In a few seconds, the doctor and the large nurse came barging through the door and put an end to the questioning.
Herb walked back toward the waiting room. Two uniformed Polizei were now positioned outside the door. Herb didn't want to be questioned at this time on what his involvement was in the case. Nor did he care to explain how he gained access to Walt's room. Instead, he changed directions and departed the hospital by way of the stairs.
Herb slammed his office door behind him. The outside hall probably reverberated from the percussion, but on Sunday nobody was there to turn their heads in disgust or complain out loud. Herb sat down hard in his swivel chair and stared at his cluttered desk. "Now what, Herbert?" he said softly to himself.
He opened the lower right desk drawer and withdrew a fresh liter of schnapps. Gently, he broke the seal with a twist and set the bottle down on the desk in front of him. The schnapps rocked back and forth against the side of the glass as a stone would do to water when dropped in a clear mountain pool. He grabbed the bottle and poured a shot glass nearly full. Then he hesitated. Jake was depending on him to keep the investigation going strong in Germany, and he had failed miserably. Jake's good friend lay battered in the hospital, and Gunter could now know where Jake was and what he was up to in Italy. The answers remaining couldn't be found in the bottle, he realized.
Slowly, Herb picked up the shot glass and started pouring it back into the bottle. Most made it into the bottle, but in the end, his desk was splotched. "Shit!" After capping the bottle and returning it to the drawer, he cleaned the mess with paper towels.
Herb had to know why Gunter and his men were so willing to waste human lives, or at least snub them from dignity as he had with Walter Kaiser. What would Jake do? Herb closed his eyes and rubbed his face with both hands. He felt like weeping as Frau Kaiser had. But tears, like schnapps, rarely found solace in Herb's mind. Only the schnapps flowed freely regardless.
Herb pressed his fingers against his temples as if trying to squeeze an answer from his memory. He and Jake had planned for nearly every contingency. If Jake were to come up missing, Herb was to quickly turn his information over to the CIA and German Intelligence. Jake would do the same for Herb.
He was beginning to think that it was time to turn the case over to the Intelligence Community anyway. Why should he have to put up with Gunter and his men? But, of course, that was part of the problem. Gunter had so many friends in German Intelligence that he didn't know who to turn the case over to. Who could he trust? At least now he knew that he could trust himself and Jake…and Kaiser if he survived. This wasn't a case of national security, but more of national direction, he thought. It was becoming obvious that corporations would now do most anything to survive and prosper. The merger of the European Economic Community into one market made that even more important, he thought. So, German Intelligence would have to wait. This was a commercial and economic case, he convinced himself. German Customs would work this one until the end…with the help of one American.
He rose from his chair and went to the window overlooking the Rhine River. The current flowed smoothly to the north. It had always been a deceiving flow to Herb. The water appeared to be stagnant, but in reality was strong and swift. Perhaps this case had been deceiving as well. It had appeared to be a simple case of customs violation. The transfer of technology that was not allowed by the United States, Germany, or NATO allies. But now murder, kidnapping and terrorism had moved the case forward as dangerously as the swift Rhine.
Herb returned to his desk and opened the top drawer. He looked carefully at the brown leather holster that contained the Walther 9mm automatic that was issued to him, but rarely used. He took off his jacket, wrapped the shoulder harness into place, and clipped the pistol under his left arm. Slowly, he put his jacket back on. Jake was counting on him, and now he'd have to prove that he could handle Gunter. Maybe not only for Jake, but for himself.
CHAPTER 30
A warm breeze out of North Africa streaked the temperature upward and gave the Romans hope for a short winter. The Monday streets were teamed with cars with windows down, and sidewalks with pedestrians carrying their coats over their shoulders.
Toni Contardo got out of the Fiat cab, paid the man, and walked swiftly toward a restaurant less than a block from the Colosseum. She noticed that the tables that were normally reserved for the warmer months had been pulled out on short notice to accommodate the quickly increasing noon crowd.
She didn't see her lunch date, so she went inside. After taking off her sunglasses, she quickly scanned the small room to the left and the alcove to the right. Nothing. Then back in the corner she saw a large hand waving above the crowd. Taking careful steps around the crowded tables, she finally reached the small table with two chairs against the back wall.
Bruno Gallano rose from his chair to greet her. He kissed her on both cheeks and they sat down. She looked closely at his face and read the bags under his eyes. They said he had lost far too much sleep. Probably on the Genoa bombing.
"You look fantastic, Toni," Bruno said, letting his tired eyes shift up and down Toni's body.
She hesitated. "Thanks. You look tired."
He shook his head and then took a slow sip of Chianti. "Yes, I guess I do," he said softly. "I have a lot of pressure on this case I'm working. It just doesn't make any sense. I think I've come up with a breakthrough, and then I run into a brick wall and have to backtrack." He shook his head again.
Toni looked at the full glass of Chianti in front of her that Bruno must have ordered for her. She took a long sip. Longer than normal. "I might be able to help you out."
Bruno raised his eyebrows. "How?"
"First of all, I need you to tell me what you've found out so far," she said, almost demanding.
Bruno rubbed the day old stubble on his face. "That's the strangest part of this whole case. The Americans just picked up anchor and proceeded on their schedule as if nothing happened. I expected them to leave a team of investigators behind to hound me day and night until I found out who killed their four sailors. Instead, they only asked for updates through diplomatic channels. My boss here in Rome has also shown no real concern for the case. He simply tells me from time to time to just put the blame on the Red Brigade and call it quits. But I don't see that as the solution."
"What do you think?" Toni asked, and then took another sip of wine. She knew now that the pressure Bruno felt was self-imposed.
"I don't think the Red Brigade had a thing to do with the bombing," Bruno started. "Not that they didn't have a good reason. But they usually go after the higher ranking military leaders."
Toni nodded her head in agreement. "The Red Brigade was not involved," she said smiling.
"How do you…never mind. I'm sure you have your sources."
"A fledgling member, not one of the chartered few, decided to call in responsibility. So, you can direct your efforts elsewhere," she said.
He picked up his glass, swirled the last of his wine around in circles, and then gulped the rest down. He poured himself another glass, and stared directly at Toni. "It was an American," he whispered.
Toni's eyes widened. "An American? How do you know?"
"I have an eye witness who even helped the man with the bombing. A child, actually." He smiled and drank some more wine.
"Was he another sailor? I mean, what was the possible motive?" she asked, knowing that he couldn't know the answer or he wouldn't be here with her.
"I was hoping you'd help me with that, Toni."