Red Alert (7 page)

'I didn't know he was ever in Venice. It proves how mysterious the man can be.'

'I doubt he'd have gone to Venice, though," Paluzzi concluded after a moment's thought. 'It's a moderate stronghold, that's why he didn't last there very long. No, I'd have to go along with Calvieri. He's almost certainly still here in Rome.'

'I used to be the senior cell commander here twelve f years ago,' Calvieri said. 'I've still got contacts in the city, r I've already told them to find out what they can. If Ubrino's rhere, they'll pass the information on to me. The problem 1 will be trying to pin him down. He knows he'll have to |keep moving to stay one step ahead of us.' I 'I suggest you split up into teams,' Kolchinsky said. t'Sabrina, you work with Calvieri. And stick to him like a peech.'

Calvieri shrugged. 'That's fine by me.'

'Her Italian's as good as your English, that's why I've [paired her with you.' Kolchinsky turned to Graham. 'You jwork with Major Paluzzi.'

'How's your Italian?' Paluzzi asked Graham.

'Nonexistent.'

'We'll manage,' Paluzzi said with a smile.

Kolchinsky picked up his attache case and got to his

t. 'You'll have to excuse me. I have several phone calls

make.'

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'So have I,' Calvieri said. 'Hopefully one of my contactsj will have come up with something by now.'

'Where do we start?' Graham asked Paluzzi.

'Neo-Chem Industries. My men have been there all) night. I think it's time to see what they've found.'

Paluzzi parked his white Alfa Romeo Lusso in the car-parkl opposite the plant's main entrance. They got out and hej used a transmitter to lock the doors behind them.

They crossed the car-park and mounted the steps lead-J ing into the foyer. The front of the reception desk had! been boarded up to hide the bullet holes. The wall behind] it had already been redecorated. In fact, the only sign of I the breakin was the chipped pillar in the middle of the I foyer. Paluzzi identified himself to the receptionist and! asked her to have his deputy report to the foyer. He thenj crossed to where Graham was standing beside the pillar.

'What were your men doing here last night?' Graham j asked.

'Trying to find out who was paying Wiseman for thej virus. They concealed themselves in the building late yes-1 terday afternoon and waited until the management team} had left before going through each of their offices in turn.'!

'How did they get past the closed-circuit television j cameras?'

Pal uzzi gave him a knowing smile. 'Some of these systems j can go on the blink at the most inopportune moments.'

'Point taken.'

'We're sure to take some flak when the MD finds outl what's happened but we'll weather the storm. We always j do.'

The lift doors opened and a tall, dark-haired man] emerged into the foyer. Graham doubted he was much older!

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than Sabrina. Paluzzi introduced him as Lieutenant Angelo Marco, his personal adjutant for the past seven months.

'Pleased to meet you, sir,' Marco said, shaking [Graham's hand.

I 'Call me Mike,' Graham told him. ; 'Well, did you find anything?' Paluzzi asked. [ 'Yes, sir, but we're going to have a job proving it.' fMarco jabbed his thumb upwards. 'We've got a more ^immediate problem on our hands. The MD's been ranting land raging at me ever since he got here an hour ago. He paid he wanted to see you the moment you arrived.' | 'What did you find?'

I Marco pushed the button for the lift. 'The senior sales pnanager has received four payments of eighty million lire pn the past year. And each time he withdrew sixty-four ; million lire, in cash, on the same day that the cheques |were cleared through his account.' ; The lift arrived.

; 'How much is eighty million lire in dollars?' Graham asked.

If: 'It's about twenty-five thousand dollars,' Marco said, pressing the button for the top floor. He looked at Paluzzi. ;'The cheques were all issued by Nikki Karos.' f 'Karos?' Paluzzi said thoughtfully. 'That's interesting.' f 'Who's this Karos?' Graham asked. r 'One of the wealthiest arms dealers in the Aegean,' Paluzzi replied. 'He does most of his business in the Middle [East.'

&I 'So if this sales manager was the middleman between |Karos and Wiseman, who's to say Karos wasn't acting on behalf of a Middle Eastern client? Iran? Iraq? One of the ^Lebanese factions? The list's endless.' I* 'That's what we've got to find out,' Paluzzi replied. I'JBut first we've got to pacify an angry MD.'

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The doors parted and they emerged into a beige carpeted corridor. Marco led them to a door and entered without knocking. The secretary looked up from her typewriter. Her smile faltered when she saw Marco. Paluzzi rapped loudly on one of the double doors and entered the inner office without waiting for a reply.

The managing director sat behind a large oak desk. The nameplate identified him as Daniel Chidenko.

'I'm Major Paluzzi, I believe you wanted to see me?'

