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?”
“She said to go down by the ice and she’d find me.”
“And you want me to back you up?”
“I want you in place an hour early,” Bergen told him. “She sounded pretty intense.”
That’s Toni, he thought. “I’ll be there.” He got up to leave.
“Thanks, Jake. I appreciate your help. And don’t forget to talk with my assistant about your advance.”
“I won’t,” he said over his shoulder as he left.
After getting a check from the assistant in the outer office, Jake went to his car and thought about what to do until he needed to be at the Olympic Ice Stadium. It was clear that Toni would be almost impossible to find before the meeting. She could have been anywhere. He could leave her another message and hope she got back with him, but that was unlikely. He did have one idea that might work.
●
After Jake left Otto Bergen’s office, Marcus Quinn entered from the side door and took the seat that Jake had just sat in. He could still feel the warmth from Jake’s body, and that thought tingled through him, bringing bumps to his arms. He had been that close to Adams. He wanted the man so badly, he would do anything to get him.
“Did you hear everything on the intercom?” Bergen asked.
The man was preoccupied thinking of Adams. Finally he said, “I heard it. You said exactly what I told you.”
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Positive. Adams will help us and then I’ll take care of the prying bastard. He’s done screwing up my life.”
“Who do you think this Caruso woman is?” Bergen asked, visibly concerned.
Quinn thought for a long minute. “Don’t know. But when I find her, I’ll fuck her up good for messing with my plans.”