Reciprosity Read online

  “We’re doing great, Ray,” I said. “Nice of you to ask.”

  Virna added, “Has anyone ever told you, you look just like Denzel Washington when you try to be funny?”

  That broke the ice. Ray burst out laughing. “More than once, sweet cakes. Della tells me to loose weight, die my beautiful silver hair, grow two inches, and I could pass for his pappy. Hell-be-damned, I’m only ten years older than him.”

  Della walked over and began massaging Ray’s shoulders. “Chief, you’re perfect just as you are.”

  Ray patted her hands. “Have to watch out for this one. She only calls me chief when she wants to remind me that her IQ is higher than mine.”

  As I’ve mentioned before, Ray and I go way back. He was born the only son of black sharecroppers and scrapped and fought his way out of the cotton fields and abject poverty of East Texas to become the most sought after criminal defense attorney in San Francisco. Along the way he served twenty years in the United States Army Criminal Investigation Command. And because I served under him for many of those years I can read him like a book. Raymond Mattock was not a happy man. And I was pretty certain it had something to do with the official documents he just brushed aside like an unappetizing slice of his least favorite pumpkin pie.

  Ray said, “Sit down everyone. All joking aside, I have some bad news.” Then he slid the pumpkin pie toward me and Virna.

  I looked at the top form and saw the Interpol Red Notice stamp. A Red Notice is as close to an international arrest warrant as you can get.

  Ray continued, “Luke, you and Virna are being extradited back to Italy. The charges are under seal and the ten-day waiting period has been waived by the Justice Department. Highly unusual, but I have my suspicion Don Vittorio Cassine is behind it.”

  “When?” I asked. Then I read the date on the document. “That’s convenient, don’t you think? How in the hell would Vito or the Feds know to serve the papers here, in San Francisco? I flew here on a military jet and Virna flew on Adams’ private jet. My presence only became public knowledge a short time ago. And as far as anyone is concerned, Virna is still somewhere on the east coast.”

  Virna snatched the papers from my hand. “Quel bastardo, lo zio Vito vuole la sua libbra di carne.”

  Ray said, “Looks that way, Virna. Your uncle Vito, or someone, has very long arms and apparently eyes and ears everywhere—assuming Vito is responsible for the warrant.”

  Assuming makes an ASS out of U and ME, so goes the old adage. So I decided to let Ray continue without any further challenges to the plausibility that Vito was behind the extradition orders.

  “US Marshals will be here around one. As your attorney of record, Luke, that’s all the time I could buy you. I told them I was your attorney as well, Virna. Hope that’s okay?”

  Virna nodded approval. “Thank you, Ray.”

  I asked the stupid question because someone had to. “What should we do?”

  Ray said, “I can go to court and fight it, but you would probably be cooling your heels in a federal jail cell because of that Interpol Red Notice. Luke, we both know this is bogus, and we both know the fastest way to get to the bottom of it is not through the courts, but through the enemy itself. My best legal advice right now, eat something.”

  Funny. “Really. Can we run?”

  “You mean for the border?”

  “No, Ray. For that food truck downstairs.” I knew Ray was right about going straight at an enemy. Then my smart light popped on. “Ray, that guy we just arranged to be arrested. John Adams. Can you represent him?”

  “Are you serious, Luke? He kidnapped and threatened both you and Virna, knocked me and Della and Mark out for the count, and killed I don’t know how many. Why would I represent him?”

  “I think he’s part of a bigger picture I just can’t bring into focus yet.”

  Ray looked at his watch, took the documents from Virna and said, “Well, even if I wanted to, which I don’t, he’s being extradited as well. My guess is he’ll be flying coach with you two. Oh, and one more thing, Luke, your AISE and INTERPOL authorities have been revoked.”

  Well that sucks.

  “So we just wait here? Virna asked.

  Ray said, “Della, fetch that tray of sandwiches and drinks from the kitchen. We still have time to lay out some plans.”

  I agreed. I also had a very crazy idea. “Ray, can you get Kate on the line, like now?”

