The Dolomite Solution (29 page)

“Rats,” Brachi said. “That's all I hear from you. Jesus Christ. You outweigh the motherfuckers by two hundred pounds and you're afraid of the little bastards.” He dug down into his bag and pulled out one of his special fire bombs. He continued, “You got enough fire power on you to blast every last one of the fuckers in Innsbruck. If that doesn't do it, this baby will.”

“I still don't get why we gotta go around back,” Gabbiano complained. “He's sitting in that nice warm restaurant, probably checking out that nice babe who walked off with Scala. Lucky motherfucker.”

“Shut the fuck up and help me with these.”

The two of them were at the base of the back entrance to the restaurant, hitching a wire across the door and setting delays.

“Are you gonna set these or make them automatic?” Gabbiano asked.

“I'm.... Hey who the fuck are you?”

Quinn had risen from between the two dumpsters with his gun pointing at the Boston boys.

Jake readied himself. This wasn't planned, but it could still work. He slowly moved forward.

“The question is, who are you?” Quinn finally said, moving closer to the two of them. “And what in the fuck are you doing in my alley?”

“Hey, you can have this fuckin' alley,” Gabbiano said, backing up a step.

Brachi set his stance a little wider. “You're the man from the ice rink.” He had noticed the silencer.

Looking around behind him, Quinn backed up a few feet and turned so he could see in both directions with his peripheral vision. “Who do you two work for?”

“None of your fuckin' business,” Gabbiano yelled.

Without saying a thing, Quinn shot the younger one in the stomach.

Gabbiano dropped to his knees and moaned, holding his gut. Then he rolled to his side begging his partner to help him.

“You shouldn't have done that,” Brachi said, leaning down to try to help his young partner. “That's Dominic Varducci's nephew. He'll hunt you down like a dog and start by killing you. Then he'll kill every one of your relatives. When he's done doing that, he'll kill anyone you ever remotely liked. Which in your case might be a damn short list. But you get the picture.”

“Yeah, well, I'm fuckin' scared,” Quinn said, leveling his gun on the older man now. “You can see I'm shaking.”

It was now or never, Jake realized. He had to move. Then he remembered the small device in his pocket that Martini had given him. He pressed the button and then slowly snuck out from the shadows.

“Drop it Quinn,” Jake yelled.

The man froze momentarily. Then he turned his head toward Jake. “Don't tell me you work with these morons.”

“I think I told you to do something.” Jake moved closer, his gun leveled on Quinn's back.

Shifting his upper body around, Quinn took in a full view of Jake. His eyes flicked down toward the CZ-75 in Jake's hand as if begging it to go off. “Is that an order Captain Adams?”

The younger Boston man was moaning again from the pain, and the older guy had his hand on the wound trying to keep his guts from seeping out. “He needs to get to the hospital right now,” Brachi said.

“Not gonna happen,” Quinn said.

“You fucker. You're dead.”

Quinn lowered his gun toward the older man.

“I said to drop the fucking gun, Quinn,” Jake yelled again.

●

Inside, the discussion at the table was getting nowhere. Hahn would suggest one thing, only to have Otto Bergen shoot his plan down.

“Why don't we just go to the office right now,” Bergen suggested. “Then we can send for Scala.”

“Finally,” Hahn said, “You're making sense. Let's go then.” He rose and Wolfgang and Ulrica got up as well.

Toni and Bergen got up, her keeping an eye on the Italian near the door. She whispered, “I didn't want to mention this, but the man at the door was one of the men who tried to kidnap Scala the other day.”

Hahn caught the man in the corner of his eye. “Is there a back exit?”

Bergen nodded. “Back through the kitchen.”

The five of them walked off through swinging doors and into the kitchen area.

Jake and Quinn were still at a standoff. Quinn refused to drop his gun, as if daring Jake to shoot him. When Jake saw the door open and the dark-haired woman coming through it, he froze, unable to think. But in a split second he yelled, “No!”

The explosion was not great, but the flash from the fuel mixture was tremendous, and the percussion sent Jake flying to the cold cobblestone.

