Foreign Influence_ A Thriller - Brad Thor [67]
“What have you got?” asked the Troll.
“There are about fifty desktop computers in the lab. There was also a notice about funeral services for a Professor Lars Jagland. Does that name ring a bell with you?”
“No, but I’m running it now. While I do that, I want you to ping the e-mail address I gave you.”
“It’s asking me for a password before it will allow me on the system,” replied Harvath.
“Hold on. Let me see what I can do.”
“There’s three other offices here. If you want me to check those computers, I’ll probably also need passwords for them. But something tells me, Jagland is our guy.”
“Lars Jagland, Ph.D.,” replied the Troll, who had just pulled his obituary. “Norwegian citizen age fifty-eight. Expert in the field of computational complexity theory and professor of same at the University of Geneva, at least until he was killed in a car accident just over a week ago.”
“Any family?”
“The obit I’ve got here doesn’t recognize any.”
Harvath was about to ask Nicholas to see if he could uncover an address for Jagland’s home when suddenly he heard a woman’s voice.
“What are you doing in this office? Who are you?”
“Let me call you back,” said Harvath as he disconnected the call and stood up. Smiling he offered his hand. “I’m sorry. The door was open.”
“I asked you who you are,” the woman repeated. She spoke English, but with a Germanic accent of some sort. She was in her early thirties, about five-foot-four with brown hair and trendy glasses. She was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt.
“My name’s Jeff Hemmings. Who are you?”
“I’m Dr. Jagland’s teaching assistant. What are you doing in his office?”
“We had a meeting scheduled,” said Harvath.
The woman looked at him and her posture softened a bit. “You haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?”
“Dr. Jagland was killed in a car accident.”
“When?”
“The week before last.”
“I had no idea.”
“The funeral was yesterday,” she said. “I’m taking over until the university finds a replacement. Classes resume tomorrow.”
Harvath stepped out from behind the desk. “And you came in to prepare and here I am.”
“Yes. Here you are. What is it you were supposed to meet with Dr. Jagland about?”
“I work for American Express. Dr. Jagland approached us about a project he thought our fraud-monitoring department would be interested in. We were supposed to meet here and go for dinner. He told me to dress casual.”
The teaching assistant smiled. “You’re a liar.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re after Michael, aren’t you?”
“Who’s Michael?” asked Harvath.
“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything. But I have to tell you that anyone who knows him won’t be surprised.”
“Why is that?” he said, curious as to where this was leading.
“He’s nothing more than an overeducated hacker.”
Bingo.
“He’s incredibly rude as well,” the woman continued, “and to tell you the truth, I don’t know what Dr. Jagland saw in him. Love is blind, I guess.”
“So they were—”
The teaching assistant nodded. “Disgusting, isn’t it? Dr. Jagland was easily at least thirty years older than him. Why he couldn’t find a boyfriend his own age is beyond me. So what did Michael do?”
“It’s delicate,” replied Harvath. “I’d rather not get into it.”
“He finally went too far. I’m not surprised. Are you going to arrest him?”
“Possibly. We have to find him first. Any idea where he might be?”
“He didn’t even come to the funeral.”
“That sounds strange.”
“It’s typical, selfish Michael. Afterward, we all went out for a couple of drinks and went by the house to give him a piece of our mind.”
“The house?” asked Harvath.
“Dr. Jagland’s house. He and Michael lived together. But Michael wasn’t there. It looked like he hadn’t been there for a little bit.”
“Any idea where he might be now?”
The teaching assistant thought for a moment and then said, “The chalet, I guess.”
“Do you have an address you can give me?”
The woman pulled out her iPhone and began going through her folders. “We celebrated Dr. Jagland’s birthday there over the winter. Here’s a picture of the place,” she said, holding up her phone so Harvath could see