The Dolomite Solution (24 page)

“Shit! There it is,” Varducci said. “We just passed the driveway.”

The driver pulled to a stop, put it in reverse and backed up.

Varducci turned to Winthrop. “This Talbot is a real shrewd motherfucker. Let me do the talking. You hear me, Johnny? That goes for you too.”

J.V. sunk further into his suit coat, like a turtle hiding in its shell.

The driver turned down the dirt lane. The place didn't look like much until the road turned to pavement and a short while later opened up to a wide circular drive with a huge three-story brick colonial at the end. Down from the house was the bay, which was still taking a pounding by the rain. There was a large boathouse with a light on inside, and another building to the opposite side, which might have housed servants at one time.

“Nice place,” Varducci said. “I wonder if it's for sale.” He laughed out loud. “What the fuck am I saying? Everything is for sale.”

The driver stayed put while the three of them got out and scurried to the front overhang. Immediately the large oak door was opened for them by an older woman who couldn't have been five feet. She made them take off their shoes. Varducci was reluctant to do it, and when he did his big toe was sticking out of his right sock.

The old woman escorted them to a study, which had a blazing fireplace and walls of bookshelves. There were mounted heads of animals from Africa and Europe. Overall the place was furnished like something out of an African safari.

Varducci took a seat in a leather chair with wooden arms, and his son and Dr. Winthrop sat at the matching sofa.

A few seconds later Andrew Talbot entered wearing khakis and a green commando sweater with leather patches at the elbows. “I hope you found the place all right,” Talbot said, taking a seat behind a large oak desk. He was a tall, distinguished man with gray at the temples, as if placed there precisely for that purpose.

“No problem,” Varducci said. “This is a nice place. No neighbors. Road out front looks like shit, keeping most of the undesirables out. From the highway out there I'll bet most people driving by don't even know this place exists.”

“That's the idea,” Talbot said, leaning back in his chair. “Can I offer you a drink?”

“I think you just did,” Varducci said. “Johnny get up and get us something.”

His son hesitated and then finally went to the wet bar against one wall.

“Why don't you just make things simple,” Talbot offered. “Pour us all a glass of cognac.”

J.V. found the bottle and started pouring. Then he handed them all around and took his seat.

Talbot swirled the cognac in his glass and then took a sip. “I was wondering why you wanted to meet, Dominic,” he finally said.

Varducci glanced at his son as if to keep his mouth shut. “We've got a little proposition for you.”

Talbot smiled and cast his gaze on the doctor for a moment. “You must be the famous Dr. Winthrop. I've heard about you. You did bypass on one of my best friends. He's back to playing tennis again. The son of a bitch is beating me again.”

Winthrop smiled and took a sip of his drink.

Talbot turned to Varducci. “What exactly do you have in mind, Dom?”

“I know about your German subsidiary, Richten Pharmaceuticals, and their newest interest in an Austrian company, Tirol Genetics.”

Talbot couldn't hide his shock, but he recovered quickly, smiling. “That's not exactly a trade secret.”

“No, but it hasn't exactly gone out in press releases either,” Varducci explained.

The two men stared at each other.

Talbot blinked first. “What does this have to do with you?”

Varducci explained how he had gotten involved, leaving out the fact that he had his men working on stealing the solution as they spoke.

“So you want to invest?” Talbot asked. “Buy up some of our stock?”

Varducci rose and went to the bar, pouring himself another glass of cognac. He turned toward Talbot. “You're a lucky bastard you know that? In the old days I would have had your whole family killed. Then I'd simply have my lawyers draw up bogus paperwork turning everything you own over to me. I'd kind of like this nice house on Narrafuckingansett Bay.” He pointed a finger at Talbot, who was starting to look uncomfortable. “You must think you're a big cock sucker shooting all these fucking animals. Well let me tell you something, dickwipe. Animals don't shoot back.”

J.V. rose from the sofa. “Pop...”

Varducci turned on his son. “You sit your ass down.”

