Chasing The Dawn (Luke Temple - Book 2) (Luke Temple Series) (31 page)

He scanned the piazza, even in the half-light the architecture was beautiful. Closing his eyes a distant feeling crept up …
Sarah would have loved it here.
He could smell her perfume, the sweet scent of citrus. He opened his eyes and she floated off into the night; he was again alone on the bench. He stood up, stamping his feet to get the circulation going, and headed east toward Vittorio’s.

***

Chung Su lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The room was cold but she barely registered the temperature. In her right hand she rubbed her fingertips over the metallic shell of the Sig Sauer, feeling its every detail. The occasional high-pitched whine of a scooter engine passed by out on the road, but the hotel was silent.

How is this all going to end?

Her imagination began to curl and mould images, all of them bad. She knew that they were now set on a path from which they could no longer turn away. In the quiet room, her mind could only conjure horrific images of what may happen. People were already dead, murdered, and in her heart Chung Su felt that her end would come in the same way.
I am just a scientist.

Even if, by some miracle, she could make it home, what waited for her upon her return? The short, stout military man who had set her along this path had made it clear. She replayed the last conversation she had with him, his spitting, angry tone, the cold dead eyes, the definitive way in which he told her she could not return to her homeland if she failed.

Without Luke present her defense crumbled and tears rolled down her cheeks. It was as though each beat of excitement she had ever felt towards her work was now coming back to hammer her heart. She closed her eyes tight; little dots of light danced across the darkness. They began to merge into flickering particles, firing across the space, colliding, streaming rays behind them … each one a new neutrino desperate to release its energy.

Chung Su sat up and pushed the gun away. Wiping her eyes, she rolled off the bed and began to pace. As she stalked around the room she felt her heart strengthen, the world felt firmer, she again saw the potential she held to make a difference.
Luke was right, in the wrong hands such breakthroughs are dangerous, but not in my hands, in mine and my country’s hands we will achieve great things.
She had been tossed into hell but perhaps that was her fate, to emerge from the flames,
the phoenix to harness Pandora.
Her body felt warm again, and with each step she took she felt stronger. Her helplessness vanished in the face of her belief that she could take on what Vittorio had discovered and use it to make the world a better place.

I must speak with him …

She needed to make contact with the short putrid general who had thrust her forward. She was desperate for him to know she was so close, that she remained brave in the face of danger for her homeland, for the people she held dear. She decided that she would bathe and restore some life to her body and then would search for a phone. She was sure she had seen one in the lobby.

Luke’s words suddenly entered her mind
. You must not leave this room, understand?
He was a curious entity to Chung Su, his face was delicate, and his eyes were not ones that belonged to a hardened killer. There were few men she had met who were so capable, so in control of their body and mind, and beneath the quiet steel she had the sense he worked for something he believed was for the greater good. Yet he viewed her as nothing more than a useful vessel, a material that had a value, and she was sure that when her value had run out he would discard her the same way he had others. Her mind was made up.

Via Fortebraccio was not a picturesque Abruzzi road; it was narrow and buildings lined either side. What made the buildings imposing was the scaffolding seemingly hanging off every frontage. The buildings looked dirty and unkempt, but it was difficult to ascertain whether it was earthquake damage or general neglect.

Luke moved cautiously down the road. He had memorised the address from the original file Davison had given him in Hillerod. Not every building he passed had numbers, but he could see they were getting higher as he moved down. A corrugated metal shutter belonging to a small personal garage loomed up on his right; next to it was a slanted concrete ramp that split two houses. The one on his left was three storeys high and carried a rusted metal number
Fifty-One.
That was Vittorio’s number. Luke edged back over to the opposite side of the road. There were only two windows on the middle level, all in keeping with the local style; a split pane of glass in a wooden frame with two brown shutters opened out on either side. Luke hitched himself up onto the top of a stone wall and moved into the trees until he was confortable he was invisible to any passing pedestrians. He then settled down to watch.

***

After thirty minutes and with the cold having taken root in his limbs, Luke was satisfied that no one was watching the property. There had only been one person that had passed and he was a teenager far more engrossed in his mobile phone than the world around him. Luke couldn’t marry the property up with someone who had done groundbreaking work such as Vittorio, it was a run-down area and a tiny run-down flat. It felt odd. There were no signs of life on any floor, no lights, no sound and certainly no movement.

Luke felt the comforting tingle of adrenaline. He felt it pulse through his veins. It was always a dangerous move, entering a property illegally.

As he reached the rear of the house Luke stopped to listen; he heard nothing to alarm him. The back of the property had no scaffolding, but it was just as run-down. There was no light, and a high wall that separated the property behind cast a total blackness over the small concrete space. Letting his eyes adjust, Luke saw some ragged police tape that hung limply across a single back door. Moving past a rusted metal container he pressed his ear gently against the door: silence.

He crouched down and brushed his hand over the cold floor, trying to feel whether there was anything that would be of use in freeing the lock, but all he got was a dusty jumper sleeve and cold palms. Without any other option and not wanting to be on site longer than was necessary he braced his right foot against the doorframe and swiftly and effectively jammed his covered fist through the single-pane glass. The shatter of the glass and the further smashing on the tiled floor inside was much louder than Luke would have liked, but after a moment of silence, no one or nothing seemed disturbed. Throwing his hand inside the small hole he released the lock, entered and shut the door quietly behind him.

