The Dolomite Solution (8 page)

Her mind switched back to the reality in front of her. The BMW. There was a slight dent in the trunk, so she was certain it was the same car that had run the Austrian scientist from the road just hours ago. The only difference was the license plates, which had been conveniently changed.

Milan was much hotter than the Dolomites, so she stripped the leather jacket off and flung it to the back seat. She gazed down at her 9mm Beretta in her right hand, wondering how to conceal it without her jacket. She settled on the handbag. It always worked the best.

Placing the strap of the leather bag over her head and shoulder, she slid the gun inside and tested how she could reach in casually and draw it. It felt as natural as slipping sun glasses on, which she did now as well.

●

The late morning was beautiful, and all Giovanni Scala could think of, looking out over the sunny terrace and gardens at the University of Milan, was walking along an alpine stream and sitting among mountain flowers, dreaming of his place in history alongside his Austrian colleague.

Scala was hunched over a stainless steel table, his nimble little fingers shuffling papers into his briefcase. Anyone observing him for the first time would have thought a prodigy had invaded the university. Yet those who knew Professor Scala, no longer saw him as a man of barely five feet, for he had accomplished so much in life. In fact, he had been a prodigy. He had completed secondary school at age twelve, undergraduate studies at the University of Rome at fourteen, and his doctorate in biochemistry from this very university at seventeen. When he graduated he simply stayed on, continuing his ground-breaking doctoral DNA research. At age twenty-two, he had been the youngest man ever to achieve a full professorship in the university's history. He had been there now for some twenty-five years, and at forty-two, his only regret was not having time for a family. But he knew he only had room for one child in his life. His current research project. Which was presently the discovery he and Leonhard Aldo had accomplished.

He thought about Leonhard Aldo. He guessed his partner was in Innsbruck now preparing for his meeting in the morning with one of the sponsors of their research, the board of directors of Tirol Genetics.

Checking his watch, he realized that he had only two hours before his flight to Innsbruck, where he would meet Leonhard for dinner and they would discuss last minute changes for their presentation.

He had come down out of the Dolomites the day before to brief the head of the university's research department on their progress. There was no doubt in either of their minds that what he and the Austrian had discovered would change history. It was that important. Scala envisioned himself in Stockholm accepting his Nobel Prize, and even thought hard on what he would do with his share of the money. Money was something that he knew he would never have and it didn't bother him a bit. Yet he also knew that the money would give him more freedom in his next research project. More importantly, though, would be the prestige of winning the coveted Nobel. That would give him even more freedom. More control over his own destiny.

Giovanni Scala closed his briefcase, locked the combination, and headed out of the lab.

After walking slowing down the corridor, he entered a cloister with a tall arched ceiling and open arches and columns to his left. He acknowledged a young man and woman, past students of his, who were lazing in the sun and should have probably been in class. But who could blame them, he thought. It was such a fine day. Sometimes scholarly pursuit had to wait for everyday pleasures. A truth for all but Scala himself.

Professor Scala had nearly reached the end of the columns when he first noticed the two men approaching. They looked like Ferrari salesmen, he thought, with their black leather coats, their hair slicked back. And they might have been.

He had his briefcase dangling from his left hand. He gripped it harder as he got closer to them. He hadn't even thought of safeguarding his project. Until now.

When the men were within a few feet of him, they stopped.

Giovanni Scala stopped also. “May I help you find something?”

The larger of the two men, the one with the left eye that seemed to shift sideways uncontrollably, twisted his thick jaw to his left. “Professor Scala?”

“Yes.”

“You must come with us.” He pulled a black wallet from inside his coat, flipped it open quickly, and then returned it.

Scala had recognized the symbol for Interpol, but could not believe his eyes. What did they want with him? “I'm sorry. I don't have time for this.” He tried to scoot around the smaller of the two, but the man grabbed his left arm and he nearly lost his grip on the briefcase.

“I'm also sorry, but you don't have a choice,” lazy eye said. He took the professor's right arm, and together the men hauled him off down the pathway.

