Chasing The Dawn (Luke Temple - Book 2) (Luke Temple Series) (4 page)

Moving north he passed by a narrow alley leading between two shops, the only entrance and exit was from the road. Luke checked his pace, crossed the road and started back in the direction he had come, this time examining the alley from the other side of the street. What had grabbed his attention were three large green bins stood in a line against the left wall of the alley, the shops obviously used them for dumping their rubbish.

He crossed again and this time casually veered off and down the alleyway. Once at the line of bins he flipped the large hinge lid of the first one and a foul stench escaped. Luke grimaced and tucked the wad of napkins under the decomposing contents of several black bin liners. He pulled out his hand and examined it with disgust, it was now covered in some form of rotting slime. He cursed and bent to the floor to wipe it across the ground.

Footsteps clicked behind him; he span round and saw a man, or what had once been a man; the look in his eyes was now vacant and black bags hung low, he couldn’t have weighed more than eight stone and his hair was wiry and greasy. Luke’s senses came to life, he glanced up the alleyway toward the street, the entrance was still clear.

“Got any change?”

Luke ran his fingers across the top of his waistband to check the Sig Sauer was still tucked in place, the man was edgy.

“Sorry, I haven’t got any money on me.” Luke turned and began to walk back to the street, his ears listening intently as the man scuttled after him.

“Just a little bit, that’s all I need, a little bit, you must have something? Come on, you are wearing nice stuff, just a little bit of money.”

Luke now had a decision to make. He stopped. This guy would have no worries about continuing the harassment on the main street, but it was attention Luke did not want.

“I am really sorry but I honestly don’t have any change.”

“Oh ok … no change, no money.”

The guy was twitchy and unfocused, classic drug addict behaviour. Luke subconsciously planted both feet shoulder-width apart. The man snapped suddenly. “What do you mean, no money? No money, no money, huh? You got to give me money, just a little, that’s all.” He pulled a knife from out of his stained trousers; it was a kitchen knife, but Luke could see the blade was blunt.

At first the man didn’t move, he just held it, his hand shaking, hoping the sight of it would make Luke crumble and hand over money. Luke shot a glance back to the main street, still no one had taken interest in the alleyway, but that would not last.

“Listen, how about I go and get some money from the …” Luke exploded forward. Before the man even had a chance to let out a scream Luke crashed his right elbow solidly under the man’s chin; he had hit people harder but the shock of it and the weakness of the opponent sent the man crashing to the floor. The knife clattered away. Without hesitation, Luke rolled down his sleeve so it covered his hand, picked up the knife and threw it into one of the bins, before walking swiftly past the fallen man.

Without looking back, he strolled out onto the main street and continued his journey to his car.

The sky was littered with stars; it was a perfectly clear night. The moon was high above the Gran Massif mountains and it cast an eerie bluish tinge as it hit the snow on the mountain peaks. Lights twinkled and flickered on the slopes, inhabitants were going about their evening routines, tucked up in the warm with lit fires. During the winter months Teramo was a postcard town. The first snow had fallen some weeks ago but had been blown away by the winds, which had also brought a chill. More snow was coming.

Chung Su could not deny the beauty of Teramo, of the Abruzzo region as a whole; it actually reminded her of her beloved homeland, mountains and snow-tipped peaks. North Korea had harsh winters, it was not unheard of for the poorer regions to lose several hundred people each year due to overexposure. It was not the government’s fault, they tried as hard as they could to supply coal, but nothing in her homeland was easy, trade agreements and sanctions crippled the country – the thought of it angered her.

Her long brown coat was wrapped tight around her body, a black Cossack hat covered her head, and her strong cheekbones were tinged red from the cold wind. She had wanted to stroll in the crisp air to help collect her thoughts. She had successfully managed to get some sleep but it had only served to make her hazy and lethargic. She was now strolling down Ponte San Gabriele heading into Teramo. It was 8.45 p.m. and she had no particular place to be, tomorrow would be the first proper day. Her orders still rang clear in her head, causing a sinking feeling in her gut. What they wanted her to do was completely out of her usual sphere of employment, she was more used to particle spacing and theories of nuclear energy release, not being sent halfway around the world on a government-sanctioned reconnaissance trip.