The secretary hurried into the room. 'I'm sorry, Mr Chidenko, they just walked in - '

'It's okay, Margarita,' Chidenko cut in, his hand raised. 'It's not your fault.'

The secretary left the room, closing the door behind her.j

'You don't have to speak English to me, Major. I mayj be American but I am fluent in your language.'

'Mr Graham here doesn't speak Italian.'

Chidenko removed a cigarette from the silver box onj his desk and lit it. 'Mike Graham. Our head office in Ne York told me you were coming.'

'I'm impressed,' Graham replied. 'At least there's or efficient employee in the company. You should have then transferred out here.'

Chidenko ignored Graham's sarcasm and looked Paluzzi. 'I want to know on whose authority your me broke into the seven offices on this floor, including own, and went through the contents of the wallsafes?'

'Mine,' Paluzzi replied.

'May I see a search warrant?'

'I don't need one,' Paluzzi replied defiantly.

'Really?' Chidenko tapped the ash from his cigare into the glass ashtray on his desk. 'You've been trying I link one, or more, of my management team to Wiser ever since you took charge of this case instead of gettii

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out there and finding the vial. Well, this time you've gone too far. You've broken the law and I'll see to it that you're taken off the case and replaced with someone who's prepared to get his priorities right.'

'Before you do that, Lieutenant Marco has something = to show you.'

Marco took the papers he had found in the senior sales \ manager's wallsafe and handed them to Chidenko. I 'They're bank statements,' Chidenko said.

'They're also evidence linking Vittore Dragotti to ; Wiseman and the virus,' Marco said.

'Show me,' Chidenko said, holding up the papers. 'These payments have been traced to Nikki Karos,' I^Marco said, pointing out the relevant entries on each of |die bank statements.

'And who's Nikki Karos?'

'An arms dealer with powerful connections in the fiddle East,' Paluzzi replied.

'So Vittore did some business with him,' Chidenko lid, hands outstretched. 'What does that prove?' 'The money was deposited in his private account,' irco stressed.

'A gift. It happens all the time in this business.' 'We think it was a payoff.'

'So arrest him,' Chidenko challenged. 'Then let's see jrhat a court will make of your "evidence".'

'No one's going to be arrested yet. AH we want to do i talk to him,' Paluzzi said. 'Fine, I'll have one of our lawyers come over.' 'No lawyers,' Paluzzi replied.

|;Chidenko's hand rested lightly on the receiver. 'You ainly believe in flouting the law, Major. First your men ak in here without a search warrant and now you want nterrogate one of my managers but refuse to allow him

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access to a lawyer. I know his rights, and that means having a lawyer present when you confront him with this flimsy evidence of yours.'

Paluzzi crossed to the desk. 'Get him a lawyer, but I promise you every national paper will carry a front-page story tomorrow morning linking a senior manager at Neo-Chem Industries to an arms dealer whose past deals involving Sarin and Tabun have left hundreds of thousands dead in the Gulf War. It won't look very good coming so soon after the breakin, will it?'

Chidenko sat back in his chair. 'Is Vittore here yet?'

'Not yet, but one of my men is waiting for him in his office.'

The telephone rang.

Chidenko grabbed the receiver, listened momentarily, then held it out towards Graham. 'It's for you.'

'Graham speaking.'

'Mike, it's Sabrina. Calvieri's got word from one of his contacts that Ubrino's been seen in Venice. We're going up there to check it out. I'll see you back at the hotel.'

'Okay. But Sabrina -- ' Graham struggled to find the words to express himself. Take every precaution,' he said finally in a gruff voice. 'I don't trust that bastard an inch.'

'I will. See you later. Bye.'

Graham replaced the receiver and almost immediately the telephone rang again.

Chidenko picked up the receiver again, his eyes darting around the room as he listened in silence. He put his hand over the mouthpiece. 'Vittore's here.'

'We're on our way,' Paluzzi said.

Chidenko passed on the message and had to restrain himself from slamming the handset back into the cradle. He stood up and brushed an imaginary fleck of dust from his jacket. 'Let's get this over with, shall we? Then I'm going to make sure you're kicked off the case.'

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'You're not coming with us, if that's what you think,' Paluzzi shot back.

'I've had about all I can take from you, Paluzzi -- '

'I don't like pulling rank, but you're forcing my hand,' Paluzzi cut in sharply. He took an envelope from his pocket and slapped it down on the desk. 'Read that.'

'What is it?' Chidenko demanded.

'Read it and you'll find out.'

Chidenko removed a sheet of paper from the envelope and read it. He looked up once, then sank slowly into his chair.

