Havoc (21 page)

CHAPTER 54

The taxi carrying Alton and Mallory pulled to a stop in front of the Roman
Polizia di Stato
station. Alton paid the driver, and the couple entered the building.

Moments later, Inspector Rossi joined them in the lobby.

“Thanks for coming, my friends,” said Rossi. “Have you been safe?”

“Yes,” replied Mallory. “No problems since we left Florence. In fact, things have been quite nice.”

Alton stole a glance at Mallory and watched her struggle to suppress a grin. Was she remembering Sunday night’s tryst, too?

“Um, yes,” agreed Alton. “Inspector, can we speak somewhere privately?”

“Sure. I take you to my desk.”

“Could we use one of the conference rooms on your floor?” asked Alton. “I think we’ll want more privacy than your desk can afford.”

“Sure—no problem.”

The trio found an unused room and settled into three hardback chairs around a rectangular table with a black laminate top.

Rossi popped open a can of Chinotto Cola he had carried into the room and took a sip. “I am thinking you have learned something important about Feng Wu or Zane Crowe, or you would not ask to meet me here.”

“You’re right,” said Alton. “To pursue our research, Mallory and I decided to divide and conquer. She sought to track down the paper trail of payments to Zane Crowe, hoping we could locate Crowe or discover his employer…or both. In the meantime, I worked on cracking Cúnchú’s databases to see what else I could learn about Wu.”

“And you have found some information?”

“Yes. Even before yesterday’s research, we had starting making some connections between a few disparate pieces of information we’ve acquired over the last week or so. After we made those connections, we had a pretty good idea what had happened and who was involved. Last night’s research filled in a few minor details but, more importantly, told us where the suspects are located.”

“So has Wu returned to China?”

“No,” replied Alton. “He’s still here in Rome.”

“
Grazie a Dio
!” said Rossi. “Now we can arrest him and hopefully recover Wells’ cellphone.”

“Inspector,” said Alton. “If I may make a suggestion…perhaps making that arrest shouldn’t be our first action.”

“Why not?”

“We believe Wu doesn’t have all the Silverstar files. He purchased only a portion of them from Duncan Wells and is still hoping to buy the rest. That’s why he hasn’t left Rome yet.”

“So we arrest him now, before he has a chance to buy the remaining files,” said Rossi.

“Think about it, though,” said Alton. “What happens when you cut off a starfish’s arm? It grows back again. You can’t stop the starfish that way. You have to choose an organ the starfish can’t regenerate.”

“So you are thinking that if we arrest Wu, Cúnchú will send another employee to buy the Silverstar files?”

“Honestly, I think that’s a foregone conclusion,” replied Alton. “I’m thinking more about Zane Crowe and his employer. We have to stop the flow of technical information from its source, which in this case is Vidulum. Mallory and I believe the remaining Silverstar files are still being shopped. That’s why the person associated with this attempted transaction put a price on my head and Mallory’s—to stop us from interfering in the consummation of the sale.”

“How could you interfere?” asked Rossi.

“By remembering some important detail about Duncan’s murder. If we did recall something, it could not only prevent the sale of the remaining files but could also, potentially, put Crowe and his employer in prison. From the perspective of the person trying to sell the remaining files, that’s a worst-case scenario: instead of retiring a multimillionaire, you go to jail for murder. The cost of hiring a hit man—Crowe—to remove that risk would be pocket change compared to the proceeds from the sale of the remaining Silverstar files.”

“I see what you are saying,” said Rossi. “Speaking of Zane Crowe, did you learn anything about him?”

“Yes,” said Mallory. “We feel pretty certain we can tie him back to three assassinations in the last four years, based on several large deposits to a bank in the Cayman Islands I was able to discover.”

“A large deposit doesn’t mean he killed someone,” said Rossi.

“That’s true,” said Mallory, “but after I discovered the transactions, Alton tracked down Crowe’s e-mail account. Eventually, he was able to crack Crowe’s password and read his messages. They confirmed that the transactions corresponded with agreed-upon payments for ‘taking down targets,’ as Crowe called it. Based on how Alton and I collected this evidence, we can’t use it in court, but it proves his intentions towards us.”

“I see.”

“And here’s the kicker,” said Mallory. “Crowe deposited thirty thousand dollars on September twenty-ninth, three days after Wells’ murder. He deposited another five thousand on October second, seven days ago.”

