The Dolomite Solution (16 page)

“What do you know about a Leonhard Aldo.” The criminal commissioner gazed at Jake carefully.

Trying not to look like he was lying, Jake took a chunk of croissant and chewed it slowly. When he was done, he said, “Should I know him?”

“He was a local scientist. Died in a car accident yesterday morning in northern Italy.”

Jake feigned uncertainty. “Doesn't sound familiar.” He shoved the last of the croissant in his mouth, worked at it, and then washed it down with coffee. “That coffee is good. Could I get another cup?”

“Help yourself.”

When Jake sat down again, he said, “Why do you ask about this Aldo guy?”

Martini's eyes were glazed over staring at Jake. “I'm sure his death wasn't an accident. We got an anonymous tip last evening. His maid was found murdered in his apartment here in Innsbruck.”

Jake couldn't stop his quick reaction. “Why would someone murder his maid?”

“I don't know. Whoever it was destroyed the place, looking for something. None of the neighbors complained of hearing any strange noises. It was a sick bastard. That's for sure.”

“Why's that?”

“She was fucked in every hole on her body,” Martini said soberly. “Many times.”

“Maybe you have a weirdo on your hands,” Jake said, not believing it himself. “Something totally unrelated.”

Martini frowned. “Mr. Adams. I know you're better than that. Your American friend Allen Murdock was working for a company in Germany with ties to Tirol Genetics here in Innsbruck. Aldo was a scientist with that same company. Both are murdered within hours of one another. And now his maid is found killed in his apartment, with the place torn apart. All this happens after you show up, Mr. Adams.”

So here it was again. Even Martini knew Allen Murdock was working a deal with Tirol Genetics. Strange that Otto Bergen had failed to mention that last night at the restaurant. Jake smiled. “Bad shit seems to follow me around.”

Martini tried to smile, but with his obvious lack of sleep it came across more painful than he intended. “You know what I think, Jake? I think you still work for the American government.”

Jake finished the last of his coffee. “Afraid not. When I left, I left for good. They've asked me to come back a few times, but I told them where they could stick it.”

Martini's smile was more appealing this time. “For some reason I believe you, Jake.” He thought for a second. “You were in the Air Force for a while.”

“Five years.”

“What can you tell me about the OSI?” Martini asked.

Jake wondered where the hell that question had come from. “Why?”

“Humor me.”

“The OSI investigates criminal activity. Deals with drug interdiction. Counter terrorism. Counter espionage. Just about everything but law enforcement, although they do have the power to arrest. Is there a reason you're asking this, or are you just trying to educate yourself?”

Martini thought about whether to answer. Finally he said, “We were told last night the Air Force is sending a man down here from Germany to investigate Allen Murdock's death. I just wanted to know what type of organization he was from.”

It made no sense sending an OSI agent here, Jake thought. Murdock wasn't even in the Air Force. “Did they give you a name. Maybe I know the person.”

Martini checked a piece of paper on his desk. “A Major Stan Jordan from Ramstein Air Base.”

Jake shook his head. “Don't know him.” Then he thought about the OSI. A major would be either a detachment commander, or working for OSI headquarters in Europe. But that was in Stuttgart, he remembered. Then he thought of something strange that Otto Bergen had said the night before when Jake had asked how he had gotten his name. “Do you know Otto Bergen?”

Martini looked surprised. “How do you know Bergen?”

“Do you always answer a question with a question?”

“It's just that you've been in Innsbruck such a short period and already you know one of our richest and most prominent citizens.”

“I didn't say I know him,” Jake corrected. “I asked you if you did. Now I know. I was only asking because I read somewhere that he was in charge of Tirol Genetics.”

“Yes, he is.” The polizei captain rose from his desk and went to the door, indicating their conversation was over. Jake met him there after setting his coffee cup on the table. “Is there a number I can reach you?” Martini asked.

“You can leave a message with my answering service.” Jake gave him the number and started for the door. He stopped abruptly. “Did you ever find out about those skis rented and left by Murdock's car?”

