The Einstein Pursuit (11 page)

Payne laughed.

No one knew him better than Jones.

The moment Masseri was clear of the chaos at the Monongahela Incline, he tried to figure out where everything had gone wrong. He had ordered the guards at the upper station to descend as soon as their backup arrived, yet they had never appeared below.

He soon understood why.

Masseri called the backup team, and they told him that Sahlberg’s bodyguard – whoever he was – had dealt with the men on the trip down the hillside. While Sahlberg and his protector exited the car to face Masseri and the sedan, the men – now bloodied, battered and tied to the bench inside the cable car – were sent back to the upper station with several passengers. A short while later, the backup team had watched as the smaller goon was dragged to a waiting squad car. The larger one was taken from the station in a body bag.

After that, they had followed the police to determine where their colleague would be booked. They got word to Masseri, who arranged for one of his men to speak with the prisoner. Less than an hour later, the associate was walking into the police station.

‘My name is Marcus Lindo,’ he told the officer at the front desk. ‘I understand you have one of my clients in custody. A Mr Derek Paulsen. As his attorney, I am requesting that any and all questioning cease immediately, and that I be allowed to see Mr Paulsen in private.’

After filling out some paperwork, Lindo was led into an interrogation room. Derek Paulsen, the smaller of the two thugs that Payne had left tied up in the cable car, sat inside.

‘Your lawyer’s here,’ the officer informed him.

For the first time since he had been taken into custody, a glimmer of hope spread across Paulsen’s face. ‘Thank God.’

‘This isn’t going to work,’ Lindo informed the officer.

‘What isn’t?’

‘This room. I asked for a private meeting. You and I both know that if I ask for such accommodations, you have a legal obligation to provide them.’ He tapped the mirrored wall of the interrogation room. ‘Something without one-way glass. This conversation is privileged. That means you don’t get to listen or watch.’

Paulsen smiled at the exchange.

‘Fine,’ the officer grunted. ‘Give me a minute. I’ll see what I can do.’

He closed the door behind him.

‘Don’t say a word,’ Lindo said to Paulsen. He pointed at the mirror. ‘Not until we’re completely alone.’

A few minutes later, the officer reappeared and motioned for Lindo to follow him to a small room with cinder-block walls. The only things inside were two chairs. The only way in or out was a heavy iron door.

‘Does this work?’ the officer asked.

‘Yes, this is fine. Thank you.’ In contrast to his earlier indignation, Lindo’s response was polite, even grateful.

The officer wasn’t the least bit moved by Lindo’s tone. He simply stared at him blankly and whistled loudly. Moments later a second officer led Paulsen into the room. Before leaving, the officer unshackled Paulsen’s handcuffs.

‘Thank you for your kindness,’ Lindo said.

The cop sneered. ‘This isn’t kindness; this is wishful thinking. If your client decides to attack you, that’s one less lawyer we have to worry about.’

The first officer laughed loudly and patted his buddy on the back as the two cops left the room together.

Once the door was shut, Lindo was free to talk. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Better now. Did the Egyptian send you?’ Paulsen was referring to Masseri in the only way he could. He didn’t know his name; he only knew him by nationality.

‘He did.’

‘Great. So what’s the plan? How soon can you get me out of here?’

‘It won’t take long. But first I need to ask you a few questions. What happened at the incline?’

‘We got jumped,’ Paulsen said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘One minute we were sitting on the bench, riding the car to the lower station, and the next minute there’s a guy punching me in the face. He was an animal. He broke my ribs. My partner got it worse. Much worse. How’s he doing?’

‘He’s dead,’ Lindo replied. ‘But we can’t worry about that. Right now, let’s focus on you. Let me get this straight: this guy just picks you out of a crowd and starts swinging? That doesn’t make any sense. Had you seen him before?’

‘Yeah. When we were waiting for our backup to arrive, he passed us on the street outside the upper station. He was running to catch the next car down.’

‘Wait. The two of you spoke?’

‘No, I’m just guessing from the way he was hurrying.’ Paulsen wiped his brow with the back of his hand.

‘Why are you sweating?’

‘Why? Because I’ve got a bunch of broken ribs and I’m sitting in a police station facing weapons charges. Why the fuck do you think I’m sweating?’

