Foreign Affairs (12 page)

D
ino came into the room. “I'm getting cabin fever,” he said. “Let's go for a drive.”

“We don't have a car,” Stone replied.

“I can arrange that,” Jim Lugano said, “and I'll provide security.” He got on the phone.

Stone and Dino rode down in the elevator.

“You've been awful quiet, for you,” Dino said.

“I'm thinking.”

“Thinking about what?”

“About killing Casselli.”

Dino laughed. “And how are you going to manage that?”

“Just find out where he is and kill him.”

“Don't the police or the CIA know where he is?”

“Apparently not—their best guess is Naples.”

“There are probably people better qualified than you to take him out. You've never assassinated anybody, have you?”

“There's a first time for everything. I asked Jim to put it to Lance.”

“What'd he say?”

“He didn't say no.”

They were greeted downstairs by three of Lugano's people, one of whom handed Dino the keys to a Fiat sedan. “Be careful,” he said, “the car's been tuned up.”

“Great,” Dino said. “Let's go do donuts in the Piazza del Popolo.”

“Cars are now banned from the Piazza del Popolo,” the man said. “If you want to throw it around, go to the country and find yourself a nice field. Oh, by the way, it's armored, and it will take an IED, if it has to. Are you armed?”

“I am,” Dino replied. “Stone?”

“No.”

“What would you like?”

“Have you got a smallish .45?”

“How about model 1911 officer's?”

“That'll do.”

The man went to the trunk of another car and came back with the pistol and a holster. Stone slipped it onto his belt, crossdrew, popped the magazine, shoved it back in, racked the slide, and put the safety on. He was handed two spare loaded magazines.

“Where are you headed?” the agent asked.

“Wherever we like,” Dino said, getting behind the wheel and starting the car.

The agent handed him a handheld radio. “It's tuned to channel one. That'll keep you in touch with the following car.”

Stone got in beside him, adjusted the seat, and put his spare magazines in the glove compartment. “Let's go.”

“Where?”

“How about Naples?”

“Okay, I guess it's an hour on the autostrada.” Dino handed Stone the radio, then punched Naples into the GPS and drove out of the courtyard.

—

A
n hour later they were approaching Naples.

“Anyplace special?” Dino asked.

“Keep to the coast as much as possible.”

“What are we looking for?”

“A tall building under construction with a construction elevator. Oh, and if you see Leo Casselli, let's stop and shoot him.”

“Anything we should watch out for?”

“I think Casselli likes big black Lancias.”

They drove slowly along the coast, passing the ferry terminal for the Isle of Capri. Dino stopped the car and pointed. “There,” he said.

Stone turned and saw the skeleton of a building, maybe thirty stories. A mass of yellow scaffolding ran up one side.

“Like that?” Dino said.

“Something further along in construction,” Stone said. “That one doesn't have any walls.”

Dino continued driving, then after a few minutes stopped again. “Nearly finished,” he said, pointing.

Stone looked at the building. “They've taken down the construction elevator and started using the interior ones. Too finished.”

They drove on. After a while Dino said, “We've pretty much circumnavigated Naples, and no building fits the description.”

Stone pointed. They were on the north side of Naples, driving along the water, and on the other side of the road, lit by the setting sun, was a tall building, apparently under construction, that had been enclosed but still had a construction elevator attached to one side. “What about that?” Stone said.

“Looks good to me,” Dino said.

D
ino pulled the car off the road and into the construction site, which was unfenced, wide open. It was getting dark.

Stone leaned forward and looked up. “There are lights on at the top,” he said.

They got out of the car and were met by the two young men from the car behind them. “You think this is it?” one of them asked.

“It fits the description,” Stone replied. He pointed at a sign nearby, which said:
CASSELLI COSTRUZIONE
. “And the ownership is right.”

“We should call for backup,” the young man said.

“There are probably one or two people guarding her,” Stone said. “There are four of us, and you have automatic weapons.”

“We should let the Naples police handle this.”

