The Dolomite Solution (25 page)

Jordan sat back on the bed, confused. Then he took a closer look at the woman on the floor. “Holy shit. You know who she is?”

“Afraid so. Murdock's wife.”

“How the hell'd you know that?”

Jake considered that. “Let's just say we've gotten kind of close in the last few days.”

Still not sure what was going on, Jordan cocked his head to one side, getting a better look at the pretty blonde. “She sure as hell is a looker.”

“Yeah. But not if Quinn keeps bashing her around.” Jake started shaking her lightly to wake her. With some difficulty he raised her head to his lap and pulled her hair back from her face. In a few seconds she started coming around. Her eyeballs rolled around within the sockets trying to focus on Jake.

“Jake what are you doing here?” She groggily rolled up onto her arms and then to a sitting position. Looking around the room, she settled her gaze on the black man sitting on the bed. “Who the hell is he?”

Jake explained briefly who Jordan was, leaving out the part about him investigating her husband's dealings with Richten prior to his death. As far as she needed to know, the OSI was simply interested in who had killed her husband.

“I didn't have anything to do with Allen's death,” she said preemptively.

“We figured Marcus Quinn killed him,” Jake said. “But why?”

Jordan shifted closer to her.

She gazed at him and then back at Jake. “I don't know why Quinn does anything. He's crazy.”

“You came down here with him and not your husband,” Jake said. He handed the ice-pack to her so she could hold it against her own face.

“Well?” Jordan said.

“Allen wouldn't let me come,” she finally forced out. “Quinn was staying with us in Frankfurt. He saw we had a good thing going, so he wanted in. He had just gotten out of prison.” She glanced at Jake when she revealed that.

“That's right,” Jordan said. “You were screwing over all of your competition in Germany. Stealing trade secrets. The whole works. I know all about it.”

“I thought you were looking into Allen's death?”

Jordan hesitated. “I am.”

“Let's get back on track here,” Jake said. “Why were you helping Quinn set me up?”

She shook her head. “It wasn't like that. I didn't come here to hurt you. You've gotta believe me.” She looked away, tears forming in the sides of her eyes. Sniffling she said, “Allen and I had a different marriage. He didn't mind if I was with other men as long as there was some economic gain or strategic significance involved.” She spit the words out like venom.

Jake glanced at Jordan, who had a knowing expression. “I understand that. So why did you come here?”

She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand, collecting herself. “I had been trying to...mess with Quinn in front of my husband in Germany. I was just teasing. But Allen didn't like it. It was all right with strangers, but not someone he knew. Allen didn't want me coming along on this trip because of that. Secretly Quinn told me he wanted me along. He said he and Allen really needed me. He also said that Allen didn't want me along because he had told Quinn without me they could go to the bars and pick up someone else.”

Jordan broke in. “Why in the hell would he want to do that? My God, you're gorgeous.”

She smiled. “I wish he would have thought so.”

Jake wasn't buying all of this. “But still. Why were you setting me up?”

“Let me finish,” she said. “I didn't know Quinn was going to kill Allen. He said they were going skiing to get my husband away from his room. While they were gone, I went to Allen's room and took the papers working the deal between Richten and Tirol Genetics and brought them back here to Quinn. He had showed me a picture of you, and I was to go to the Jazz bar and keep you occupied.”

Jordan glared at Jake. “You didn't say anything about bopping the dead guy's wife, Jake.”

“It wasn't relevant.”

She let out a quick breath.

“I didn't mean it that way,” Jake said. “It was good, it was just irrelevant to his investigation.”

“I beg to differ,” Jordan said. “I hope Martini doesn't find out you were screwing Murdock's wife.”

“Can we get back to the point here?” Jake asked. “So while you and I were...occupied, Quinn was off killing your husband.”

“And the maid,” she said. “I didn't know any of this until after the fact. Quinn was trying to find another angle to everything. He figured if he could steal the scientist's solution then he could sell it to the highest bidder.”

