Jeff Carson - Foreign Deceit

No more than three paces into his light footed trot, his left foot gave way, sweeping violently down to the left with an air-splitting ceramic crack. His right foot shuffled forward in mid stride and caught on a tile as his body weight plummeted towards the roof. His right knee bent, smashed into his chest, bounced him up to the left, and into an uncontrollable fall.

He hit the roof with a hollow thud on his entire left side. For a moment, he stalled, planking parallel to the roof ridge line, shifting slowly, unstoppably into a roll towards the roof edge. He extended his right leg out and up to stop it, but it was no use.

Without thinking, he kicked up with his left leg, extended his right arm straight above his head, and twisted hard to his right, towards the drop. A fraction of a second later he split his legs and arms into a wide X, toes and hands digging for purchase, belly against the wet roof. He landed in a cacophony of cleaving tiles, which tumbled like the sound of plates sliding off a waiter tray, into the darkness, now just a foot to his left.

His body skidded a few inches as he gritted his teeth, digging his toes and finger tips into the wet ceramic. His body stopped with inches to spare. Panting quickly now, he forced himself to take a deep breath, then heard a few distant splatters of tiles hitting the cobblestones below, giving him yet another shot of adrenaline.

Ten seconds later he managed to get back to a position perpendicular to the crest of the roof, using the sturdy tiles beneath. He went all the way to the peak this time, willing to trade being seen from within the piazza for living to see another day. Straddling the crest, he walked low and quick the remainder of the way.

As he approached the black void at the end of the roof, growing discouragement gave way to instant relief as his eyes adjusted, revealing a one meter drop onto a flat topped black roof below. He could see puddles reflecting the city-lit clouds. The roof extended twenty feet, then there was a steel rectangular structure at the edge. A fire escape stairway?

He slunk over the edge and made his way there.

It was a fire escape. Steps zig-zagged all the way down to the ground, or so he assumed. He wasn’t about to test the strength of the railing by leaning over to see.

It wobbled and creaked with each step, but he was on the ground safely in a few minutes.

His body tingled with adrenaline as his feet hit the ground. He turned to look back up at the stairway. He shook his head with wide eyes — cold-blooded conviction pounding in his veins. That was how the murderers got out of his brother’s apartment that night.

The piazza was just around the corner. He walked the opposite way, through a narrow gap — to where Cristina had told him to go earlier. The familiar white scooter was parked right where she said it would be. He cranked the key, fired up the kazoo-sounding engine, and took off down the side street.

He rode the scooter fast to the Merate Observatory. The gate in the rear of the property was wide open, just like every other time he’d seen it, so he planted the scooter in the corn and walked in. Checking the back door with a tug, he was surprised as bright light poured out, opening without any resistance.

Walking in like a stalker would have drawn a cautious eye to any observers inside, so he walked in like he belonged.

Opening the door hard, he strode across the brightly lit telescope room floor while looking down at his hooded sweatshirt zipper, making a mild show of struggling to unzip it. A man at a computer terminal looked to him over a pushed down set of reading glasses.

Wolf raised his eyebrows and his hand in a quick wave as he walked in full stride through the propped door to the interior building.

“Ciao,” the man said distractedly, already turning his head back to the computer screen.

Wolf took to his right, down the hallway towards Vlad’s office, and allowed himself a quick look over his shoulder. No one was in sight along the hall that extended in the opposite direction, but a few lights were on. He glanced at his watch. 8:44 pm. For a Friday night, it seemed positively bustling. But then again, it was an observatory.

He walked past an occupied office on the left. Inside, a man sat with his face to a computer screen, an Asian man looking over his shoulder — Dr. Chang. He passed unobserved down the hallway. Blinds were drawn tight over Vlad’s hall windows, lights on inside, and his door was shut. Wembly’s office was dark, looking shut tight for the night.

Wolf stopped, swiveled another look down the hall, and pressed his ear lightly against Vlad’s office door. There was no sound.

He twisted the handle and entered fast.

Before he finished shutting the door, he knew he was in big trouble.

Nothing inside the office moved but the swirling digital lines on the computer screen.

Vlad sprawled motionless, directly face down. His head was back slightly, face balanced on his nose and gaping jaw which was mashed into the terrazzo floor.

What bothered Wolf was not Vlad’s obviously lifeless body, as much as what was wrapped around his neck — a shiny black leather belt. A shiny black belt of a design he might have remembered seeing in his brother’s closet earlier in the week.

His mind raced.

He looked at the computer screen. The lines had disappeared, blanking out to a black sleep-mode screen. He snapped his head to Vlad and bent down, feeling his cheek with the back of his hand. The body was still warm.

Wolf stood up with a jolt and turned towards the door. He pulled the door open with his sweatshirt pocket covered hand and scrubbed clean the exterior knob. Suddenly, a faint two tone siren became audible somewhere in the distance. Turning to the exterior window, his breath quickened when the flicker of red and blue flashed through the closed blinds, and the siren become louder.

Wolf sprinted down the hall, past the Asian scientist who was now taking a long swill of soda in his office doorway.

“Hey!” He stepped back, spilling his drink on himself as Wolf blew past him.

Wolf ran hard through the telescope room and out the door. He stopped outside with a skid and lunged back to the handle, wiping both inside and outside knob quickly with his sweatshirt before turning and sprinting as fast as he could out the gate.

Running down the dirt road to the left, red and blue pulses dimly lit the corn rows in front of him, coming from behind. He dove straight left into the corn rows, stopping his movement as fast he could. Looking up, he steadied two cornstalks in place.

The siren was now muted, but the brightening strobe of red and blue told him the vehicle was getting closer by the second.

Wolf inched to the edge of the corn and stole a glance. It was a Caribinieri Alfa Romeo Gazelle slowing at the observatory’s back gate, then whipping hard into the property. He waited for the next car, which never came. He held his breath and listened. A faint familiar clack of the observatory door told him the officer had probably entered the building.

None of it made any sense. The body wasn’t even cold yet, not even discovered by his fellow employees milling about. Wolf instinctually twisted to look behind him. Nothing but corn.

He poked his head out and looked to the building, seeing flashing blue and red against the corn rows lining the road. Faint radio noises came from the vehicle inside the property.

He ran down the road to the scooter. Pausing, he looked and listened again, then pushed it up the dirt road, away from the observatory grounds. Reaching the small rise, he jumped on, coasting towards the lake — towards the narrow trail they’d navigated earlier in the day. Towards the crime scene .