Enemy Contact - Mike Maden Page 0,58

of the half-full trailer as the last boxes were stacked. The Ukrainians sped past him with their empty hand trucks, the hard rubber wheels rattling on the steel loading gate.

Jack stepped deeper into the trailer to the neatly stacked boxes that ran from floor to ceiling and wall to wall. Near as he could tell, the boys were doing a good job of putting the heavy stuff such as floor jacks and roofing nails on the bottom, and lighter stuff toward the top. He didn’t touch anything. Didn’t need to.

He headed back out of the trailer and dropped down to the bottom of the loading bay. The trailer itself was of Chinese manufacture, and so was the big red JAC tractor that hauled it. A quick glance down the loading dock revealed several more Chinese-made tractor-trailer rigs, mixed in with a few Volvos and Mercedes.

Not wanting to get his sport coat and slacks dirty, Jack used the steel staircase to ascend back onto the warehouse floor.

Jack grinned as he watched the two Ukrainian boys doing their best to stack boxes onto their hand trucks while trying to flirt with the pretty Polish woman who was clearly interested in talking to them. They finished stacking their trucks and heaved them away toward the trailer as Jack approached.

“Looks like you might have a date lined up tonight.”

“Two, if I play my cards right.” She laughed. “See anything interesting?”

“Nothing much. What did you find out?”

“The best pub around here is owned by the tall boy’s uncle. Says he can get us beers at half price after he gets off work.”

“Sounds like an investable proposition. Anything else?”

“They just load and unload trucks. Paid in cash, probably to avoid taxes. They said the trucks mostly travel to Polish and German cities, but sometimes as far as Spain, Italy, and France.”

“Ready to go?”

“If you are.”

“Let’s say good-bye to Mr. Wilczek.”

“Then what?”

“That depends.”

“On what?” Liliana asked.

“Your dating plans.”

She smiled. “My Ukrainian boyfriends can wait a few days, I think.”

* * *

Wilczek hung up the phone and lit a cigarette just as Jack and Liliana stepped back into his office.

He yanked open a desk drawer and fished out a crumpled business card. He handed it to Jack.

“Mr. Stapinsky’s main office is located in Kraków. You can usually find him there.”

“Thanks for this.” Jack pocketed the card.

“Better still, let me call him for you.” Wilczek reached for his phone.

“You don’t have to bother—”

“No bother at all,” the big man said, punching numbers on the dial with his middle finger. The end of his index finger was cut off and healed over like melted wax.

The phone rang twice before a female voice answered in Polish on the other end. Wilczek growled a few questions, then took a long drag as he waited impatiently for the woman’s voice to come back on the line. Wilczek frowned, thanked her—or so Jack assumed—and hung up the phone.

“I am sorry to inform you that Mr. Stapinsky is out of town and not interested in any investment opportunities you might have.” He stabbed the butt out in the hubcap.

“That’s too bad,” Jack said.

“Thank you for trying,” Liliana added.

The three of them shook hands. Wilczek picked up the phone and dialed another number as Jack and Liliana cleared the office.

* * *

Liliana beeped open the car doors and the two of them fell in.

“Now where?” Liliana said, punching the start button.

“Kraków, of course.”

“Stapinsky isn’t there. Unless you think Wilczek lied to us.”

“Not Wilczek. Stapinsky. And I want to find out why.”

“What if he really isn’t there?”

“We can still check out his stuff. If that’s okay.”

Liliana searched his eyes. “You are a stubborn man, aren’t you?”

“Only when it counts.”

She shrugged. “Makes no difference. My assignment is to take you where you want to go, so we go.”

35

Liliana pulled into a gas station and called her supervisor while topping off the Audi.

Jack knew it was too early in the morning in Alexandria to call in to Gerry and give him an update. They were six hours behind on the East Coast, and it wasn’t as if he had any hard data to pass along. He wasn’t convinced the trip to Kraków was going to be any more productive. It was a thin lead, but it was all he had.

Liliana returned the nozzle to the gas pump, slapped the gas door shut, and slipped into her seat.

“Ready?”

“I love me a road trip.”

“Me, too. And I think you’ll love Kraków.”

She fired up the car and stomped the gas, burning rubber

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