“So, the first payment is for killing Wells,” said Rossi, “but what is the second one for?”

“It was a down-payment for our murders,” said Mallory with a grim countenance.

“How can you know this for sure?”

“That’s one reason we wanted to come see you, Inspector,” said Alton. “As I mentioned a few minutes ago, we already suspected the players in this drama. After last night’s investigation, we now know their intentions and can use this information to our advantage.”

“So you have a plan in mind?” asked Rossi.

“Yes,” replied Alton.

For the next hour, Alton and Mallory shared their latest information with Inspector Rossi and described their plan to apprehend the criminals and recover the Silverstar files.

At the end of the hour, Rossi nodded in apparent satisfaction. “You are smart couple of people. I like this plan. But let me make to you a suggestion. Let me tell my captain is my idea. If he hears this idea from you, he will say ‘no.’”

“Fine with me,” said Alton. “I don’t care who gets the credit. I just want to wrap up this case, hopefully with a few days of vacation left.”

Mallory nodded, although she appeared a little annoyed at the request.

“Okay,” said Rossi, “let’s issue you the equipment we discussed. I will call you tonight to confirm the details I will work on from my end.”

“Perfect,” said Alton.

As they left the station, Alton turned to Mallory. “It looks like we’ll have some time to see some of the sights we missed on our first visit.”

She slid her arm through his. “That’ll be nice. I’d hate to leave here and say we missed some of the most famous landmarks.”

“Why don’t we visit some now?” suggested Alton. “It’s unlikely Crowe knows where we are at the moment. Even if he did follow us here to the police station, I doubt this is an area he’d want to hang out in for long.”

“Okay—that’d be nice. Where do you want to go?”

“I’d suggest someplace popular, where there are lots of other tourists. That would make it difficult for Crowe to confront us even if he were ambitious enough to follow us.”

“Okay. Did you have anything in mind?” asked Mallory.

“How about the Forum? We never had a chance to see it last time.”

“Sounds good to me.”

The couple spent several hours strolling through the ancient political and economic center of Rome, taking pictures and eavesdropping on the occasional guide herding a flock of tourists through the crumbling structures.

As the sun dipped low in the horizon and the crowds began to thin, Alton and Mallory decided to return to their hotel. Nighttime was no time to wander about Rome as long as Zane Crowe continued to pursue them.

After returning to the Pantheon Royal Suite that evening, Alton stepped to the window of his hotel room, as far as possible from the door. He placed a call and conversed with the other party for a good ten minutes. As he ended the call, Alton glanced at Mallory and nodded once. “The meeting is scheduled. Now to wait. Tomorrow, we’ll see how all this unfolds.”

CHAPTER 55

The next morning, Zane Crowe awoke just as the sun ascended above the eastern horizon. After changing the dressing on his leg wound, he made himself a hearty breakfast. The thrill of the hunt conferred an energy he hadn’t felt in almost a week. The last time he had experienced such an adrenaline boost, events hadn’t unfolded according to plan, but this time his strategy couldn’t help but succeed. Crowe was now better informed, better equipped, better disguised…and armed with a more exacting scheme.

A burning desire for revenge added to Crowe’s usual blood lust. Normally, he considered the target an abstract object, a problem to be eliminated and forgotten. He had felt that way about Blackwell and Wilson, too, until he found himself staggering down the streets of Florence with a bullet wound in his leg. Without question, he would find more than the usual measure of satisfaction in the Americans’ deaths.

Crowe gathered the materials he had collected the previous day and loaded them into his rented Fiat. He also threw in a bag of potato chips and a six-pack of bottled water, knowing the day might be a long one. He knew he would arrive at the ambush location well ahead of the targets, but that aligned with his plan. Arriving early would guarantee him the advantage of surprise, a key element of his strategy. He loaded the last of the items and pulled out of the decrepit hotel’s parking lot.

As he motored through the outskirts of Rome, Crowe cranked up
My Own Worst Enemy
to an ear-splitting volume on the radio, beating the steering wheel in time with the song. After thirty minutes of driving, he arrived at his destination. He parked and began moving his materials out of the rental car.

After a few minutes of setup, Crowe took a deep breath of satisfaction. Everything lay ready for the ambush. By this time tomorrow, the targets would be dead, and he would be fifteen grand richer. Even if he couldn’t find the buyer of Wells’ cellphone, the prospect of the day’s activities couldn’t help but put a smile on the murderer’s face.

