by Diane Capri
Nash said, “You’ve got other chores to complete this morning while you wait, Hadlow. Get going. We’re not paying you to dawdle.”
Hadlow ground his teeth waiting for Nash to stop chortling and hang up.
Then he spent the morning on chores.
Bugging the American’s hotel room while she was out with Rafa Lopez had been easy. Two voice-only devices. One in the center of the main room. The other in the bathroom. Because Americans never went anywhere without their mobile phones.
Overnight, she’d neither made nor received phone calls. He’d heard a lot of keyboard noises, which made sense after Nash had verified her employment at Taboo Magazine. By secure satellite, Nash delivered a short dossier that included her son’s tragic abduction and Kimball’s unrelenting but, as yet unsuccessful, search to rescue Peter.
Nash’s conclusion about Kimball, underlined three times with a fat red line: Threat Level Zero.
Which, of course, made Hadlow determined to prove him wrong, simply for sport.
Kimball was certainly focused on her job. He had to hand it to her for the subterfuge at the dry cleaner. A clever way to find Elden’s address.
If pressed, his report would describe her as determined and creative. Not a great combination for a civilian dealing with the likes of Rafa Lopez.
The smart play was to let the professionals handle Lopez and Elden and the others. Kimball, however, had yet to defer to anyone. Not even her FBI boyfriend, if that’s what Agent Morris was.
Hadlow grinned. He admired Kimball’s spirit, even as he wondered if she had a secret death wish. He’d seen it before. Passion that strong could lead to tragic consequences in the blink of an eye.
After the dry cleaner, she hit several snags that slowed her progress. She’d learned about Elden’s boyfriend. Which wouldn’t help much.
Cantor was employed by Grupo Lopez, but he was isolated from Elden. They weren’t doing the same work and he should have known almost nothing about Elden’s research.
Of course, pillow talk being what it was, Cantor might know more than he should.
Perhaps Nash had a point. Possibly, Hadlow should direct his meager resources to Elden instead of Kimball. Before Hadlow made the decision, another player turned up outside Elden’s home and followed Kimball. Rock.
Two women in the same day. Both the subject of Rock’s awkward surveillance. Why was he following them? And for whom?
At de tapeos, the restaurant where Kimball ate lunch, Rock was armed, but he didn’t make a move against her. Instead, he simply followed her on her way back to Grupo Lopez, driving a stolen SUV.
When Rock shoved Kimball’s car onto the train tracks into the path of the oncoming train, Hadlow jumped from his car, reaching into his jacket for his gun.
He watched in horror as the locomotive barreled down on the Mini, unable to change the course of the collision. Rock was on the other side of the train where Hadlow couldn’t reach him.
Kimball had cleverly maneuvered her car from the train’s path at the last second. Maybe less than a second.
The rapidly braking train cut him off from Kimball and Rock. It took another forty-five seconds for the train carriages to halt so he could get to the far side of the tracks. By that time, they had raced away.
Hadlow played the shocked bystander for a few minutes. He checked out the passengers in every car at the crossing. He scanned the nearby buildings, especially the upstairs windows where a sniper might be located. If Rock had a partner, Hadlow didn’t find him.
The whole incident was puzzling. It was clear who Rock was working for, but why the assassination attempt? Elden had already left Zorita, and Kimball wasn’t likely to hang around with Elden gone.
He pondered the question while the police arrived. A few minutes later, Kimball returned in her damaged Mini Cooper. She approached the police officer in charge.
Hadlow whistled softly and ambled up and down the tracks. He passed Kimball and the officer twice.
Her demeanor was remarkably calm, given that she’d almost been flattened by a train. The officer’s questions Hadlow overheard were unremarkable. Almost as if he hadn’t, or couldn’t, comprehend the situation.
He overheard Kimball connect the dots for the nearly clueless police. She was investigating links between Elden and an explosion in the US.
The police knew about the explosion at Kelso Products, but to them, it was one piece of data in a sea of noise. Hadlow preferred to keep it that way. One thing he didn’t need was interference in his operation from Spanish police.
Unfortunately, Kimball’s presence in Spain meant the bomb wasn’t noise any more. He could almost see the police officer conclude that the information could be important.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Friday, August 19
5:00 p.m. CET
Zorita, Spain
Jess waited in Pablo Garza’s office alone. A glass porthole in the closed door provided a clear view of the hubbub on the other side.
They’d reviewed the details of her investigation to date. The TATP bomb in Chatham, Alex Cole, and the link to Debora Elden. She left out any mention of Henry Morris and Elden’s unauthorized access to Kelso Products.
Garza took copious notes, stopping her frequently to catch up with her words. He used a yellow lined notepad, and filled each page with small, precise handwriting before he placed the pages into a three-ring binder. His old-fashioned style was slow and frustrating.
He’d left her alone twenty minutes earlier for reasons he didn’t share. He’d provided a third cup of coffee to keep her occupied. For cop shop coffee, it wasn’t bad.
