Authors: Luca Pesaro
‘67A2396J.’ Walker stared at his feet, fighting to keep still.
‘And the password?’
‘31Sarah6.’ The day and age at which his little sister had died. He wasn’t gonna forget that.
Ghizzoni typed something, then frowned and looked back up. ‘This is not matching.’
‘What?’ Walker’s heart sank, and he felt sweat breaking out on his forehead.
‘I think there’s a problem…’
Walker half-stood, ready to bolt. The door was only a few steps away, then it would take about fifteen seconds to get back down to the exit, he guessed. If they didn’t seal it shut in the meantime. He thought he heard a siren from somewhere, coming closer.
Ghizzoni banged his mouse, then grinned. ‘Ah, there we go. The system was trying to crash.’ He flashed Walker a grin. ‘So, how much are you going to need today, sir?’
When Walker returned to the house Luigi was already back and busy typing something on his computer. Layla sat on the sofa, a steaming mug in her hands, still wrapped up in the old quilt. They both turned to him at once, the Italian asking, ‘Did you get the cash?’
‘Yes, almost no drama at all. I do love Swiss banks.’
‘I found JS’s home number, but he’s not answering.’
Walker sat down, dropping a heavy rucksack on the floor, and groaned. ‘Great. Anything out of London?’
‘Not yet.’ Layla sipped from her cup. ‘I’ve set a news alert for Dorfmann, so we should know as soon as it hits.’
Walker nodded and opened his backpack, pulling out several thick wads of two-hundred Euro banknotes to place them on the coffee table. Layla’s eyes widened and she sat up straighter. ‘Jesus, how much have you got in there?’
‘Three hundred grand.’
‘That should last you a while,’ deadpanned Luigi.
‘You never know.’
Layla shuffled closer, taking one of the cash piles and weighing it. ‘How does it feel to be rich?’
‘Rich is something else, and I’m not nearly as wealthy as I was going to get.’ Walker breathed out, then went on. ‘It doesn’t matter, money is only a number on a computer screen, in the end.’
Layla threw the banknotes back on the table. ‘Not where I come from,’ she said as she lay back down. ‘And only a rich man would say that.’
Walker shrugged and lit a cigarette. The woman could be seriously annoying. He inhaled and stared out of the window, silent. Finally Luigi’s laptop beeped twice, breaking the tension. ‘
Vediamo
,’ he sighed gratefully.
The Italian came to sit between them as a BBC news website opened on his screen. Down on the left, one of the articles started with a photograph of Dorfmann’s building. The caption read: ‘Investment banker found murdered at home.’ The piece didn’t go into much detail, and there was no mention of drugs or anything else, just a brief biography of DM at the end.
‘DM’s brother will have been notified already.’ Layla’s tone was sombre. ‘They are not allowed to publish before the next-of-kin is informed.’
Walker nodded. ‘Let’s try to call him again.’ He dialled on his new phone but the line rang for a while without answer before cutting off.
Luigi closed the computer, stood up and poured drinks for everyone. ‘Still convinced about what you’ll do after meeting the Colonel?’
‘Yes – you know we can’t stay here. If JS doesn’t have me arrested, we’ll hide somewhere in Italy.’
Layla took her drink from the broker’s hands. ‘Why Italy?’
‘I’ve spoken about this with Luigi. First of all, it’s still a cash-based economy, especially now that the country is in a kind of Depression. You can do just about anything without a credit card, as long as you have money. Also, I’ll be able to pass for a local and…’
‘And since your first stop will be Sardinia,’ Luigi interrupted, ‘I can get a lot of stuff sorted out. It’s not like the Swiss, with their million rules – they are my people, they understand. My little brother, Paolo, he… Let’s say he’s got connections. Getting you a trustworthy doctor will be easy, and we might even be able to sort out a new passport for Scott.’
Layla turned to Walker. ‘Glad to be involved with the planning.’
‘It’s just an idea. Besides, I could be in jail in a few hours.’
‘No, it’s fine. But I’m not coming.’
‘What?’
‘You heard me. I’ve got
my own
plan.’
Walker stood and opened a window, letting some fresh evening air into the room. He breathed out some smoke and turned to her. ‘I hope this plan doesn’t involve your arm dropping off. Do you have some hidden surgeons lying around?’
‘No, but I’ll sort something out.’
‘I’m sure you will.’ He exhaled and looked at Luigi, who shrugged and opened his arms, refusing to be drawn into the discussion. ‘Look, let’s talk about this in the morning, okay?’