“My God,” Jordan said. “Why'd he have to kill the poor maid? She didn't do nothin' to nobody.”

“For fun,” she said. “Quinn showed me pictures of Allen fucking the maid while she was tied up. I think Quinn gets off on stuff like that. He sure as hell doesn't want me.”

“How do you know?” Jake asked.

She pulled the ice from her face. “Why do you think he did this? He got all pissed off when he saw Mickey Mouse beating off on the computer, so he starts strangling me. I thought he was going to kill me right here. I notice he's got a hard on after slapping me around, and when I go for it, he whacks me. Next thing I know, you two are standing over me.”

“Mickey Mouse?” Jordan asked. “What the hell...”

“I'll explain later,” Jake said.

“I guess I shouldn't have laughed so hard at Mickey.”

“What did Quinn want from my computer?”

“Some leverage. Some advantage.”

“Where is he now?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. Honestly. He's going to kill you Jake. I'd stay clear. The man is nuts.”

Jake pulled her to her feet. “You better also. He's just using you like he does everyone else. When he's done fucking with you, he'll kill you also. Maybe not today, but after you've gotten your insurance payoff. He'll steal that, kill you, and then take off again. Did he tell you why he was in prison?”

“No. He said you stabbed him in the back. Testified against him in court.”

“Did you ask Allen about that?”

“He said Quinn got what he deserved. Even less. Allen said Quinn had killed at least two women in Germany while he was stationed there.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jordan said.

“Christ won't help you with Quinn,” she said.

Jake started rifling through the room, looking for anything that he could use against Quinn. When he found nothing, he settled on the computer, folding it up and handing it to Jordan.

“We can't take this,” Jordan said. “We don't have a warrant or anything. No authority.”

“Quinn doesn't play by the rules, Jordan. Neither should we. You think he'll go back to prison? No fucking way.”

The three of them left and went down the elevator. Outside, they climbed into Jordan's Ford and drove directly to the airport. Jake put her on the first flight to Frankfurt, waiting for her to board.

When they got back to Jordan's car, he asked Jake, “One thing I don't understand. How the hell did you use your card-key to open Quinn's hotel door?”

“Computers. I simply went into the hotel security system and recoded room 710's lock to match my card.”

They got into the car and drove off.

“What we going to do about her, Jake?”

“She's got a two hour flight on that little plane,” Jake said. “Get on that cell phone of yours and have someone pick her up at Frankfurt. She may be clean for the murders, but I have a feeling she isn't telling the whole story either.”

Jordan punched in a number and did what Jake said.

It was completely dark outside the Olympic Ice Stadium in Innsbruck's south side when Jake arrived in his Golf and found a parking spot between a Mercedes and a BMW. The lot was filling up fast. Many Innsbruckers skated early on Friday nights before going out to dinner, and then hit the bars later on in the evening.

He checked his watch. It was six thirty. He gazed at the stadium, wondering not so much if Marcus Quinn would be there, but when and where he would show. He got out and started walking toward the entrance, following a young couple with skates over their shoulders.

There was only a little snow on the ground, mostly in piles at the edges of the walk. Off to the south of the building was an outdoor rink used during the 1976 Olympic speed skating events. The rink was closed for the season and was melted into a slushy lake now.

Inside, Jake bought a ticket and worked his way around a wide passageway, following more skaters down an entrance and into the main skating rink. He went immediately to an area where parents were sitting, yelling instructions at their children, and took a spot behind them all. Toni was smart, that's for sure. The place was already packed, and open skating had just begun. It would last until nine that evening.

Jake waved at a few people as they glided by, trying to appear as though he were with other people. Soon he'd leave and take a place higher up the stands so he could see the entire area. He had one advantage over everyone else. He knew what Toni would be wearing, so he could spot her easily when the time came. He leaned back and ran all the scenarios through his mind.