“Casselli probably owns the Naples police. Call Lugano.”

The man produced a phone and pressed a button. “Jim,” he
said, “we're in Naples with Barrington and Bacchetti. We may have found the building.” He listened for a moment. “It fits the description, it's enclosed, and there are lights on at the top floor. Barrington thinks it would be lightly guarded. He wants to go in. What do you want us to do?” He handed the phone to Stone.

“Yes, Jim?”

“This is highly irregular, but it has a good chance of producing results.”

“I agree on both counts.”

“The Agency can't take responsibility for the girl's life.”

“That is my responsibility.”

“As long as you understand that.”

“I understand it.”

“My guys go in first.”

“You won't get an argument from me on that.”

“Not that you and Dino haven't been through a door or two, but it must have been a while.”

“Right on both counts.”

“But my guys have the better weapons.”

“Dino and I will back them up.” He looked at Dino.

Dino nodded. “We'll back them up.”

“Call me when it's over, and I'll deal with the local police.”

“I'll do that.” He handed the phone back to the young man, who listened for instructions, then hung up.

“Whenever you're ready,” Stone said.

“Let's pull the cars up to the elevator and point them at the street.”

“Good idea.”

They moved the cars, and Stone got his spare magazines from the glove compartment and pocketed them; Dino checked his weapon.

The two young men removed two Heckler & Koch machine guns and donned vests. “Any advice?” the young man asked.

“Shoot first and ask questions later,” Stone said. “And don't shoot at any females, unless they're pointing weapons at you.”

“You have any idea how this elevator works?”

“I expect you press the up button,” Stone replied.

The elevator was not locked, and the four men got on, the younger ones first, so they'd be the first out through the door facing the building.

“It's going to make a lot of noise,” Dino said, “so they might be ready for us.”

The young man pressed the button, and the elevator started up. It was slow, and as Dino had predicted, noisy. They squeaked and rattled their way up the building. Stone reckoned it was twenty-five or thirty stories, but he forgot to count.

Before he had expected it, the elevator came to a sudden stop. The young man held up a hand, then pointed. “We've got some cover,” he said. A few steps from the elevator there was a stack of what looked like bags of cement or plaster.

“So have they,” Stone said. “Let's go.”

The young man opened the door and ran to the stack, sheltering behind it, and was closely followed by his companion, Stone, and Dino.

They stopped and listened. From somewhere behind the stack, music was playing.

The young man stood up straight, peered over the stack, and ducked back behind it, shaking his head.

Stone stood up and looked. A dozen feet beyond the stack was another stack.

“Let's get over there,” he said.

The two young men led the way to the next stack, then the leader had another look. This time he didn't duck back but walked around the stack and stopped.

His companion followed, and so did Stone and Dino. They were standing on a floor that was empty of anything, except the two stacks of bags.

“Let's check it out,” Dino said.

The four men spread out and began searching the floor, while the music got louder. The floor was dimly lit by a dozen hanging lightbulbs scattered around the ceiling. In the middle of the floor were two sawhorses with a plank laid across them. On the plank rested a radio, plugged into one of the wires from the ceiling.

Stone turned it off. “Wrong building,” he said.

I
t was late when they got back to Marcel's apartment, and Stone went straight to bed without dinner. His glimmer of hope had been dashed in Naples, and the experience had been exhausting. He slept poorly.

He joined Dino and Viv at breakfast.

“You look tired,” Viv said.

“Tired and hungry.” He ate a large breakfast, had two cups of strong Italian coffee, and felt better. The butler told them that Marcel had gone downstairs to his office for a meeting.

Jim Lugano showed up not long after breakfast. “I thought you'd like to know that our survey of buildings in Naples got the same results you did by driving around. The building you entered was our best hope.”

“I think you should do a survey of buildings under construction by Casselli Costruzione,” Stone said.

“I've no idea how many there are,” Jim replied. “I'd never heard of the company until yesterday.”