'There's a telephone number at the top of the page if you want to take the matter any further. If not, I've got work to do.'

Chidenko replaced the paper inside the envelope and handed it silently back to Paluzzi.

Graham followed Paluzzi into the corridor. 'What the hell's in the envelope?'

'A letter, signed by the Prime Minister, which, roughly translated, gives me carte blanche to use any methods I deem necessary to recover the vial. It also says that any complaints about my methods should be reported to him in person.'

'So why didn't you show it to Chidenko straight away? It would have saved us all a lot of trouble.'

'I don't like to tempt fate. That's why I only use it as \. a last resort.'

Graham stopped in the middle of the corridor. 'What do you mean, you don't like to tempt fate?'

'It's a forgery. The notepaper's genuine, we get that from a mole inside the Prime Minister's office. We write the text ourselves, depending on the nature of the assignment.'

'And you do it for every assignment?'

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I

'Every difficult assignment. And let's face it, they don't come much more difficult than this one. As I said, it's only used as a last resort.'

'Has anyone ever challenged its authenticity?'

'Not up to now. But I'm sure there will be a first time. That's when I'll start thinking about writing my memoirs.'

'I like it,' Graham muttered thoughtfully. 'I wonder how I can get hold of some White House stationery?'

Marco looked out from a doorway. 'Are you coming, sir?'

Paluzzi patted Graham on the shoulder. 'Come on, Mike.'

Dragotti was standing in front of his open wallsafe, checking through his personal papers, when Graham and Paluzzi entered the room.

'Looking for these?' Paluzzi asked, holding up the bank statements.

Dragotti looked round, momentarily startled by Paluzzi's use of English. He closed the safe and approached Paluzzi. 'Who are you?'

Paluzzi introduced himself and said that Graham was from the company's headquarters in New York, sent out to help with the investigation. Marco spoke softly to Paluzzi, then left the room, closing the door behind him.

'Where's Signore Chidenko?'

'Busy,' Paluzzi replied. 'Now sit down, we've got some questions to ask you.'

'I'm not answering any of your questions until I know why my wallsafe was opened last night. It's an outrage.'

'Call Chidenko, he knows what's going on.'

Dragotti picked up the receiver hesitantly and rang Chidenko's office. He turned away from them as he spoke softly into the mouthpiece.

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'What did Chidenko say?' Paluzzi asked once Dragotti had finished his conversation.

'He told me to cooperate with you. What do you want to know?'

'Why has Nikki Karos been paying eighty million lire into your account every month for the past four months?' Paluzzi demanded, dropping the bank statements on the desk in front of Dragotti. 'And why did you withdraw eighty per cent of the money in cash on the same day that each of the cheques was cleared?'

'We had a business deal,' Dragotti replied, fingering the nearest bank statement nervously. 'I should have known it would backfire on me. I told him to pay me in cash but he wouldn't hear of it. He insisted on payment by cheque.'

'Karos never deals in currency,' Paluzzi told Graham. 'It's an idiosyncrasy that's lost him a lot of business in the past.' He turned back to Dragotti. 'So you kept twenty per cent as a commission and paid the balance to Wiseman in cash?'

'Wiseman?' Dragotti replied in surprise. 'I had nothing to do with Wiseman.'

'Don't lie!' Paluzzi snapped.

'I'm not lying. Have you ever heard of phosgene?'

'Of course,' Paluzzi replied. 'It's a nerve gas made up from a mixture of chlorine and phosphorus.'

Dragotti nodded. 'Karos was put in touch with me because he needed large quantities of chlorine for one of his clients so that they could make phosgene themselves.'

'Who?' Graham demanded.

'He never told me. All I knew was that he had a source for phosphorus and he needed the chlorine to complete the deal. I have a reliable contact who could supply him with as much chlorine as he needed, at a knockdown price. That's what he paid me for.'

6?

There was a tap on the door and Marco entered. He spoke softly to Paluzzi, then took up a position by the door.

Paluzzi crossed to the desk, picked up the bank statements and pocketed them. 'It's over, Dragotti. Karos has confessed.'

'To what?' Dragotti asked apprehensively.

'To paying you to act as the middleman between Wiseman and himself.'

'That's ridiculous,' Dragotti retorted.

'We had him picked up earlier this morning. He held out for the first hour but he finally agreed to talk in exchange for a reduced sentence. And from what he's said about you, I doubt you'll get out of jail before you're sixty.'

'You're lying,' Dragotti said, a desperation already beginning to creep into his voice.

'We're prepared to offer you the same deal.' Paluzzi glanced at Marco. 'Read him his rights.'