●

High up in the stands, Marcus Quinn sat in a darkened press booth scanning the area with binoculars. He stopped abruptly when he saw Jake Adams leaning back in the family section. Adams was waving at someone. Quinn panned the binoculars to the ice and noticed a young girl waving back. Who was that? He checked Adams again and he was sitting there with his arms crossed now. He laughed to himself. Nice try Adams.

●

Back at the entrance, the Germans came through the ticket turnstile together. Nicolaus Hahn wore a long wool coat. The woman, Ulrica, had her arm entwined in his, as if they were a couple. And Wolfgang straggled behind like a brotherly escort.

The three of them walked further down the passageway and entered the rink around center ice, taking seats among a large group of tourists from England.

●

Following the Germans was the Italian, Sappiamo. He stood in the entrance where he could see the trio clearly, yet stay out of the view of anyone other than those walking down the tunnel to enter. In a few minutes he watched Brachi and Gabbiano pop through a doorway immediately across the rink from him. They made their way to the edge of the ice, sat down to put on skates and then wobbled out onto the ice without much grace, holding each other up.

●

Quinn saw the Germans arrive and checked his watch. They were fifteen minutes early. That's what he hated about Germans. They were too damn efficient. He moved the binoculars onto the ice and watched a beautiful blonde woman perform a perfect double-axle, before gliding along with her arms stretched outward. He shifted the glasses back to the stands to spot Adams. “What the fuck?” he whispered. Frantically he searched the stands. Nothing. Just like that, Adams had disappeared.

●

Fifteen minutes later Otto Bergen came through the gate by himself. He had tried to explain to the Germans where to sit, and only hoped Hahn had listened carefully. There were so many entrances, he wouldn't blame them for getting confused. He went through the first tunnel he came to and walked down toward the ice, taking a spot along the boards at the edge of the rink. Glancing up to his left, he saw the Germans and tried not to acknowledge them yet.

There were so many people, he thought. How would he ever find the woman? He didn't even know what she looked like.

Skaters swooped by him in all sizes and shapes in colorful outfits. Some wore blue jeans and others were poured into tight spandex outfits. There were grandparents and young children barely old enough to walk. There had to be a hundred or more people out there. He thought about the voice on the phone again, but couldn't decide how the woman would look.

●

Jake, as planned, had gone up high and scanned the area. When he saw the Germans come in through the side, he had recognized them immediately from Jordan's description. He had been right. They were an odd looking trio. The distinguished looking businessman, Hahn, with his wool jacket and thousand dollar suit. The bald man with the big nose was likely the muscle. And the woman at his arm, Hahn would never be caught dead with. She looked like a hooker, only more dangerous. How she fit in, he wasn't sure.

When he had seen Otto Bergen arrive by himself and go to the edge of the ice, that was his cue to make his move. He went down to a booth in the outer entranceway, rented a pair of hockey skates, and casually blended in with a younger crowd putting on skates. Then he gracefully walked out onto the ice rink and glided off into the masses. Having grown up in Oregon, he had played hockey in his youth in one of the rare leagues there. He had continued to skate as an adult, but hadn't done so in a few years. Consequently, he was a little shaky at first.

Jake skated up behind a woman with blonde hair and wrapped his arm around her. She was wearing the wig and tight suit from the waist down, with a bulky sweater that concealed her gun just below her left arm.

“I've forgotten how well you skate,” Jake said.

“You forgot Cortina?”

“I remembered skiing there, and of course our hotel room and the long nights. Oh yeah, the rink.” He smiled at her.

“Rockefeller Center as a child,” she reminded him.

They slipped around the rink arm in arm, avoiding all of those who had fallen.

“In the stands to your right,” Jake said. “The three Germans.”

She glanced over casually as they drifted by. “Got ‘em. What about Bergen?”

“Coming up on your right in the gray cardigan standing against the boards.”

They slipped by, Jake keeping behind Toni so Bergen wouldn't see him yet.

“He looks nervous,” she said.

“That's your fault. He said you sounded desperate on the phone.”