For the first time in his life, Professor Giovanni Scala was frightened.

●

When Toni saw the three of them, her heart started pounding out of control. The two men in leather coats were escorting the professor down the sidewalk toward the BMW. The leather men looked around nervously.

She got out slowly and walked directly toward the BMW, keeping the car between her and the men, her hand down inside the purse.

By now the three men were just a few feet from the front of the BMW. She was across the hood of the car.

Toni pulled the gun, aimed it at the largest man, and yelled, “Let him go.”

The three men startled. The smaller leather man reached for something, and Toni let one round fly just above his head. He froze and then put his hand at his side angrily.

“Who the hell is this bitch?” the little guy asked his partner.

Lazy eye didn't answer. He was staring right at Toni, as if trying to memorize every feature on her.

“I said let him go.” Toni steadied her position against the car.

“You're making a big mistake, bitch,” lazy eye said. “Do you know who we are?”

“Yeah. You're in my sights. Now get the fuck out of my sight or I'll see if that thick skull of yours can handle hollow points.” She shifted her head for them to return the way they had come.

The professor had this confused expression on his face, as though an experiment had gone terribly wrong and he had no clue why.

The men let up on their grip. “You don't know who in the fuck you're dealing with,” the larger man said, his eye shifting uncontrollably to one side. “I'm gonna screw you royally.”

She laughed and aimed the gun toward the man's crotch. “Not if you have no dick.”

The man glanced downward, started to cover himself and instead backed up. “I'll find you. You can bet on that.”

Toni moved to the back of the BMW, her gun still trained on the men, who were now nearly to the shrubs at the side of the building. “Professor Scala. You have to trust me. Go to the black Alfa with me and I'll explain everything.”

He wasn't sure what to think. First two men force him off, then a beautiful woman steals him at gunpoint. She was definitely the better alternative. He hurried to the car and got in.

Meanwhile, Toni shot out both left tires on the BMW and then got behind the wheel and pulled away from the curb, her tires squealing and burning.

When she met up with via Botticelli, she turned right onto Viale Romangna, the wide avenue separated by a broad strip of trees, and then slowed down like the rest of the traffic. Through the trees she could see two police cars, their blue lights flashing, heading toward the university to investigate the shots she had fired.

The professor was clutching the briefcase on his lap, unsure what to say.

Toni broke the silence. “I'm sorry about that, professor. Those men would have killed you.”

“They were from Interpol,” he said.

She laughed. “That's what they said?”

“I saw their identification,” he pleaded.

“You saw a fake I.D.” There's no way those two were Interpol. She thought for a moment, wondering how much she should tell him. “Why would Interpol want you?” She glanced at him, but kept her eyes on the road.

He shrugged. “I don't know.”

“They wanted you to go quietly in broad daylight. Without you making a fuss. They were sent to kill you, after you gave them what you have in that briefcase.” She glanced down at the case he was clutching and then back to the road.

“That's absurd.”

Toni circled a roundabout and turned onto Viale Lombardia, picking up speed again.

She knew he wasn't buying any of this. “All right. You were about to drive to Linate Airport, have a glass of red wine, since you hate flying, then board Alitalia flight 329 for Innsbruck, where Leonhard Aldo was set to pick you up. You would then go out to dinner, have a few good Austrian beers, and discuss your presentation to Tirol Genetics tomorrow morning. Stop me when I get something wrong.”

His eyes were wide with concern, yet he somehow looked like a little child who had been caught stealing candy from a store, and whose mother was lecturing him. Finally he muttered, “How do you know all of this?”

She didn't answer. She turned onto Autostrada 4 toward Bergamo and immediately picked up speed. When she was safely cruising out of the city, she sighed and said, “I can't tell you. But you must believe that I'm a friend and I'm on your side.” She gave him her most sincere expression, and she meant it.

“So, I am to trust you?”

“I'm all you've got.”

“I could go to the police.”

She laughed.

“All right. Forget that. Everyone knows how corrupt they can be.”