The house was in darkness; Luke wanted to keep it that way. Directly in front of him there was a set of stairs; all floors seemed tiled and cold. On his right there was a door that had a number one painted on it. Placing his feet heel to toe he gently moved across the tiled floor, keeping as quiet as possible
. Just because you don’t hear people doesn’t mean they don’t exist.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Luke rounded a sharp corner and directly in front of him was apartment two. More police tape was stretched across the door, two strands crisscrossed to make an X. The hallway was barely big enough for two people to pass each other, and again Luke was bemused why a renowned professor would choose to live in such a place. Moving to the door, he negotiated the tape, and again pressed his ear up against the door. He heard no noise from inside. Using a slice of glass from the shattered window to jimmy the lock sideways, Luke slipped inside Vittorio’s apartment.

The first thing to attack Luke’s senses was the smell of cigar smoke. He found himself stood in a large open-plan dining room and kitchen; there were no lights on and the furniture made solid shapes in the dark. An electronic dial flashed on the microwave indicating the time was 8.41 p.m. Luke moved into the kitchenette area. Seeing a solid block with protruding arms he leant over and gently pulled out a large kitchen knife from the stand. He had no weapon on him and it made him feel uneasy. He tucked the knife down the back of his jeans, the cold metal pressing against the small of his back. He would replace it on his way out.

Luke reached into his jeans pocket and removed the weighted sock. He carefully pushed out his mobile phone, battery and Sim card. Amazingly, the only damage from the bomb blast was a crack running across the screen. With a little difficulty due to his frozen fingers, he connected the parts together.

Luke moved towards a closed door on his left, it led him into the lounge where again his nostrils were attacked by the stench of cigar smoke. The lounge faced the road, and one of the windows was letting in residual moonlight, which was casting eerie shadows through the scaffolding. Tucked into a corner of the room next to another door was a curved desk unit that had shelves extending up from a writing table.

Why is it so pristine?
Luke couldn’t work out why the flat had been left so untouched
. Surely forensics have been through here with a fine toothcomb?
Nothing looked touched, everything was sat neatly in its place. There was no way forensics would replace everything as it was; they would take things and examine them for evidence.

He needed to focus and begin his search. He had no idea what exactly he was looking for but the fact everything was untouched gave rise to hope that he may still find something crucial to unravelling the mystery. His Group 9 instructor came to mind:
when searching a property you must be methodical. It is absolutely crucial that you structure the search in your mind as you go through. You are not some bumbling burglar; you have to apply the same granular detail to each movement. Keep it simple, take pictures. If you move something, you have a picture; you replace it as it was. Make sure to remove tell-tale signs of a moved object, dust marks and indents being the most obvious.
With those words ringing in his ears, he set to work.

Chung Su cautiously stepped out past the lift. Her grit and determination started to wane as she stood looking at the exposed position of the payphone situated at the far end of the hotel foyer. Luke’s words stuck in her mind and for a moment she contemplated returning to her room.
No, be strong, think of the consequences.
She knew she had to make the call; the number was burned into her memory.

A sudden thought caused her stomach to turn;
I do not have any money.
Her mind raced frantically, but there was only one solution. She stuck on her best smile and approached the desk.

“Good evening,” the man beamed.

Swallowing hard, Chung Su replied, “Hello, how are you?” She could feel the words catch in the air.

“Very well, thank you. How can I help you?’” The look in the man’s eyes was not one of ease. She decided to cut straight to the chase.

“I really need to make a phone call, but I have no change. My husband is out.” The man’s eyes did not leave hers when she spoke. His smile looked fake, and with it her unease grew.
I have made a mistake, he is suspicious.

“Well, let’s see what we can do for you. Why don’t you pop round here and use the phone we have in the office.”

Chung Su’s pulse rose. She couldn’t call from the office.

She responded, “Eh ... yes … thank you. It is just that … I hope it is not inconvenient but … I have to call our bank. They have stopped our money, and I am angry, and don’t want to disturb … and I have to give them details and …” Chung Su could feel her face going red, the words were just tumbling out. Luckily the man cut her off.

“Oh, I see …” his face had lost its smile; he was now chewing slightly on his bottom lip. “Well if that phone would be better then I can give you this.” He handed over an international phone card.

“That is very kind, thank you.” Chung Su looked at the card and tried to avoid his gaze. She turned to walk to the phone but the man stopped her.

“Signora, you could actually help me very quickly.”

Chung Su span around.

“I am sorry but for our records we just need to know where you and your husband are actually staying long-term.”

Chung Su froze to the spot
. Relax, just relax.
She beamed out a smile. “I am sorry, I am just terrible with names of hotels, I am sure my husband will …”

“We do not need the hotel name, just the general town or city is fine, we like to keep a note of how far our guests are willing to travel, things like that.”

She threw out the first name that came into her head. “L’Aquila … we are staying in L’Aquila.”

“Thank you.”

She turned and headed for the phone.

***

L’Aquila … L’Aquila … L’Aquila. Breathe, just keep breathing. Oh my, I think this is them.
The receptionist looked down at the small portable radio he kept hidden under the desk and felt his hands shaking.
The man had said Rome
. No more than an hour earlier he had listened avidly to a news report talking about the shooting at the Teramo Observatory. It then went on to outline an explosion that had occurred in the northern area of the city that very evening. His first thought had been one of horror and sadness
. This is Teramo. What is happening?

What really stole his breath was that they had released basic information on who they felt was involved. It had been a man and a woman, and the woman had been described as
of Asian descent, possibly Korean, petite, with long black hair.
Then the reporter went on to say,
If seen, do not approach under any circumstances, they are considered armed and dangerous.
Now he sat in a panic. He had not seen the woman properly when they checked in, but now he could see she matched the description. Her clothes seemed odd and ill-fitting, she was nervous …
and they gave different cities.

The man willed himself to relax; he was taking short shallow breaths. He craned his neck and saw her with the phone against her ear.
Oh my word, oh my word. I will wait for her to finish the call and return to her room, then I shall phone the police. I can’t let her know I am on to them.
He had a feeling the wait would seem like an eternity.