Alton and Mallory arose a little later than usual that morning. They had enjoyed their visit to the Forum, but the meandering, five-hour excursion through uneven grounds had taken a bit of a toll on Alton’s leg. The extra sleep, however, seemed to have restored most of his stamina.

Reaching the hotel’s lobby, Alton approached the Concierge desk. “Can you recommend a nice local restaurant for breakfast?”

“What do you like to eat?” asked the employee.

“Something light—maybe a continental breakfast. And coffee would be a plus.”

“Of course,
signore
. Well, I tell you…is a place just down the street with pastries and fruit. Go out the front door and turn to the left. Look for the little, red cart. That is my friend Renzo. I get my breakfast there every day. Oh—and he has the coffee.”

“Thanks. That’s on the way to the Trevi Fountain, right? That’s where we’re headed.” After yesterday’s protracted exploration, Alton hoped to avoid any unnecessary walking.

“Yes,” replied the concierge. “After the cart, go a little further, then take another left at the big street and follow the signs. You will see it.”

Alton turned to Mallory. “Does that sound good to you?”

“Sure—perfect.”

As they exited the hotel, Alton slipped his hand into Mallory’s. In the warm Italian breeze, and with the beauty by his side, Alton’s spirit filled with contentment, despite the danger Crowe represented.

“I’m glad the Trevi Fountain is walking distance from the hotel,” said Mallory as they strolled down the indicated avenue.

“It’s certainly convenient,” agreed Alton. “With the traffic here in Rome, we’ll probably get there quicker walking than we would have driving.”

After finishing off a breakfast of sfogliatellis, a type of cheese-filled pastry, the couple walked hand in hand to the historic landmark, excited to take in its ancient beauty.

As usual, Feng Wu awoke before his alarm sounded. On this morning, however, he rose with the same sense of elation and relief he had experienced upon reestablishing contact with Mr. Brookings the previous evening.

Wu had nearly begun to despair when, finally, the Vidulum seller had proposed a new meeting time and location. Brookings had said he would be unable to meet Wu himself and would send a new contact to tomorrow’s meeting. The man hadn’t offered an explanation for his failure to appear at the previous meeting or for changing contacts, but Wu had not wanted to offend the seller’s sense of honor by asking too many questions. Besides, all that mattered was obtaining the remaining Silverstar files. Wu’s dignity would have plenty of time to recover under the healing influence of the power and wealth that were sure to accrue to him at the successful conclusion of his mission.

Wu ordered green tea from room service and dressed for the day, once again playing the part of the ubiquitous tourist. When the tea arrived, he accompanied it with the last of the granola bars he had purchased from the hotel’s sundries shop a few days ago.

Slipping the original phone into his shorts’ hidden compartment as always, Wu donned his fisherman’s hat and sunglasses, then exited through the hotel’s heavy doors.

As he did so, a keen observer spoke with gentle tones into a cellphone. “Wu just exited the hotel.”

“Stay on him,” said Gantt. “You can’t lose sight of him. Were you able to discover the meeting location?”

“No—how could I? He always uses the disrupter when he’s on the horn.”

“Great. So we don’t know where he’s going.”

“That’s correct. We only know the signal he’ll use to contact the seller once he gets there,” said Vega. “But don’t worry. I’m on him, and Fruehauf is across the street. We won’t lose him.”

“You’d better not. I still don’t like the idea of shadowing him with just a couple of agents, even ones of your caliber. At this point, we should be sending in a whole squad.”

“And risk alerting Wu and the seller? And the Italian police? Remember, we don’t have jurisdiction here.”

“True. So, what’s your plan?”

“I’ll assess the meeting location once I know where it is,” replied Vega, now on the move as he tailed the elusive Wu. “Then I’ll move in to intercept the sale as it’s happening. Fruehauf will provide cover. We’ll bag the new set of files, the new seller, and—hopefully—Wells’ original phone, since Wu never leaves it in the room.”

“What about Wu himself?”

“Oh, he’ll be silent on the whole subject of the sale. I can promise you that.”

“Good. Do what you need to do. Those are orders from the top. Too much is riding on this mission for you to fail.”

“I know,” replied Vega, patting the Ruger under his left shoulder. “That’s why I came prepared.”