Chasing The Dawn (Luke Temple - Book 2) (Luke Temple Series) (33 page)

Luke lifted the gun. “If you aren’t going to answer me then you really have no purpose.”

Just as Luke applied pressure to the trigger the front door swung open and a man wearing a leather jacket came walking in. The man on his knees screamed out in Arabic and his colleague went for his gun harness. Luke placed a bullet through the kneeling man’s head, then, as he brought the new target into his sights and pressed the trigger, he heard the noise every operative dreads … a hollow click, an empty chamber.

The man had located his gun, and to Luke’s dismay it was not another Tariq but a compact Uzi. The man let off the first burst of erratic fire and the noise was deafening, Luke hit the deck and the bullets crashed into the window, shattering the glass.

Luke had now lost control; he had been taken by surprise. He had less than a second to decide whether to try and make it over to the other pistol lying on the floor or to find an escape point.
I will never make the pistol, not against an automatic.
He covered his hands with his sleeves and took off from his position, hurtling across the room, he did not look back but he could sense the man behind him. After a few steps Luke launched himself and went flying through the open window.

An explosion of gunfire erupted behind him and he braced his body for a bullet hit. It never came and as he cleared the window frame he realised fast that the scaffolding outside only consisted of a narrow plank of wood. He bounced hard off the board and fell to the street below, hitting a car roof and rolling off onto the concrete pavement.

***

The night air was chilling; Luke lay pressed against the concrete floor. His leg throbbed, but nothing was broken. He rolled onto his side, his vision slightly blurry. The street was quiet; the stars were concealed behind a thick veil of cloud. As his vision cleared, he saw two boots walking towards him, they were moving slowly.

Luke looked up and stared straight into the barrel of the Uzi. In that moment his attacker, an older man with receding hair, took the Uzi away and with his other hand pointed a Tariq 9 mm with a suppressor at his face. Luke had no weapon; he pressed his hands against the ice cold floor. The man kicked him in the ribs with his boots. Luke found out the hard way they were steel-capped.

“Now I kill you …”

Luke did not feel fear in the moment of his death; he closed his eyes and his mind took him away, far away, away from Luke Temple, from Group 9, all the way back to Alex Rowland, to Sarah. He could smell the sweet aroma of her perfume, the soft touch of her lips. He felt safe with her memory.

The gunshot went off. The warm sensation of blood took its time but eventually Luke felt it against his skin. The cold and darkness mixed into one and he waited for it all to end. The cold became acute. The wind blew against Luke’s body. Like a sound in a distant dream he heard footsteps clicking across the floor, quickly as though running.

“Signor, you are ok, come on, we must get you up, can you hear me?”

Luke felt hands grab around his body and gently begin to lift him. The world was coming back into focus, the clouds, the narrow street, Vittorio’s apartment. Luke felt energy back in his limbs and he straightened himself up. Turning around to face his helper he froze.

Carabinieri Beltrano was stood looking at the dead man on the floor, a single gunshot wound to the head had killed him and blood was running down the street. Beltrano replaced his pistol and looked to Luke. “Are you ok to walk? We have to get out of here.”

His beard had grown more ragged, and the bags under his eyes were heavier but it was definitely Beltrano. Luke couldn’t process everything, but he had the same urge as Beltrano to leave the scene.

“It’s ok … come on, my car is up here.” Beltrano put his arm on Luke’s shoulder, but Luke shrugged it off.

“I can walk.”

His leg almost gave out, but Luke jogged up the road with Beltrano, diving into the 4x4 Mazda. Beltrano slotted it into gear and they sped off into the night.

The office door banged against the wall as Delvechi came flying through. He turned and called over his shoulder, “I’m going to take it in here …” He closed the door and waited for the phone on the table to ring before he snatched it up. “Ok, put him through … this is Carabinieri Delvechi. I believe you have some information?”

As Delvechi listened to the man on the other end of the phone he tried to pace the room but the phone cord only let him walk so far. With each word his heart pumped a little harder, electricity shot up his spine.

Finally, I have a break.

