The Dolomite Solution (19 page)

He thought about the Italian, how the man had no identification, like he himself had done while working for the Agency, or like criminals often did. Which was he? He guessed the latter. And why was he staking out Tirol Genetics?

Then his mind shifted to the case in general. Fate was a strange yet interesting concept. Somehow he and his ex...what? Lover? Girlfriend? Toni Contardo was in town and would be working closely with him on this case. This time, at first observation anyway, they seemed to be on opposing sides. He needed to find her before the meeting. Find out what she was doing with the other scientist, Scala.

Having just eaten a scant lunch at a street vender, his stomach began to churn from the curry wurst and fries. He should have gone for the beer instead of the Fanta.

He had over seven hours before his meeting at the Olympic Ice Stadium. He couldn't waste time sitting around. He got up and started walking along the outer road that bordered the Hofgarten, and then entered the park. There were flowers starting to come up already. A younger woman strolled a baby along a path. And two older men were playing chess on a permanent cement board.

The question kept on repeating itself in the back of his mind. What was going on with this case? He understood Bergen's desire to hire a little extra protection, but there were other companies in town. Austrian companies. Why had he chosen him? And then there was all the deaths. Murders, as it were. Was this discovery important enough to kill over? Somebody thought so. He had to find out how Toni was involved. He had considered standing by, waiting for their evening meeting. But if he did that, he would not get a chance to talk with her alone to get the straight story. No. He had to find her now.

More determined than he had been since arriving in Austria, Jake strode back toward his car parked east of the Hofgarten. He started to get in and stopped, looking across the street at the polizei headquarters. Maybe it was time for a little help. He slammed the door and walked toward the street.

He went to the second floor of the polizei headquarters, knocked on the criminal commissioner's office, and when he answered, Jake strolled in.

“Mr. Adams,” Herr Martini said. “Two visits in one day?”

Jake took a seat without being offered one. “I was in the area. Besides I wanted to tell you not to send that friend of yours after me. He doesn't know how to tail for shit.”

The criminal commissioner laughed. “We don't give them training in that area, I'm afraid. I hope you didn't take offense, Mr. Adams. You can understand my position. All these things are happening, and you seem to be in the center of the action.”

“No offense. I understand.” He only brought the issue up in hope of a little leverage against the polizei captain. “I could just tell you everywhere I'm going so your man won't get lost.”

“Now that's cooperation.” The captain gazed at him closely. “What happened to your eye?”

Jake rubbed at his new bump. “This? I slipped on that snow. Bashed it against my car door getting in. It's nothing.”

Jake glanced at the computer terminal on a table to the side of Martini's main desk. There were colorful birds flapping across from right to left as a screen saver.

The phone buzzed and Martini picked up with a “Ja.” He listened and then smiled. “Send him up.” He set the phone back in its cradle and glanced at Jake. “Your friend with the OSI has made it here from Germany.”

Jake was about to correct the captain, when there was a knock at the door and the criminal commissioner rose to greet a medium-built black man with close-cropped hair in the center of the room. Jake got up also and backed against the man's desk, loosening the wire from the back of the phone.

The OSI major was wearing a cheap tweed jacket and casual slacks. Jake could see the leather strap of a gun holster as the man's jacket swung open slightly while shaking hands with the polizei captain. Jake stepped forward and introduced himself. Then all three of them took seats.

“So, Mr. Jordan. What can I do for the OSI?” Martini asked.

The U.S. Air Force major had a folder in his left hand, and he opened it now and shuffled through a few pieces of paper, settling on the one that had been on top. Then he glanced at Adams. “I'm really not at liberty to discuss this with him here.” He nodded his head in Jake's direction.

“Fine.” Jake got up and started to leave. “Of course if you're here because of former captain Allen Murdock's death, then you'd probably want to talk with me, since I did know the man.”

“Not to mention the fact that Mr. Adams found him dead in the alley,” Martini chimed in.

The major looked somewhat embarrassed. “Great,” he conceded.