The fuel was set to shoot outward toward the door and instantaneously ignite. The woman was immediately a ball of fire and screaming and flailing her arms.

By the time Jake recovered, she was on the ground trying desperately to put out the flames.

Jake pulled off his jacket, threw it on the woman, and then patted her down. Seconds later the flames on the woman were out, but she was barely breathing. Jake rolled her over and almost lost it. Her face was bubbled black. “Toni?” Jake said softly.

There was movement in the kitchen. Toni was the first to emerge, her gun drawn and leading the way. “Are you all right, Jake?” she asked.

When Jake saw her, his heart rose up with him. He quickly embraced her.

Ulrica, the burned woman, gasped for a last breath and then died.

Toni scanned the scene, focusing for a moment on the two men from Boston. “You sure know how to make a mess, Jake.”

“I didn't even fire my gun,” Jake pleaded.

Bergen and Hahn came out from the safety of the kitchen reluctantly. Wolfgang saw his partner burned beyond recognition and went to his knees, crying, his hands sunk into Jake's scorched jacket on her body.

Then the area exploded with activity. The same men who had stormed the ice rink only hours ago, appeared from every direction. They were all in black, with Styer automatics and their faces painted.

From inside the restaurant came the Italian who had been watching the front door, followed closely by Franz Martini.

Toni turned her gun on the man, who laughed and shook his head.

Martini pushed her gun to the side. “He's with Interpol. He was working under cover with the Mafia in northern Italy.”

“But he killed Leonhard Aldo,” she said. “I saw him.”

Sappiamo shook his head. “It was an accident. We were following him and he panicked.”

“You were shooting at him.”

“You're mistaken. We were trying to make sure he made it to Innsbruck unharmed. Herr Aldo was a little paranoid I guess.”

She wasn't buying it, but what could she do? She looked at Jake for help.

“I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding,” Jake assured her, letting her know he believed her with his expression.

Through all the activity Jake had forgotten about Marcus Quinn. He scanned the entire area, but he wasn't there. He turned to the Austrian polizei captain and said, “What happened to Marcus Quinn?”

Martini turned to his assistant, Jack Donicht, who was on a radio with one of his men. “Did our men stop him?”

Donicht listened for a moment and then shook his head. “A couple of our men spotted him running down one of the back alleys. They followed him into the Hofgarten. One of our men was shot in the leg.” He thought for a moment. “I'm afraid he got away.”

“Damn it. I want the road and airports sealed,” Martini demanded. “Do it!”

Donicht gathered some of his men and hurried off.

“You won't catch him,” Jake said to Martini.

“Maybe not. But we have to try.”

●

When the alley had been cleared out, Jake and Toni stood against a railing in the parking lot overlooking the river. Martini had said he wanted to talk with both of them in the morning. They agreed to meet him in his office at nine.

Otto Bergen walked up to them slowly and said, “What about Scala? Is he safe?”

Jake nodded. “We'll bring him by at eight tomorrow morning.”

Bergen thanked them and shuffled off to a waiting polizei car.

“Are you planning on telling Martini about Bergen's part in this thing?” Toni asked, nuzzling closer to him.

“I have a feeling Martini already knows.” He kissed her on the lips, and she pulled him even closer.

She was giving him a knowing smirk when she said, “You know something again that you don't want to tell me. And I'm guessing it has to do with Marcus Quinn. Am I right?”

“Knock that shit off. I'm supposed to be able to bullshit with the best of them.”

“You can still do that with other people, but not me.” She looked right through him. “Well?”

“Let's just say I know where he's heading.”

“And you plan on going after him.”

“You'd expect less?”

They walked off to Jake's car and drove to his room in Hungerburg.

Jake and Toni got up early, walked down to a bakery for coffee and rolls, and then brought some extras back for Jordan and Scala at their gasthof in Hungerburg. The four of them had stayed up rather late, with Jake and Toni explaining what had happened. Not everything had gone as planned, but then things rarely do, Jake knew. He couldn't help wondering how the events of the past few days might have been different if Marcus Quinn had not started screwing with him. He guessed, though, that Toni would have probably dragged him into the case anyway. He was a great believer in fate.