Walking alone in a strange country Chung Su felt uneasy, in truth she was scared, but she knew that fear was not an emotion that her leader approved of. She often used the image of her esteemed leader and the way he led the country to help her overcome moments of fear or pain in her life, but being so far away from her beloved land she was finding it difficult.
I can leave soon
. The thought of leaving was not an easy avenue to relaxation, it was tinged with a dark cloud. The only thing the leader, and therefore the nation, despised more than cowardice was failure. She shuddered at the thought.

Miss Chung I want to be very clear with you, this is a task of upmost importance for the country and no good citizen should let down the state because everything we do is to ensure power over our enemies.

Chung Su shuddered at the memory of the uniformed man who had shown up at her research institute. He had been small and squat, his military issue hat had swamped his head. He had taken her to a small room to explain what the state wanted from her. The last words he had spoken still echoed in her ears. His yellow-stained teeth were set in a wide smile:
I know you won’t fail, Miss Chung. After all, how can one live with themselves if they fail our glorious nation?

She stopped on a small bridge where two roads crossed one under the other. She reprimanded herself for her cowardice and reminded herself it was a privilege to be tasked with an important mission. She tried to make it convincing.

A car passed behind and sprayed light fleetingly across her raw cheeks. She decided that she had got enough fresh air for one night and began walking back up to the hotel.

The Gala…
her heart fluttered at the thought of the Gala. It was the reason she had been selected. Every year the leading names in particle physics and scientific excellence descended on a secret location in the town of Teramo where CERN and the Gran Sasso Institute held a special event celebrating new discoveries, theories and physics contributions to the world. It was an invitation-only event and was held in great secrecy. She had almost screamed her office down when the invite had landed on her desk; it was a true honour. She was probably one of the very few little girls who had dreamed about working with the world’s greatest scientific minds; after years of studying and hard work she was now being offered a chance to interact. Growing up in what the world classed as a rogue state had never helped her chances, but finally her and her collaborators work could not be ignored. It was the opportunity of a lifetime and it was taking place in two days’ time. The jubilation quickly left her, swept away with the cold wind. The opportunity had been hijacked ...

***

Beltrano had interviewed hundreds of individuals during his career and had refined his ability to read between the lines. It was much easier when the individual being interviewed was intimidated by police and criminal procedures, with those people it took little prodding and prying to get to the truth.

“Try again, Professor, just run us through the last evening you saw him. You said you stayed late with Vittorio?”

Professor Brun exhaled in exasperation, he had been confined in the small office for hours and the questions had been relentless.

Delvechi stood by the window, periodically peering through the blinds, bored. He had been huffing and stomping his way around the small office, occasionally throwing in a comment or a question. Beltrano had given him very little response or attention as the hours ticked by, his attention had been focused on Brun.

“I have told you over and over, I can’t quite understand what it is
you
do not understand. This is all so tiresome, there is simply nothing more that I can tell you. Unless you want me to start adding fiction to the story to make it interesting for you?”

Delvechi went to say something but was cut short by Beltrano raising a hand. “Just the truth, Professor.”

Brun snapped for the first time. “This is ridiculous.”

Delvechi loomed up over him. “Well maybe we should just arrest you, Professor, then we can keep you here overnight until we are satisfied.”

Beltrano put a hand on Delvechi’s shoulder.

“Officer Beltrano, I think it is time that I left, I have very important results to go over.” Brun went to stand.

“Please sit, Professor.”

Brun reluctantly re-took his seat.

“Do you smoke, Professor?” Beltrano pushed his hand inside his jacket, producing a silver cigar holder. He flipped it open and inside were three Toscano Antica Riserva Cigars. Brun did smoke but only on very rare occasions. He hadn’t seen a Toscano for a long time. He picked one out and also picked up the silver cutter that lay next to it. Beltrano offered a light.

Delvechi watched from his perch on the windowsill.

