Chasing The Dawn (Luke Temple - Book 2) (Luke Temple Series) (2 page)

The interior of the office was basic, computers, printers and whiteboards strewn with numbers and squiggles were the main furnishings. A single provincial officer stood guard. At the far side of the room two state police officers remonstrated with a smartly dressed elderly man. He was raising his voice and Beltrano could hear him clearly;

“But that is unacceptable, two days? Two whole days and you still have nothing. We must continue with our work, things do not wait for your investigation,” the man spoke in English but with a slight Germanic accent.

The provincial officer turned as he heard Beltrano approach.

“Halt! You are not allowed in here, it is a restricted area.”

Beltrano had expected the reaction; he was dressed in cream chinos, a white shirt and a smoky grey jacket. It was all smothered in a knee-length black duffel coat. He operated in the Special Task Department of the Carabinieri, which meant not being weighed down by formalities such as uniform. He flipped open his ID card. The provincial officer took a moment to process the information, and then hesitantly straightened up.

“Sorry Signor, I didn’t realise you had been notified.”

Beltrano didn’t speak, one of the state officers had also spotted him. Beltrano watched him straighten his shirt and stroll regally over; it was clear this officer felt he was in charge.

Upon reaching Beltrano he tipped his head slightly back. “Signor, no unauthorised personnel are allowed in here, this is a crime scene, you will have to be escorted outside.”

Beltrano still didn’t speak; the provincial officer sheepishly leant in to the state officer and spoke quietly into his ear. The state officer’s face showed shock, he shot a glance at Beltrano, and then scrambled to regain an air of authority;

“Sorry Carabinieri, I thought … well, my apologies. As you can see everything is under control, I’m sure this is nothing but a local issue.”

Beltrano was looking over at the elderly gentleman. “Officer …?”

“Nestor.”

“Well Officer Nestor, there are certain government officials that disagree. Is that gentleman an officer?” Beltrano nodded towards the elderly man.

“No, that is Professor Brun, a head technician here at the institute.”

“It’s just that you said no unauthorised personnel. It is a crime scene yet you have a civilian running around?”

The state officer looked slightly embarrassed.

Beltrano continued, “So fill me in, Officer Nestor.”

Nestor straightened, “Two days ago the laboratory reported a break-in, and then yesterday morning they also stated that one of their employees had not reported for work; this was out of the ordinary.”

“And where are we up to now?”

“Well …” Nestor paused, “we have found nothing missing from here, and still no sign of the employee.”

“His name?”

“Professor Ernesto Vittorio.”

Beltrano rubbed his dark grey-flecked stubble. “So in two days you have found nothing missing, or a motivation for the break-in, and no leads on the missing person?”

“I have my theories. I feel it is quite clear that Professor Vittorio has stolen something from the lab, either something for personal use or to sell, God knows what contraptions they have here.”

“And is this office the only area that was broken into?”

“We think so.”

“Officer Nestor, I believe you have done enough thinking.” Beltrano pulled out a neatly folded piece of A4 paper. “I am now heading up this investigation, all the details are on there. My colleague and I will need an office in Teramo station, I’m sure you will be accommodating.”

Officer Nestor fought to repress his obvious discomfort, but there was nothing he could do, the piece of paper was a government decree stating that Carabinieri Beltrano was now leading the investigation. He couldn’t possibly fathom what interest the government or military had with it all, but he knew better than to question it.

Beltrano watched Professor Brun, who was now busying himself at a computer screen. He strolled over.

“I shall talk in English, Mr Brun, as yours is so impeccable.”

Brun eyed Beltrano. “And who might you be?”

Beltrano extended his hand. “I am Carabinieri Beltrano, I will be taking over from Officer Nestor.”

“Taking over in the loosest sense, I assume, as he has left you nothing to take over from.”

Beltrano managed a smile and noted Nestor eyeing them suspiciously.

Brun continued without taking his eyes off the screen, “I knew it wouldn’t be long until you lot arrived.”

“And why would that be?”