Martini sighed. “Afraid so. My men tracked down the place in Axam...the young man who works there was shot through the glass door. Nobody in the neighborhood heard a thing.”

“Silencer. Just like in the alley with Murdock.”

“That's what I guessed.” The polizei captain started back toward his desk, and then turned toward Jake. “By the way, I didn't thank you for thinking about the bomb in Murdock's rental car yesterday. A lot of my men could have been killed. I'll remember that.”

Jake nodded and then headed off downstairs. If he was going to work in this town, it was a good idea to have a favorable relationship with the head cop.

●

When Adams was gone, the polizei commissioner quickly called his associate, Jack Donicht, to follow him. “I want to know where he goes, who he sees. But keep your distance.”

Donicht was downstairs and watched Adams walk outside, and then he rose to tail him. When he reached the street, Adams was getting into his car. Donicht tried not to look at the American as he got into the polizei BMW and turned it over.

●

Jake pulled out into light traffic and gazed at the man sitting behind the wheel of the BMW. When the car pulled out behind him, his assumption was correct. He checked his watch. It was eight-thirty, a half hour from his meeting at Tirol Genetics. What the hell. Take the local cops for a little ride. After a few blocks Jake pulled over along the river and watched a few swans struggling against the current. He noticed the BMW pull over and wait for him. So Jake pulled out into traffic again and drove along the river a few blocks before turning right onto Prinz-Eugenstrasse, which eventually ran into Andechsstasse. As Jake turned left onto Amraser Seestrasse and picked up speed, he noticed the BMW still in his wake.

Two blocks later Jake entered the onramp for the A-12 autobahn heading west, where he quickly burst through the gears.

He weaved in and out of the morning traffic, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror, where he could barely make out the BMW fading behind him. Just before an exit he swung around a truck and down the exit ramp, pulling to a halt at the stop sign below. The BMW missed the turn, and Jake watched it zip past on the bridge to his left. Jake smiled and drove off toward Tirol Genetics.

Having just come back from making a few phone calls at a booth in Jenbach, Toni Contardo sat for a moment in her Alfa Romeo gazing up at the gasthaus where she had left the Italian scientist, Giovanni Scala. He had been disturbed at the events of the past twenty-four hours, and she couldn't blame him for that. He had gone from a high of being nominated for a Nobel Prize, to finding out his partner had been killed. He had nearly been kidnapped, and then finding his partner's maid murdered like that. It had been too much for him. She had seen much worse. Perhaps even gotten used to such things, if that was possible.

The call she had made to Tirol Genetics had been somewhat routine. The president of the company wasn't too happy to hear that Scala would not be there on schedule, but then he didn't have much choice in the matter. She controlled everything.

On the other hand, the call to her message service had been more interesting. She was only twenty miles or so from the man she once thought she would marry, if not at least spend the rest of her life with. The problem had been that her and Jake had always found themselves at different junctures in their lives. At first they had worked in different countries for the same organization, only coming together for a few cases and for vacations in San Remo or Cortina. She warmed to the thought of those brief yet memorable times, where they had explored each other with such great exuberance and passion. Later, after Jake had returned to the States and left the Agency to start his own business, distance had been the detrimental factor, even though he had come to Italy the one time on a case where they had renewed their relationship briefly. And now he was so close and she was working a case, babysitting a scientist who might have understood the physiological importance of his discovery, if not the sociological implications. That would have to change, she knew. But for now, she had to move Scala, in case someone had discovered where she had made the calls from. Jenbach was a small place with limited options for lodging.

She got out and strolled toward the gasthaus.

●

Jake eased into a leather chair in the plush office of Otto Bergen's second floor suite at Tirol Genetics. The company owned two buildings in Innsbruck, sitting next to each other in a new industrial park that was landscaped more like a medical complex than production facilities.

One building was set aside for research and development, with an extensive laboratory. The smaller building he was in now was the headquarters, containing administrative and marketing personnel.

