There would be plenty of time for honoring the dead later. Ignoring the insensitive nature of what he was doing, Sean reached into the man's front pocket and removed the set of keys he'd seen Steiner put there when they left the office less than a half hour ago.
He put his weapon back in its holster and pulled out his phone. A few seconds later, Emily answered as Sean walked over to the dead man by the tree.
"What's your status, Zero?" she asked stoically.
"Three assets terminated. Not sure how they found me, but they did. One civilian casualty. There was nothing I could do. We were ambushed." He tried to speak without much regret, but it swelled up inside him anyway. Steiner was a good man, and the guilt for having involved him was something Sean would have to deal with sooner or later. At the moment, it would need to be later.
There was silence on the other end for a few seconds. "Are you still on the scene?"
"Affirmative," Sean answered. "I'm getting out now. Just checking one thing before I go."
He knelt down and pressed the phone against his ear as he searched the pockets of the dead man. He found a Lithuanian passport, a wad of Euros, and a set of keys. He took a picture of the passport name and picture, then dropped it onto the dead man's chest.
"I'm going to send you a picture. It's the passport I found on one of the assets. Find out who he is and who he works for."
"Probably an alias, but I'll run it," she answered. "You need an extract?"
"Not yet," he said, picking up his pace and running over to the other dead assailant lying on his face in the middle of the cemetery.
He reached the other body and sifted through the various pockets until he found what he was looking for. Similarly, the man had a wad of cash and a foreign passport. This one was from the Republic of Georgia. "Looks like they're using identification from former Soviet states," he said, informing Emily of what he'd found. "I'm sending you another image to run."
He repeated the process he'd used with the previous passport and hit send.
"Any leads with what we're looking for?"
Sean started jogging, weaving between the headstones and back onto the narrow concrete path leading to the graveyard entrance. "Not sure yet. Hopefully, I'll know something soon. For the time being, I need to get back across the border into Germany. I'll let you know what I find out later."
"Okay," she said, though her voice indicated that the information was anything but. "We're running out of time."
11
When Sean reached the sidewalk along the street, he slowed his pace to a brisk walk. The last thing he wanted to do was be the memorable face of the man that walked away from a quadruple homicide in a cemetery in a quiet Polish town. Fortunately, the gunplay hadn't been noticed. There was so little vehicular and pedestrian traffic that no one heard the suppressed weapons being fired. An older woman with thick, gray hair and a puffy sky-blue shirt hobbled down the sidewalk a few blocks up but never gave any indication she was aware of what had just occurred. Bad news was that his shoulder was bleeding. The stinging pain surged through his arm and up his neck, telling him he needed to check the wound as soon as possible. He needed to get to the bag he’d left in Steiner’s office. Sean always kept a small emergency first aid kid tucked away inside his rucksack. It wasn’t much, but it could keep the wound from getting infected and from the feel of it, he’d only require a few stitches at most.
His thoughts returned to the shootout in the cemetery. Emily would notify the authorities about the incident via an anonymous tip, thus preventing an innocent visitor to the graveyard from discovering dead bodies lying around above ground. The visual ran through Sean's head for an instant, and he pictured the hysteria that would ensue.
He'd text Emily when he crossed back into Germany so she'd know he made it out.
Sean traced his steps back to Steiner's office, the entire time attempting to conceal his wound without looking like he was trying to hide something. When he reached the office he continued walking, passing the front door and windows. He stopped at the next intersection and made a hard left, around to the back of the strip of main street businesses. Once he was behind the buildings, he found the door he was looking for corresponding with Steiner's office and fished the keys out of his pocket. He'd not seen which key the older man had used to lock up, but lucky for Sean, there were only three to choose from, and one was clearly a car key.
He got it right on the first guess, and the lock turned easily, opening the door into the rear of the office.
Sean hurried through an empty room that appeared to have once housed file storage and then into the short corridor leading to the front of the building. He turned right into the side office and stepped around behind the desk. He grabbed his rucksack off the desk and stuck his hand inside it, feeling around for the blue vinyl pouch. His fingers found what he was looking for and set it on the desk. Next, he stripped down to his bare chest and set his clothes on the back of the chair. He examined the wound and was glad to see it was as he’d suspected. The bullet had taken out a chunk of his shoulder, but it missed bone and muscle.
He opened up the kit and set to sterilizing the wound with a peroxide swab. The chemicals sent a new sting through the tear in his skin as it foamed around the congealing blood. Satisfied it was sterile enough, Sean took a piece of adhesive gauze from the pack and pressed it hard against the wound. Once he’d smoothed out the tape he zipped up the emergency kit and stuck it back in the bag.
He put his shirt back on and noticed the leather-bound journals sitting nearby. It wasn’t irreverent to take them. At least that’s what he told himself. He needed the books. With a sigh, Sean stuffed both leather-bound journals into his rucksack, slung the strap over his shoulder and strode quickly back into the hallway. A rapid check in the front office, the hall, and the storage room told him there were no surveillance cameras, a fact that didn't surprise him. Other than the safe in his little office, there was nothing of value in the place.
He strode back to the rear of the building and locked the door. Another look around to make sure no one noticed him, and Sean took off at an Olympic-paced walk. Passing a dumpster, he lifted the lid and dropped the keys inside. No need to have that extra piece of evidence on him.
Four minutes later, he was back in his car and steering it out onto the main road. He glanced in the rearview mirror and watched the sleepy village fade into the forests and hills on the horizon. His eyes kept looking in that direction every thirty seconds for the next hour. Paranoia was a good friend to have in situations where danger could creep up from behind at any moment. It forced Sean to stay focused, sharp.
Crossing the border into Germany proved to be easy enough. A quick stop with the passport control officer, and he was back on the road without much fuss. The dark-haired border patrol officer barely even glanced over Sean's identification. Over the years, going from one country to another had almost become as easy as travel between states back in the U.S. The stops on the borders were more like tollbooths than anything else.
Once he was through and back in Germany, Sean kept driving. He wasn't exactly sure where to go, so he steered the vehicle in the direction of Frankfurt, figuring if he had to fly somewhere, that would be the best place to take off.
He merged with a pack of other cars onto the Autobahn leading south and started to turn on the radio before he felt his phone vibrating against his leg. A moment of dread sprang up in his gut, but he forced it away, a task made much easier when he looked at the caller ID on the screen.