“That's probably because Casselli isn't building in Rome, for whatever reason. Maybe the Italians can do a computer search on building permits with his company's name on them.”

“Good idea,” Jim said. “I'll call Dante in a minute and ask him to do that. In the meantime I wanted you to know that I heard from Langley . . .”

“You mean, Lance?”

“From Langley. Your request is getting serious consideration. They seem to be trying to build a national security case, instead of just one of law enforcement. That's not really what we do.”

“I understand. I should think that international organized crime would constitute a threat to national security.”

“I've made that case to the powers that be,” Jim said. “We'll hear from them in due course.”

“That sounds like a long wait.”

“Not necessarily—we can move quickly.”

“I hope you're right.”

“In the meantime, we've had a nibble on your offer of a reward for Casselli.”

“Oh?”

“Oddly enough, it's from a German citizen who is visiting Rome.”

“Does Casselli have business dealings in Germany?”

“It's the European Union—much easier than in the past to do business in different countries.”

“Who is he?”

“His name is Frederic Klaucke.” Jim spelled it for him. “He's in the chocolate business: an importer.”

“Do we have any indication that Casselli has an interest in chocolate?”

“Casselli is interested in money: if chocolate looked profitable, and if he could find a way to make an illegal bundle in it, he'd be interested.”

“Okay, what now?”

“Herr Klaucke is in a car downstairs. Shall I ask him up?”

“Let's not invite him into our secure location,” Stone said. “Is there somewhere else we could meet him?”

“In one of our vans downstairs in the courtyard?”

“That sounds good. What has he told you so far?”

“Almost nothing. He's had some business dealings with Casselli, that's all he'll say. He wants to speak directly to the person offering the reward.”

“Do you think he wants to get at me?”

“No. My sense is, he knows something. It might not be what we want to know, but it can't hurt to listen to him.”

“Tell me what you know about the man.”

“He's tall, probably six-two or -three, in his fifties, mostly bald, seems to be well-educated, dresses well.”

“Where in Germany is he from?”

“Hamburg. Lives in the suburbs, has offices in the city.”

“And he wants to meet me.”

“He does. He doesn't know your name, but he's seen the flyer we distributed. Had a copy of it in his pocket, actually.”

“This sounds preposterous.”

“Maybe it is, who knows? You're the one offering the reward. That would sound preposterous to a lot of people.”

“I suppose it would.”

“I think the distribution of the leaflet has also told Casselli how much you want Hedy back. I think he looks at five million euros as your opening bid.”

“My
opening bid
?”

“Yes.”

“He thinks I'm negotiating?”

“Probably. To tell you the truth, I drew the same conclusion.”

“Well, you're wrong,” Stone said, rising. “Let's go meet with Herr Frederic Klaucke.”

H
err Frederic Klaucke was pacing the courtyard impatiently. His bearing was Prussian, his tan tweed suit so wrinkle-free that it might have been made of cast iron. He was carrying a briefcase that must have belonged to his grandfather.

“Herr Klaucke?” Stone asked, unnecessarily.

Klaucke stopped marching. “
Ja
. Yes.”

“I am the person you wish to speak to.”

“May I know your name?”

“I'm sorry, you may not.”

“My name is Frederic Freiherr von Klaucke,” he said. He did not click his heels. “I would like you to know that.” His English was perfectly grammatical, his accent distinct. And he had just announced that he was a member of the German nobility.

“Thank you.” Stone indicated the open door of the Mercedes van. “Would you like to sit down?”

“Yes, please.” He climbed into the van and took a seat; Stone followed him, and Jim Lugano was right behind.

“What have you to tell us?” Stone asked.

“I wish to tell you of Leonardo Casselli.”

“Please do.”

“I have just spent three days in his company. Involuntarily.”

“Are you saying that Mr. Casselli kidnapped you?”

“In the manner of speaking.”

“For what purpose?”

“He wished to sell me a great deal of chocolate.”

“Are you not a chocolate merchant?”