From where Jake sat waiting for Otto Bergen to arrive, he could see the old Olympic ski jump from one corner, and downtown Innsbruck, the Inn River, and the Alps from the other.

Otto Bergen entered from a side door, met Jake in the middle of the room to shake hands. “Sorry I'm late, Mr. Adams. I had an issue to take care of.”

“No problem,” Jake said taking his seat again. “I was just enjoying the view.”

Bergen sat and swiveled toward the window and back again. “Yes, it is quite remarkable. I chose the location of my buildings myself.”

Jake watched the man carefully. Something wasn't right. He was talking of pleasant things, but clearly thinking of something less enjoyable. He was dressed in a fine suit, unlike the night before at the restaurant. Yet, it was his eyes that gave away his concern, Jake realized. His eyes seemed to droop with the intensity of burnt toast.

“I looked over the information you sent me last night,” Jake started. “Aldo seemed like a truly gifted man. I'm sure you'll miss him a great deal.”

“That we will,” Bergen said. “We have other scientists here, but none with Leonhard's vision and creativity. It was his idea to study the small Italian village. He had a feeling there was a secret there.” Bergen seemed more animated, moving forward in his chair and clenching his fists and jaw as he spoke. “Leonhard recruited his Italian colleague because he needed someone more adept in biochemistry. The two of them made a perfect team.”

Jake remembered reading about the Italian last night. “This Giovanni Scala. I take it he has all the information you need to follow through with your production, assuming their assumptions are correct?”

Bergen's brows furled forward. “Their assumptions are correct, Mr. Adams. But you are accurate with regards to Scala. He was to present his findings with Aldo this morning. That's what made me late in meeting you. I was in the conference room trying to calm our investors.”

“Let me guess, Scala's missing.”

Bergen hesitated and then said, “Not really missing. Yet not here either. Which brings me right back to you. Last night I asked you to look into Leonhard Aldo's death, which is still important, but not as important as bringing in Giovanni Scala. We need him and the research he and Leonhard had conducted. Can you help me out?”

Jake thought about it. How hard could it be to find a missing scientist? “Sure. You said something about compensation last night. It might be a good time to discuss that.”

“How does a hundred thousand sound?” Bergen asked.

Jake smiled. “It depends on if you're talking Shillings, Deutsche Marks, or U.S. Dollars.” He did the math quickly in his head. “If it's Shillings a hundred and forty thousand sounds better.”

“A deal.” Bergen held out his hand across his desk and Jake shook it briefly.

“I'll need half up front, of course.”

“Certainly. My assistant will arrange it after we talk. But first you'll need some additional information.” Bergen hesitated, uncertain how to proceed.

Jake laughed. “I figured there had to be more to it. Let me guess. Scala is in some draconian prison and I have to find a way to spring him.”

“Not quite. But you have some imagination.”

Imagination? Shit. He had done just that while in Kurdistan less than a year ago.

Bergen thought for a moment. “I just got a call from someone who says she's speaking for Scala. He's afraid to come in because someone tried to kidnap him in Milan yesterday afternoon. He's frightened, she said. So she said she'd like to set up a meeting with me first, before he brings in his research. I told her we are the rightful owners of his studies, and she got a little upset with me, saying if I wanted more than a box of ashes, I would listen to what she had to say.”

Jake was confused now. “Who is this woman?”

Bergen produced a small piece of paper from his pocket. “Her name is Maria Francesco Caruso.”

Jake tried not to look surprised, but inside everything brightened and he understood what was going on. This would be the easiest ten thousand bucks he ever earned. Maria Francesco Caruso was his old friend Toni Contardo's favorite alias. He tried to look serious. “Who is this woman, and what exactly does she have to do with Scala?”

“I don't know. That's what I need you for, Jake. She set up a meeting for this evening at seven-thirty.”

“Where?”

“The Olympic Ice Stadium.”

That was smart, Jake thought. On a Friday evening, there would be a hundred skaters at that time of day. “That's a big place. Where within the stadium?”