"Commerce? What in the hell are they doing in Rome?"
"That's the first question we asked. We found out they were chartered by Congress to help U.S. businesses currently operating in Europe, and to give technical assistance to East European countries with emerging market-based economies."
Jake rubbed the thick black stubble on his face. "I can understand the first part. American businesses are going to be at a disadvantage when the European Economic Community gets its shit together. The U.S. companies need to get their butts in gear if they plan on staying competitive. But why would they want to push to help the East European countries?"
"Kurt and I have been thinking about that. We think that the U.S. government may be looking at those countries as a cheaper labor force and an eventual market for goods. That is once they get their economies straightened out."
Jake placed his hands over the warm radiator. "That makes sense. But what did the pilot have to do with the Commerce Department?"
"That's the problem. We think we have a rogue in the department. Kurt followed Jason Dalton, the second in charge of the Rome office, to Trieste last night. Dalton dropped off something with at least two guys aboard a fishing boat. We think that Dalton was the contact for the pilot and his men and is transferring the chips to some other country."
"I see. If he made the drop here in Rome then perhaps he would be selling to a company in Italy. But he's transferring in Trieste, which is more like a Slovenian port than Italian."
"Exactly! I see your time in the private sector hasn't dulled your reasoning," Toni said.
"Ha…Ha." A shiver came over Jake again. This time he was afraid he shook visibly. He had to sleep. But more than that, he had to digest the essence of this case. It had become an enigma; two fold from what he had just left in Germany. His case there wasn't complete, yet he had this new case to work as well. It was comforting to have Toni here, and Herb would keep things moving in Germany while he was away. But how did they relate to one another, or were they even related? He'd need sleep to determine that.
"What are you thinking, Jake?"
"I'm thinking if I don't get some sleep I'm going to drop."
"The sofa is yours," she said stroking her arm slowly toward the makeshift bed.
He didn't need any further convincing. He swaggered over, plopped down on the sofa, and curled up his legs to fit on the short couch.
In a few minutes, Toni came over to the sofa and looked at Jake. She unhooked his gun from the shoulder holster and set it on the coffee table. Then she covered him with the blanket and straightened it over his body. She sat down in the chair next to the sofa and watched him sleep.
CHAPTER 27
The pale morning sun seeped through the lead glass outer windows of the great foyer picture window casting elongated diamonds across the burgundy Persian rug.
Isaac Lebovitz hesitated briefly at a small wooden table to smell a grand bouquet of tiny red roses. It was but a small example of what would come, he thought. The beauty and fragrance of a San Remo villa would embrace him with pleasure, and bring tears to his eyes each and every morning. Tears of joy, not despair.
With the creak of the stairway behind him, Isaac turned. Vitaly Urbadic, his most trusted agent, made his way down the rest of the stairs slowly, and stopped to look out to the overgrown front garden. His tired, wrinkled eyes revealed the reality of his forty years, and the long nights and constant travel. Yet, his muscular chest bulged his tight black shirt almost as it had when he was an eighteen-year old Olympic hopeful. Only a knee injury had stopped his running career. And his twenty years with Hungarian Intelligence had kept him out of the factories.
"It's a jungle out there," Vitaly quipped.
Isaac moved over and opened the door to his large study. "I know you must be tired from the long trip last night," he said. "But I have to hear what you've learned."
Vitaly stretched his arms high above his head and yawned. "All right. But I thought we could at least make time for coffee."
"The maid will take care of that. Come, have a seat. You may be young, but time will eventually catch up to you as it has me. And then watch out. You won't be able to run around the continent from Germany to Italy and back to Croatia without a great deal of discomfort."
"The discomfort has already arrived, Isaac," he said.
"Greater discomfort than fatigue."
Vitaly sat in the chair opposite Isaac's desk.
"Did you get enough sleep?" Isaac asked.
"I guess."
Isaac tapped the side of his forehead with his index finger in time with the clock on his desk. "What did you find out?" he asked.
Vitaly shifted in his chair. "Dalton is a shrewd man."
"Besides that," Isaac said, becoming more impatient.
"He signed the contract. I countersigned to the right of your signature as you requested. He had another guy with him. I think an attorney. He had that distinguished and arrogant air to him, yet shifty eyes. His investors were eager to close the deal, so we can go forward with the plan."
"Was the money transferred?" Isaac asked directly, realizing his question was more like an accusation.
Vitaly hesitated. "Yes. In the Swiss account."
"Excellent! Things are moving ahead even faster than expected. I don't want to wait for Budapest to get off its ass. I could die of old age before that happens."
"What other choice do we have?" Vitaly asked.
Isaac rose from his chair and walked over to the window overlooking the overgrown side garden that scaled the side of the high brick outer wall. The wall had once kept the poor from peering inward, and the gentry from seeing those less fortunate. Perhaps he could move forward faster, he thought. The money was in place. The technology acquired. Why not? He turned toward Vitaly.
"We have another choice, Vitaly," he said smiling. "We can shift our first project to Germany. I know…I know, that was supposed to come later. But Germany is moving much faster than Hungary. Rudolf said his company would be ready in six months. That would give his engineers plenty of time to convert the production line."
"But…will Rudolf's workers stay?"
Isaac sat down once again and tapped his forehead. "Yes," he said softly. "They must. They are loyal to Rudolf. He said that he has only lost a few workers to the West. Other companies have lost up to fifty percent. Production has nearly come to a standstill some places. We could start training Rudolf's workers now, and in a few months, be ready for full production. Rudolf said six months not knowing that the money would be available this soon. I'm sure that he could push for an earlier production date."
"But what about marketing?" Vitaly asked.
"Dalton's strategy will help us out there as well. We should be able to keep labor and production costs down. We'll pump our products out to Western Europe and America at a reasonable price and great profit for us. Then, we'll be established to exploit Eastern Europe also."
Vitaly smiled broadly. "It sounds like we can't fail."
"We can't fail!" Isaac emphasized. "The chips Dalton has given us are the fastest available. Combine those with the information we are obtaining in Germany, and we'll have the most advanced product on the market at the cheapest price. They'll sell like ice cream on a hot day."
Without knocking, the maid came in with coffee and an assortment of bread, cheese and meats. She nodded to Isaac, and slowly limped out without saying a word.
Isaac motioned for Vitaly to help himself, and then got up to leave the room. "I'll be back in a minute."
Out in the foyer, the sun had intensified allowing the visibility of dust particles in its beams. Isaac met a tall man in a dark black suit. The man's eyes stared coldly at Isaac without blinking. His cratered face and steel jaw looked like a Greek statue that had succumbed to acid rain. His large hands were thick and strong. He still had his black felt hat on.