  Two minutes later I was talking to Kate Novak on a conference call. We exchanges hurried greetings and I gave her a very quick explanation of the situation Virna and I were in. Then I asked, “Kate, would you sell me the Lugano house?” I heard audible gasps from Mark and Virna. Not a sound from Ray and Della.

  Virna said, “What are you doing, Luke?”

  I explained, “Alice is the key.” Virna understood and smiled in agreement.

  Kate didn’t owe me anything—unless you count her life, her business, and her reputation. But I wasn’t looking for payback, I was serious. I had quite a few dollars squirreled away, and Virna always wanted to try out the bedrooms. I was not prepared for Kate’s answer.

  “I’ll do you one better, Luke. Ray, do you have the document I signed ready to execute?”

  “I have it in my hands, Kate,” said Ray with a sly smile.

  Then Kate said, “Luke I’m gifting you and Virna the Lugano property, free and clear. Call it an early wedding present.” Virna and I were both sitting with our mouths agape. “Please don’t interrupt or think I’m being overly generous, or that this is my way of repaying you for saving my life. Although, in part, that would be a very good reasons. The main reason is I’m getting rid of everything Thomas had his hands in building. I’m selling the mansion in San Francisco and the company, and giving you the Lugano house. I’m moving to Paris, permanently. I know you and Virna will make good use of the lake house—and Alice. My people have removed the two victims in the freezer, but I instructed them to leave everything in the cellar as is. Virna, if you want any of my cloths in the closets, welcome to them. Otherwise give everything you don’t want to charity. Just sign the document Ray has prepared—it’s in both of your names. Virna, you can change your name later if you’re so inclined. I’ve started crying, damn it! I love you both. I won’t be at the wedding but let’s get together next Christmas.”

  I needed one more thing before she hung up. “Kate, is the Looking Glass satellite still operational?”

  “Why?”

  “Humor me.”

  “Okay. The satellite is still up there. The DOD connection and all communication protocols have been wiped along with all documentation. It was deemed legally safer to do that than to remove all of the ground-based recorders Thomas installed. Mostly those in government buildings and housing. We did decommission some from private and commercial installations—windows, mirrors, etc.—under an insurance clause which granted us permission to replace faulty products free of charge. Why, Luke? What are you planning?”

  “Is Alice’s back door still open?”

  “Oh. I see. It probably is, Luke. I better hang up now before I dig myself into an even deeper hole.”

  There was a long silence after Kate hung up.

  Virna finally looked at me and said, “Luke?”

  I looked at Ray and said, “Ray?”

  Ray looked at us and said, “Sign these papers.” Della slid them to us and witnessed our signatures. Then she notarized them with her stamp and had us sign on line-items in her notary book, thumbprints included.

  Mark said, “Kate doesn’t know, does she, Ray?”

  Ray said, “Kate doesn’t need to. She has too much on her plate to add an additional worry about Luke and Virna being carted off to Italy.”

  Della said, “Congratulations. You now own a multi-million dollar estate in Switzerland. Will you retire there?”

  Virna said, “You bet your sweet ass we will.”

  I concluded our merry-go-round. “Assuming our mystery opponent doesn't have us wha
cked first.”

  We returned to our original planning session. Virna had one last request. “Ray, Adams has the Walther PPK Luke gave me. He actually offered me sixty-grand for it. I refused. I guess the police impounded it. Can you get it back?”

  I was calculating the profit we could have earned on the deal when Ray said, “Of course. I’ll look into it. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

  A few minutes later the US Marshals arrived.

  12

  We were crammed into the middle four seats of an AirItalia Boeing 777 flight to Rome. Economy class, row 31, just behind the bulkhead. A US Marshal sat in the aisle seat, then me, Virna and Adams. A second marshal sat in the aisle seat opposite Adams. We were not handcuffed but we were obliged to wear a new gadget. Similar to an ankle bracelet, this was a simple wristband—a plastic medical bracelet for undesirables. Our identities and transfer numbers were embossed into the plastic. Imbedded in the plastic was a tracker. The inner side of the band was metal and fit tightly against our skin. Any funny business and we get zapped. We were all dressed in the same civilian clothing we were wearing on the plaza earlier in the day.

