The Einstein Pursuit (30 page)

‘Scientists?’ Jones asked.

Sahlberg nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘Friends of Berglund?’

‘Some of them.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ Jones said as he checked his ammo. ‘Jon, I’ll head out first—’

‘Wait!’ Sahlberg shouted. ‘What are you doing? I told you I know them.’

‘Maybe,’ Payne said, ‘but you don’t know their intentions. What if they’re mixed up with Berglund and the lab in Stockholm? What if people are following them to get to you? Do you know the burly guy next to the car?’

Sahlberg shook his head.

‘Then how do you know it’s safe?’

‘I guess I don’t.’

‘You’re damn right you don’t,’ Jones said angrily. ‘We’ve been in the plane for five fucking hours, and in all that time you never said a single word about your colleagues in California or a town car at the gate. If you had, we would have had a security team search him before we even landed.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t know.’

‘Didn’t know what? That you were in danger? Is that what you were going to say? Because I find it hard to believe that a genius like you is struggling to grasp the situation.’

Sahlberg sensed that Jones was too upset to reason with, so he turned his attention to Payne. ‘Jonathon, I didn’t tell you about them because I didn’t know if they would show.’

‘Them? Who’s them?’ Payne demanded.

Sahlberg didn’t know what to say. ‘I can’t … I’m not allowed …’

‘Spit it out!’ Payne ordered. He had come to like Sahlberg quite a bit, but right now they weren’t seeing eye to eye. ‘Tell me who they are, or I’m going to shoot the driver where he stands. And if you don’t believe me, think back to the incline.’

A strained look spread across Sahlberg’s face. It was obvious he wanted to answer, but something was preventing it. ‘Jonathon, listen to me.
Please
listen to me.’

Payne took a deep breath. ‘What?’

‘If I asked you questions about your military career – probing questions about specific missions like that one in Afghanistan where you saved your commander’s son – would you be allowed to tell me everything?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘It’s classified.’

Sahlberg stared at him, allowing his eyes to do some of his talking. ‘Same situation here. There are certain things I can tell you, and some I can’t. Not because I don’t want to, but because I
can’t
. Men like you and David – you
have
to know what that’s like. The lies. The secrets. You can’t let people in unless you have permission to do so. Right now, I don’t have permission.’

Payne clenched his jaw and nodded.

He hated surprises. Especially when his life was on the line.

But he had been in the game long enough to recognize the truth. It didn’t mean he liked being deceived, but he believed what Sahlberg was saying.

‘When will you get permission?’ he asked.

‘Hopefully now,’ Sahlberg said as he glanced out the window. ‘You have to trust me on this. They mean us no harm. They can help us. Just let me talk to him alone.’

‘Not going to happen,’ Payne said as he jammed his gun in his waistband. ‘I’m heading out first. If I get any bad vibes, I’m getting back on the plane and we’re leaving. If everything checks out, I’ll signal and you can join me. Understood?’

Sahlberg nodded, but said nothing.

Jones stared at his best friend. ‘I’ll give you cover.’

Without waiting for a response, Jones found a hidden seam in the rug and pulled it back to reveal a trap door. Payne knew that Jones could drop to the tarmac without being seen, shielded by the rear wheels. Hidden there, he could provide cover if anything went wrong. While Jones scrambled into position, Payne stepped off the plane and made a beeline for the town car.

‘Mr Payne,’ the chauffeur announced. ‘Welcome to California. My name is Stanley. I will be your driver for the duration of your visit.’

His tone was pleasant, inviting. If he was packing a weapon, Payne could not see it.

He continued. ‘I was told there would be three passengers. Was this information incorrect?’

‘Stanley, I get the sense you’re just doing your job, which is the only reason you’re still alive. But you have to understand my position: I don’t know you or your employer.’

He smiled. He could see that Payne’s adrenalin was surging, that he was a coiled snake, ready to strike. ‘I assure you: you have nothing to fear. We’re here to help.’

‘
We?
Who is
we
?’ Payne asked forcefully.

His smile grew even wider. ‘Mattias didn’t tell you?’

‘No, he didn’t tell me! Who the hell is
we
?’

Just then, the tinted back window was lowered, which forced Payne to pull his gun. Had he spotted a weapon of any kind, he would have emptied his clip into the driver and the back seat while Jones did the same from his position near the plane. However, the face that appeared in the window was possibly the least-threatening one that he had ever seen.