‘No, let’s not…’
Walker’s new phone rang and they all stared at it, surprised. He picked the handset up gingerly and answered, ‘Hello?’
‘Who’s this?’ The voice on the other side spoke with a strong Swiss-German accent.
‘Colonel! It’s Scott Walker. I’m so sorry about your brother…’
‘Scott,’ JS interrupted him. ‘I hoped you might call. Do you…’ His voice broke for a second, as he tried to stifle a sob. ‘Do you know anything more about DM?’
‘I do, but I need to see you, to talk.’ He waited for a reply, tense.
‘I’m flying to London to identify the body tomorrow morning.’
‘I’m not in the UK, but in Canton Ticino. What about tonight, where are you?’
JS went silent for a while, absorbing the information. In the end he answered, ‘Maybe. Can… can you be in Altdorf around midnight? It’s about halfway to Ticino.’
‘Absolutely.’
‘There’s a small bar just outside town called “The Cow”, and they’re open all night. I’ll meet you there.’
‘That’s great.’ Walker sat there, his heart-rate calming down. ‘Thank you…’
The line dropped.
Walker looked at Layla and Luigi and half-smiled. ‘I’m seeing him later in a place called Altdorf.’
The Italian nodded. ‘I’ve heard of it – it’s a lot closer than Zurich.’
‘How did he sound?’
‘Shattered. He wants to know about DM.’
‘Will he turn you in?’ Layla sat up on the couch, studying him.
Walker considered the question. He didn’t really have a clue. ‘It’s possible. I don’t know him that well, and he’s an army guy. But I don’t really have a choice, do I?’
‘Maybe…’
‘No.’ Walker tried to sound more confident than he felt. ‘If he knows something about Deep – I have to risk it. There’s no other way.’
‘I should come with you, just in case.’ Layla grimaced and stood up, unsteadily.
‘It’s not…’
She tried to step forward but her legs crumpled and she crashed to the floor, her head barely missing the coffee table. Walker reacted first, kneeling next to the prone body and checking her pulse just as her eyes fluttered open. ‘She’s burning up, Luigi.’
‘I’ll check if we have something. Help her to the guest bedroom.’
Walker carried the semi-conscious Layla to bed and slid her under the covers, propping up her head. He was inspecting the wound, which seemed to have reopened, when Luigi arrived with a touch thermometer. The fever was very high and she moaned softly as they redressed the cut on her arm before giving her more antibiotics and leaving her to rest.
Back in the living room, Walker lit another Marlboro and finished his drink, thinking hard. ‘This isn’t good,’ he sighed finally. ‘How long is the drive to Altdorf?’
‘Less than two hours, I’d guess. I’ll come with you.’
‘No way, mate. You’re risking enough as it is, and someone needs to stay with Layla.’
Luigi sipped his Grand Marnier. ‘You’re probably right. Take my car, though. I can always say you stole it. Your piece of junk shouldn’t get out of my garage for a while.’ He lit a cigarette himself, and coughed.
‘I thought you’d quit.’
‘I have, but I don’t really care right now.’ He pointed towards Layla’s bedroom. ‘Quite something, that lady.’
‘Yes. She really is something.’
But what, exactly?
JS
Luigi’s Range Rover devoured the road and Walker reached The Cow almost half –an hour early. He left the car in a deserted parking lot near an industrial compound and studied the small bar from the shadows below a broken street-lamp. It looked like a trucker’s stop, with three semi-articulated monsters parked near the dingy building. There were no police cars, for the moment at least. A couple of letters on the yellow sign flickered in and out of life and he approached the entrance.
The place was even smaller inside, just a dozen round tables and a low bar nestled along one of the walls. Walker ordered a vodka and tonic to relax and keep awake, and sat down in a corner opposite the exit. The barman was a thin man in his sixties and a pair of burly drivers sat nursing beers on the other side of the room, talking quietly.
Walker sipped at the drink and lay back in his chair, exhausted. His body felt leaden from lack of sleep, and the couple of hours of rest he had snatched at Luigi’s before the drive had only seemed to remind him of how battered he felt. He wondered how Layla was doing; she hadn’t woken since they had put her to bed, though her temperature had dropped a little by the time he left. She obviously needed a doctor, and soon.
His mind drifted back to DM’s tortured body and he almost broke down, exhaustion and sadness threatening to overwhelm him. He had vowed to make whoever had killed DM pay, but he wasn’t sure he could get out of it alive himself. He shook his head trying to clear it and was about to go out for a cigarette when the door opened and JS walked in, scanning the shadowy room.
