Payne smiled with pride. ‘My dad used to talk about that stuff all the time. Salk’s discovery actually happened while my father was a student at Pitt. He used to tell me stories about all the great scientific minds that worked in Pittsburgh during that era.’
Sahlberg nodded. ‘It truly was an amazing time to be a scientist. In fact, that was one of the main reasons that I was willing to move to Pittsburgh from Sweden — to work with and learn from many of the pioneers in their fields. It changed my life for ever.’
The smile on Payne’s face lingered for a few more seconds before it began to fade as he shifted his focus from warm memories of his father to the violence of that afternoon. Stories about Jonas Salk and the golden era of research were entertaining, and yet Payne was smart enough to realize that the gunmen weren’t after Sahlberg because of the polio vaccine.
They were after him for something current.
He looked Sahlberg squarely in the eyes. ‘I’m going to ask you this one more time, and your answer needs to be clear and concise. No ramp-up. No side stories. The point, and only the point. Am I understood?’
‘You are,’ Sahlberg answered.
‘Good. Now tell me, what exactly were you working on before your retirement?’
‘I wanted to know the limits of perpetual cell lines — specifically, what is the connection between unchecked cell division and immunity.’
‘And how could that research be used?’
Sahlberg raised his palms. ‘I suppose it could have implications in several fields, but the science is still decades away. Certainly not in my lifetime. Why?’
‘I think someone out there is a fan of your work.’
22
After finishing their meal, Payne and Jones tried to piece together the details of Sahlberg’s attempted abduction.
Payne started the questioning. ‘Since we don’t know why the gunmen came after you, let’s concentrate on the timing of things. Why now? What prompted them to act today?’
‘It doesn’t have to be specific to your work,’ Jones added. ‘It could relate to any one of the people you’re connected to. Any new developments that caught your eye?’
Sahlberg thought back to his morning routine and the articles he had read online. ‘There was a troubling event in Sweden last night. A laboratory in Stockholm was destroyed. The newspapers are reporting it as a deliberate act that targeted the scientists who worked there.’
‘Did you know any of the victims?’ Jones asked.
‘Maybe, maybe not. No names were listed in the paper.’
‘But it is a possibility.’
‘Yes, of course it’s a possibility since it occurred in Stockholm, but I don’t have any connection to the lab. As far as I know, my troubles here and the explosion in Sweden are entirely coincidental. It wasn’t until you asked about any noticeable developments that I even remembered reading about it! It’s four thousand miles away. Surely you don’t think—’
‘I don’t know what to think,’ Payne interrupted. ‘But I’ve seen enough in my life to know that nothing can be dismissed as coincidence. We need to know more about what happened in Stockholm.’
‘If you have a computer available, I’d be happy to pull up the most recent news reports. The Swedish media has taken a keen interest in the story.’
Jones nodded. ‘Jon, why don’t you get your laptop, and I’ll take Dr Sahlberg—’
‘Mattias,’ Sahlberg said.
‘I’ll take Mattias into the living room where he’ll be more comfortable.’
Payne did as he was asked and retrieved his laptop from his bedroom nightstand while Jones directed Sahlberg to a plush, oversized recliner in the corner of the penthouse.
‘Would you like some coffee?’ he asked.
‘Tea, if you have it.’
‘Tea sounds great — I’ll see if we have any.’
Payne returned with his computer and handed it to Sahlberg. ‘Here you go, Mattias. Take your time. Be thorough. We want to know everything that’s available.’
‘I’ll see what I can find,’ Sahlberg assured them.
‘Jon,’ Jones said, ‘I’m going to make Mattias a cup of tea. Can you show me where you keep your supplies?’
Payne raised an eyebrow. ‘No problem.’
The two of them walked to the opposite end of the penthouse, where they ducked into a large, mostly empty pantry. Jones closed the door behind them for privacy.
‘What gives?’ Payne blurted.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Is there a reason we’re leaving him alone?’
‘Relax,’ Jones said. ‘He’s in your living room, using your laptop, with every keystroke being logged. Two of America’s most decorated and highly skilled soldiers are fifty feet away, and there’s a full detail of security guards ready to strike at the push of a button. Also, by the way, did you happen to notice that he’s like a hundred and twelve years old? I think we’re covered either way. He’s not going anywhere, and no one’s getting to him here.’
‘Still, if it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to be in the same room as him …’ Payne paused and scrunched up his face. ‘Wait, did you say the keystrokes are being logged? Since when?’
‘Details,’ Jones said, avoiding the question. ‘You can go back in a bit. Right now, I don’t want him to hear us talking.’
‘About what?’
‘I doubt he’s going to find any leads regarding who’s responsible, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have angles to work with.’ Jones reached under his shirt and pulled out a pistol. He handed it to Payne. ‘What do you make of this?’
Payne examined the weapon, rolling it over in his hands. ‘This is same type of pistol the guys in the cable car were using. Where’d you get it?’
‘Took it off of the bastard I flattened outside the station.’
‘You don’t think the police will notice that he’s missing his weapon?’
‘His weapon? The guy was draped with weapons. Besides, did you see the shit he had in his car? I could have taken a ballistic missile without anyone noticing. Between the Uzi and the grenade launcher, I doubt anyone will question why he didn’t have a sidearm.’
‘And if they do?’
‘I’ll play the “oops” card.’
‘What’s the “oops” card?’
‘I’ll go, oops! I must have picked it up by mistake.’
Payne grimaced. ‘I’m serious.’
‘I am too,’ Jones insisted. ‘I mean, bullets were flying and blood was flowing. Shit got crazy. Somehow I must have grabbed his gun thinking it was mine. Oops! My bad.’
Payne shifted his focus to the weapon in his hand. ‘What am I looking at?’
‘At first I thought it was a Beretta 92, but it’s not. It only looks like a Beretta. Same interchangeable grip and accessory rail to attach lights, laser sights, you name it. Same nine-millimeter semi-auto capabilities. Same seventeen-round-capacity magazine.’
‘If it’s not a Beretta, what is it?’ Payne asked.
‘It’s a one-off. A one-of-a-kind custom job.’
‘You mean someone modified a base model?’
‘No, I mean someone said, “I like the Beretta 92, so I’ll base my design on that.” They built this weapon from scratch.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘Aim it at something.’
Payne did as he was told.
‘What do you notice?’ Jones asked.
In the heat of the moment on the incline, the only thing Payne had noticed about the gun was the palm-print safety feature. Now, as he examined the weapon more thoroughly, he understood what Jones was talking about.
‘It’s awkward,’ he said. ‘There are things about it that are just … off. The way the grip feels in my hand. The way I have to cock my hand to line it up to the scanner. Bending my finger to reach the trigger. Even the balance seems off.’