The occupant of the car was a cheerful old man, with dark leathery skin that looked like a saddle that had been left in the sun for too long. What little hair he had was sheer white, and he combed it left to right in order to cover his scalp the best he could. He looked like a Muppet – a grinning, withered Muppet.

He spoke with a Spanish accent. ‘Don’t blame Mattias. He did what he was supposed to do. He kept our organization a secret.’

Payne lowered his weapon. ‘What organization is that?’

‘The Einstein Group.’

Payne stared at the old man like he was crazy. ‘The Einstein Group? Never heard of it.’

The old man grinned. ‘That’s because our members are good at keeping secrets. Isn’t that right, Mattias?’

Payne turned and saw Sahlberg standing behind him. Left unguarded, he had taken it upon himself to exit the plane and approach the conversation. Between the hum of the engines and the assumption that Sahlberg would stay on the plane, Payne had never heard him coming.

‘That’s correct,’ Sahlberg said. He turned toward Payne to apologize. ‘I’m sorry, Jonathon. I couldn’t talk about the group until they gave me permission to do so. As I said on the plane, I’m hoping that’s what they’re here to do – to give me their blessing.’

‘It is,’ confirmed the old man. ‘But not like this. Please, join me inside the car, where we’ll have some privacy. We’ll have plenty of time to talk on the way to the mansion.’

‘The mansion?’ Payne asked.

‘I’m sure you’ll love it. It was designed by Frank Lloyd Wright.’

Sahlberg didn’t wait for permission. He practically skipped toward the car, greeting the man inside like a long-lost brother. ‘It’s good to see you, Juan.’

‘You too, Mattias. It’s been years!’

Sahlberg glanced back at Payne. ‘Don’t just stand there, my boy. Come here and meet Juan Carlos Gambaro. He is our group’s most senior member, and one of the smartest men this world or any other has ever seen. Juan, this is Jonathon Payne.’

Payne waved but didn’t approach the car.

Too many thoughts were racing through his head.

The chauffeur opened the car door for Sahlberg, who climbed into the back seat, where he talked with Gambaro in rapid Spanish. If he didn’t know better, Payne would have assumed Sahlberg had grown up in Spain instead of Sweden. Gambaro laughed loudly –
so
loudly Payne was afraid the old man’s dentures were going to fly out of his mouth and land on the floor.

Payne cursed under his breath.

Sahlberg was forcing his hand.

He didn’t like it, but he was too curious to turn back now.

He raised his open hand and patted the top of his head. It was a signal to Jones that it was safe to join him. If he had tapped his closed fist against some part of his body – his leg or shoulder, for instance – Jones would have wounded his target in the corresponding area. And if Payne had pressed a closed fist against his head, Jones would have taken a kill shot.

Jones saw the signal and emerged from his hiding place behind the rear wheels of the plane. He jogged over to Payne’s side. ‘What’s going on?’

‘We’ve been invited to meet the Einstein Group.’

‘The Einstein Group? What the hell is that?’

‘I have no idea. Sahlberg is going to explain along the way.’

‘The way to where?’ Jones asked.

‘The mansion.’

‘The Playboy Mansion?’

‘Doubtful.’

Jones shrugged. ‘A boy can dream, can’t he?’

‘Dream later. We need to get our things.’

Payne and Jones ducked back inside the plane to grab their bags and provisions. That included ammo, two Smith & Wesson M1911 pistols, a short-barreled Mossberg shotgun, and a prototype Barrett sniper rifle that could be disassembled to fit neatly inside an inconspicuous briefcase. It was a gift from the Barrett family themselves, who considered Payne and Jones dear friends.

They also took a moment to change their clothes. Not because they were underdressed, but because their cotton shirts would do them no good in a firefight. Just to be safe, they pulled on specially designed polo shirts that had been woven from Kevlar fiber. This next-generation fabric couldn’t stop a high-caliber bullet at close range, but it could certainly deflect a ricochet and would keep a direct hit from cutting through the body. They might suffer a massive contusion or even break a rib, but the wound would not be fatal. Just as importantly, the shirts didn’t look like flak jackets. To the casual observer, they appeared as typical attire.