Brun looked at the two other officers then turned his head toward Beltrano’s, “Mr Beltrano, I am fully aware that we can only continue our discoveries because of the funding that arrives from many government bodies, including several from this very country. I do not have time for this. I have been asked questions for the last two days, I do not know anything.”

“Of course.” Beltrano walked over to the window. “Fantastic view.”

Brun grunted.

“You seem very busy, Professor.”

“I am, I am.”

Beltrano walked slowly across to the police tape. “You don’t seem very concerned for Professor Vittorio.”

“Should I be? My job is now to make sure things keep happening; discovery is the only importance.”

“Of course. It is true that you are head technician on the OPERA experiment?”

Brun raised his head. “Yes that’s correct. Is that a problem?”

“Well that depends. Am I right in thinking that Professor Vittorio was heading up OPERA?”

“Yes, that is correct, is there a point to this?”

“Just strikes me as odd that a man you worked with day and night for the last ten years goes missing and all you can think about is work?”

Brun stood up from his computer. He stared at Beltrano, then his gaze drifted again to the other two officers. He raised his voice so everyone could hear. “Mr Beltrano, I am incredibly worried about Ernesto, but he would want us to continue, to push forward, not to collapse.” He took off his glasses and sunk back into the desk chair with a resounding sigh.

Beltrano suddenly turned on his heels and approached Officer Nestor. ‘I need to know everything you have so far …”

Luke pulled the Audi A3 out of the queue of cars lining up to collect people from Rome’s Fiumicino airport. He wouldn’t be getting the chance to soak up the historically charged atmosphere of Rome, he would be skirting anti-clockwise around the south west of the city joining the Autostrada up to Teramo. If he could avoid the famous Roman traffic he should be there within two hours.

The Audi’s engine was sharp and responsive; it had been left for collection at the long stay car park, all engine serial numbers would have been removed, but Luke had learnt the hard way that no one could be trusted. He would have to change cars regularly whilst in the country, paying cash for rentals, that way even his Group 9 handlers wouldn’t know his vehicle details
. Sometimes the most dangerous enemy is the one within.

Luke mulled over the operation objectives; Ernesto Vittorio, a prominent professor of particle physics, had gone missing. He was a fellow at the Laboratori Nazionali del Gran Sasso, and had been working on a new range of experiments that had been shortened to the acronym OPERA. Luke had only two objectives; first, gain as much information as possible around Vittorio’s disappearance and, second, if the target was alive, locate him and get him onto German soil.

Luke never questioned his objectives; he occupied his mind only with achieving them. Group 9 and the European community were so interested in this disappearance because OPERA was a joint-funded project; it had investment from several areas including European governments, overseas corporate interests, universities and CERN.

The smallest flicker of a memory played across his mind, an echo from a past life. The involuntary spasms of memory were like a stutter he had learnt to control. The Group 9 psychological therapists were not interested in helping him embrace the memories, they wanted him to push them deeper. Luke felt the same, he didn’t want them there, they belonged to someone else. He checked the electronic car clock, it was 10.02 a.m.

Beltrano sipped his coffee; it was piping hot and filled the room with a rich aroma. He was happy enough with the office space that had been allocated to him within the police station. At first the chief officer had tried to fob him off with a desk in the open-plan section of the building but Beltrano had made it crystal clear that he needed privacy. The office was basic, it contained one desk, two plastic chairs, a whiteboard that had seen better days and the obligatory small coffee machine. The space was small and stuffy, it had a window but for some inexplicable reason it had been bolted shut, and the winter heating was now stifling.

“They have stuck us in here on purpose, we should call Rome.”

Beltrano nodded slowly, not really listening to his subordinate. Officer Delvechi was thirty years his junior, a mountain of a man and fresh out of training.

“Why are we even here? Hardly seems important enough to involve us, some boffin takes off, big deal.” Delvechi paced up and down.

“Seeing as we are here, let’s see what’s going on, shall we?” Beltrano said drily.