J.V. did as he was told. There was silence for a moment.

Finally, Talbot shrugged. “I don't understand what you want.”

Varducci had calmed down some. He slowly walked back and took a seat. “Now you can talk,” he muttered to his son.

Looking somewhat reluctant, J.V. stood and stepped forward, as if he was preparing for a class presentation. He pushed his glasses up higher on his nose. “We're talking about a thirty percent stake in your business. Not your entire Providence Industries, just the German company.” He pulled a piece of paper from his jacket and set it on the desk in front of Talbot.

The businessman looked over the paper. “You're kidding, right?”

“Afraid not,” J.V. said. “You currently own fifty-five percent of the stock. We will buy up thirty percent available in the market at the price quoted there.”

“There isn't thirty percent available,” Talbot said.

J.V. smiled. “There will be. Fifteen percent from you, and fifteen from another source.”

Talbot thought quickly who owned exactly fifteen percent. “My God, you're talking about my ex-wife.” He shook his head. “She'll never sell.”

Varducci jumped in. “I hear she's living with your old gardener. That's gotta hurt.”

Talbot was silent, considering his options.

J.V. started to say something, but his father stopped him. “Good job, son. Now this is more my bailiwick. You see, Talbot, she's not gonna have much of a choice. My good friend the doctor here is going to make her an offer she can't refuse. Of course, after a few of my men have had a little talk with her.”

Talbot was considering that. He wasn't overly happy at the divorce settlement in the first place. This was a touch of sweet revenge falling right into his lap. He'd still have forty percent and control over his German company. He thought about his frequent trips to Germany and the American, Marcus Quinn, he had met on his last trip. He had not liked that man working for him, following his persuasive arguments in his favor. But what choice had he had really? And now this man, whom had actually helped him make so much money in the past with his connections in South America. At least Varducci made more sense. He was quasi-legitimate. “I'd still maintain control?”

Varducci shrugged. “You'd still have forty percent.” What he didn't say was that he had already purchased fifteen percent through two other sources, giving he and the doctor forty-five percent total. And if his men got to the Dolomite Solution before Tirol Genetics, he'd cut the Austrian company out of the deal completely. Now that was shrewd business.

Talbot rose from behind his chair and shook hands with Varducci to seal the deal.

Marcus Quinn gazed at himself in the bathroom mirror in room 710 at the Innsbruck Tirol Hotel. The radio out in the main room had the hardest thing Quinn could find blaring from a crackling speaker. Some techno shit that he tolerated only because there was no other alternative.

He had just given himself a sponge bath to clear away the dried blood from around his bandage on his shoulder in front. He turned away from the mirror and swiveled his head around, looking at his back and wishing he could reach and wash that as well.

He had sucked down a handful of Tylenol, but it had only taken away some of the pain from the shot that cleared his body. The stitches the researcher had given him would work fine, although the local anesthesia was wearing off now and they seemed to pull with each move he made. Which was just fine with Quinn. He didn't mind pain. It made him feel alive.

Wearing only a pair of dark underwear, Quinn lowered his gaze to his crotch, wondering what it would take to make himself happy. He remembered becoming excited as he raced down the mountain after Murdock. Then again as he had watched his former partner screw the helpless maid over and over. And yet, Ute had teased him so frequently, playing with herself in front of him. Nothing. Is this what he had become?

He picked up his gun, raised it at his reflection, pulled back the hammer...

“Interesting idea,” Ute said, coming in from the other room and startling him.

He had flinched from embarrassment. He turned the gun on her, placing the muzzle against her forehead.

She raised her brows. “Is that any way to treat a girl?” Becoming a bit concerned, she swiveled her head toward the other room. “The music was so loud there was no way you could have heard me.”

He thought about that, knowing she was right. “Where in the hell have you been?” He lowered the gun and released the hammer.

“What happened to you?” She ran her finger along the bandage on his chest.