Jake interrupted. “Do you think your assistant should be in on this, Herr Martini? The one you sent with me this morning?”

The polizei captain thought for a moment. “Perhaps that would be a good idea.” He picked up the phone and his face was uncertain. He clicked the receiver a few times and then slammed it down. “God damn it,” he mumbled, getting up from his chair and storming out.

Jake immediately went to the computer and found a menu. He started punching through various screens.

“What the fuck are you doing, Adams?” the OSI major whispered loudly.

“Just a minute.” Jake had reached the proper screen so he punched in a sequence of numbers. The information he needed popped to the screen. He memorized it and started to get out of that area, when he heard the polizei commissioner's voice outside. He didn't have time to sequence back through, so he hit the reset key and quickly sat down. When the captain came in with his associate, Jack Donicht, Jake was still saying over and over in his head what he had just seen, planting it deep into his memory.

Jake glanced over at the OSI agent, Jordan, who was totally confused.

The polizei commissioner introduced Donicht to both of them as his chief criminal investigator.

“We met this morning, I believe,” Jake said, smiling at the man.

Donicht, a defeated expression, slumped into the sofa along the wall.

The polizei criminal commissioner glanced at his computer for a moment with an uncertain expression, and then said to the OSI agent, “So, Mr. Jordan, you were about to tell me what we can do for you?”

Jordan wasn't sure where to begin now. He had planned out just how much he wanted to divulge on his trip down from Germany, but now.... “You are correct. I'm here to discuss Allen Murdock, for the most part. As Mr. Adams knows, Murdock worked for Air Force intelligence for five years. He was now working for a German company, Richten Pharmaceuticals, with headquarters in Mainz. He was a computer analyst mostly, but he was sent to Innsbruck to secure a deal with Tirol Genetics.”

Donicht, who had been sitting rather calmly with his arms crossed, broke in. “Why would they send a computer analyst to work a deal like this?”

The OSI special agent glanced at Martini, as if to say can you shut up your associate while I explain. “I can't tell you the full extent of Murdock's duties. Let's just say that we have been interested in Richten for some time now. The company seems to have interests other than purely over-the-counter and prescription drugs. Nothing had been proven, though.”

Now Jake had an observation. “He was working for you. Unofficially of course. You lost him, so you've got to find out who killed him.”

The major turned to Jake. “I've heard you can be brutally succinct.”

Heard, my ass, Jake thought. Read in a security brief somewhere, perhaps. “Who would want to kill Murdock?” Jake asked, changing the emphasis back to the case.

“Who wouldn't,” the OSI agent shot back sarcastically. “I take it you know a little about what Tirol Genetics is about to produce? Most of the major industrialized countries of the world will benefit from their product. We're talking about big bucks for years to come. Exclusive rights to produce a medicine like that...” He swung his head back and forth. “That's a major deal, Adams.”

Martini was staying out of it, switching his head back and forth between the two of them as if he were refereeing two lawyers arguing a case before a judge.

Jake gave him a serious pissed off look. “I know the significance of the case, Jordan. I'm having a little difficulty, like Donicht there, understanding Murdock's relationship with Richten and you. It would sure as hell help matters if you'd quit trying to bullshit us, and explain everything. I don't like when people come in and try to fuck with me. You should have read that somewhere as well.”

Martini smirked and said, “Let's get back on track. What exactly are you here to do? Find Murdock's killer, or solve some case of international industrial espionage?”

That was right to the point, and Jordan looked trapped now, uncertain how to proceed. He had expected a little more professional courtesy than what he was getting. “Maybe both,” he finally muttered. “I have a feeling one will lead to another.” He wasn't about to mention the fact that he had followed those three from Mainz, or even speculate what they had come for.

Jake had heard enough. He rose and said, “It's been nice, folks. But I've got things to do.”

The OSI major followed him. “Thanks for your time, Herr Martini.”

“Keep me informed,” Martini yelled after them.