The Colonel carried a military backpack and was wearing a full uniform, several medals glinting on his chest. He saw Walker and nodded, then asked the barman for a coffee and headed to the table. Walker noticed his eyes were red-rimmed, a hint of stubble on his cheek. He looked very much like his brother, just taller and a lot thicker, but with the same nose and high cheekbones. Walker stood up to offer his hand and JS grabbed it, shaking it firmly.
‘Colonel, I’m so sorry.’
‘Why are you in Switzerland? What are you doing here?’ JS’s voice had a cold edge as he sat down.
Walker leaned forward, the speech he had practised suddenly forgotten. ‘I had to run. Someone is trying to… frame me. For DM’s murder.’
‘Frame you? Who?’
‘I don’t know. Not yet.’
‘Did you have anything to do with it, Scott?’ The Colonel half-stood, glaring at him. Walker could feel the rage and anger radiating from him.
‘No, I swear. Please, JS – he was my best friend.’
JS kept staring at him. He was perfectly still, his hands a few centimetres apart on the table. ‘Keep talking.’
Walker exhaled, struggling to calm down and gather his thoughts. The Colonel had looked about to hit him. ‘Whoever did it – they took your brother’s computer. They were after DeepShare, and that’s why they hurt him. I think DM tried to resist; you know how important Omega was to him.’
‘Too important, I often thought.’ His voice dropped lower, the anger even more apparent. ‘Was it an obsession with you, too?’
Walker fumbled with his cigarettes, trying to gain some time. ‘Do you mind if we step outside?’ He wanted to be nearer the car, where he might be able to get away if things turned sour.
‘We’re not going anywhere, Scott. Not until you’ve explained yourself.’
JS was too smart to pull off something like that. Walker slumped back, his cigarettes forgotten. ‘I didn’t care that much about Omega,’ he lied. ‘It was DM’s dream, not mine. You know he had great plans for it, something much bigger than Dorfmann, or money.’
‘Maybe
you
changed your mind.’
Walker sighed. He looked around the bar and noticed that one of the truckers was glancing at them. He lowered his voice. ‘Please. I only helped him because I was intrigued. DM must have told you I was sick of trading and banks, that I was even thinking of getting out.’
The Colonel nodded slowly, the tension in his eyes relaxing a little. ‘Yes. He spoke a lot about you, when he wasn’t going on about that damn machine.’
‘We were basically done, JS. That’s why he was pushing himself so hard…’ Walker’s voice caught, and he sipped the vodka and tonic.
‘What about the hard drugs the police told me about? Is it a lie as well?’
‘Of course. They were planted.’
A pause. ‘Really?’
Walker wondered if he could hear relief in the man’s voice. He finished his drink and rushed through the story of the last two days – what he thought had happened, and why, trying not to leave
anything out. JS listened in silence, never interrupting him, his eyes narrowing again as he heard some of what had been done to DM. When Walker had finished the Colonel shook his head and shuffled to the bar, returning with a tall whiskey glass. He swallowed half of it and shuddered, his hands going up to his face and staying there, for a long time. In the end his hands dropped back to the table, and he exhaled and looked away.
‘I didn’t believe him,’ he whispered.
‘What?’
‘For the last few weeks DM had been telling me that someone was after him, that he was afraid.’
‘Did he say who?’ Walker sat forward, relief and tiredness almost overwhelming him.
‘He thought it was that investment bank, Frankel Schwartz. I said he was doing too many drugs.’
‘That’s what I told him, too.’ Walker choked, struggled to concentrate.
‘He… he’s always been a little paranoid, and I…’ The Colonel breathed out and wiped his eyes. ‘I wasn’t there for him.’
‘You can’t blame yourself. What happened is madness – out of this world. But I’m going to try and make sure that whoever did this will pay. Did DM tell you anything else?’
‘I know he trusted you,’ he said sadly. ‘He always said you were our lost third brother, somehow.’
‘Do
you
believe me?’
‘I guess… Yes, I do, now.’ JS took another sip of his whiskey and continued. ‘DM said he would find proof and show me. He was going to use DeepShare against them. Do you have any idea what that means?’
‘Maybe. But I can’t get into the program.’ Walker paused, steeling himself before asking the question that could shape his fate. ‘The Omega servers are hidden, and your brother made it too secure. Do you know where the access codes are?’