“Yes, sir.”
“What do you have planned?” Conrad asked. “Never mind. I don’t need to know.” He didn’t want to know. Nor did he care to know what they had done recently. He could deny any knowledge that way without lying. They had their orders. That should have been enough. He had heard about a few deaths in Vienna and Bratislava that did not quite fit the plan, but he guessed they must have had a reason for their actions.
“Good idea, Hochmeister,” Miko said. “I just wanted to explain why we have not completed our task in Vienna.”
Now the excuses, Conrad thought. “Go ahead.”
“Sir, there was a man at the bar. Grago was able to take out two of the old grand master’s men. But there was another man there. Someone with skills, sir.”
“Polizei?”
“No, sir. Private security, I think. Maybe former military or former agent of some sort.”
This was disturbing news. They had been able to stay under the radar for the past year by taking out certain enemies of theirs and masking the deaths as random street crimes. Miko and Grago were two of his best at that. “What else.”
“Sir?”
“You sound like there’s more bad news for me.”
The sound of the road droned on the other end. Finally, Miko said, “Two things. First, early this morning the same man from the bar was in Bratislava with Albrecht. The polizei there moved in to the cathedral, caught the two of them coming out a back door.” He hesitated, obviously wondering how much his Hochmeister needed to know.
“And?” Conrad said, becoming impatient.
“The man took out both of the polizei,” Miko said. “I have never seen a man move like that. They had their guns drawn on him and he was still able to take their guns and knock them both out. Then he stole their damn car.”
Conrad laughed. “This is great news, Miko. Now the polizei have a description of the man and must assume he killed the parish priest there.”
“That’s what I was thinking. I sent the Bratislava polizei a digital video of the man stealing their car.”
“That’s beautiful. You said two things. What else?”
Miko breathed in and let out a deep sigh into the phone. “Someone stopped by the apartment in Bratislava and questioned Jiri.”
“Who? What did he ask?”
“Her. Says it was a beautiful woman. Either Italian or Rumanian, but spoke German and English. She was asking about the two priests. Quite brutal, though. A super model with attitude, is what Jiri calls her. Also with skills.”
This was more disturbing. “Working with the man?”
“It’s possible.” Miko’s voice was breaking up. “Sir, I better go. Need to charge this phone.”
“Call me tomorrow,” Conrad demanded.
“Yes, sir.”
The line went dead.
Conrad clicked off and placed the phone back in its stand on his desk. He took another sip of cognac. So there was one man and one woman. Even if they worked together, what could they do? They were too close to their goal to stop now.
Kurt pulled the Audi to the curb in a residential area of Vienna’s north side, two blocks from the University and across from a park. It was five minutes to eight in the evening.
“That building,” Kurt said to Jake. “Second floor. Apartment twenty-four.”
Jake glanced up at the building, a light yellow stucco with tall windows that overlooked the park.
“You gonna leave me the info you picked up at Albrecht’s warehouse?” Kurt asked him. “I’ll make copies and get it back to you in the morning.”
Going for the door handle, a slight laugh in his voice, Jake said, “Nice try, Kurt. Appreciate the effort, but this is private information from the Teutonic Order.”
“How do you know? You haven’t even looked at it.”
Jake got out and popped his head back inside. “If there’s anything in here I think you should know,” he said, patting his stomach, “I’ll be sure to let you know.”
“Right. Remember whose side I’m on.”
“That’s my point,” Jake said and then slammed the door.
Taking the stairs slowly, Jake heard the Audi pull away from the curb and up the street. He found a security buzzer for the apartment on the second floor and held it down.
“Yeah?” came a harsh woman’s voice.
“Let me in,” Jake said brusquely.
The door buzzed and he pushed his way in. Finding the stairs, he went up one flight to her door. He wasn’t sure what to expect. The two of them had first worked together in the old CIA, he just after leaving Air Force Intelligence, and she having just graduated from college and completing her initial training at the Farm. They had hit it off right away, and, against regulations, had started a relationship that had nothing to do with the Agency. Then he had left the CIA for the private sector and their paths crossed again while Toni was stationed at the U.S. Embassy in Rome with the new Agency. Again their relationship was hot and brief. Eventually, when Jake first moved to Innsbruck, they had crossed paths again. This time, Toni had left the Agency to work with him. But that had lasted just six months, when Toni was asked to return to the Agency, working undercover for nearly a year in the Middle East. Now, he wasn’t sure of their relationship, or if they would even have one.
Suddenly, the door opened and Toni Contardo stood with her right hand on the door, her stance wide, her other hand holding a bottle of beer. She was still just as beautiful as the last time he had seen her, her long dark hair flowing over her shoulders in spiral curls. The high cheek bones. Her body still in perfect shape, filling out black slacks.
“You coming in?” she asked, not a hint of a smile. She didn’t make a move for a hug or even a hand shake.
Jake made his way past her, taking in the odor of her shampoo as he did. Strawberry.
Glancing about the room, Jake noticed a number of items she had picked up in her travels and brought with her to each apartment. He also saw the watercolor on the wall that he had bought her in Nice years ago.
“You want a beer?” she asked him.
“Is the Pope a former Nazi?”
She forced back a smile as she went into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a German Bitburger for him. Handing it to Jake, she took a seat in a leather chair.
Jake took a seat on the matching leather sofa across a coffee table from her.
“You could take your coat off,” she said, and then took a long draw of beer.
Jake started to unzip his jacket, but then remembered Albrecht’s package inside. “You don’t look too happy to see me.” He took a drink of beer.
“Should I be happy?”
What it the hell was wrong with her. “You left me,” he said, his voice more harsh than he intended.
She finished her beer and slammed the bottle on the table. “I was called back to the Agency. You know that.”
“You didn’t have to go. I thought we were doing great together.”
Her jaw tightened and she looked like she might cry. Something Jake had only seen her do a few times, and those tears usually followed extreme pain, not emotion. Jumping from her chair, she went to the kitchen and returned with another beer. She paced back and forth, her arms against her chest, and finally sat down.
“I heard you were shacking up with a Chinese chick,” she said. Accused actually.
That’s what this was about? “I wouldn’t call it shacking up. More like helping her out.”
“Right. Helping her out of her clothes.”
Jake smiled. “You’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous,” she demanded.
“What you call it then?”
Taking a drink again, she swished her head from side to side and said, “I came back to Innsbruck to tell you I had gotten the station chief position in Vienna.”
“When?”
“A couple months ago.”