
“But why not do both? Treat the problems and keep all the good things as well?”
“How do you propose to do that?”
He walked to the edge of the patio. “DDT went too far, but it was a crude start. A first jab at what we really needed.”
“And what’s that, exactly?”
“Look at us. Here. Now.” He gestured beyond the patio. “People like us want freedom from insects to provide a certain lifestyle. For many, the issue is not luxury but survival.”
Jess frowned.
“Mosquitoes are a plague across the face of the earth. In your own country the numbers are growing. The USA conducts large-scale control programs. There is even suspicion that as the DDT is finally disappearing from your ecosystem, mosquitoes are coming back in greater numbers and even stronger.”
“I’ve heard that said, but I’m not sure about the science.”
He laughed. “Many countries cannot afford the control programs that are used in America. They need a better solution.”
“A solution that you and Grupo Lopez have created?”
“Unfortunately not.” He shook his head. “But this is a truly great problem, don’t you think?”
“But it is the great problem you’re researching at your plant here in Zorita, isn’t it?”
He turned to face her, nostrils flared. “How many people do you think die from malaria every year?”
It was a terrible statistic. She knew it well because Alex Cole had mentioned it two days ago. Softly, she said, “A million people die from malaria.”
“A million. Yes. Each and every year. A million people. Dead. Gone. A most horrible way to die, too. Severe shaking. Chills. High fever. Profuse sweating. Vomiting. Diarrhea. Abdominal pain.” Lopez stepped toward Jess, both hands clenched. “And those who survive?”
Jess nodded. “Yes.”
“My mother had malaria. I watched her life-long miserable existence with recurrences of the original infection that couldn’t be eradicated.” He sat on his stool and took a drink of wine.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Thank you. She’s been gone a long time. I don’t speak of her often.” He nodded and squared his shoulders and the anger was back. “But what do we do? The great nations of this earth? The big industries? The millionaires and billionaires? What do our politicians say about this terrible mosquito-borne disease?”
“I don’t know.”
“Nothing.” He shook his head. “They say nothing.”
“There is research being done—”
“No. There is not.” He shook his head more violently. “Experiments on single samples, maybe two. Useless. This is a big problem. It needs big thinking. Big experiments.”
“Forgive me, but you can’t be the only person to realize this.”
He laughed. “True, true. But your CDC is barely funded for the effort, and I know of three of our competitors who have given up their research because it is expensive and…difficult.” He emphasized the word with scorn.
“Like who?”
He waved her question away. “Every year lost is another million people dead. Governments, agencies, even non-governmental agencies drag their feet. And do you know why?”
She remained silent, certain he was about to enlighten her.
When he did, the scorn was palpable. “Because they are timorous, afraid of their own shadows, too scared to take necessary chances.”
“So that’s what you’re doing. Taking chances.” She cocked her head. “What kind of chances?”
“We are researching. We are spending our own money.” He stabbed his thumb in his chest. “My money.” He stood up, his arms in the air, including his entire estate in the gesture. “I would risk it all to solve this problem.”
“And we will all be grateful if you figure this out.”
“I’m not seeking gratitude.” He shook his head. “I do it because the human race needs me to do it. So that no mothers, fathers, or children will die. It is a fight and a quest, and when the battle is won, I shall be remembered as the one who answered the call.”
Jess nodded. An egomaniac. Like so many others who chased money, power, and immortality. “It sounds like a major effort.”
He sighed and sat back down. “It is.”
Jess waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, she asked, “Is Debora Elden working on this research?”
“As I said,” he smiled and shook his head, “I am not familiar with her or her work.”
“But you will find out and tell me tomorrow when I come back to Grupo Lopez.”
He stared at his garden. “Why are you so interested in Miss Elden’s work? How is her work related to Alex Cole and this bomb?”
“I need a complete profile of his background. She’s an important part of that background.”
He shrugged. “I will see what I can do.”
“Thank you.” She sensed that was as far as he would go. Whether he would follow through on that vague promise was unlikely. “Do you know Marco Benito?”
He shook his head. “I can’t say that I do.”
The butler appeared and discreetly cleared his throat.
Rafa said, “I believe dinner is ready.”
“Good because I’m starving.” Jess finished her wine. “And afterward, I’ll need to get back to my hotel. I have a lot of work left to do tonight. Shall I call a car?”
Rafa frowned. “That will not be necessary. You are my guest. I will take care of you.”
His tone caused an involuntary shudder to travel down her body.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Thursday, August 18
11:55 p.m. CET
Zorita, Spain
Rafa Lopez sat in his library, cradling a snifter of brandy. Kimball had left thirty minutes ago. She was not what he’d expected. Her interest in Debora Elden was tedious. Elden was a minion. A nobody. Kimball should have focused on him and his work instead. Rafa had no further use for her.
Perhaps it was just as well. He was close to achieving the goal many believed impossible. He would become a legend. More importantly, the value of his stock would rise, and he would buy out his creditors. He would own Grupo Lopez once more.
Kimball’s excuses for pursuing Elden were pathetic. Which meant she had secret reasons for her actions. Rafa could not allow Kimball to continue. He was too close to his goal now.
Vanna stood quietly at his side as he sifted through the papers she had prepared. The evidence was damning. He studied it carefully before reaching his final decision.
He said, “To be clear, Debora Elden has returned to the US three times since she started work for us.”
Vanna peered down her aristocratic nose. “According to the terms of her contract, she was required to alert us to any foreign travel. She did not.”
“I want to know everything she’s been doing.” He tilted his head to glance up at her. “Everything.”
“I will handle that immediately.”
Rafa noted Vanna’s choice of words. Not arrange or organize, but handle. Vanna was excellent at her job. She understood him almost telepathically. She’d never disappointed him. Not once.
He pointed to a chart showing Elden’s travel itineraries. “The destination is listed as Chicago.”
“We do not have direct access to passenger history on American domestic flights. In the morning we will acquire the information from our contacts.”
“Chicago is the most likely route to Chatham.”
“We can’t rule out other options,” Vanna said, as if he needed to be reminded.
He nodded, although he already knew he was right. “We knew it was a risk taking her on, but her experience was vital.”
“Are you finished with her, then?” Vanna asked.
“We must plan for contingencies.” He pursed his lips. It was too bad, really. Elden was such a vibrant girl.
“Kale watches her as we speak.”
“Good.” he replied. “She’s leaving for the south lab tomorrow. This trial is also vital. Keep her under observation at all times. Until we know the results of the trial, we must be prepared.”
“By keeping her alive? Or shall I deal with her as I handled General Neto’s hot tub date?”