He flicked through some enlarged pictures of Ernesto Vittorio, not an extraordinary-looking man. His skin was a dark tanned colour, his bushy eyebrows almost met in the middle of his nose. Average height, average build. However, inside the average-looking face was a brain that was extraordinary.

Delvechi took the spare seat opposite Beltrano, the plastic creaked under the strain. “So what have we got?”

“I am not sure yet,” Beltrano had put down the personal photos of Vittorio and was now skimming through shots of the crime scene, a mixture of the office they had been stood in earlier and a large industrial-looking hall with metallic yellow beams and curious-looking instruments.

“Well, I will tell you what I think, I think the old professor wasn’t making enough money from his theories and little experiments; he had reached the point in life where he realised he had spent a life in science but for what? So he stages a false break-in, steals some priceless equipment, then disappears to enjoy the profits.”

Beltrano listened, unsure whether to laugh or contact Hollywood. “You think a man like Professor Ernesto Vittorio dedicates his whole life to scientific research because he values money?”

Delvechi didn’t answer.

“And please enlighten me as to what these fantastically priceless pieces of equipment are? Seeing as nothing has been reported missing.”

Delvechi shifted awkwardly in his seat. “So you think what exactly?”

“That we need to properly investigate.”

Delvechi scoffed. “Some crackpot goes missing …”

Beltrano sipped his coffee. “Have you ever heard of the so-called modern masters of the universe?”

“Sure, they use it in reference to the large global investment banks; they have been plastered over the news for years. Apparently they are the reason the world is in so much shit financially, why?”

“Because …” Beltrano paused for effect, “the real masters of the universe are people like him.” He threw a close-up shot of Vittorio across the desk.

Delvechi picked up the photo and sighed. “So what do you want to do? Head back to the lab and find out exactly what he was working on?”

Beltrano stood and checked his watch, then he downed the remaining coffee in one gulp, “Maybe. But first, lunch.”

The temperature in Teramo at that time of year could be harsh, with gusts of fresh cold sweeping in from the mountains. It was not a large town but one with a rich history. Of course, this was Italy, where saying a town or region was rich in history was like saying a specific diamond in a diamond-encrusted crown was sparkly. It was yet another town Luke could add to the ever-growing list of places that warranted a more relaxing exploration, something he would never find the time for.

Night had fallen; Luke stuffed a gloved hand into the pocket of his black overcoat and retrieved a mobile phone. He never brought mobile phones with him when travelling into new countries. Tri-band and modern network sharing meant people could travel across different countries without losing signal or service, and that worried him. All electronic signal could be found and traced given time but by purchasing a new phone in each country, Luke made that process more difficult. It was what he was trained to do.

He checked that the mobile was turned off; the call he was going to make would be entirely faked and he couldn’t risk his phone ringing halfway through it. The street was quiet; Luke tucked himself into the shadows on the opposite side of the road to the small hotel he had booked into earlier in the day. He began chatting away on his phone as his eyes roamed the street, searching for anything unusual or out of place, a person, a car, someone in a window. It was the third time he had watched the street that day, it was always part of his routine when entering a new environment.

He stamped his feet to keep the blood circulating. He dressed casually on operations, but it was a balance; too causal and people remember a ‘scruffy man’ sat in the corner, too smart and you always catch people’s eye.

To remember each face and individual he assigned them to an item in the room he kept locked away in his memory. A tall balding man who had come and gone a few times during the day was filed away as an old leather chair. It had been part of his training, a system he was made to practice hour after hour, one time reaching a hundred items on exact recall and association. It was an essential skill to remaining covert in the field. If things were retained in his memory then he never had to scramble for notes or photographs; also if he was lifted the paper trail would be non-existent. What became more complicated was when he began committing to memory who was in the hotel and who was out. To do this he attached labels to the items in his memory room, so if the tall balding man was in the hotel then he would attach a label to the old leather chair in his mind.

Luke pulled the collar of his coat up higher, now jabbering away about some girl into his switched-off phone. He was always thorough when entering a new environment, it was impossible to conduct an operation if you hadn’t constructed a solid and safe base beforehand.