“Some fucker got in a lucky shot in the old town. Fortunately I was a far better shot. Could you clean around the bandage on the back?” He handed her a wash cloth and turned.

She dabbed around the white bandage. “Went clean through. That was a break. By the way, I got the disk from Jake Adams' computer.” She slid her free hand inside his shorts to his tight butt.

He pulled away and went into the main room. “Why didn't you say so?”

She followed him in and watched him set up his laptop computer and wait for it to warm up. He had his hand out waiting for the disk, which she quickly found in her purse and handed to him.

“You spend the night with him?” he asked, shoving the disk into the drive and glancing up at her.

“That was the plan.”

“You didn't have to enjoy it so much.”

He went into the directory for the three and a half disk and checked for files. There were a few that he wasn't familiar with.

“What in the hell is this? These aren't text files. I fuckin' told you text files, bitch.”

She looked confused. “I did just as you said. I used the shortcut command and zipped all the files to the disk. I swear.”

He was pissed off and she knew it. She had never seen him like this.

He mumbled something under his breath and opened the executable file. Almost instantly Mickey Mouse appeared on the screen in full color. Then the mouse pulled down his red shorts revealing a huge erection. He grabbed the erection and started playing with himself.

Ute started giggling out of control.

“You think that's funny, bitch? Adams just fucked you over. He's on to you. He must have caught you taking his files.”

She noticed the veins in his neck sticking out and his muscles tensing. Trying to calm herself, she said, “I'm sorry. He was down getting a bottle of wine. I'm sure he didn't catch me.”

Suddenly he backhanded her across the right cheek sending her flying to her knees. Then he was on top of her, his hands clasped around her neck.

“It's not funny. It's not...”

Her eyes were bulging and her face turning a bluish tint. She tried to speak, but couldn't.

“I do everything for you and you fuck me over.” His lips were barely moving. “I get rid of that useless husband of yours so you can collect all the insurance and his military retirement and fuck anyone you want, and what do you do? Fuck me!”

She was about to pass out, so he eased up slightly. He still needed her. He released his grip and she rubbed her neck trying to catch her breath.

He slid off of her onto his knees beside her.

She rose onto her elbows gazing up at him, noticed his erection. “Looks like Mickey's not the only one excited,” she whispered. She sat up further and released his hard penis from his underwear, stroking it like the famous mouse had just done to himself on the computer. “So that's what it takes for you,” she whispered, her throat still sore.

Within seconds she was holding a drooping noodle and Quinn turned away from her, embarrassed. She started to say something and he punched her in the mouth, knocking her out cold.

Quinn shook his head as he watched Ute in a ball on the carpet next to the bed. Adams had fucked him over for the last time. Now it was time to pump up the jams and take care of that fucking asshole.

●

“What in the hell is he doing up there?” Jake said to Jordan.

The OSI major shrugged. “Hell if I know.”

Seconds later the door slammed upstairs.

Jake swung on his jacket, shifted his gun under his arm, and went for the door. “Let's check out his room.”

The hallway was clear as the two of them hurried toward the center stairway and then slowly worked their way up to the seventh floor. Jake considered pulling the gun, but decided against it. When they reached the seventh floor, Jake listened for any movement out in the hallway, heard nothing, and quietly crept out the door. As he came up on room 710, Jake took out his card-key and smiled at Jordan.

“That won't work in there,” Jordan whispered.

Jake slid it into the slot and a small green light came on so he slid the lever down, opening the door.

“How the fu—”

Jake went into the room and immediately saw Ute on the floor. He hurried to her, checked her pulse, and found a strong beat. She had a bruise forming on her cheek, and red finger marks still indenting the side of her neck.

“Why'd that sick fucker do this?” Jordan asked.

Jake looked around, saw the computer disk on the table next to the laptop, and understood. “Can you go get a cold wash cloth?”

Jordan hurried into the bathroom. While he was gone Jake found a few cubes of ice in a bucket. Jordan handed him the wet wash cloth and Jake wrapped the ice inside and placed in on Ute's cheek.