Lindo stared at him. ‘Are you sure you want to snap at me? If I leave, you’re facing several years in Western Penitentiary. On the bright side, it has a lovely view of the river.’

‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just – it’s been a long day.’

‘And it’s going to get even longer if we can’t figure out why you were jumped. Were you talking about the mission on the cable car?’

‘No! Of course not. We aren’t
that
stupid.’

‘Then what did you do to get noticed?’

Paulsen sensed that Lindo wouldn’t spring him from jail unless he gave him something, so he decided to pin the blame on his dead partner. ‘I didn’t do anything, I swear I didn’t. But when the guy was running to the incline, my dumbass partner asked me if this was our backup.’

‘He said that? Did the guy overhear it?’

Paulsen shrugged. ‘He might have. I can’t say for sure.’

‘Shit. There’s his motive. If he thought you two were plotting something, he can use it to defend his actions. As far as he knew, he was preventing a crime, not committing one.’ Lindo shook his head dejectedly. ‘Did you mention the Egyptian by name?’

‘How could I? I don’t even
know
his name.’

‘What about the old man? Did you mention him?’

Paulsen shook his head. ‘No, but he knew we were coming.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Why? Because the geezer was armed.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes! At one point I had the drop on the other fucker, but before I had a chance to take him out, the old geezer shot at me. I’m lucky to be alive.’

Lindo nodded. ‘Yes, you are.’

‘So what now?’ Paulsen demanded.

Lindo looked at his watch. ‘At this time of day, it’s probably too late to get you released. I’m guessing they’ll want to schedule a bail hearing for first thing tomorrow morning.’

Paulsen had figured as much. ‘Any chance you can get me a night in the medical ward? My ribs are fucking killing me.’

‘No, but I brought in something to take the edge off.’ Lindo glanced over his shoulder, just to make sure the cops weren’t watching. Then he reached into his suit coat and pulled out a single white capsule. ‘Take this. Quick. Before the guards return.’

Paulsen grabbed the pill and popped it in his mouth. A moment later, he had worked up enough saliva to wash it down. ‘What was it?’

‘High-dose pain relief. Ten minutes from now, you won’t feel a thing.’

The black SUV was parked in an alley three blocks from the police station. Masseri sat in the shadows of the back seat, waiting for Lindo to return.

Despite his slick suit, polished shoes, and extensive knowledge of the legal system, Lindo was not an attorney. He was actually a member of a backup team sent to assist Masseri. Thanks to his sadistic ways, Lindo jumped at the chance to kill Paulsen – not only to impress Masseri, but because he thought it would be fun to kill a suspect in police custody.

Waiting in a nearby car, Masseri watched Lindo as he turned the corner and made his way into the alley. As far as he could tell, no cops had followed him from the station.

‘We’re good,’ Lindo said as he opened the car door.

Masseri needed more than that. ‘Define “good”.’

‘I questioned him. He took the pill. No problem at all.’

‘What did he know?’

‘He said the guy on the incline was the first to act. He knew who they were and tried to stop them.’

‘How?’

‘They were talking about backup while they waited outside the upper station. The guy came jogging by, and he might have overheard them.’

‘What about names?’

‘He didn’t say anything about Sahlberg, and he had no idea who the other guy was.’

Masseri’s jaw clenched. He desperately wanted to know the identity of the man who had ruined his plans at the incline. He had been hired to secure Sahlberg, but the mission wouldn’t be complete until he had eliminated the man protecting him.

‘Anything else?’

‘No, that’s it. He took the pill. He’ll be dead soon. No more loose ends.’

‘Exactly,’ Masseri replied.

Before Lindo could process the remark, Masseri reached forward and pressed his pistol to Lindo’s temple. The silenced round split through Lindo’s frontal lobe and ricocheted off the inside of his skull. As the slug careened back into Lindo’s brain, Masseri fired twice more. He knew that Lindo was dead after the first bullet, but he wanted this to look like something other than a professional hit. To help steer the police toward the conclusion of a drug deal gone wrong, he took on the mindset of a junkie.

He reached a gloved hand into Lindo’s suit and pulled out his wallet. Satisfied that there was nothing in the vehicle that could be linked to him or the other members of his team, he calmly opened the door and stepped outside.

