"So, how long have you worked Italy?" Kurt asked.
"Actually, I work most of Europe," Toni said. "But my specialty is Italy for obvious reasons. You might say I prefer the beaches and the sun of the Riviera over the Alps and the lowlands. An assignment to England would really piss me off. How about you?"
"I'm from Wisconsin," Kurt said. "So trees and lakes are just fine with me. To tell you the truth, I've never been to England, but I probably wouldn't like it either."
Kurt's NIS boss, Captain James Murphy, had given him the subjects that he was to discuss at first-from Columbus to a mutual disdain for England. After that he was on his own.
"So, what do ya know, kid?" Toni asked.
Well for one thing, Kurt thought, I'm twenty-five…hardly a kid. Besides, you look only about thirty yourself. "First of all, who do you work for?" Kurt asked.
"Same as you. Murphy," she said. "You might say I'm on loan to the Navy-kind of a designated hitter."
"But, who do you normally work for?" Kurt probed.
"Okay, kid, I guess you have a right to know a little more," Toni said. "I'm CIA."
"I see. Has Murphy briefed you on how much we know?" Kurt asked.
"Yes. In fact I flew to Washington to discuss it with him," Toni said. "I want to assure you that you're the only person aboard the Roosevelt who knows what's going on. We just couldn't trust the onboard NIS team. We don't know who knows what, so we didn't want you ending up as shark-bait half way across the Atlantic."
"Well, I sure as hell appreciate that," Kurt said.
"So, what have you found out, kid?" Toni asked again.
"I'm sure Petty Officer First Class Shelby Taylor is involved," Kurt said. "He's been ordering parts and failing to document anything. He's misplaced technical manuals for days only to have them show up later. I think he's the lowest man on the rung though-he doesn't have the brains to be anything more."
"What's missing?" Toni asked.
"Computer components mostly, but from some of our newest avionics packages with some pretty hot chips," Kurt said. "The Europeans don't even have this technology."
He walked beside her down a sidewalk toward a garden with palm trees and ivy-lined walls. Flowers would have been everywhere in the summer.
"Shit! That's what we were afraid of," Toni said. "What's he doing with it?"
"I'm pretty sure he's loading it somewhere on one of our A-7s," Kurt said. "Then the pilot diverts from the carrier to shore and downloads the stuff at that time."
"There's a pilot involved too?" Toni asked. "Who is it, kid?"
"He's a lieutenant in the squadron. Named Budd…Stephen Budd. The other pilots have nicknamed him Wiseguy." Kurt said. "You know Budweiser."
"Cute. Why do you suspect him?"
"I've gone over his flight records. He diverts his aircraft a lot. In fact, he's done it twice already on this cruise."
"But…"
"Wait! That's not all. Last night he bingoed to Pisa," Kurt added.
"But are you sure that's how the stuff is getting off the ship?" Toni asked. "I mean I trust you, but are you sure?"
Kurt thought for a minute. Christ, what did this woman want, a fuckin' signed confession? "No, I'm not positive. But I think we should check into it further," Kurt said. "Lt. Budd is stuck in Pisa for at least five days, since we don't leave Genoa until Wednesday, and flight ops won't commence until probably Thursday."
"Wait a minute, kid. What's this we shit?" Toni asked. "I work Italy alone."
"Well, I've got a four-day pass, and you need me," Kurt said. "I could check out the A-7 to see if anything is really wrong with it, before someone has a chance to mess with it."
Toni considered that. "So, kid…you ever see Pisa on a Saturday night?"
"No."
"Let's go."
CHAPTER 7
Jake pulled into the Kaiser driveway, where red bricks were lined with small pines and yews. The grass was a luscious green. The white stucco house was accented by large exposed swatches of dark brown timber. The Kaiser's neighborhood reminded Jake of some of Portland's southern suburbs.
Gazing at the house, Jake remembered the first time he met the Kaisers. He had just resigned his commission in the Air Force and had remained in Germany for an extended vacation. He was still trying to decide who to work for.
A number of stateside companies had offered him employment due to his security clearance and military knowledge, but none of them could offer him overseas locations. And he wasn't ready to leave just yet. Then the CIA offered him a job that included stationing in Germany, but also working in Italy and other European countries. They wanted him mostly for his computer skills.
Jake jumped at the opportunity and took ninety days to travel Europe before going through his CIA training. On one of his travels, Jake was waiting for a train late one evening in Frankfurt when three Skinheads began harassing a young man and woman. The train station dock was isolated and dark, and Jake was the only person who could help. Jake was going to let the man deal with them, but then the Skinheads pulled knives. The Skinheads didn't even notice Jake walking up behind them. Jake took one guy out with a kidney punch, and another with a roundhouse kick to the jaw. The third decided to run.
Walter and Edeltrud Kaiser had been extremely grateful to Jake. They had asked him to dinner at their home in Wiesbaden, and he had accepted. His trip to Hamburg had to wait a day, but it was a small price to pay for a friendship that was nurtured over the years while Jake worked in Germany.
Edeltrud answered the door with a puzzled look on her face. She obviously recognized him, but he had changed, with his hair longer.
"Jake?" She grabbed his hand, pulled him inside the house, and gave him a big hug. "What are you doing here?"
"Hey, it sounds like you're not glad to see me?" Jake said. "I'm here on business, but I thought I'd mix a little pleasure in with my visit-that is if Walt isn't home."
"Jake, you haven't changed. Still have that dirty mind." She walked into the living room and offered Jake a chair. "Walter," she yelled upstairs. "Come see who's here."
Walter came down the marble staircase still in his white socks and buttoning his black stone-washed jeans. He was nearly as shocked as Edeltrud, but then Jake always had a penchant for showing up unexpectedly.
"Jake, I thought you went back to America for good," he said, his strong voice resonating down the stark stairs.
"Well, I thought I did too. Remember the last time I wrote telling you I had started my own business?"
"Ja, Ja," Walter nodded.
"Well a company in Portland hired me to find one of its employees over here."
"I'll get you men a beer so you can talk," Edeltrud said.
Jake watched her leave the room. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her straight blonde hair flowed over broad shoulders as her long tight legs propelled her like a ballerina.
"You're a lucky guy, Walt," Jake said. "You have a good job, a nice house, a beautiful wife and child…you should be very happy."
"I am a lucky guy, Jake. In fact, I have a new job. I've been moved up into the investigative branch. No more drunk drivers."
That had been the worst of Walt's Polizei duties.
"Are you with the Federal Department here?" Jake asked.
"No," he said. "Criminal Investigations."
Jake smiled. "Good. Maybe you can help me then."
"I'll try."
Gunter's Mercedes had no problem keeping up with Jake's VW Passat. He sat two blocks from the Kaiser house playing the waiting game-waiting for Jake to make his next move, and waiting for his contact to call him back on his cellular phone. When it did finally buzz, Mozart's concerto came to an abrupt squelch, and Gunter listened carefully and said only "Danke." The soft-voiced woman told Gunter who lived in the white stucco house. He stroked the long hair on his dog Adolph and smiled.