He had heard enough; he moved back to the desk, picked up a pen and searched for some clean paper. In its absence he quickly turned over a photograph and used it to write on. “That’s great, Signor, which hotel did you say you were at?” He scribbled down the name and address. “I am on my way. Whatever you do, Signor, do not approach the suspects, they are dangerous. Do nothing until I am with you.”

Delvechi hung up. He raised up the photo to read the address
. Got you.

Label off of the circular floor rug, label on the green table lamp, label on the grandfather clock, label on the recliner …

Luke was keeping his mind sharp and memorising the comings and goings of individuals. He was sat in a run-down motorway café; it was not busy and he wanted to be sure that he would keep alert to anyone who seemed out of place, looking for any sign of being followed.

“Well Mr … Reid, Amnesty International seems to have a very different hiring criteria these days.” Beltrano placed a strong-smelling coffee in front of Luke and stirred his own thick blend. Luke looked down at the drink, then let his eyes continue the search of the area, moving between the interior and exterior.

“Oh come on, at least have a drink, you look like you need it. Actually you look like you need something stronger.”

Luke couldn’t deny that he did need a hit of caffeine, something to level him out; his limbs were starting to feel heavy, the adrenaline disappearing from his system. His leg was throbbing. He examined Beltrano. He was rough around the edges, much like the café they were in, but there was a steely air to him, an ease with the world and his place in it.

“Don’t worry, we are alone, no one knows I am here with you, you have nothing to worry about.” Beltrano took a sip.

Luke’s head was spinning. Everything had moved so quickly that evening and he needed to catch up
. How did Beltrano know where I was?
Luke examined his exit routes, the easy manner of Beltrano made Luke wary, but he sensed a truth in what he was saying. He picked up the coffee and took a sip; it was hot. The aftertaste was not pleasant, but it would do.

“So am I under arrest?” Luke asked.

Beltrano smiled. “No. If I wanted to arrest you I would have done it. You were not in any position to argue.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Well Mr …” he paused but Luke didn’t fill it, “are you really going to make me keep calling you Mr Reid?”

Luke shrugged. “Call me Robert.”

Beltrano mustered a snigger. “As you wish,
Robert
. What do I want? That is a good question.” Beltrano took a gulp of coffee.

“Here is another one: how did you know I was at Vittorio’s?” Luke asked.

Beltrano sighed and rubbed his beard.
I know this face,
thought Luke. It was a deeper recognition that he couldn’t place.

“Robert, I believe we are after the same thing, searching for the same ending if you will. I am not the enemy here, and I don’t believe you are.”

Everyone’s an enemy,
thought Luke.

“I have been around a long time, seen many things, not all of which I care to remember. But one thing is for certain, you are not here on a posting from Amnesty, you are a highly trained man, and you have carved quite a path through Teramo.”

Luke listened carefully. The smell of coffee hung in the air and the warmth of the café was attacking his senses.

“I hope you don’t mind?” Beltrano held up a cigar. “I shouldn’t inside but a man in my position gets certain perks.” He brought out a flick lighter and lit the end, puffing his cheeks rapidly to kindle the tobacco.

This man is so calm.
Not more than half an hour ago he had shot and killed someone, and yet he showed no signs of remorse or even emotion about it.

“Simplicity … such utter simplicity.” Beltrano admired the cigar. “As I was saying, Robert, you and I are not so different. Few people understand what it is like to
have
to act, to take control of a situation and do what we
must
to keep things moving forward. I see it in you … the Observatory, the policeman, the men in the café, Professor Brun. These things were not sought out, I see that.”

Luke kept calm. He didn’t react to anything that was being said, but having the events of the past few days recalled made him feel vulnerable.

Beltrano held up his hands. “Please, don’t think I am passing judgment. I must ask though, I have dealt with various different services, intelligence to military, but which one are you? I am intrigued.”

“You will have to stay intrigued.”

“I see.” Beltrano seemed to become momentarily lost in thought. “Ah well. As I said earlier we want the same thing, Robert, and that is how I guessed you would be at Vittorio’s … and a good job I did.”

“How?” Luke asked.

“It is my job to investigate the disappearance of Professor Vittorio, and I have a feeling that it is yours also, am I right?”

Never answer directly
. “What do you know about Vittorio’s disappearance?”