The ambient noise of the city had masked what little sound had escaped the silencer. Even the birds perched on the fire escapes and power lines overhead had not been disturbed.

Masseri smiled as he walked into the shadows.

Eklund was confused and more than a little frustrated. He was standing in the middle of
his
crime scene at the charred laboratory in Stockholm, and yet he was waiting for Dial to tell him what to do, even though Dial had no authority at the scene. He was merely there as an official observer – an observer who was technically Eklund’s boss at Interpol.

Well, not really his boss. More like his superior.

No, that wasn’t quite right either.

The truth was, Eklund didn’t really know what their relationship was, which was why he was confused and frustrated to begin with. Eventually, he decided the best way to rectify the situation was to simply voice what was on his mind.

‘Nick, may I ask you a question?’

‘Of course,’ Dial replied.

‘What’s your role here?’ he blurted.

Twenty years ago, Eklund wouldn’t have even thought about challenging one of the division heads at Interpol. Ten years ago, he would have considered it for a few, fleeting moments before pushing it to the back of his mind and keeping his mouth shut.

But today was a different story.

Eklund had reached the point in his career where nothing mattered more than solving crimes, and if someone wanted to challenge his authority, he would deal with it then and there. It didn’t matter if it was a colleague at his local station, the chief of an elite unit, or the Interpol secretary general himself. One way or another, Eklund needed to know that everyone was on the same page – even if it put his career in jeopardy.

As it turned out, Dial was more impressed than insulted. To him, one of the things that separated good cops from bad was the willingness to ask the questions that needed to be asked, regardless of the person being questioned. Dial had seen far too many good leads go to shit because the investigator’s priority was to
keep
his job rather than
do
his job.

‘You want me to get out of your way?’ Dial asked.

‘Not at all. If you want to stay, then stay. I just want to clear the air before anyone starts stepping on anyone else’s toes.’

Dial smiled to lighten the mood. ‘As you know, Interpol can’t run a crime scene. It’s in our charter. I’m here for the sole purpose of making sure the right information gets distributed to all the nations involved. The investigation itself must be conducted by local law enforcement. That’s you, not me.’

Eklund stared at him. He was usually good at reading people, but right then he had no idea if Dial was testing him. ‘You’re staying out of it?’

‘I never said
that
,’ Dial teased. ‘But it’s your show. I’m just along for the ride.’

‘In that case, I’d like to shift our focus to something else.’

‘To what?’

‘The science.’

‘You think we can learn anything from this equipment?’

Eklund nodded. ‘I think the equipment, the specimens and whatever else remains from their experiments gives us a very good place to start.’

‘I completely agree. Where do you want to begin?’

Eklund checked the equipment list he had been given by the forensics team. It was like reading a foreign language. ‘Do you know anything about science?’

‘Not a damn thing.’

‘Me neither,’ Eklund admitted with a laugh. ‘Let’s find someone who does.’

The Karolinska Institute was located in the Stockholm suburb of Solna, just north of the city. It was one of the most highly regarded medical schools in Europe, and its work in the fields of clinical medicine and pharmacology was regularly lauded by academics around the world. The Karolinska Institute was responsible – through its facility or its graduates – for a full third of all the medical research being carried out in Sweden.

This wasn’t the first time Eklund had visited the campus in search of help. Years earlier he had spent an entire week working in a cadaver lab in order to better understand a case. Back then, he had been attempting to identify the particular weapon being used in a series of grisly murders. He was hoping that today’s visit wouldn’t require a butcher’s apron.

‘Dr Olsen?’ he said in Swedish as he pushed open the saloon-style double doors of the laboratory. ‘We saw the light on and figured that you were working late.’

‘When am I
not
working late?’ Olsen asked from the adjoining room.

Before they could locate the source of the sound, a wispy beanpole of a man came bounding through the doorway to meet them. He stood six and a half feet tall, yet weighed well under two hundred pounds. His shirt draped over his skeletal frame, and his belt was cinched comically tight, as if it closed a pouch of marbles instead of holding up a pair of pants. His skin was pale – almost white – and his shoulder-length hair was jet black.