Still unsure if the Einstein Group could be trusted, they positioned themselves inside the car accordingly. The town car was an executive model, allowing Payne and Jones to sit in the rear seats, with Sahlberg and Gambaro facing them in the second row. Throughout the trip, Jones kept his pistol aimed at the back of the driver’s head, though the gun was shielded from view by the briefcase on his lap. This was his way of staying safe without insulting his host.

They made their way toward the mansion. Sahlberg smiled as he watched palm trees zip past the window. He seemed more at peace now than at any other point of their time together.

Meanwhile, Payne was the exact opposite. ‘Tell me about the Einstein Group.’

Gambaro leaned forward in his seat and drew close to his new friends. ‘How familiar are you with Albert Einstein?’

Jones shrugged. ‘Probably the most important scientist in the twentieth century. He completely revolutionized the way we look at modern physics.’

Payne nodded. ‘E equals MC squared.’

‘Oh, and he had a crazy Afro. Looked like a Chia Pet, only white.’

‘All true,’ Gambaro said, laughing, ‘but let’s go back a little farther. Before he won the Nobel Prize, Albert Einstein was making ends meet by offering private lessons in mathematics and physics. One of his pupils was a man named Maurice Solovine, a philosophy student. The relationship soon became a friendship, with Einstein and Solovine spending countless hours discussing the nature of philosophy. They quickly added Einstein’s neighbor – a mathematician named Conrad Habicht – to the conversations. For more than two years, the group met regularly at Einstein’s apartment in Switzerland to dissect the pre-eminent books written about philosophy and mathematics.’

‘You’re telling me the Einstein Group has been around since then?’ Payne asked.

‘No,’ Gambaro answered. ‘At least not in its current form. The original group – Einstein, Solovine and Habicht – only lasted a few years. And they weren’t known as the Einstein Group. They referred to themselves as the Olympia Academy. In their close-knit group, they were free to discuss anything, everything, without fear of ridicule. It was in this way that Einstein believed the biggest breakthroughs would materialize. And he was right.’

‘How so?’ Jones wondered. ‘You just said the group only lasted a few years, and I’ve never heard of the other two.’

‘The Olympia Group disbanded in 1905, but that didn’t stop Einstein from seeking out the top minds of his day. He would continue to meet with other scholars until the day he died. Always in private. Always without publicity.’

‘People like who?’

‘Robert Oppenheimer when he was working on the atom bomb. Watson and Crick while they searched for the structure of the DNA molecule. And Jonas Salk as well.’

‘But Einstein died fifty years ago,’ Payne said.

‘Man dies, but the spirit lives on,’ Gambaro said philosophically. ‘In Albert’s case, the spirit was to push the boundaries of accepted science. To challenge the limits of our accomplishments. He may have been the most celebrated embodiment of this ideal, but he certainly was not alone. After his death, others took up the mantle and led the charge into the unknown.’

‘And the financing?’ Payne asked.

‘There are people in the world who do not need their investments to produce returns,’ Gambaro explained. ‘Wealthy individuals who are willing to offer their resources in exchange for simply knowing that they contributed to the evolution of science.’

Yannick Holcher was the kind of source that Interpol agents dreamed of. Someone who could shed light on countless criminal organizations around the world. Someone who could crack dozens of cases and give them the upper hand in future investigations as well. Someone who could give them insight into the bombing in Stockholm and the abduction attempt in Pittsburgh.

In Dial’s mind, it was a once-in-a-decade opportunity.

One that required a delicate touch.

His
delicate touch.

Dial left Sweden in the middle of the night and arrived at Wiltz Noertrange airfield well before dawn. Two men greeted him when he stepped off the plane: Benoit Faber, an officer from the Grand Ducal Police, the main law enforcement agency in Luxembourg; and Pierre Blanc, an NCB agent from Luxembourg City, which was an hour to the south.

To avoid unwanted attention, they climbed into Blanc’s unmarked sedan and made the short trip to Holcher’s house under cover of darkness. Dial wasn’t much of a historian, but he knew that this stretch of land was the site of the largest and bloodiest battle of World War II, known to many as the Battle of the Bulge. More than 100,000 people had been killed, injured or captured in the German offensive that lasted more than a month and extended into the mountains of Belgium and France. It was too early in the morning for irony, but Dial couldn’t help but think that it was an interesting spot for a gunsmith to call home.