  We were allowed to talk to each other, get up and walk around—like, where could we go thirty thousand feet in the air—and visit the head. The flight departed at three-fifteen. It would arrive in Rome around noon local time on the following day. After a dozen hours in economy. I even offered to upgrade us to business class, but our friendly tour guides wouldn’t have it.

  Virna wanted to discuss curtains for our new home. I told her, “The only curtains we’ll be seeing is at Vitos farm.”

  “Not true. Uncle Vito would never harm me,” she smiled. “You on the other hand...either way I’m putting up new curtains.”

  Funny lady. “All I did was allow Adams here to blow up Vito’s headquarters. It was your idea to transfer all the recordings to those servers. Chicken or the egg, right?”

  Virna punched my arm. The marshal warned her, “No violence.”

  I concurred, “Listen to the officer, dear.”

  She stuck out her tongue, which gave me an idea. I asked the marshal sitting next to me, “My girlfriend is Italian and she has difficulty sometimes communicating in English. Is it okay if we talk in Italian?”

  I liked his answer. “You can talk in pig latin as far as I’m concerned.”

  I found his response a good sign that he might be open to a little persuasion later. I relayed the marshal’s comment to Virna and Adams and we continued in Italian.

  Virna turned to face Adams. “Why did you blow up the server room, John?”

  “You’re on first name basis now?” I asked.

  They both ignored me. Then Adams answered, and I was suddenly terrified.

  “Because your uncle paid me to blow it up.”

  “You’re lying!” Virna replied.

  I did her one better, “You’re fucking crazy.”

  The marshal next to me said, “Watch your language.” There are some words that bridge language barriers.

  Adams continued, “It’s true. The Endowment is a single stone in a pyramid of independent criminal organizations dedicated to manipulating world governments, industries, financial institutions. And one man sits at the top. He is the puppet master, controlling the strings of a far-flung network of operatives—his marionettes if you will—dancing to his tune.”

  I was too stunned to know what to believe or what to say. Virna, on the other hand had plenty to say.

  “Are you saying Uncle Vito is behind all the killing? Was he responsible for the massacre at Luke’s farm? Was he behind the eliminations of Laenker, Novak, Hedrin, the others?”

  “Not directly. He dictates the objectives—shut down the Looking Glass project as an example. One of the independent criminal organizations—The Endowment in this example— determine the strategy and operational aspects to accomplish the objective, without any knowledge they are being manipulated. Luke carried out the hit on Laenker and the VP in a single-minded quest to seek revenge for the massacre at his farm. He still has no clue who actually carried out the hit. Or how it all fit into the larger scheme Vittorio was plotting. He was just another hapless marionette.”

  I’d heard enough. I didn’t completely discount his claim because I knew just how ruthless Vittorio could be. On the other hand, I wouldn’t trust Adams as far as I could throw him—even if I could throw him out of the plane. I asked, “What about your organization? Nemesis, or whatever you call it? Worshippers of an ancient Greek goddess. Are you just another hapless marionette?”

  Adams laughed. “No, Luke. My plan to kidnap the two of you in order to learn the location of the Looking Glass recordings had nothing to do with Vittorio—until he learned about it from Virna when she contacted him for assistance. I’d conducted a few operations for him a few years back, similar to the ones you ran for him in your day before you retired.” Adams laughed again. “Vittorio actually told me I reminded him of you. Weird, huh? Anyway, his people intercepted us when we landed in Turin. We spent a few hours as his guests. I explained my plan—he wasn’t present, mind you. He does all his negotiating from his farm, as you well know. Long and the short of it, he hired me and my crew to do exactly what you witnessed on the GCE security monitors. Why did Vittorio want his building destroyed? You’ll have to ask him because I haven’t a clue. By the way, I compliment you on a well executed plan to track me to our Virginia facility, but I do wish you hadn’t killed so many of my men.” Adams stopped talking and stretched his arms over his head.

  The plan was right out of Vittorio’s playbook. The same playbook I used when I worked for him. “Didn’t quite work out the way you planned, did it?” I said, somewhat foolishly proud of myself.

  “No. I suppose I deserved how you played it after I bested you twice before. Still one up on you, though, Luke.”