The four of them drove down the mountain to Tirol Genetics, Scala and Jordan in the OSI agents Ford, and Jake and Toni in her Alfa Romeo.

Otto Bergen ushered them into a conference room adjacent to his office. He looked more relieved than Jake had ever seen him. He must have been under an extreme amount of pressure from Quinn. They took seats around the long wooden table, all but Professor Scala, who was determined to give the presentation he and Leonhard Aldo had planned.

Scala opened his metal briefcase on the end of the table, withdrew a stack of papers, and began.

Fifteen minutes later, Bergen sat in astonished wonder. He had known the discovery of the Dolomite Solution would revolutionize the world in which they lived, but the scope of its importance had somehow escaped even his own expectations.

Jake and Jordan were equally stunned. Toni had this knowing smile on her face, for she had already heard the presentation the afternoon she and Scala had spent at the gasthof in Tulfes.

When they were done, Bergen told Scala he could stay in his guest house while they worked out the final deal with the Germans. Bergen had called Andreas Kraft the night before to say he would only deal with him personally. Kraft, after hearing what had happened the night before and sounding totally surprised at the actions of his people, agreed to fly down from Frankfurt later that afternoon.

Bergen had an envelope for Jake, which he handed him prior to his leaving. “I don't know how to thank you, Jake. I feel somewhat strange. I had initially hired you because Quinn told me to. He wanted you closer. I guess he underestimated you a little bit.”

Jake felt the thick envelope, peeked inside to see that it was in fact money, and then shook hands with Bergen. “I don't hold you responsible for all that happened to me. I know that Quinn could be a persuasive guy. While he was in the Air Force, he had blackmailed and manipulated so many people he had it down to a science.”

“I'm glad that you'll be staying in Innsbruck,” Bergen said. “I hope you'll stay in touch. And if you need a reference for your work, please give my name.”

“Thanks.”

Toni and Professor Scala hugged and kissed on each cheek and said their goodbyes. Jordan shook hands with the professor as well.

“Let's get together soon for a glass of wine or a beer,” Jake said.

“I'd like that,” Scala said.

Jordan, Toni and Jake went out to the parking lot. Jordan had said the night before that he'd leave for Germany as soon as Scala was safely at Tirol Genetics.

Jake shook the OSI agent's hand. “Have a good drive.”

“I will,” Jordan said. “Make sure you look me up when you come to Germany.”

“I'll do that. And say hello to Deshia for me. She's a good person, so treat her right.”

The major nodded, got into the Ford, and drove off.

Jake and Toni got into her Alfa Romeo and sat for a moment. He pulled out the money and immediately saw that something wasn't right. It was Austrian Shillings, but instead of a hundred and forty thousand there was two hundred thousand. Then he found the note which read, “A little extra for the extra effort.”

“That's a nice piece of change,” Toni said. “I might have to take you up on that partnership like we discussed.”

“I wish you would.”

●

Toni drove directly to polizei headquarters. The criminal commissioner's office was open, and Herr Martini met them both in the center of the room to shake their hands. They all took seats. Martini offered coffee, which they declined.

“I've been trying all night to figure out all that went down last night,” Martini said. “But I still have a few questions.”

“Shoot,” Jake said.

“First of all, those two men from Boston. What was their stake in this thing?”

“I wasn't sure until I got back to my room last night and we made a few calls. It turns out Gabbiano and Brachi worked for Dominic Varducci, a mob boss from Boston. Varducci had apparently sent them to steal the Dolomite Solution and kill anyone else with firsthand knowledge of the research. They were working with Sappiamo and his partner, who had been working undercover for Interpol in northern Italy. The two of them had been planted with mafia backgrounds that had led to a number of great arrests. But it turns out, after talking with Interpol, that the head office knew nothing about the solution. Sappiamo has been working both sides.”

“That bastard,” Martini said. “And I let him go.”

“You had to,” Jake explained. “He is an agent with Interpol. But after what I told one of the assistant directors, I don't think Sappiamo will last long.”