Dragotti yanked open the middle drawer of his desk and pulled out an RF83 revolver, but when he looked up he found Paluzzi and Marco aiming their Berettas at him.

'Drop the gun,' Paluzzi ordered, his finger tightening on the trigger. 'Drop it!'

Dragotti's plan had backfired. He hadn't known that they would be armed. There was no escape, not now.

'Drop it,' Paluzzi repeated.

Then what?' Dragotti said in a hollow voice. 'Thirty years inside?'

'Karos hasn't confessed to anything. We haven't even arrested him. It was a trick to try and make you confess,' < Paluzzi told him.

'I don't believe you,' Dragotti said, shaking his headl slowly.

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'Put down the gun, Vittore, and we'll talk,' Paluzzi said.

Dragotti gave Paluzzi a half-smile, then pushed the barrel of the revolver against the roof of his mouth and pulled the trigger. Blood splattered across the window behind the desk and Dragotti slumped to the floor. Paluzzi hurried across to where he lay and felt for a pulse. There wasn't one. He looked up at Graham and Marco and shook his head, then, taking off his jacket, he placed it over Dragotti's mutilated face.

Chidenko and several of his managers burst into the office.

'What happened?' Chidenko demanded, staring at Dragotti's body.

'He shot himself,' Graham replied.

'This isn't some sort of sideshow!' Paluzzi shouted angrily. 'Go back to your offices.'

Chidenko persuaded his colleagues to leave, then crossed to where Dragotti lay and reached down to lift the jacket.

'You don't want to look,' Graham said, grabbing his wrist.

Chidenko jerked his hand free and lifted the cloth.

Stumbling backwards a few feet, he clasped his hand over

his mouth in a struggle to keep himself from vomiting.

I When he finally turned back to Graham his face was pale.

'I never realized a handgun could cause so much damage.'

'It can if it's loaded with .38 slugs.'

Marco returned to the office. 'The ambulance is on its sway.'

'What now?' Graham asked Paluzzi.

Til get hold of the local carabinieri. If we can hand aver the suicide to them without too many hitches we bould be in Corfu by mid-afternoon.'

'What's in Corfu?'

'Not what. Who. Nikki Karos.'

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FOUR

Mary Robson had always dreamed of becoming a professional dancer ever since she was eight years old. She took up ballet at school but her real love was disco dancing and when, at the age of seventeen, she won a national competition in her home town of Newcastle a theatrical agent offered her a small part in a leading West End musical. Her parents refused to give their consent, arguing that they wanted her to finish her education first. Six months later she ran away to London, certain she would land a part in another West End show, but when she got there she found that she was just one of hundreds, many of whom were better dancers. She took a job in a Soho strip club to make ends meet and it was there that she met Wendell Johnson, a West Indian with a long criminal record. Three months after moving in with him she discovered she was pregnant. She was only nineteen when their son, Bernard, was born. The dream was over.

She was now twenty-two years old, overweight and unemployed. Wendell was in prison, where he had already served ten months of a seven-year sentence for burglary. She would wait for him. Her parents couldn't understand how she could love a man like him. Neither could they understand that she wanted her son to have a father, even if he was a criminal. Not that she saw much of them anyway. She would bring up her son in her own way and to hell with what anyone else thought. And that included her parents.

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She finished drying the dishes then stood looking out ; of the window over the sink at the row of bleak terraced houses on the opposite side of the street. It was a mirror image of all the streets in the neighbourhood. She hated {Brixton: it was so depressing. Wendell liked it, because Jail his friends were there. She had tried to persuade him to put his name down for a council house in Streatham >but he had always refused to budge on the issue. They would stay in Brixton.

A police car pulled up in front of the house. Inside twere two policemen. The driver got out of the car and !approached the front door. Mary discarded her apron and I hurried into the hallway. The doorbell rang. Her mind graced as she fumbled to unlock the door. It had to be |about Wendell. She pulled open the door, her eyes wide Iwith anxiety.

'Are you Miss Mary Robson?' the policeman asked. 'Yes,' she stammered. 'Something's happened to fWendeli, hasn't it?'

The policeman nodded. 'He was stabbed in a fight at lithe prison. Don't worry though, he'll be all right.' 'Where is he now?'

'He's been taken to the Greenwich District Hospital.' 'Can I see him?'

'That's why we're here,' the policeman replied with a eassuring smile. :;, 'I won't be a minute, I just have to get my son.'

He waited until she was out of sight then looked back pt the police car and nodded to his colleague.

The man in the passenger seat removed his peaked cap and raked his fingers through his thick black hair. The ack moustache gave a sinister edge to his youthful feaares. Even so he looked nearer twenty-five than his real jlge of thirty-seven. His name was Victor Young.