Garza’s office was carefully arranged. Instead of a desk at the center, he worked on four large tables, one pushed against each wall. Hung behind each table were corkboards containing file materials for four different cases. Four cases might have been his limit. Jess glanced at the gruesome photographs pinned to the boards and understood why four cases were plenty of work. She certainly wouldn’t want to be any of the victims hanging there.
Two wheeled office chairs rested in the middle of the room. While Garza interviewed her, he’d wheeled himself around the room, like the movement comforted him the way a child might rub a favorite blanket.
His investigation technique was tepid. He seemed merely curious about the attempt to kill her. What she wanted him to demonstrate was a lot more of the famed Latin temper she’d heard so much about. So far, he hadn’t.
She’d long finished the coffee by the time Garza returned. He closed the door and settled into one of the empty chairs. Thoughtfully, he resumed rolling backward around the room, as if he still had much to figure out.
Mustering as much patience as possible, Jess waited for his epiphany.
After too long, he finally stopped the chair facing Jess. “A man tried to kill you. Agreed?”
She nodded without snarky commentary, which she figured wouldn’t help prod him along.
“And we don’t know who he was or why he wanted you dead.”
The blunt words caused a painful tremor low in her belly. “I’ve never seen that man before in my life.”
“We’ve used your description to search our computers, but haven’t located him yet. If he’s in our databases, we will identify him.” He cocked his head. “You are investigating a deadly explosion in America. Which brings you into contact with violent people, don’t you agree?”
“I don’t agree. No. Not like this guy.” Jess shook her head. “Ramming my car and shoving me in front of an oncoming train is significantly different than creating, planting, and detonating a bomb.”
“Perhaps.” Garza nodded while he pursed his lips to think. “A deliberate attack on a particular target by a ruthless killer is usually not the same as anonymous behavior designed to kill and maim innocents. That’s true.”
“Not even close to the same,” Jess said, with more force than she intended.
Garza’s eyebrows arched. “But since we don’t know who committed
either act, we are in the dark, are we not?”
“You found CCTV? What about witnesses?”
“Unfortunately not.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “My officers have scoured the area for cameras. There is no useful footage. Witnesses identified the SUV but not the driver.”
“Surely you found the SUV, didn’t you?”
“Burnt out. We’ll do what we can, but there will be little usable evidence due to the intense fire.” He sighed and shook his head.
“So now what do we do?”
“Given the failed attempt on your life, you should leave Zorita. Preferably return to the US.” He nodded, his mind apparently made up. “That is the prudent thing to do. It is likely this man will try again and next time, you may not be so lucky.”
“I can’t go yet.” Jess disagreed before he finished his maddeningly slow delivery. “I came here to find Debora Elden, and I won’t stop till I’m done.”
“I thought you might say that.” He unfolded his hands and reached into his jacket for a sheet of folded paper. “Which is why I will share this.”
He rolled the chair closer and extended the paper.
“You may know that your FBI requested that we find and interview Debora Elden. We were not asked to keep the information confidential.” He paused and smiled. “And you would find out all this yourself, I am sure.”
She opened the one sheet of plain white printer paper. No header, no identifying marks of any kind. And no signature at the bottom of the page.
He smiled. “A slight sanitization. No facts have been withheld, I assure you.”
Quickly, she read through the paragraphs, which were printed in English.
Elden’s neighbors believe she left Zorita early in the morning of August 19. She travels often, and has done the same before. She usually takes a gray suitcase. When she is expecting to be away for a week or more, she asks her housemate to water her plants. She has not done so on this occasion.
Grupo Lopez is unaware of her whereabouts. She has not arrived for work. She has several unexplained absences in her file. Human Resources is considering disciplinary action that may include termination of employment. If her employment is terminated, Elden’s work visa will be revoked and she will be required to leave Spain. Elden is a US citizen and it is presumed she will return to her home.
Felipe Cantor is not a fiancé, though he is her current boyfriend and spends considerable time with her. He does not know her whereabouts. He confirmed that she travels occasionally.
A search of airline records shows several trips to the US, landing each time in Chicago (which the FBI is in a better position to investigate further). No additional flight records for her have been located despite a diligent search. She owns no vehicle and we located no vehicle rentals in her name.
Cuerpo Nacional de Policía will continue to monitor Grupo Lopez and Elden’s housemate, and will inform the FBI when she returns.
“She can’t have simply vanished.” Jess frowned.
Garza shrugged. “We found no departing airline reservations.”
“What about buses or trains?”
“We are checking, but I hold little hope that we’ll find anything useful. Buses and trains accept payment in cash. If Elden wished to keep her travel activities secret…” he shrugged again.
“Do you believe her employer doesn’t know where she is?”
“Grupo Lopez is an old and established company in Zorita. We have no reason to doubt.” He cocked his head. “Which leaves me with a worrying conclusion.”
“Something has happened to her. Foul play.” Jess nodded slowly.
“It is a logical answer.” He took a deep breath. “However, it is not uncommon for visitors and tourists to travel without properly advising friends and colleagues.”
Jess nodded. She traveled frequently herself. He was right.