She could tell he was thinking it over, trying to break free all those intellectual synapses, but was coming up with nothing. He was used to taking empirical data, synthesizing the variables, and then coming up with the results. But this...there was no logic to it.

She didn't want to tell him about his colleague until she had gained some trust. Without that, he would never believe her. She thought back over the last week or so as she had watched the two scientists in the Dolomites. At first she had been disturbed that they had not even noticed her at the local bar. Then she began to understand them better. Knew that they didn't have time for women or anything else of a personal nature. Their thoughts were only on finding answers to the mystery there. Nothing else. They would walk about the small town with their shoes untied and their hair a total mess, talking to themselves when alone and arguing a point while together. She wondered often why God had chosen them for such brilliance.

“Do you work for the government?” he finally asked.

He left that one open. “Yes. You could say that.” She changed the subject. “Do you need to pick up anything before going to Innsbruck?”

“Is it wise to take my flight?”

“You're not flying. We'll take the car. Besides, I was right, wasn't I. About you not liking to fly.”

“Yes. But even my students know that. I complain for a week prior to every flight.”

There was a long silence.

“You really think those men would have killed me?” the professor asked. “Why?”

“I told you. The briefcase. I hope you have the results of your study with you there, otherwise we'll have to go back.” She knew he did from the way he was digging his nails into the leather.

“That won't be necessary.”

Now it was time to find out something she wasn't sure about. “What you have there is probably the most significant DNA breakthrough ever. But then why am I telling you that? I mean you're the brains behind the entire experiment at Passo di Villa.”

He turned quickly toward her. “You know of my research there?”

“I've read a preliminary report. The one sent to the Nobel committee, and the one that will be published soon in that prestigious journal.” The article was one of the only things she had been able to get her hands on during her time watching the two scientists in the Dolomites.

“How did you see the journal article? We only sent it to one place with strict instructions not to show it to anyone until publication. What did you say your name was? You aren't a scientist are you?”

She hadn't given him her name. “I'm Toni Contardo.” She reached over to shake his hand, and he reluctantly complied, releasing his grip on the briefcase for an instant. “No. I'm not a scientist. But I am interested in DNA research. And I understand you have found a solution to the mystery of Passo di Villa where everyone else had failed.”

He seemed to sink further into the seat with her last words. She had broken through. Now she had about four hours to soak as much information out of him as she could. Eventually, she knew, she'd have to tell him about Leonhard Aldo's murder that morning. But the time wasn't right for that yet.

Jake had gotten back to his second floor apartment, took a long, hot shower and ate a late breakfast before dozing off to sleep on the sofa.

When he woke up hours later it was late afternoon. His headache was pretty much gone but the bump was still there. He found a bottle of beer in the refrigerator, popped it open, and took a long swig. Then he thought to check his messages. He punched in his number and waited. There was one message from Toni Contardo, his old friend currently working for the Agency, and on assignment somewhere away from her normal area. She had simply laughed saying they'd have to get together and quit playing phone tag. It was nice just to hear a friend's voice, he thought. Yet something wasn't quite right. She was on a cell phone, driving somewhere fast, according to the sound of her engine in the background. Even that wasn't overly concerning, since she drove fast everywhere she went. It was more her voice. The way it hesitated. He thought of calling her again, but was getting tired of talking to a message service. He needed her direct cell phone number.

That would have to wait, though. Instead, he got onto the computer, checking out the company that Allen Murdock worked for in Germany. Once on the World Wide Web, he located a profile of Richten Pharmaceuticals. He downloaded the information to his hard drive, got off the Web, and then started looking it over. Pretty impressive company. It was a wholly owned subsidiary of a Providence conglomerate. Richten and the Providence company had a favorable marketing arrangement. Richten itself was a huge company with thousands of employees working out of facilities in the Czech Republic, Hungary, a small plant outside of Berlin, and of course the headquarters and main production facility in Mainz. They produced everything from acetaminophen to zinc ointment. Their greatest claims to fame were an anti-rejection drug for organ transplants, and a cancer drug with minimal side effects and questionable results.