CHAPTER 1
Law Offices
Mancuso & Johnson
Madison Avenue
New York City
May 20, 1963
1000 hours
"I heard some shouts, many voices and then the line went dead," Pat said. He was on the phone with Victor Mancuso, his lawyer.
"That was the last thing you heard?" Victor asked.
"That's it, I'm devastated. They've kidnapped him," Pat said, his voice cracking. He had told Victor that Alex Reinmann, Pat's business partner, had gone to Italy on a business trip a week ago and Pat had no word from him until the cryptic phone call.
"Now tell me again. Try to remember every word," Victor said. He was putting on his calm, courtroom voice, not to reveal that he, too, was disturbed.
"Well, Alex went to Italy on a business trip—"
"No, no. I want to hear only about the telephone call, give me the other matters later."
"Okay, when Alex called he said something like `they've got me in Rome at some hotel, don't know the name, but it ends with 'ay-ah.' These guys drugged me, have me under lock and key. The guy who's guarding me is in the head.' That's all he said."
"And then came the shouts from different voices and the line went dead?"
"That's it. I'm scared witless."
"That's all you know?" Victor asked, his mind racing through many scenarios, none of which was good.
"Well, Alex flew to Italy last week to close a deal," Pat said. "A company over there wants to license our photocopy technique for the European market. They want this year's model, the 1963 high-speed special. Alex promised to phone or cable as soon as he got there. I hadn't heard a word from him until this morning. I was a little worried until I got this call today. Now I'm a nervous wreck."
* * *
Patrick S. Gleason was president of Gyrene Laboratories, Inc., the Massachusetts-based research and development company widely known for inventing and licensing photocopy equipment, as well as electronic and computer components. Gyrene employed almost 100 scientists and laboratory technicians. Alexander M. Reinmann was its director of research. Without him, this company would be like a symphony orchestra without its violins.
Fresh out of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology with Ph.D. degrees in 1950, having completed their courses under the G.I. bill, Pat and Alex were World War II Marine Corps veterans. They had come to see Victor Mancuso in New York. "We don't have one nickel to rub against another," Alex had said. "We know you by reputation. You help fellow Marines, and we're not looking for a handout. Sir, all we're asking is a few minutes of your time to hear what we have to say. Okay?"
To Victor, "Once a Marine, Always a Marine," was more than a slogan for those who had worn the globe and anchor. He lit a Lozano Cuban cigar, Churchill size, and told his secretary to hold all calls. Victor said that he had a busy schedule, but would allocate ten minutes for them. "Hell, I'll always find time for guys who served with the Corps out in the islands," he said.
* * *
"Stand easy, Pat," Victor said. "I'll call Joe and we'll get cracking right away. In the meantime, put together all the information on the Italian company, names of people, paperwork, whatever. I'll call back in a half hour." Victor dialed the private line of Joseph Napoleone, head of the Park Avenue investigating agency that bore his name. His personal secretary answered. "This is Vic. I need Joe right away. Tell him to drop everything he's doing. It's an emergency."
Pat did not wait for Victor's call. He telephoned with more bad news. "All we have is the name and address of the company. Alex took the entire file with him."
"Give me all you got," Victor said.
"Tritone Sciénza Compagnia, S.P.A., Piazza Barberini, 122. No names of people. No telephone numbers. It's all in the file that Alex has. No one else handled it. The Italian principals didn't speak English, and Alex's the only person here who speaks Italian. That's why he handled it personally, instead of our marketing department."
"I didn't know Alex spoke Italian. I knew he was fluent in German," Victor said. He was breathing heavily now. He liked things to be neat and tidy, both in the law and in business. Meticulous in preparation, Victor did not like surprises, and Pat's phone calls today were dishing out one surprise after another.
"His family was trilingual," Pat said. "Father born in Germany, mother in Italy. Both dead now, but they were language professors at a college somewhere in the Midwest. Alex can move from English to German to Italian without missing a beat."
"I'll get back to you as soon as I make some calls." As a Marine officer and lawyer, Victor never acted from desperation. Keep calm and think straight. These were his watchwords, but at this moment, he found it impossible to be unperturbed. Not only was Alex missing under strange circumstances, but Victor had now been exposed to a new dimension of a man he had known so long and intimately. Alex had been a Marine, too, in World War II, but what in the hell was a Marine who speaks both German and Italian doing out with the Fleet Marine Force in the Pacific? And what was the real reason for traipsing off to Italy? Was he really a kidnap victim? Was there some dark side to Alex's character?
Victor flipped through his Rolodex for the number of Giorgio Lucca, longtime manager of the Rome office of Ringoletti, Europe's leading office machine manufacturer. It was eleven in the morning in New York, but five in the afternoon in Rome when Victor reached him. They spoke in Italian. Victor's parents were born in Italy and at an early age he had become proficient in the language. "My dear, Vittorio. It has been a long time. Are you coming over again? We have much to talk about." Giorgio said. Victor had met Giorgio years ago on business with Ringoletti for a client, and over the years they had become very close. Through Giorgio's recommendation, the Mancuso & Johnson law firm had become North American counsel for the vast Ringoletti office machine company. In this capacity, Victor often traveled to Italy on business and made it a point to spend time with Giorgio as much as possible.
"Right now it's business, amico," Victor said. "I need to know as much as I can about a certain company." He gave him the name and address and explained Alex's disappearance.
"I never heard of them," Giorgio said. "The address you give is directly across the piazza from my office. I'm very surprised that I don't know them at all."
"Please find out for me as soon as you can. We're in trouble over here."
"I have the connections. Will call you back. Wait for me."
Victor was now thinking that, obviously, Tritone was a brand new company, otherwise Giorgio would have been familiar with it. Corporate executive and sophisticated Roman, a true insider, he knew all the activity and gossip in the Via Veneto-Piazza Barberini section of Rome. Victor's thoughts were interrupted by his secretary: "Mr. Napoleone's on the line."
"Joe, where in the hell are you? I need you, ole buddy. I have a five-bell emergency. Red ball your ass over here."
"Hell, I was going to the gym for a workout. I'm in the car about eight blocks from your office, but coming right over." Joe said.
* * *
Alex Reinmann was not only Victor's friend, but it was his inventive genius that had catapulted...