“No, I am an importer of chocolate, I am not a retailer. I import chocolate, refine it, add other ingredients, like fruit or
nusse—
nuts, that is—and wholesale it to merchants.” He opened the briefcase, which Stone assumed had been searched, and extracted a very large chocolate bar containing hazelnuts and handed it to Stone. “Is complementary, please.”

Stone accepted the chocolate bar, which was labeled 500 kg, or half a kilo, or 1.1 pounds. “Thank you.”

“Mr. Casselli called me in Hamburg, where I have my offices, and invited me to come to Rome at his expense to discuss what he described as a very large business deal.”

“I am not aware that Mr. Casselli is in the chocolate business.”

“Nor am I, especially after our meeting.”

“Where did you meet?”

“At a hotel conference room.”

“Which hotel?”

“I am not aware of that, either. I was met by a van with painted windows. We drove to the hotel. I was escorted in through a kitchen.” Klaucke made that sound like a personal affront.

“I see.”

“We sat at a conference table, and Mr. Casselli stated his business.”

“Which was?”

“Chocolate. He wished to sell me a very large amount of chocolate—perhaps more than three thousand kilos—at an extremely low price, about half what I am accustomed to paying for the finest chocolate.”

“And how did you react to his offer?”

“I was immediately suspicious.”

“Suspicious of what?”

“Sir,” Klaucke said with a note of reproval in his voice, “this is not, as my Jewish competitors would say, kosher.”

“You believed the chocolate to be, ah, illegally obtained?”

“I believed so.”

“Why?”

“Because it corresponded to a shipment of chocolate that was stolen from one of my competitors in Rome perhaps a week or ten days ago. I believe the American term is ‘hijacked.'”

“I see. And how did you respond to Mr. Casselli's offer?”

“I told him I was not in the market for such an amount.”

“And how did he respond?”

“He would not believe me, that I would respond so. He seemed to think I was negotiating.”

“He was offended?”

“No, just surprised, I think.”

“What happened then?”

“I was escorted back outside, put in a van, and driven to a hotel somewhere outside Rome, where I was imprisoned for three days.”

“What sort of hotel?”

“A quite comfortable one, with room service and TV.”

“What was its name and location?”

“I was not given that information.”

“So you don't know where you were?”

“I do not. It was within an hour's drive of Rome.”

“Did you see Mr. Casselli again?”

“Yes. Every day, I was put into the van and driven somewhere, where Mr. Casselli repeated the offer, each time at a lower price.”

“And you continued to decline?”

“I did, and Mr. Casselli became very angry on the third day. Finally, I was driven to the airport, where I saw your advertisement. That was early this morning. I phoned and I was told to come here.”

“Baron Klaucke, do you understand that the reward is for information leading to the arrest and conviction of Mr. Casselli?”

“Yes.”

“And you understand that he must first be apprehended?”

“Of course.”

“You have not told me anything that could be used to find Mr. Casselli or to bring him to a court of law.”

“How about kidnapping?”

“You have a point,” Stone admitted. “But first we must find Mr. Casselli and arrest him, then convict him of kidnapping on your testimony. Then, and only then, would you receive the reward.”

“I assure you of my intention to testify against him.” Klaucke handed him a business card. “You may reach me here when the time arises. My bank account number is on the reverse of the card. It is where you may wire the funds.”

“Thank you. Baron Klaucke, please search your memory: Is there anything else you can tell me that would help us find and arrest Mr. Casselli?”

Klaucke appeared to search his memory. “I don't think so. May I have a lift to the airport?”

“I'll see to that,” Lugano said.

They piled out of the van, shook hands, and Klaucke was driven away.

“Chocolate,” Stone said.

“Chocolate, indeed,” Lugano echoed. “I'll let the police know about the theft. Who knows, it might be helpful.”

“I liked Baron Klaucke,” Stone said.

“He was all right.”

“He's not afraid of Casselli. That's good.”

“He probably has no idea who he
is.”