“If we learn that Elden has met with foul play, we will investigate and find the ones responsible.” He gestured toward the papers on his corkboards. “For now, I have much work to do for these families. Surely, you understand.”
She did understand. The story was the same everywhere. Too many crimes and too few resources to deal with them.
She’d had the experience herself when her son was abducted. Her Taboo Magazine investigations were almost always about families seeking justice when the system failed.
Jess Kimball knew better than anyone that not every story has a happy ending. The evidence against Alex Cole seemed overwhelming. Debora Elden’s actions were extremely suspicious. She might even have been the one who actually bombed Kelso Products. But if Elden had actually disappeared without a trace, Garza was right. Jess had no reason to remain in Zorita.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Friday, August 19
5:30 p.m. CET
Zorita, Spain
Pablo Garza had offered her a security escort and it seemed prudent to accept. Jess waited on the ground floor of the Cuerpo Nacional de Policía building while he made arrangements.
She dialed her cell phone. The line clicked and whirred before connecting.
“Morris,” he groaned.
She groaned back in sympathy. “Sorry, Henry. I forgot the time difference.”
He grunted and she heard rustling sheets in the background.
She glanced at the clock. Denver was eight hours behind Zorita. What was he doing in bed? It was nine-thirty in the morning in Denver.
“Long night. I only just got to bed.” His voice was returning to normal.
She shook her head. Henry Morris was one of the hardest working men she’d ever known. “You can sleep. I can call later.”
“No.” He cleared his throat. “I haven’t heard from you for too long as it is. I was starting to worry.”
She grinned and a pink flush warmed her cheeks. Having a good man like Henry to worry about her wasn’t half as annoying as she’d feared.
“How’s the investigation going?” he asked. “Progress?”
“Oh, I had an exciting day.” She clenched her teeth. But she put a little humor in her report. “I missed Elden’s boyfriend because of my date with a locomotive.”
His voice went up an octave. “What?”
“Someone tried to push me in front of a train. At a railroad crossing. And when I got my car off the tracks, he shot at me.”
“You’re serious?”
She could hear something close to panic in his voice coming across the miles. She didn’t want him to freak out. Everything had turned out fine. “Well, it didn’t work, obviously. I’m not calling you from the great beyond or anything.”
She heard more rustling. Henry must have given up on sleep for the moment.
“You’ve just as obviously tapped into something very dangerous. You can’t stay there.”
“Says the guy who stands in front of killers every day with a gun in his holster.” She said it lightly, but he was being totally unreasonable now. Concern was one thing. Bossing her around was a whole different thing she wasn’t willing to accept. Even from a good guy like Henry. “Look, everything’s okay. I’m at a police station and they’re arranging protection for me. I’ll be fine.”
He paused a long time and she knew he wasn’t happy with her answer. He had the good sense not to press her any further, though. “Are you coming back here?”
“Soon,” she said. “Can we talk about something else for a minute?”
“Be reasonable, Jess. Please.” Henry sighed. “Look, you’re a great reporter. But you’re not a detective. You don’t have any authority over there and no backup. You have no support. No police assistance, nothing. And you’re operating in a foreign country with little or no intel. Hell, you don’t even have a gun with you. And you’d be arrested if you had one.”
She waited until he ran out of steam. And then she laid it out for him. “I appreciate that you’re worried about me, Henry. But I’ve been doing this work a long time. A lot longer than I’ve been dating you, actually. I don’t need or want
you to protect me right now. I told you I’m fine and I am. I’m being careful and I’ll have an armed guard.”
At that point, he had the good sense to remain silent. Even without Miranda warnings, he must have figured out that anything he did say might be used against him.
Finally, he exhaled. “I do have something for you. The Italians have come back with a bit of a bombshell on our Marco Benito inquiry. Turns out he’s dead.”
It took a moment for the name to register with her and then to wrap her mind around it well enough to ask an intelligent question. “The actual Marco Benito? The man at the University of Turin?”
“Yes and yes. Car crash.” He paused. “Two days after the explosion at Kelso Products.”
Jess frowned and she considered the possibilities. “Is there a link between the two events? Did Benito know something about the man using his identity?”
“Hard to say. I guess so, without being a mind reader or a medium.” She heard the grin in his voice. “But we’ve told the Italians about the visa irregularities. I expect we’ll get more feedback in a day or two.”
“Was the car crash suspicious?”
“Italians didn’t think so at the time. Given what we’ve told them, they’re going back to review the evidence.”
“So the man that impersonates Benito is dead, and now Benito is dead, too?” She shook her head. “Seems incredible, doesn’t it?”
“And if your locomotive dodging skills weren’t up to scratch, maybe you would be dead. Really, Jess, leaving this whole thing to the professionals is the smart thing to do.”
She sighed. He was right, of course. As he should be. This was his field, and one he’d worked in long enough to know when to press ahead and when to call for reinforcements.
Elden had left town, the Spanish police agreed to watch for her return, and any further contact Jess might have with Rafa Lopez was likely to be through email with his assistant at best.