Beltrano rubbed his eyes, the skin around them was darker than normal. “You can’t beat that first intake, the crackle of the first flakes of tobacco that catch light, so simple but so satisfying. I like simple pleasures, complicated things just don’t sit as well with me. I think there is something so beautiful about simplicity.”

Brun stayed silent.

“I’m guessing you are not so turned on by simplicity, Professor? What you do probably involves a range of complexities, a mixture of complex actions and complex outcomes.” Beltrano took a long drag from his cigar, exhaling slowly.

Brun shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the cigar giving off a stream of smoke from his hand. Beltrano sighed and rolled up his sleeves; he took another long drag, “That’s where we differ, we are looking for different things, I look to take the complexities out of life, that’s my job, to take away any sort of complexities and find simplicity.”

“I’m assuming in your analogy you are taking complexities as lies, and simplicity as truth? Officer, surely someone in your position must know that truth is rarely simple.”

Beltrano took a moment for thought, sucking and billowing his cheeks in quick puffs. “No, that is where we disagree, Professor, truth is always simple, solid, stable, unchangeable. People try to complicate the truth, but it never alters, the truth remains the truth, to put it in your terms the truth does not react with anything around it. You can hide it, but not change it.”

Brun sat forward in his chair and loosened his blue-patterned tie. His grey hair was thinning on top and the skin around his eyes had deep crow’s feet, but those eyes shone with vitality. “Are you insinuating that I am lying? Perhaps you are jaded by your profession, Officer.”

“Oh I most certainly am, yes, but you’d be surprised how much being
jaded
, as you put it, helps to sharpen my instinct.”

Delvechi let out a yawn and leant against the wall.

“Officer Beltrano, we have been over and over things this evening, I have nothing left to add.” Brun took a long inhale and blew a cloud of smoke toward the floor. “Perhaps it is you that is now complicating things.”

Beltrano smiled and removed a flake of tobacco from his lip. He chuckled and shook his head. “Touché, Signor.”

“You are wrong though; I celebrate and revere simplicity as much as you apparently do. Take a diamond. Did you know, Officer Beltrano, that chemically and structurally a diamond is pure carbon, nothing more, pure carbon. Do you think diamonds are beautiful?”

“Sure, doesn’t everyone? Most women gauge their life by how many they have,” Delvechi interrupted.

“Exactly.” Brun stood up and placed the cigar in his mouth. He walked to the desk and tipped out a small plastic organiser filled with stationary. He then picked up a pencil. “Did you know that the graphite in this pencil is also pure carbon, simple, pure carbon?”

Beltrano tilted his head. “So you are telling me that diamonds and that pencil are identical?”

“On the surface they are, yes, both carbon. Simple. But a diamond is the hardest mineral known to man, a ten on the Mohs scale. Yet a pencil …” he snapped the pencil with one hand. “Graphite is one of the softest minerals at less than one on the scale.”

Beltrano rested against the window ledge and tapped ash into Delvechi’s empty coffee mug.

Brun continued, “So if they are both carbon how can they be so different? Complexities, Officer Beltrano, the clue is in little complexities.” Brun held up the pencil. “On a molecular level graphite is structurally very different to a diamond, the carbon is organised in layers, easy to break, whereas a diamond has a three-dimensional arrangement of molecules packed tightly together, adding real strength. So you see, complexity is often inescapable, even if it seems simple on the outside.”

Beltrano gave a long exhale, coughed gently and ran his fingers over his jaw. After a long silence he grabbed the spare chair and placed it opposite Brun, sitting down with a loud groan. “I swear the bed in my hotel is made out of concrete,” he let out a sigh. “Professor, you are a very intelligent man and I respect that, but let’s not mess around … you are lying, or at least there are things you are not telling me.”

Brun became animated. “Like what? How many times do I have to say that I left the laboratory at 8 p.m. and headed straight home, the last time I saw him Ernesto was sat in our office as I said goodbye, sat at his desk, normal, working … living.” After a long pause he sat back in his seat; his cigar ash dropped onto the carpet.