  The flight attendants were passing out pre-dinner drinks. They were five rows away. I took the opportunity to ask the question I promised myself I would ask. “Why did you tell me on the plaza to kill you, or Virna would die?”

  Adams answered with a straight face. “I have terminal cancer. Vittorio asked me to arrange for your arrest and incarceration for murder. That’s why I needed your private files, the ones from his file vault. The ones he arranged for me to find. You kill me in broad daylight in front of hundreds of witnesses with cameras. You get arrested. The files make their way into the hands of the DA. He puts two and two together and discovers he just arrested the world famous assassin, Tiberius. You go to prison and Vittorio doesn’t have to wipe the blood of his godson off his hands. A small sacrifice for a greater cause, whatever it may be. And my family gets the insurance. Again, you’ll have to ask Vittorio why he wants you out of the way. As for Virna, he was quite specific that she should not be harmed in any way.”

  Virna finally spoke up, “Are we in agreement that Uncle Vito is responsible for our return to Italy?”

  Adams undid his seatbelt, stood and announced in English, “Need the head before drinks,” and walked down the aisle toward the aft lavatory. Ten seconds later the marshal, sitting across the aisle from him, also stood and followed Adams. Then the marshal sitting next to me stood and removed his suit jacket. He was a short man, wearing a white short-sleeved dress shirt. He carefully folded the jacket and stretched his arms up to place it in an overhead storage compartment. Stretching his arms caused the short sleeves to draw up toward his shoulders. It was quick movement, but enough to reveal a portion of a tattoo on the inner bicep of his right arm.

  I quickly leaned over to Virna and whispered in her ear, “We’re being had again. It’s all lies. Play along.”

  She put her arms around my neck, kissed me and whispered, “I know. Uncle Vito is an atheist and vehemently apposed to the concept of being anyone’s godfather. He said he never wanted to be associated with any term that might link him to the mafia, or some supernatural deity.”

  I nuzzled her neck and whispered, “Yea, Adams had me going there fo
r a while, too. Plus, these marshals are his men. Same tattoos.”

  “Where?”

  “Under arm.”

  I released her when short-sleeves sat back down and said, “That’s enough cuddling, the drinks are here. What do you want?”

  I glanced at his arm. The shirtsleeve was covering the tattoo again. “Sparkling water for Virna and me.”

  The other marshal returned to his seat followed closely by Adams, who said in Italian, “I think this marshal may be open to a little inducement. I had a short conversation with him while we waited our turn at the heads. Seems he’s having some financial trouble at home.”

  Interesting tactic. I wondered what he was planning. I said, “I think this marshal by me may be amenable as well. “What are you thinking?”

  Virna sat quietly between Adams and me like a spectator at a tennis match.

  Adams said, “Still ten hours to go. Let’s think on it and compare ideas after dinner.”

  I agreed, then said to short-sleeves, “Mind if we stretch our legs?”

  He stood to let me and Virna pass, then he sat back down and started reading a magazine. We walked up the starboard aisle toward business class.

  Conversational sound barely travels six feet on an airliner. Less if you talk softly. Virna asked me, “What’s your plan, Luke?”

  “I don’t have one yet, but if Vittoria arranged for our extraditions, rest assured he has one.”

  As if on cue, a good looking male flight attendant approached us, ignored me, and said to Virna, “I love your films, Miss Lisi. Especially How to Murder Your Husband. Can I be of any assistance?”

  The first words that came to me were, “Show us to the parachutes?” Virna punched my arm. I thought I was funny, then what the attendant said hit me. I didn’t mind that he mistook Virna for the seventy-six year-old actress that passed away a few years ago, but I’m a stickler for movie titles, so I said, “You’re a funny young man. Don’t you mean How to Murder Your Wife?”

  The young man smiled, “Sì, mi scusi—Il mio nome è Leo. Don Vittorio dice siate pazienti e seguite le mie istruzioni. Incontriamoci nella cambusa di poppa un'ora prima di atterrare a Londra.” Then the attendant continued walking the way we had come. The message was delivered in less than five seconds: My name is Leo. Don Vittorio says be patient and follow my instructions. Meet me in the aft galley one hour before we land. Translation: Don’t do anything stupid, Luke. Be patient.