When the two of them were outside walking down the sidewalk, Jordan pulled Jake to a halt. “What in the hell were you doing in there, Adams?”

Jake looked down at his sleeve, where the OSI agent had a fistful of leather. “You want to pull back a bloody stump, you keep your hand there.”

The major slowly removed his hand and they both started walking again.

“I came to Innsbruck to find you, Adams. I couldn't believe my good fortune when I found you in polizei headquarters. Sergeant Lyons told me you could be difficult, I just didn't think you'd be an asshole.”

They stopped alongside the major's Ford.

“You know Deshia?” Jake asked.

“Yeah. For about two years now. She checked me into Ramstein. I go to her whenever I need personnel information.”

“And what does she do for you?”

“If you know Deshia, you'd know she wouldn't ask for anything in return.” He had started off abrasive and then quickly mellowed.

“Just testing you,” Jake said, starting to walk again.

“Hang on, Jake.”

He stopped and turned.

“I could use your help here. You know the town, know the players. What do you say I buy you some coffee. I could drive.” He started to open his door.

Jake thought it over. He might come in handy, he thought. “All right. But I'll drive.”

The OSI major hesitated.

“What?”

“Nothing. It's just that Deshia told me you drive like a maniac.”

Jake started walking. “Come on. She rides with me a couple times on the autobahn and she forms an opinion?”

They got into Jake's Golf and he turned it over.

“What were you doing with Martini's computer?” Jordan asked.

Jake smiled. “I could have hacked into their system, but I didn't have the time. It seemed like the quickest way to get the information I needed.”

Jake sped away from the curb, squealing the tires and whipping the major back into his seat.

In Boston, Dr. James Winthrop had just finished a quadruple bypass surgery on a sixty-eight year old man who had a fifty-fifty chance of making it to see his next birthday.

Winthrop stripped from his surgical gown, threw them into a basket, and shoved his way out through swinging double doors. He had an hour before his next surgery, and he needed to rest and get a cup of coffee. He went into the elevator and lazily pushed the seven. The ride up two flights seemed to take forever. When the doors opened, he nearly missed getting off, having to shove his foot into the closing doors. He never used his hands. They were too important. His livelihood depended on them.

He strolled down the hall, not acknowledging anyone in his wake. He unlocked his office and went in.

The doctor startled when he saw the man behind his desk. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked Dominic Varducci.

“Jeez, Doc. You look like shit. You better have a seat on the sofa there.”

The doctor wasn't sure what to do. Finally, he did what the man said, slumping into the leather couch.

“I suppose you're wondering why I came by?” Varducci said. “Well, if you've been watching the news, you know your little problem has been taken care of.”

A chill ran through Winthrop. “Nobody was injured, they said. They mentioned it looked like a professional arson job. I don't know if that's good or bad.”

Varducci laughed. “Those fuckin' cops are morons. Besides, my guys are long gone and they've never been picked up for anything. But that's not what I want to talk about, Doc. I've got more pressing issues here. It's my son. He wants to make us more legitimate. God damn Harvard business grad. Wants to take on the whole frickin world. Anyway, he thinks I should shift some money over to this company that's about to start producing a drug that should wipe out heart disease. It's a German company. A subsidiary of some company from Providence. I told him I didn't want to deal with a bunch of fucks from a state smaller than the Boston metro area. What I want from you is advice. You think this German company is worth a shit?”

The doctor was somewhat relieved. “Truthfully? I think it's a good investment. I'd lay some money down on the stocks of the German and Austrian companies, as well as the Providence company.”

Varducci got up and started looking at all the diplomas and certificates on the wall. “You see, that's what my son says. Make a killing in stocks, catch them on the rise, and maybe double your money every six months for a few years. I could do that....” He glanced over at the doctor. “But you see I was thinking of something a little more lucrative. What I want from you is your assurance that this company is worth having.” He sat down on the edge of the doctor's desk, uncomfortably close to the man himself, and glared into his eyes.