Beltrano puffed out a thick cloud of cigar smoke, and looked out of the window. “What were you doing at Vittorio’s tonight?”

Luke stayed silent.

“See, I too can answer questions with questions.” Beltrano rested the cigar loosely between his fingers.

It was not so much Beltrano knowing he was at Vittorio’s that concerned Luke, it could fit logical thought, Vittorio had disappeared and perhaps the flat was being watched by law enforcement … perhaps. It was the Iranians being present that really rang alarm bells. Luke suddenly remembered the mobile phone; in the confusion he had not checked to see if he still had it on him,
the pictures …
he gently pressed his hands against his jeans pocket, relieved to feel its outline.

“Well, you’re the one who seems to know everything, Beltrano, you tell me what I was doing there?” Luke rolled the mug between his hands.

“Is that what you believe, Robert? That I know everything?”

“Well, you knew I was at Vittorio’s, you managed to show up at just the right time, and you got me here, so I am going to assume you know more than me.”

“Ah, I see … you know a very a wise man once said, “
it is not how much knowledge we have that counts, it is how much people think we have.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “And who said that?”

Beltrano looked as though he was trying to recollect, then finally smiled and answered, “I think it may have been on a beer mat I read in a bar one time.”

Luke couldn’t help but smile.

“But the point is valid. Perhaps I don’t know as much as you think. Whether you confirm or not, I
know
you have been sent here to discover what has happened to Vittorio, and you being present at the Gala was no coincidence.”

Beltrano drained the remaining coffee then beckoned to the waitress for another. He eyed Luke who shook his head. The waitress understood and returned to the kitchen. Beltrano took a long drag on the cigar and continued, “Firstly, who were the men back at Vittorio’s? I don’t know who they are but they looked bad news.”

Luke was trying to figure Beltrano out. Was he a genuine relic, or a master manipulator? Running the situation through his head he kept coming back to the same conclusion: there was nothing to lose, he needed a breakthrough, there was so much at stake, and he felt that Beltrano knew that. The waitress came over and delivered the second round of coffee.

“I don’t know exactly who they are …”

“But you do know something …” Beltrano took a drag on the cigar and leant in. “Robert, we want the same thing. What do you know about them?”

Luke rested back against the hard booth. “All I know is they are Iranian, and well trained. My guess would be military, maybe
Takavar
or
Quds
.”

Beltrano nodded. “You know who they are?”

“They are both different special force units, well-trained guys. Born out of war and terror, fierce and fearless.”

Beltrano smiled. “So you are intelligence … its ok, it’s our secret. You know what makes them so dangerous, Robert?”

Luke sipped his cooling coffee without responding.

Beltrano continued. “They fight for a cause. Fighting for a cause makes for a dangerous enemy. And what are your theories as to why they are here?”

“You tell me? Do you have any leads on where Vittorio is? Seems strange that these guys are hanging around,” Luke probed.

“I am guessing that these are the same people who were trigger-happy at the gala.” Beltrano wasn’t looking for confirmation. “We haven’t uncovered anything about Vittorio’s disappearance. No signs of struggle, no clues, no leads on where he may go, no reasons why and nothing has come through suggesting anyone has kidnapped him. Add to that the fact that no body has been found, and it is like he has disappeared off the face of the planet.”

“No motives?” Luke asked.

Beltrano stubbed out his half-finished cigar and rubbed his beard. “I assume you are wanting to usher me towards Brun’s little performance at the gala? Yes, it is impossible to ignore that the work that he and Vittorio have been carrying out could be a potential motive for someone … I am going to be honest with you, Robert. I think it is impossible that Vittorio is alive.”

“Why?” Luke asked

“Look at the devastation, take tonight as an example. Some very dangerous people seem to have an interest in all of this. How can he still be alive? You only have to look at poor Professor Brun to think so.”

Brun …
he knew something. Luke replayed the professor’s last moments.
They are all going to die … Saturday at 7 p.m..
Did Luke tell the Carabinieri about Brun’s drunken babbling? It was only two days away. He decided to stick to his mantra of “trust no one”. He wanted to see what the Carabinieri came up with first.