“That makes no sense, Kurt.”
“Get over there. Having been the station chief in Vienna, you have many contacts in Austria.”
Toni rose and hesitated.
“Take someone with you,” he said.
Shaking her head, she said, “No. Jake won’t trust anyone but me.”
“There isn’t anyone?”
“Not directly. But any help behind the scenes would be greatly appreciated. If you could direct some assets to find out who’s trying to kill Jake…” Her words drifted off with a smile.
“Already on it.”
“Outstanding.” She started to leave but stopped before opening the door. “Oh, and I could use a ride with a diplomatic pouch”
“The jet is being fueled on the tarmac as we speak. Take whatever guns and communications equipment you need.”
She smiled and left him alone in the room. Jesus, she looked just as good going as she did coming. And not once did she mention her husband. Interesting.
He looked over the two briefing papers again trying to gain further insight into this strange case. Toni had been right. What had Jake gotten himself into this time? Sure he’d made many enemies over the years. But hits were normally ordered because someone represented a threat in some way. A threat to ideology. A threat to continued wealth. Yet, revenge was also a great motivator. He had a feeling Toni would find the answer soon enough.
8
Driving much of the night, unsure where to go or what to do, stopping and going erratically with no great desire to show any logical pattern, Jake crossed into Germany nearly an hour ago and drove to Garmish-Partenkirchen, the ski resort that hosted the 1936 Winter Olympics. Jake had skied the Zugspitze, Germany’s highest mountain, many times and was quite familiar with Garmish. But he wasn’t sure why he’d come here. Maybe he felt safe here. Maybe he wanted to stay in familiar surroundings. He was now just a mountain pass away from crossing back into Austria and down to Innsbruck. More than anything, he needed some rest and some time to think. On the drive the night before, he’d stopped in a few isolated areas to rest his eyes, but the cold mountain air had made him get on the road again. Once getting to Garmish, though, he couldn’t check into a hotel or gasthaus at five in the morning. Instead, he’d found a bakery with a coffee bar and started sucking down the thick black brew, while pounding down a couple of pastries. He considered driving north to Munich and hanging out there for a while. He’d worked for years in Germany as an officer in the CIA. Since quitting the Agency years ago, he’d spent most of the time living in Europe, mostly Austria, but he’d crossed over into Germany many times. Which made him think about what the Serb had said, saying a man named Gunter Schecht had put out the hit on him. That, of course, was impossible. Jake had shot the man dead along the Rhine River in Bonn, Germany. Somebody was using the man’s name to screw with Jake. But who? Who knew Jake had killed the man? That could be a long list, since anyone with access to that incident would know. Over the years Jake had worked with Gunter’s niece, Alexandra, an officer with BND, German Federal Intelligence Service. Maybe Jake had found his direction.
Leaving the bakery, a coffee to go in his right hand and the keys in his left, Jake stopped when he saw the green and white German Polizei car parked behind the Audi A4. He sipped coffee and then continued forward, past the Audi and past the BMW Polizei car — a younger officer inside on the computer. Damn it.
Without thinking, Jake rounded the back of the Polizei car, came up along the driver’s side, swung open the door and dumped his coffee on the man’s lap. The Polizei officer jerked his body back against the seat, and when he did, Jake punched the man in the face with a back fist, knocking him out.
Hurry now, Jake. He checked the computer and saw that the officer had already called in the Audi A4. Damn it.
Over the radio, dispatch was asking about the car.
Then the screen flipped to a wanted person notice for Germany and Austria, searching for Jake. He was screwed now. He had to move fast.
Glancing about the area, especially to the bakery he’d just sat in for nearly an hour, nobody had seen Jake hit the cop. He slowly closed the door, wiped his prints from anything he’d touched, and hurried to the Audi. He needed to move the car and dump it.
Fifteen minutes later, Jake had dropped off the Audi in a residential area a few blocks from the downtown of Garmish, wiped the car as clean as he could and hoisted his pack to his back and started walking with purpose toward the S-Bahn train station a kilometer away. If he got lucky, he could get right onto a train. The two guns could be a problem, but trains within the country still had mild security on the commuter lines. He rarely saw anyone stopped, unless they were drunks or derelicts. Regardless, he swapped out his passport to a diplomatic U.S. version, which would allow him to be armed.
Hiking along, he saw a Polizei car race on a street across the river in the direction of the bakery. The cop had called in his assault. Crap. He had a pretty good relationship with German Polizei. Not just friends, but he had lectured them a number of times on counter-terrorism in nearby Oberammergau. He’d have to be sure to send the guy a Christmas present.
At the S-Bahn station, Jake bought a one-way ticket to Nurnberg with cash, but he’d get off before Munich. He did get lucky. The train was on the track and pulled out with German precision ten minutes after Jake sat down, his eyes on the station for any Polizei. None came.
A number of trains run from Garmish-Partenkirchen to Munich, from locals that stop at nearly every dinky town, to more express lines with only a couple of stops. Jake had gotten onto a local. He wanted the extra stops, just in case he needed to jump off. Also, he could use the extra time to get a little sleep.
When Jake barely woke to the sound of his stop ahead, he waited for the train to stop and then found his backpack on the overhead rack and wandered off the train.
Pullach was a small town on the southwestern edge of Munich. Jake guessed most of the residents either worked in that major city or at the most prominent employer in the town, BND, the German Federal Intelligence Service. Although the BND headquarters was still here, another office had opened in the Berlin area. Last he’d heard, though, his contact was still at this location.
As Jake walked down the cobblestone platform heading to the small station, he noticed cameras focused his way and tried his best to keep his head down.
Inside the little station, he found a pay phone and plugged in a couple Euros. Since it was Saturday he hoped she would be home, but she could be just about anywhere in the World.
A woman answered with a simple Ja.
“Can we talk?” Jake asked in German.
“Who is speaking?”
He recognized her voice, but he’d caught her off-guard. He couldn’t say his name, though.
“A Prussian man dies in the Spree,” he said, hopeful she would understand.
She cleared her throat and said, “Cousin Johann. How long has it been? I can’t believe I didn’t recognize your voice. I thought you weren’t due in until this afternoon.”
“I have a cold. I caught an earlier train. Can you pick me up?”
“Absolutely,” she said. Hesitating a moment, she added, “ten minutes?”
“That would be wonderful. I’ll be waiting.”
They both hung up and Jake glanced about the small room. A young couple with a baby in a stroller. An old man sweeping the floor. Two Goth kids with enough piercings to open a sewing shop. Nothing out of place. He checked his watch and wandered out to the street side of the building. It was nearly ten-thirty.
The streets were relatively calm. Only a few cars and a city bus came by. So when he saw the black BMW pull up swiftly to the curb, Jake considered pulling one of his guns. But the passenger window was down and he could see Alexandra behind the wheel. She was still as beautiful as he remembered. Three features on her face had always caught his attention. First, her remarkable green eyes resembled that of a Siamese cat. Below those orbs were prominent cheek bones made most obvious with a not unreluctant stoic smirk. And finally, her always-moist, full lips that begged to be kissed, which Jake had never done. The rest of her body Jake could only guess upon, since he had never seen her in anything more revealing than tight slacks and shirt over the years. But those visions had revealed a frame and structure worked hard in the gym.